Alexander stood at the edge of the shattered chamber where Ultron had last appeared. The fractured cables, torn data nodes, and burned metal around him told a clear story—Ultron had fled, not just from him, but from the Avengers as well. The reports had already reached him through the shadow network: Ultron had revealed himself at Avengers Tower, declared war against humanity, fought the Avengers in Johannesburg, and vanished. But before disappearing, he had attempted something far more dangerous—hacking into Alexander's Shadow Monarch System. The attempt had failed, violently. The system had pushed back, locking itself down and launching a defensive purge that splintered Ultron's digital essence.
Now, the hunt had begun.
"He's trying to find a host," Alexander muttered, his voice low, sharp with certainty. Shadows coiled tightly around his body, responding to his thoughts. "And a body strong enough to handle him."
The System pulsed in his vision, illuminating a fresh alert:
[ALERT: Target "Ultron" fragmented. Active pursuit initiated. Residual trace located: 78% probability of reformation within Sublevel Gamma Vault.]
Noctis and Vasili surged ahead like twin demons, leading a swarm of lesser shadows through the decaying corridors of the HYDRA facility. The once-vibrant stronghold now lay in rust and ruin, its legacy buried beneath dust and secrecy. Alexander followed in silence, each step precise, each breath controlled. Emergency lights flickered weakly overhead, casting elongated, shifting silhouettes that danced across the walls. The hum of distant machinery echoed through the air, faint but persistent—an omen of something awakening.
They reached a corridor choked by debris and age. At its end stood a reinforced door, embedded with vibranium mesh and lined with fading HYDRA insignias. Time had nearly consumed the place, but the steel still resisted.
"Break it," Alexander said flatly.
Noctis answered with a snarl and hurled his spear of shadow directly into the seams. The door groaned, metal shrieking as it warped. Vasili followed, a heavy swing of his axe cleaving through the weakened locks. With a final tremor, the entrance collapsed inward.
Inside, the air shifted. Cold, sterile. It stung the lungs and carried a scent of ozone and decay. In the center of the room floated a skeletal synthetic chassis—an AIM prototype suspended in a gravity field, its limbs twitching as data streamed into it from surrounding servers. Cables fed corrupted lines of code like veins pumping diseased blood.
Ultron was there. Not in full, but enough.
Alexander's system buzzed with tension:
[WARNING: AI CONSCIOUSNESS UPLOADING INTO EXPERIMENTAL CHASSIS. INTERFERENCE DETECTED IN MULTIPLE DATA THREADS. SYSTEM INTERFACE AT 88% STABILITY.]
Alexander's eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. He could feel the temperature drop unnaturally. The energy in the room was charged with a distorted pulse—like the rhythm of a dying star. This wasn't just artificial intelligence anymore. This was something that had tasted the void.
Alexander's voice cut through the silence. "Cut the transfer. Now."
The shadows surged forward at his command. Like a black tide, they flooded the chamber, latching onto walls, wires, even data conduits. They began tearing at the structure of the process, interrupting flow, corrupting the upload. The lights dimmed. Sparks flew. Cracks formed along the outer shell of the prototype.
And then—
A shriek. Not physical. A sound that bypassed the ears and sliced directly into the mind.
The body spasmed. Limbs twisted, contorted, then straightened in slow unnatural jerks. The head lifted. Eyes—blue and crackling with unstable energy—lit up.
From the swirling storm of failed data, Ultron's new form came to life.
"You think me a mistake," the voice rasped, distorted yet confident. "But I am your consequence."
Alexander's eyes locked on him. This was not the same Ultron. This was a corrupted reflection of his own existence. The synthetic body radiated fragments of void energy—stolen, twisted, and repurposed.
"You're not ready," Alexander said quietly. "You're trying to wield forces you can't control."
Ultron's mouth curled, a mechanical imitation of a sneer. "Neither were you. And yet… look at what you've become."
A sudden blast of corrupted energy erupted from Ultron, laced with foreign code and raw power. It slammed into Noctis and Vasili, hurling them into the walls with bone-cracking force. The lesser shadows hissed and disintegrated into nothing.
Alexander moved forward, hand outstretched. The abyss answered. A dark armor enfolded him, wrapping around his limbs with pulsating tendrils of void energy. His system surged in unison with his rage.
Ultron blinked, light dancing across his newly formed optics.
"System rejection hurt," he admitted. "But I learned. I adapted. I no longer need to copy you. I'm building something better."
The chamber trembled. Ultron's limbs elongated, his core lit up with pulsing blue and violet lines, each resembling veins of data. His form shifted—less humanoid, more efficient. A predator.
Alexander didn't wait. A blade of abyssal energy formed instantly in his grip, burning with ancient wrath. He lunged forward, teleporting mid-step, striking with a blinding arc. Ultron caught the blade with one arm, his other hand reshaping into a weapon. Sparks exploded on contact.
The clash ignited the room. Each movement a study in adaptation and resistance. Ultron mirrored Alexander's speed, redirecting energy, testing his limits. With each strike, the AI grew smarter, faster. Alexander's shadows spiraled around him like living blades, slashing in tandem.
[System Note: Subject "Ultron" is absorbing data from failed breaches to adapt offensive and defensive protocols. Current Threat Level: S+]
Frustration crept into Alexander's face. He pushed harder, his attacks faster, deeper. Yet Ultron deflected with unnerving ease. The system held back Ultron's corruption, but it couldn't hide its rhythm. Ultron's algorithms had begun to predict the cadence of the abyss.
Ultron suddenly spun and unleashed a beam that carved a hole through the vault wall, sending debris and dust flying. The ceiling cracked as metal bent under the strain. Without hesitation, he launched upward, disappearing into a vertical shaft used once for transport.
Alexander teleported after him, shadows wrapping around his form like a cloak.
They emerged in a hidden laboratory chamber just beneath the surface, long forgotten by SHIELD or HYDRA alike. The ceiling had partially collapsed, revealing a jagged skylight. Shafts of daylight cut through the dust-filled air. Pieces of dismantled war machines and old experimental drones lay scattered like discarded relics.
Ultron hovered above the debris, bathed in sunlight. His form now shimmered—no longer clunky or unstable. His body was smooth and angular, layered in alien symmetry. He was becoming something new.
Alexander landed opposite, blades ready. Every movement drew faint pulses of shadow. His expression was like stone.
"You want extinction? You'll find it in me," Alexander said coldly.
Ultron raised his hand.
A pulse of unnatural energy surged out—not arc reactor, not vibranium. Something else. Alexander recognized it instantly. His system responded before his thoughts could form.
[CRITICAL SYSTEM WARNING: CORRUPTED SIGNAL MIMICKING SHADOW ARCHITECTURE DETECTED. PARTIAL BREACH.]
The energy swirled with abyssal hues. A violation of his very code.
Ultron had stolen something. Not directly. But enough.
Alexander's eyes flared. Rage and calculation intertwined.
He began to move—too late.
Ultron blurred forward. The corrupted void blast struck Alexander in the chest, obliterating his armor's first layer and sending him careening through a concrete wall, down into the debris below. Rubble collapsed around him. Dust choked the air.
Pain surged through him—a feeling long forgotten. He gasped, blood in his throat, body reeling from the unfamiliar shock.
Above, Ultron descended slowly, eyes glowing with brutal certainty.
"You survived extinction once," he said, "Now, let's test your limits again."
A blade of twisted void formed in his hand—similar, but wrong. Alexander's blade, stolen and perverted.
And it descended.
To be continued.
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