The wind roared like a freight train as the team descended toward the crippled airliner. Smoke poured from the right side of the fuselage, where the engine had all but disintegrated. Panels flapped loose, oxygen masks danced wildly behind shattered windows, and sparks sprayed from the exposed undercarriage. The plane was tilting, nose-heavy, caught in a death spiral.
Tony flew in, slowing the plane with controlled bursts from his boots as his HUD scanned the structure again. His eyes locked on a bright cluster of warning signals. The central stabilizer was about to snap, and the forward landing gear bay was aflame from hydraulic leaks. The plane had just over sixty seconds before a full structural collapse.
"All right," Tony called out. "Positions. Now."
Natasha flew inside the plane.
Johnny flew off to the right, his body already glowing with a steady, controlled flame. The suit adapted to his power. He moved fast, flying along the side of the aircraft. The heat sensors in his visor guided his path. When he reached the engine, he extended both arms, fingers spread wide. The flame that erupted was not meant to destroy, but to absorb. He pulled the fire into himself, feeding on it like a solar battery, cooling the overheating engine block with rapid thermal regulation. The flames weakened, then vanished.
"Fire's out on my side," Johnny said, his voice calm through the comms. "Cooling the hull now. Metal's buckling, but holding."
Sue reached the left side of the aircraft, keeping pace with the tumbling descent. She raised both hands, her forcefields shimmering into existence. She focused, breathing evenly, and projected a precise barrier across the open section of the fuselage where a panel had ripped away. The shield curved perfectly, matching the contours of the hull and sealing the cabin from further depressurization.
"Section secured," she said, her voice steady. "Internal pressure's stabilizing. I've got a bubble around the passengers in rows eighteen through twenty-four."
Inside the plane, panicked passengers suddenly found themselves cocooned in silence. The wind and howling pressure disappeared. Some gasped. Others cried in relief. A few just stared at the strange, translucent wall holding back death.
Ben flew in low and fast, powered by a single booster pack mounted to his back. As he reached the left wing, he twisted mid-air and caught the flailing structure with both hands. His muscles flared, skin hardening with a shimmer of purple energy as he braced the wing from beneath. The moment he made contact, the wing's wild vibration stopped.
"I've got the wing," he grunted. "She's shaking, but I've got her."
The nanite swarms Tony had released moments earlier now descended like a cloud of silver insects. They moved fast, coating the tail section, creeping into the damaged wing joints, and repairing microfractures across the engine housing. The swarms were so dense that they formed a temporary exoskeleton, reinforcing the weak points while internal cooling agents neutralized the risk of explosion.
Inside the plane, Natasha rerouted power to the core interface. She moved fast without glancing at the terrified flight crew as she bypassed the controls and tapped directly into the plane's black box. Her visor displayed real-time telemetry. It confirmed Tony's earlier suspicion.
"This wasn't an accident," she said flatly into the comms. "Sabotage confirmed. Engine controls were spliced mid-flight. There's a device hidden inside the primary drive that looks like an old model bomb."
Tony's voice was tight. "Deactivate it."
"Already on it," Natasha replied.
She dropped into a crouch beside the panel, her right gauntlet reshaping into a surgical tool. A thin cable snaked into the circuitry. She narrowed her eyes and initiated a pulse.
A few long seconds passed.
"Bomb disarmed," she confirmed.
Back outside, Tony dropped beneath the nose of the plane. The engines were cooled, the wings were braced, and the internal structure was stable. He extended both arms, palms facing upward. Nanite energy poured from his hands as a gravitational field bloomed outward. The field latched onto the undercarriage, slowing the descent with a ripple of golden light. His armor was doing great, and everything was within his calculation. The power draw was insane, given the size of the gravitational field, but the Arc Reactor has enough juice.
"Stabilizing descent," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I've got them."
The plane slowed.
First imperceptibly, then visibly. The shriek of atmospheric friction eased. The nose lifted. Altitude loss tapered. Johnny flew beneath the engines and continued cooling their output. Sue reinforced the forward bulkhead with a secondary shield. Ben remained locked beneath the wing, keeping the frame aligned. Natasha guided the autopilot override through her wristband, rerouting power back to the flight systems.
The aircraft leveled.
Tony exhaled, sweat beading on his brow inside the helmet. His HUD flashed green.
"Flight 472, you are stable," he said over the open channel. "We'll take you to the nearest airport. So, no worries, just enjoy the ride."
...
[ATLANTIC CITY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT] [RUNWAY 03]
Emergency crews stood in tight lines beside fire trucks, medical vans, and police escorts. Yellow-vested medics held stretchers and trauma kits, their eyes were on the horizon. Red lights pulsed across the tarmac. Cameras from half a dozen media outlets were locked in, broadcasting live. Reporters stood just beyond the safety cordon, mics in hand, already live reporting.
The aircraft emerged from the clouds, descending on a soft trail of glowing blue light.
Tony guided the aircraft, hovering just beneath the nose with both palms up. His gravitational anchors held it level while Natasha remained in the cockpit, carefully managing pitch control and flaps through her digital tether.
Johnny and Sue hovered on either side of the plane, controlling airflow, maintaining balance, and reinforcing weakened areas as the wind picked up during final descent.
Ben kept to the underside of the left wing, his legs locked into the bracing exoskeleton of his nanite suit, still bearing the full weight of the half-broken structure.
