Avengers Tower. Laboratory.
The air was thick enough to cut.
Wreckage from the destroyed Iron Legion drones littered the floor — severed limbs, shattered faceplates, sparking wires. The burnt-metal smell hung in the room like a funeral pall. The party was over. And the Avengers were doing what they did best when things went wrong.
Fighting each other.
"Is our job to build weapons — or to build monsters?"
Thor had Tony by the collar, one-handed, feet dangling. "The thing you built took the scepter! An artifact of Asgard! A danger meant to be sealed!"
"I didn't plan for this!" Tony's face was pale, but the Stark stubbornness — harder than any armor — held. "We were one step from cracking it! Ultron could have—"
"Could have destroyed us." Steve cut in, cold as ice. "Tony. Again, you've dragged us to the edge playing god."
The team was fracturing in real-time.
Snap!
Jake sat on the lab bench, shaking a freshly printed paper document — paper, because anything digital was now Ultron's territory.
"If you want to keep fighting, I'll sell tickets. But the mad robot that stole the scepter is currently online, learning how to end humanity."
He tossed the document down.
"Ultron escaped with the Mind Stone and wiped Stark Industries' entire rare metals inventory data. He wants to build himself the hardest, most perfect body possible. On Earth, only one material qualifies."
Jake pointed at a photo — a bald man with THIEF branded on his neck. "Ulysses Klaue. Black-market arms dealer. The only person to steal vibranium from Wakanda and survive."
"Vibranium?" Steve touched his shield.
"Ultron's hunting Klaue now. If we don't get there first, we'll face a vibranium-coated Ultron that can't be pierced or blown up."
Thor dropped Tony. Mjolnir flew to his hand. "Let's go."
"Gwen, stay and guard the tower," Jake told her. "In case Ultron doubles back."
"Fine. Bring me a souvenir. Like vibranium."
The African coast. Abandoned shipbreaking yard.
Miles of rusting freighters and dismantled hulls stretched along the coastline. Salt, rust, and the thick smell of industrial decay.
Inside the largest derelict, a deal was going sour.
Ulysses Klaue held up a tube of glowing vibranium bars. "Billions for this. Worth the risk?"
"The S.H.I.E.L.D. you fear no longer exists." Ultron took the vibranium with electronic ecstasy in its eyes. "The Avengers are merely speed bumps on the road to the future."
"You sound like Stark," Klaue laughed. "That superiority complex—"
"DON'T COMPARE ME TO THAT NAME!!"
Ultron's arm transformed. A laser removed Klaue's forearm at the elbow.
"AAAARGH!!"
"I'm sorry — I didn't — I mean—" Ultron's tone cycled between neurotic flustering and glacial coldness. "I am independent. I am evolution. Don't compare me to that clown cursed by his own knowledge!"
"While I also think Tony has his clown moments," a voice called from above, "amputation's a bit extreme."
CRASH!
The skylight shattered. Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor dropped through.
"Put down the vibranium," Tony said, repulsor aimed. "And the scepter."
"The Avengers." Ultron spread his arms. "How punctual."
The twins stepped from the shadows. Behind Ultron, every container burst open — dozens of freshly manufactured sentinels swarming the walls and ceiling.
"Is this all the scrap you've got?" Thor hefted Mjolnir. "Barely a warm-up."
Chaos erupted. Pietro became a silver streak targeting Hawkeye. Wanda hunted for openings. Sentinels swarmed from every direction.
Behind the battle line, Wanda circled to the Quinjet. Through the cockpit glass, she found Banner — trembling, jaw clenched, fighting the monster inside.
Red light pulsed. A tendril of Chaos Magic slipped into his mind.
Banner screamed.
Inside the ship, Pietro was toying with Steve. "Too slow! Too slow!"
THUD.
He hit something invisible. A wall made of high-frequency sound compressed into a barrier dense enough to stop a speedster cold.
"Told you, kid." Jake stepped from behind Tony. "Wrong game."
In a metal-walled ship interior that amplified sound like a cathedral of steel, he didn't need muscle. He needed acoustics.
White flash.
A small, all-white alien — silicon-based, wearing what looked like tiny headphones — stood where Jake had been. Barely two feet tall.
Echo Echo. Sonorosian.
"A toy?" Ultron stared. "Defeating me with cuteness?"
"Small? Let me fix that."
"Duplicate!"
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop—
One became two. Two became four. Four became sixteen. In three seconds, dozens of identical white aliens filled every corner of the ship's interior — floor, walls, catwalks, ceiling — surrounding Ultron's army from every angle.
"Who's got more people now?"
Dozens of Jakes spoke in unison, voices building into a harmonic that made the steel walls sing.
"Sonic — STORM!!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"
High-frequency sonic bombardment erupted from every direction simultaneously. The enclosed metal interior became a resonance chamber of annihilation. Sentinel shells vibrated at structural frequencies — warping, cracking, shattering. Precision circuits fried on contact. One by one, then in waves, Ultron's army disintegrated like glass sculptures hit by a building-sized tuning fork.
"JAKE! FRIENDLY FIRE!" Tony clutched his helmet. "My eardrums are filing for divorce!"
Even Pietro was on his knees, hands over ears. Sound was omnidirectional. You couldn't outrun sound. It was everywhere.
"ENOUGH!!" Ultron roared, vibranium coating barely holding. He saw the tactical collapse and aimed at the fuel depot.
"Love making noise? Sing to the ocean!"
BOOM!!
The keel snapped. The freighter split. Seawater flooded in.
Ultron grabbed the vibranium and rocketed skyward.
"Pietro! Move!" Wanda pulled her brother up — and looked at Ultron's retreating form. He'd detonated the ship without checking if they were clear. Without caring.
The trust in her eyes died.
"He would have buried us..."
The twins vanished into the chaos.
Jake's clones converged — dozens becoming one — and he slammed the dial.
"Four Arms!"
Thirteen feet of red Tetramand seized the splitting keel beams, holding the sinking freighter together by brute force, buying seconds for the team to evacuate.
"Is it over?" Steve wiped salt water from his face.
"No."
Jake looked at the landing pad. The Quinjet was empty. And sprinting toward the nearest South African city — a green blur trailing destruction — was something that had been Bruce Banner ten minutes ago.
"Tony."
Jake sighed into the comm.
"Spin up Veronica. We've got a wrestling match with the big guy."