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Sirens wail as explosions rock the skyline, plumes of smoke clawing at the clouds. Enemy fighters swarm like metallic hornets, strafing buildings with plasma fire. Tony’s thrusters roar to life, the HUD flashing crimson with targeting data. He ascends in a supersonic arc, repulsors blazing—a fusillade of energy tears through the lead bomber’s hull, scattering shrapnel. Two more bank hard, evading his lock. “JARVIS, reroute power to lateral stabilizers!” The AI complies as Ironman corkscrews through flak bursts, gauntlets unleashing hellfire. A wing shears off, spiraling into the bay. The city’s screams fuel him; he’s a blur of red and gold, intercepting missiles mid-air, battering drones into scrap. The skies erupt in fireballs, but the squadron’s mothership looms—a colossal dreadnought charging its orbital cannon. Teeth gritted, he rockets toward the glowing maw. One shot. One opening. Fail, and the metropolis becomes ash. Thrusters overheat, armor buckling as he rams through the blast door. Systems critical. He plants the payload. “Light ‘em up!” The chain reaction engulfs the fleet, a supernova of twisted metal. Below, the city still stands. For now.
