The pavilion's glass roof rains shards as Hammer's toys light up the sky with tracer fire. Ethan's already moving, pulling Jessica behind a support column while Rhodey lays down suppressive fire from his pistol—useless against the armor plating, but it's something.
Tony's voice cuts through the chaos. "Pepper—get clear!"
She doesn't argue. Smart woman. Disappears behind a marble pillar with that efficient grace that's kept Stark Industries running through three wars and one narcissistic genius.
Ethan spots Peter already weaving through the panicked crowd, heading for the service corridors. "Peter—suit up!"
Peter's response is swallowed by an explosion that rocks the pavilion's foundation. The kid nods sharp, the way he does when Uncle Ben's ghost sits heavy on his shoulders, and vanishes into the smoke-filled hallway.
"Tony—do you even have your suit?"
Stark's laugh carries that familiar edge of reckless amusement. "In my briefcase, where it belongs."
He pats the sleek leather case at his side like it's a lucky charm instead of a billion-dollar weapons platform. The man's incorrigible.
A Navy drone locks onto Ethan's position, twin missile pods humming to life. Gatomon's already forming energy arrows while BlackGatomon snarls something about "overgrown toasters."
The pavilion's becoming a shooting gallery.
Ethan barks orders between the staccato crack of gunfire.
"Gatomon—BlackGatomon—take the drones down!"
His Digimon are already moving, Gatomon's arrows stitching across the Navy drone's targeting array while BlackGatomon's shadow tendrils wrap around an Army unit's weapon ports. But there are too many, and they're closing fast.
Tony's still standing there like a target in a shooting gallery. Ethan grabs his shoulder, hard enough to get his attention.
"You need to suit up, man!"
Stark's eyes flick to the approaching threat—a Marine drone leveling its Bushmaster autocannon. He doesn't argue. Just nods once, sharp.
The timing couldn't be more perfect.
Happy Hogan barrels through the chaos, suitcase clutched against his chest like a football. He slides to a stop beside them, breathing hard from the sprint.
"Took you long enough!" Tony snaps, but he's already reaching for the case.
Happy flips the latches with practiced efficiency. The suitcase splits open along its seams, panels unfolding like origami. Metal sections rise and twist, locking together with pneumatic hisses. Servo motors whine as articulated plates climb Tony's body, each piece finding its place with mechanical precision.
The helmet forms last—a gleaming crimson shell that seals around his head with a pneumatic hiss. Gold circuitry ignites across the chest plate in cascading waves, and the repulsors in his palms flare to life with sapphire intensity.
Iron Man.
The Mark V stands complete in less than ten seconds, and already the Marine drone is pivoting to acquire a new target.
The Iron Man armor's repulsors flare blue-white as Tony pivots, blasting the Marine drone's shoulder joint clean off. Sparks rain down like fireworks.
"Sorry, Hammer," Tony calls over the chaos. "Your toys need a recall notice."
Gwen's already sliding her Digivice free while Jessica's fingers close around hers. "Renamon, Impmon—let's go!"
Gatomon and BlackGatomon spring forward, the white cat Digimon weaving between missile trails while her dark counterpart tears into an Air Force drone's wing assembly. Purple energy crackles across the polished floor.
Ethan's voice cuts through the noise. "Happy—get Pepper clear!"
Happy's already moving, steering Pepper toward the exit with that steady, protective stride of his. Rhodey covers their retreat, laying down suppressing fire that forces the drones to reposition.
"Multiple hostiles on my position!" Tony's voice crackles through the pavilion speakers.
Ethan watches the ceiling explode inward as three more drones drop from above. "Tony's buying us time—keep those civilians evacuated!"
Jessica nods sharp, her Digivice already glowing. "Impmon, flank left!"
The purple imp materializes in a shower of smoke, cackling as he launches fire blasts at the incoming threats. Renamon follows, her nine tails flicking with deadly precision as she creates duplicates to confuse the targeting systems.
Gatomon's Lightning Paw slices through another drone's sensor array. "Ethan—north exit's clear!"
"Copy that! Jessica, Gwen—cover the south!"
The battle spreads across the pavilion like a storm. Tony rockets skyward, drawing the heaviest fire with him while Happy shepherds the last of the civilians to safety. Below, the Digimon work in concert—Gatomon's arrows, BlackGatomon's shadows, Impmon's chaos, and Renamon's precision creating a whirlwind of destruction.
Ethan's Digivice buzzes with incoming data. "Four hostiles down, six still active!"
Tony's voice echoes from above. "Working on it—I need a shot at that Navy drone!"
The ceiling opens again as Tony dives through, his armor glowing with kinetic energy. One clean blast from his chest cannon sends the lead drone spinning into the Hudson River.
"That's how we do it in Queens!" Tony shouts as he pulls up, buying them another precious moment.
Spider-Man swings in from the east, web-line singing through the air.
"Kid's got timing," Rhodey mutters, watching the red-and-blue blur slam a drone into the pavilion's marble facade hard enough to crack the stone.
The drone sparks and dies. Peter lands in a crouch, mask still in place, breathing hard but grinning.
"That's how we do it in Queens!" he calls out, the same line Tony used earlier.
Ethan steps out from behind the column, hands raised in the universal "we're good" gesture. "Everyone okay?"
Tony's voice carries that familiar amusement through the suit's speakers. "Been better, been worse."
Peter's already checking his web-shooters. "I'm fine! Though my suit's gonna need dry cleaning."
Gwen wipes soot from her cheek, nodding sharp. "Still standing."
Jessica brushes debris from her jacket. "Alive and kicking."
The moment hangs, fragile as spun sugar. Five of them breathing, intact, the immediate threat handled.
Then the air changes.
Not a sound, not a visual cue. Something deeper. Ethan's skin prickles, the way it does before lightning strikes.
Gatomon's ears flatten against her skull. "Ethan—"
BlackGatomon's growl is barely audible. "We're not alone."
More drones. Not converging from the river or the sky. They're pouring out of the pavilion itself, pouring out of every shadow like the building's bleeding metal and malice. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Their targeting systems lock on with that same sickly purple glow Killgrave favored.
Peter's spider-sense is screaming. "Oh come ON—"
The lead drone's chest cannon begins to charge. Ethan's already reaching for his Digivice when he realizes—they're not just attacking. They're herding. Cutting off angles. Blocking exits.
The calm evaporates.
***
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