At one hundred feet above the ground, Tony gently reduced thrust.
The aircraft touched down with a low groan, rubber tires skidding against the tarmac. It bounced once, then settled. Thanks to the gravity field, it stopped quickly without any further damage.
The entire emergency team sprang into motion. Fire engines approached from either side, flanking the aircraft with foam sprayers at the ready. Paramedics rushed forward. As soon as the doors opened and the inflatable evacuation slides deployed, the crew guided passengers down two at a time.
The crowd on the tarmac erupted into cheers the moment the first passengers reached the ground safely. Emergency lights flashed in rhythm, creating a surreal glow across the runway as medics and airline staff moved quickly, helping shaken passengers to safety. Some hugged the paramedics. Others dropped to their knees in quiet relief. Many turned their heads toward the sky, watching the team of heroes descend from the air one by one.
As the nanite armor retracted, revealing their faces, a wave of recognition rippled through the gathering crowd. Phones were already out. Camera flashes fired from every direction. Applause broke out again, louder this time, mingled with shouts of thanks and disbelief.
A young girl clutched her mother's hand as she looked up at Sue Storm, her eyes wide with wonder. A boy no older than seven pointed at Johnny Storm, shouting, "That's the fire guy! The real one!" Johnny grinned and gave the kid a salute, letting a harmless flame flicker briefly in his palm before closing his fist.
Reporters pushed forward the moment the perimeter tape was lifted. Dozens of microphones were shoved toward the group, all at once. The flood of voices rose instantly.
"Mr. Stark, were you tracking the flight before the malfunction?"
"Was this an attack or an accident?"
"How did you do it?"
"Johnny, how do you use fire like that?"
"Who's leading this team?"
Tony raised a hand and stepped forward, his expression calm and composed. He took a single microphone from the nearest reporter, glanced once toward the cameras, then turned slightly so the whole crowd could hear him.
"I know everyone has questions," he said, voice carrying clearly across the runway. "And I promise you'll get answers. Two days from now, at noon, we'll be holding a full press conference. You'll have every opportunity to ask what you want. Until then, please let our emergency teams do their job, and let these people..." he gestured toward the passengers and flight crew now being loaded into shuttles and medical tents "...get the help and rest they need."
He handed the microphone back to the stunned reporter and took a step back.
"See you in forty-eight hours."
With that, the nanites swept back, reforming their masks.
One by one, they lifted off.
Johnny ignited like a flare, streaking upward with a trail of golden flame. Sue and Ben followed just behind. Natasha gave one final glance at the scene below before rising into the air.
Tony remained still for a few more seconds, scanning the crowd. His eyes locked on a small group of passengers near the ambulance, each of them waving. One of them mouthed "Thank you."
He nodded once, then lifted off.
...
[HORIZON ISLAND] [COMMON LOUNGE – 5:15 PM]
Screens embedded in the walls played muted news broadcasts from around the world.
All of them were showing the same thing.
Footage of the dramatic mid-air rescue had already looped on every major network. Aerial shots from drones. Cell phone clips from passengers. Commentary from aviation experts. The media couldn't get enough of it.
Johnny sprawled out on a long couch with his feet up, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He stared at the screen with a mix of pride and thoughtfulness as a slow-motion replay showed him absorbing the fire from the plane's engine.
"Okay, come on," he said, nudging the bowl aside. "We need names."
Ben looked up from his mango smoothie, seated nearby in a reinforced chair built specifically for his alternate forms. "Names?"
"Yeah," Johnny said, sitting up straighter. "Team names. We've been flying around saving people, punching cosmic threats in the face, stopping explosions, and dealing with intergalactic shapeshifter invasions. I mean, we didn't do that many things, but think of it as the long run... People are starting to call us Earth's defenders. But it sounds... generic."
Sue was seated cross-legged on one of the lounge chairs, reading a digital tablet. She didn't look up. "You want branding."
"I want identity," Johnny said. "Come on. Tony's not going to name us himself. He's too busy building satellites and fusion shields and probably creating a city on Mars. But we've got momentum now. The people need something to rally behind. Something better than 'Earth's defenders' or 'the supers' or 'the miracle bunch.'"
Ben raised an eyebrow. "The miracle bunch? Someone really said that?"
"It was on a podcast," Johnny muttered. "A bad one."
Sue sighed, setting her tablet aside. "Fine. What are you thinking?"
Johnny quickly stood up and ran to his room, then came back with his tablet.
"Tony: Iron Man, Natasha: Black Widow, Yelena: White Widow. They already have their Hero name. So, it's about time we get ours." He pulled up his social media page. "I've already posted little GIFs of us, using our power. And rounded up the best-liked comments. Me: The Human Torch. You going invisible, so... Invisible Girl, and..." He said with a large grin, looking at Ben.
"You didn't!" Ben stood up with a grumble.
"Yup!" Johnny flipped the picture, and he posted Ben's rocky form. "Look at the comments, Ben. You got more comments and shares than we got, and everyone is asking... What is that Thing?"
He grinned and was ready to run.
"So, I was like... That's it," He raised both his hands toward Ben as if he were some photographer, mapping out the scene. "The Thing."
Ben shifted to his rocky form, "That's it. I'm gonna kill you."
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