theatrical-muse:What's your favourite myth?
NOTE: Again, if you clicked the link by mistake and you haven't watched the movie? Please turn back now so you aren't spoiled.
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If he pushes through it, if he tries to fix it, maybe...
Maybe there's something he can do. Maybe something will change, maybe something will be better.
They tell him that he doesn't have to do it. Fury promises that SHIELD will assist with clean-up, that they would send search and rescue for any survivors.
Tony doesn't listen, though. He never listens, right? So, why should he start now. The second that Loki is secured, and he has fixed the faceplate and other pieces of his suit to make it functional, he's off before anyone tries to stop him. Not that anyone can, or even attempts, anyway; they just stare at him in silence as he stalks off.
This is his city, he thinks as he flies over the debris. He has lived in California for so many years, but New York is his home (if he ever had one). This is where he had been born, where he had been raised, and even if he claims that he's not the nostalgic type - this is his home. There are buildings torn apart, rubble and dust covering every corner of every street, and god he just doesn't want to think of what's down there. Maybe it would be easier to let others do the clean up. Maybe it would be easier to handle the aftermath.
Except, he has never been much for easy.
Nobody says anything as he lands and begins helping the National Guard with clearing the debris. There are no jokes, no smartass comments, and since it's much easier to focus on his anger rather than his grief that is exactly what he does. He lets it fuel his blood, lets it work with the adrenaline that is still surging through his body, and just tries to focus on that because it's easier. He has never been good at dealing with emotions of any sort, but anger is much easier to deal with than...anything else he's feeling.
Because, now that everything is over, all he can think of is Coulson. There are people being pulled out of the rubble, both dead and alive, and it's hard to avoid it all. It's hard to turn a blind eye, but he forces himself to it because isn't this what he does? Isn't that what he's supposed to do?
When he's in Grand Central Station, though, and he lifts some pieces of the building that had fallen during the battle, it's the sight of a man holding a young child that makes him stumble. They're covered in dust, and the man looks as if he had been trying to protect the boy, but it hadn't been enough. They're not moving.
They're not moving.
Someone from the search and rescue team move in, they check on the man and child, but before Tony can find out for certain their fate he finds himself flying out as quickly as possible. He doesn't get far, because he needs air - he can't breathe - but the second he's on the floor, and removing the faceplate, he's losing whatever is left in his stomach as he falls to his knees.
They had stopped Loki, they had stopped that damned army, but it's never enough, is it?
It will never be enough.
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If he pushes through it, if he tries to fix it, maybe...
Maybe there's something he can do. Maybe something will change, maybe something will be better.
They tell him that he doesn't have to do it. Fury promises that SHIELD will assist with clean-up, that they would send search and rescue for any survivors.
Tony doesn't listen, though. He never listens, right? So, why should he start now. The second that Loki is secured, and he has fixed the faceplate and other pieces of his suit to make it functional, he's off before anyone tries to stop him. Not that anyone can, or even attempts, anyway; they just stare at him in silence as he stalks off.
This is his city, he thinks as he flies over the debris. He has lived in California for so many years, but New York is his home (if he ever had one). This is where he had been born, where he had been raised, and even if he claims that he's not the nostalgic type - this is his home. There are buildings torn apart, rubble and dust covering every corner of every street, and god he just doesn't want to think of what's down there. Maybe it would be easier to let others do the clean up. Maybe it would be easier to handle the aftermath.
Except, he has never been much for easy.
Nobody says anything as he lands and begins helping the National Guard with clearing the debris. There are no jokes, no smartass comments, and since it's much easier to focus on his anger rather than his grief that is exactly what he does. He lets it fuel his blood, lets it work with the adrenaline that is still surging through his body, and just tries to focus on that because it's easier. He has never been good at dealing with emotions of any sort, but anger is much easier to deal with than...anything else he's feeling.
Because, now that everything is over, all he can think of is Coulson. There are people being pulled out of the rubble, both dead and alive, and it's hard to avoid it all. It's hard to turn a blind eye, but he forces himself to it because isn't this what he does? Isn't that what he's supposed to do?
When he's in Grand Central Station, though, and he lifts some pieces of the building that had fallen during the battle, it's the sight of a man holding a young child that makes him stumble. They're covered in dust, and the man looks as if he had been trying to protect the boy, but it hadn't been enough. They're not moving.
They're not moving.
Someone from the search and rescue team move in, they check on the man and child, but before Tony can find out for certain their fate he finds himself flying out as quickly as possible. He doesn't get far, because he needs air - he can't breathe - but the second he's on the floor, and removing the faceplate, he's losing whatever is left in his stomach as he falls to his knees.
They had stopped Loki, they had stopped that damned army, but it's never enough, is it?
It will never be enough.