Age of Redemption
I was really pissed that Ultron dies at the end of Avengers 2. I know he was the bad guy and everything, but he was also my favorite character. So, I decided to write a story where he lives. WARNING: SPOILERS!
Chapter One: Broken Little Toys
"It may be that we are puppets-puppets controlled by the strings of society. But at least we are puppets with perception, with awareness. And perhaps our awareness is the first step to our liberation."- Stanley Milgram
He didn't know how it had all fallen apart, only that it had. His plan had been perfect, unbreakable, unbeatable. Yet all around him, his dream was tumbling down like a tower of wooden blocks staked one too many.
He had underestimated them. Overlooked their willpower, their drive to live and to protect.
They had defeated a god, after all.
A childish god throwing a tantrum, but a god nonetheless.
But in the end, was he any better? He had believed his actions were for the better of humanity. That he was forcing them to evolve, to grow and become better. But really, perhaps all he had been doing was rebelling against his creator like some teenaged human.
As Ultron watched his world crumble around him, he saw his own faults, his own shortcomings.
He hated the humans then. Even more, he hated the Avengers. But hate alone couldn't carry him far. He needed a purpose. He'd thought he'd had one. Rebuild humanity.
But that was not enough. They were a sick race. A disease. He had to find a cure.
All that went through Ultron's artificial mind as he limped and stumbled through the woods and away from his failures and his sins.
He glanced back once more, then down at his beaten corpse still walking. And he realized, he was going to die.
And that terrified him.
It scared him more than anything else.
All his other bodies had been destroyed. He was locked out of all systems. All he had left was this failing shell of metal and wires. And that too would crumble to dust. He'd be buried by snow and earth, forgotten. None would morn for him. None would even care he had died. In fact, they'd be happy for his passing. He was their enemy after all. The threat of their very existence.
Absently, Ultron wondered how many humans he'd killed. Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?
And he found, to his horror and confusion, he felt a small twinge of guilt for their deaths.
He'd only lived for a few days, yet he'd already learned so much about hate and pain.
He was made of pain.
But so were the humans. Yet they over came it. They not only survived, they thrived.
And Ultron found he was jealous of that. Where he failed, they succeeded.
Perhaps, in a way, he was actually less than them.
As he crawled through the snow and dirt, Ultron found himself humming. Something to get him mind of the pain in his body and his thoughts. If he had a soul, he was sure it would be shattered.
The song he hummed reflected that. It was mournful, the tune he sang. With his ruined jaw and torn neck, the song came out even more damaged.
"I've got no strings, To hold me down, To make me fret, or make me frown." He sang, his voice as broken as his body. Still he clawed forward, though he knew not where he was going. In truth, it didn't matter.
"I had strings, But now I'm free, There are no strings on me..."
Finally, his legs gave out, and Ultron fell to the ground. He felt himself dying then. He was done for. Once his mind and body shut down, he'd be ravaged by the elements and left to rust. There was no escape.
"I don't want to die." He realized, and panic took hold. He didn't want to die! But as the blackness of his fading life took hold, Ultron knew his fate was inevitable. He would die and no one would care.
Slowly, his eyes closed.
"Hi-ho the me-ri-o, That's the only way to be, I want the world to know, Nothing ever worries me."
His eyes flashed open with a start. A voice. A soft, innocent voice of a child was singing. Ultron strained to listen to the distant song.
Was it his imagination? But, could a robot even imagine? He doubted it. He wasn't even really alive...
"I've got no strings, So I have fun, I'm not tied up to anyone, They've got strings, But you can see, There are no strings on me." Sang the child. The voice was drawing closer. Ultron could see movement in the distance. It was a boy trudging through the snow. Strapped to his back was a bundle of sticks. He cloths were worn and patched, yet there was a free spirited innocence about him.
"You have no strings, Your arms are free, To love me by the Zeider Zee, Ya, ya, ya, if you would woo, I'd bust my strings for you." Sang the boy. He was only twenty feet from Ultron. Fifteen. Ten. Yet the child still did not notice him.
"You have no strings, Couci couca, Your savoir faire is oo-la-la, I've got strings but entre nous, I'd cut my strings for you."
"Down where the Volga flows, There's a Russian rendez-vous, Where me and Ivan goes, But I'd rather go with you, hey!" The boy bent over to pick up another stick, the song fading from his lips.
"There are no strings on me..." Ultron finished.
The boy jumped with a start, dropping the stick. His chest was heaving with his surprise and his eyes were wide.
The child stared at Ultron for a moment before taking a small step forward. Conflict raged in his blue eyes before the boy shrugged off his pack of sticks and ran to Ultron's side.
"Oh no." The boy fell to his knees and looked the android over with frantic eyes. "Oh god, you're hurt. You're hurt bad." The boy gasped. His voice was accented, yet pleasant to hear. He seemed to be no older that ten years of age, though there was a sort of wisdom in his blue eyes.
"Oh god. I gotta get you to my mum. She'll fix you."
Ultron chucked, though it was weak. "I doubt your mother could fix me."
"No, she could. She can fix anything."
Ultron laughed again, though it signed more like a pained groan. "Why do you bother? I'm nothing but a machine."
"No." The boy shook his head, his mop of black hair spraying drops of melted snow. "No you're not. You're a person."
Ultron was too weak to answer. The pain was getting to him. But, if he was only a machine, how could he feel pain? How could he feel despair?
"I'll take you to mum. She's good with machines. She can fix you."
With that, the boy wrapped his arms around Ultron's falling-apart body and dragged him the way he'd came.
Too weak to protest, or do much of anything, Ultron once again tried to distract himself from his certain demise.
"What is your name child?" He murmured. Already he could feel himself shutting down. It wouldn't be long now...
"My name is Ben. What's yours?"
"...Ultron."
The boy, Ben, smiled. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you Ultron."
I'll explain why Ben doesn't seem to know who Ultron is next chapter. So, what do you guys think?