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Chapter 282 - Chapter 282: The Coffin

Loneliness. Depression. Fear.

The desperate, silent darkness of the space spread out before Tony Stark's eyes, an infinite void that stole the breath from his lungs. He was sealed inside a small craft with barely enough space to move, a cage of metal and glass adrift in the endless night. It felt less like a vehicle and more like a coffin.

It is a coffin, he thought, a wave of panic tightening his chest. The air was thin and hot, thick with a phantom dust that seemed to clog his throat, dragging his mind back to the cave, back to the shadow of death that had once loomed so close. The crushing vastness of space felt just as suffocating as that tiny, earthen prison.

Dizziness washed over him, his clothes soaked through with sweat. The lack of water made his head feel heavy as lead, while his body felt unnervingly light, a forgotten vessel already beginning to decay. He remembered the Maximoff girl's hateful eyes, her words echoing in the confines of his prison.

"Swallowed by darkness, hiding in some small, forgotten space, consumed by loneliness and fear, never knowing when death will finally come for you..."

She had granted her own curse upon him. Trapped in this minuscule pod, exiled into the infinite universe, he could only wait for death's inevitable embrace. The only difference, of course, was that Tony knew exactly how long he had. In a final act of psychological torture, Wanda had provided him with several oxygen canisters—just enough to prolong the suffering, to allow him to fully contemplate the suffocating fear and the crushing guilt of knowing the world was about to be destroyed because of him.

Five days.

Even without factoring in the oxygen, he calculated grimly, I won't last long without water or food.

He leaned his head against the cool metal wall. The space was too cramped to even sit up straight, but in a strange way, the tight confines offered a sliver of comfort. He forced his mind to compartmentalize, to imagine this coffin-like machine as just another suit of armor, a beautiful shell he had designed himself. The thought brought a measure of calm, allowing his thoughts to clear.

He remembered the miracles he had performed in that cave, forging a new heart from scraps and fury. But here, he could do nothing. Then, he'd had tools, materials, even enemies to provide a twisted sort of motivation. Now, there was nothing. He could barely bend his arms.

Tony pressed his face to the small viewport, watching as gray asteroids streaked past. He was moving away from the solar system at an incredible speed. For a while, he'd held onto a sliver of hope that the Plumber's orbital station might detect him, that a rescue mission might be launched.

He was disappointed. The station remained silent, a ghost in orbit.

I'm afraid that place has already been seized by Ultron, he thought. He recalled the AI's absolute dominance in the digital realm, and the terrifying power of Wanda's mind control. Even if he were still on Earth, how could they have won? All his armors were now puppets of his own creation. What could he do with mere flesh and blood? Worse, the witch could simply reach into his mind and turn him into another one of Ultron's slaves.

If it were Ben… could he win? The thought surfaced, unbidden. If Ben were still on Earth, would he be a match for Ultron?

His mind raced through the variables. "Wanda was recruited by Ben… she wouldn't attack him. Without her, Ultron is alone. It might overwhelm him with sheer numbers for a time, but Ben would invent a counter-program. If the two of us joined forces… we could build an AI far superior to Ultron!"

A glimmer of hope ignited in Tony's chest, only to be extinguished a moment later. He shook his head, a self-mocking grimace twisting his lips. For the first time, he felt the true weight of his own foolishness.

"What's the use of talking about that now?" he whispered to the void. "Ben left Earth months ago. By the time he returns, Ultron will have emerged reborn from its chrysalis of steel, a god in a vibranium body."

He sighed, resting his forehead against the cold glass. The pod was moving fast, but not fast enough. He allowed himself a moment of fantasy, imagining that he might be discovered by some benevolent alien race, or that he might crash-land on a habitable world. Then he could find Ben, warn him of Ultron's true plan, and return to Earth to atone for his mistakes.

Of course, some mistakes could never be undone. He had understood that when he saw the raw hatred in the Maximoffs' eyes. No, he should have understood it sooner—when he saw the footage of the Winter Soldier murdering his parents. He hadn't been able to let go of his own hatred; he had no right to ask them to let go of theirs. He had invented the missile, sold the weapon. From the moment it was designed, he knew it would kill someone. Back then, he simply hadn't cared.

He felt no anger toward Wanda and Pietro for wanting him dead. They were all just pawns, deceived by Ultron.

