The trash bag crinkled softly in Dexter's hand as he stepped out into the morning light. The air was already warm, carrying that faint tang of asphalt and cut grass that always lingered in the suburbs after sunrise.
He crossed the short path toward the curbside bin when movement caught his eye, not from down the street but just to his right.
Over by the neighboring house, a girl, maybe around his age was walking up their driveway toward the side door. Her long, straight black hair, streaked with faint purple highlights, hung in such a way that it covered the right side of her face entirely.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, and for a moment, their eyes met.
Dexter shifted the trash to one hand and raised the other in a casual wave.
"Uh… hello—"
He never finished.
A deep, thrumming sound rolled through the air above him, mechanical yet oddly smooth. His head snapped up.
Dozens of figures swept across the sky in tight formation, their shapes gleaming in the sunlight. Sleek, retro-futuristic bodies, streamlined plating in white and gold, jet nozzles venting short bursts of blue flame as they banked in perfect unison.
Dexter's glasses caught the flash of their eyes: bright, steady lenses with the color of amber.
"...Huh. That fast," he murmured.
The Ultron Sentries.
He'd read enough to know their story. Designed under a special security directive after the Hero Ban was passed, they were the crown jewel of the World Response Bureau's peacekeeping arsenal. Their original schematics came from Tony Stark himself, not the nightmare AI from a certain timeline, but a stripped-down, specialized branch built without the influence of any cosmic stones. Advanced, yes. Dangerous, absolutely but not omniscient.
They were deployed for large-scale threats alien incursions, monsters, rogue metahumans. In a world where there were no public heroes anymore, these things were the "official" replacement.
"I wonder if they can even last long," Dexter muttered, following their path until they disappeared beyond the rooftops.
When he lowered his gaze again, the girl was gone.
He glanced toward the side door of her house. No sign of movement, no sound. Just… gone.
Dexter shrugged and turned back toward his own place, dropping the trash into the bin with a hollow thud.
What he didn't see was the faint ripple of distortion in the air just inside her doorway. A shimmer, like heat over pavement, bled away to reveal the girl again standing with one hand still on the frame. The invisibility clung to her skin for a heartbeat longer before fading completely, her purple-highlighted hair falling back into place.
She watched Dexter disappear inside.
And then she quietly shut the door.
______
Dexter stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him with a click.
Inside his attention was drawn to the living room T.V screen. The news anchor's erratic voice was gone; instead, chaotic shouts and the sound of a panicked crowd filled the speakers.
Onscreen, the scene was pandemonium.
The plaza outside Metroman's statue was in chaos, people running, pushing, tripping over fallen signs. The massive, cloud-like hologram of Megamind loomed above the square, projected in full color, the blue-skinned alien swaying his hips and pumping his fists to some unheard beat.
Dexter's eyebrow twitched.
Before the spectacle could get any stranger, a high-pitched whine cut through the broadcast audio then flashes of light ripped into the hologram. Dozens of sleek, humanoid robots swept in from above, white-and-gold plating gleaming, arms morphing into repulsor cannons that fired in disciplined bursts. Each impact tore chunks from the holographic cloud, scattering simulated vapor in pixelated wisps.
On the projection, Megamind's expression switched from smug to indignant.
"Brainbots — attack!"
The hologram dispersed like smoke in a gust, and from within it poured his actual machines.
Small, spherical, or slightly oval in shape, each Brainbot hovered with eerie stability, the single, glowing lens in its front whirring as it locked on to the Ultron Sentries. Hidden panels popped open with mechanical clacks gun barrels unfolded, rotary blasters spun up, missile ports clicked into place.
They struck back immediately. Some unleashed flamethrowers, bathing the air in curling fire; others fired freeze-ray beams that coated Sentries in ice mid-flight; still others launched miniature homing missiles that left corkscrew trails of smoke as they chased targets through the sky.
The Sentries retaliated, forming defensive phalanxes and counter-blasting with repulsors, but civilians caught between the two forces weren't so lucky. A freeze beam meant for a Sentry caught a fleeing bystander across the shoulder, flash-freezing part of their coat. A repulsor blast hit low, sending chunks of stone and shards of signage scattering toward the crowd. Screams rose above the firefight.
Dexter clicked his tongue, looking away before the camera cut to another panicked angle.
"Messy," he muttered, already walking back to his room.
____
He descended into the lab's central shaft, stepping into the cold blue light of his workstations.
"Computer," he said, slipping off his coat. "Contact the Clean-Up Management. Tell them we want the scraps from the Metroville incident. Prioritize Brainbot and Ultron Sentry parts."
[Understood. Contacting the C.U.M. Incorporated.]
Dexter gave a small nod. 'If I can get my hands on both… I can study flight cores, structure integrity and even reverse engineer the Arc Reactor.'
He moved toward the testing chamber where Midas stood waiting . An imposing humanoid frame of polished alloy, matte black joints, and a golden trim that gleamed under the lab's lights.
Beside it, a tall control terminal displayed a green prompt: [READY FOR ACTIVATION].
Dexter tapped the screen, entering his personal command code. The hum of capacitors built up, lights running down the robot's spine in a smooth cascade. Midas' eyes flared to life in a deep amber glow.
"Alright, let's see what you've got," Dexter murmured. He picked up the remote control from the rack and flicked a toggle. Midas' servos twitched in response, adjusting posture.
He gave the first command... a simple jab. Midas' arm snapped forward in perfect sync with the motion displayed on the terminal hologram.
Dexter followed with a 1-2 combo, then an uppercut. Midas mirrored each blow flawlessly, the air in the chamber rippling faintly from the force.
A small smile crept across Dexter's face.
Now for the real test.
He retrieved a set of silver-braced bands from the equipment table and fastened one around each wrist, then the ankles. A quiet click announced the lock sequence. These were his new "shadow link" transmitters designed to read his own limb movements in real time and send them to Midas without a control delay.
"Shadow mode on."
The system chirped, and Midas' stance shifted to match his exactly.
Dexter slid into a boxer's guard, left shoulder forward, chin tucked, feet light. He threw a sharp right straight. Midas fired its own right straight at the exact same speed and angle. Dexter followed with a hook, then a body shot. Each time, the robot's motion was perfectly in sync, like a metallic reflection.
Sweat beaded at his hairline. His punches slowed after the fifth combination. His breathing quickened.
"Looks like it's a success," Dexter said between breaths, straightening and wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "But… this body can't keep up with this."
He flexed his hand, looking at it with faint irritation. Back in his past life, he'd been an athlete basketball, boxing, sprinting. His body had been a machine in its own right. Now? Every burst of movement drained him faster than he liked. It was frustrating to feel the gap.
Still, Midas stood before him, copying his stance with precision. That was progress.
Dexter unlatched the shadow link bands, placing them back on the rack, then turned toward the central terminal. "Computer, are there any upcoming combat events in the area?"
[There is one underground robot boxing match in San Fransokyo in two days.]
Dexter's eyes narrowed in thought. "Perfect. Enlist Midas and use the company name."
[Understood. Entry submitted under Dextrotech Industries.]