Avengers-endgame

Behind them, the quantum tunnel flared to life. Through the trees, he saw Steve Rogers step out, shield on his arm, beard gone, chin high. Natasha wasn’t there. She would never be there. But Clint felt her hand on his shoulder for just a second—light, certain, gone.

“One more,” Tony agreed. And then, quieter: “For her. For all of them.”

“One more fight,” Clint said.

Clint nodded once. No speech. No grand vow. He just picked up his bow from the dock—the one he’d set down five years ago—and the string sang under his thumb.

He should leave. He’d said his goodbyes. But his boots stayed nailed to the wood. avengers-endgame

Clint stood.

From the rift came a figure, armored and glowing faintly, dragging a hammer that sparked with old storm-light. Thor looked thinner, his eyes clearer than they’d been in five years. Behind him, a raccoon with a blaster the size of his arm. Then a woman in red, feet barely touching the ground. And a man in a red-and-gold suit that Clint would know anywhere. Behind them, the quantum tunnel flared to life

“You look like a ghost,” Clint replied.