Tony Stark’s Last Thoughts Before Snapping His Fingers in Endgame

There’s no time. No time to think, but my mind doesn’t care. It races, even as my body burns. The Stones are in my grasp, latching onto me like living fire, searing through flesh, through bone, through everything that makes me… me.

I should be afraid. Maybe I am. Maybe I don’t have time to be.

Morgan. Pep. Peter.

I see them, clear as day, even as the battlefield around me dissolves into static. I wanted more time. More moments. More mornings making pancakes, more nights falling asleep on the couch with Morgan curled up next to me. I wanted to see her grow up, see the kind of person she’d become. I wanted to be selfish, for once, to keep what I fought so damn hard to build.

But this… this is the cost. This is the trade. The universe doesn’t give without taking something back. And I know, deep down, it was always going to take me.

Strange holds up a single finger, and I understand. The one way. The only way.

Thanos thinks he’s inevitable. That’s the joke, isn’t it? The irony of all ironies. Because he’s wrong. He’s not inevitable. I am.

I glance at him, at the monster who took everything, who thought he could rewrite existence in his own image. His gauntlet is empty. Mine isn’t.

Pain surges through me again, my body screaming for relief, but it doesn’t matter. I can barely feel it anymore. There’s only one thought left, one truth that has always been at the core of who I am.

I’m Tony Stark. I build. I create. I fix. And sometimes… I destroy.

A smirk tugs at my lips, because even now, even at the very end, I get the last word. The last move.

“I am… Iron Man.”

Snap.

The pain becomes light. Blinding. Consuming. I hear the dust scattering before I even see it, feel the weight of Thanos and his army vanishing, the universe righting itself, one disintegrating soldier at a time.

My body is failing. My vision blurs. I can’t hold on much longer. But as everything fades, as the world drifts further and further from my grasp, one last thought lingers.

Morgan.

I love you 3,000.

Also Read: Sherlock Holmes’ Rapid-Fire Thoughts While Solving a Murder

–Silviya.Y