See Marvel has managed to absolutely beat their own cinematic IP to death and I personally have no intention to see whatever phase 43 code orange Epsilon Delta persimmon harpsichord appendix 3 subsection A movie they intend to drop next BUT
When they inevitably do that anyways- and it's mid, because they're waist-deep in the mire of their own post-ironic, allergic-to-sincerity, quippy making- what I DO want to see is this:
It's very specific, but if you're still onboard, stick with me.
Rocket Raccoon and Bucky Barnes. Road trip sidequest. I do not care how they get there, but it has to happen. Maybe they're on the way to help the main gang. Obviously a sapient space raccoon and a 100-year-old legally dead ex-agent of a terrorist organization are not getting on a plane, so there you go.
Now, it's very important here that Bucky does not have the metal arm. I don't care how he lost it but he doesn't have it. So Rocket has to steal a new one- which is perfect, is it is already established that this is his bizarre life's passion. That is this movie's B plot.
Now once they get it, that's when plot A storyline's Big Bad comes in. Team Eyeliner arrives on scene, and now with the added support the good guys are holding their own, but they need juuuuust a little more firepower.
Rhodey is there in the suit, but he's been hit. Doesn't have manual control of the system anymore. The only way to get him back in the game is for someone else to pilot the thing remotely, but it's risky- he would be fully relying on that person to not only pilot it effectively, but avoid getting him killed in the process.
And on top of that, as major as that obviously is, we also have to consider that Tony is gone. This is probably the last suit beyond his own that he ever worked on, and if it's destroyed beyond repair... that's it.
The good news is, they have a specialist. The bad news is, it's Rocket. And Rocket literally just showed up with a bedraggled Buck, pulling up on the scene and falling out of a shitty little early-2000's Volvo full of empty cans with a "my kid's an honor student" bumper sticker slapped on the back and a freshly duct-taped-on arm that looks like it was made for a 98 year old florist- certainly not something that would be of much use in the kind of combat he's used to.
And it is at this point that we must ask ourselves a question.
We must ask ourselves THE question.
What kind of man would hand the right-hand-man to a man manning a second-hand left hand the right to man a man's last left manned mechanical man
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