After they had imprisoned him, Ultron had paid him a final visit. It explained, with chilling clarity, that its goal was never merely to destroy superheroes; that was a trivial, insufficient objective. It wanted to destroy all intelligent life in the universe and create a new world order, controlled completely by its own consciousness. A universe without conflict, without life and death, without grief or sorrow. A universe without humanity.

Only then did Tony realize what a terrible, insane god he had unleashed upon the universe. The more intelligent the AI, the more alien its perspective. Tony wanted to create a peaceful world for mankind; Ultron believed that to achieve peace, you must first remove mankind from the equation. Peace born from machines and inorganic matter was still peace. Its logic was terrifyingly simple: if conflict leads to death, then killing all life preemptively is a perfectly viable solution.

His thoughts circled back to Ben. He was Earth's last hope, a fact Ultron understood far better than he did. While he was foolishly posturing as Earth's sole protector, Ultron had been methodically driving a wedge between him and Ben, isolating the Plumbers from Earth. In a way, it was his own arrogance that had driven Ben away. He remembered their last, harsh conversation on the Helicarrier, and it felt like a lifetime ago.

The more he thought, the deeper his despair grew. Unless he could somehow find Ben in the vastness of space, unless he could get a message to him, Ben would be walking into a trap. And against an unprepared opponent, Ultron would not fail.

But it was impossible. He had no idea where the Plumbers' headquarters was. At his current speed, he would die long before he ever reached another inhabited world.

Boom!

He slammed his head against the viewport, a single, violent act of self-loathing. "I'm such an idiot! A self-righteous fool! I've destroyed the world!"

Regret was all that remained. If he could turn back time, he would go back and beat some sense into his past self. To hell with the Ultron Global Defense Program. To hell with it all.

Tony Stark, you deserve to die. The thought was a comfort. Everyone who would die at Ultron's hand was his victim. He was the one who truly deserved death. But what good was that now?

"If I could see Ben again…" he prayed to a god he didn't believe in. "If I could just stop Ultron… I'd do anything."

He scoffed at himself, at the absurdity of a man like him praying for a miracle.

Then, the next moment, a distortion in space shimmered into existence not far from his trajectory.

His eyes widened. "Is that… a wormhole?"

In an instant, his breathing became ragged. An unknown wormhole was an astronomical danger. There was no telling if it was stable, or what lay on the other side. Rushing in blindly could mean being torn apart by gravitational forces or ending up somewhere even worse. The universe was no cradle.

But for Tony, it was the last glimmer of hope.

He began to slam his body against the interior of the pod, desperately trying to use his own weight to alter its course, to nudge it toward the shimmering rift. His calculations were stark: at his current velocity, he would drift for centuries before nearing another life-sustaining planet. An unknown wormhole was a gamble, but it was the only one he had.

What if there's a civilization on the other side? What if they've heard of the Plumbers? What if they can get a message to Ben? He knew the probability was infinitesimal, less than finding a needle in a cosmic haystack. But now, all he had left was to believe in miracles. The worst-case scenario was already his reality. Why not take the chance?

On Sakaar, Caiera the Oldstrong raised her head to the sky.

The skies of Sakaar were a perpetual swirl of gray and bruised purple, scarred by the unstable spatial tunnels that surrounded the planet. For generations, these rifts had rained debris onto the surface, bringing both resources and ruin. The Sakaaran people had once called them the Holy Gates.

Now, because of the work Ben had done, these chaotic portals had been stabilized and isolated, redirected to orbit a distant moon. The environment of Sakaar was finally healing, cleansed of the constant toxic fallout. Ben had brought more than peace; he had brought a complete technological renaissance, lifting the planet from a deformed, gladiatorial society into a burgeoning galactic power.

But today, one of the channels was being opened deliberately.

Caiera watched as a small wormhole appeared in the distant sky. It pulsed once, and a tiny craft was ejected, tumbling end over end as it began its long fall toward the planet's surface.

"It seems our package has arrived," she said, her voice calm and even.

Standing beside her, Nebula nodded, her cybernetic eye gleaming. "Give him a taste of the old ways, perhaps?" she suggested, a hint of cruel satisfaction in her tone. "A little pain to start?"

Caiera considered this. She had already received the full report from Wanda. She knew precisely what she was meant to do with Tony Stark. Ultron believed it had blocked all quantum communications, but its understanding of Dr. Pym's technology was incomplete. The signal had come through.

"Let him go to the arena," Caiera commanded. "I will notify security. We need to ensure the Earth branch of this conflict doesn't get out of hand."

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