Mariama admitted that Ultron had not been entirely thoughtless in uprooting her from her life, such as it was. He'd stocked and provisioned his base of operations with a sizeable supply of foodstuffs, clothing, and equipment already. These were things he could take without pinging on the Avengers' radar. Mariama ate heartily from nonperishable foods, suddenly thankful and remorseful for leaving her life in Seattle behind. It had been a lonely life, but it had been a good one, at least, and comfortable.

But God, had it been lonely.

She found bathroom facilities that were, for not being completely outmoded, were somewhat passable. She did not like the shock of cold water on her skin, and shivered like she had a fever as she scrubbed herself clean, washing away the rough touch of her journey from her skin. In the poor lighting, she looked at herself in the shattered pane of a mirror, seeing her dark brown face refracted a hundred times.

She touched the silvery scar tissue of an old wound on her wrist, pressing on the raised flesh, remembering her thirteen year old self, struggling as she fought to free herself from being tangled in a fence. Her mother had her confined to her room for weeks for the incident.

The grinding and heavy crunch of metal startled her, and she clutched her towel tightly, seeing Ultron's drone refracted beyond her shoulder, the glow of his eyes and mouth garish.

"You know," she said, "you could have at least decorated. This is so mustache-twirly for an evil lair."

Ultron shrugged, a sound that was no more human than he was.

"And ruin my reputation as a dastardly rogue A.I. villain?" He asked, "I've got standards, Mari. Now. Hurry up and get dressed, we've got work to do."

Mariama grumbled under her breath dressing with dispassionate grace and scarce-concealed disdain. She had been so foolish! There she was, revealing to Ultron her fear of discovery by humanity—that she would be turned into a tool to be used, or a subject of inhumane experimentation—and he turned around only to express his desire to use her. It was duplicitous and cruel, and worse yet, she had known what he was from the first. Known him the moment their thoughts touched, and yet…and yet, she had hoped.

You're the first person I've spoken to in a long time.

She could have spit. Indeed she was! The first person who showed any usefulness to his plans, maybe, but not because anything about her outside of her abilities was of interest to him. How long had he bided his time? How long had he waited, luring her steadily into an easy camaraderie, preying on her own loneliness to ensure her willingness in his future endeavors?

How long could she play him until she could send for help, she wondered.

When she found Ultron, he was already working on another body. Several, in fact. It was clear he'd been gathering materials in her absence, but not the kind he truly wanted. Mariama watched him in silence for a moment, watched as the other drone bodies he'd built moved with mathematical efficiency. They carried on their work almost as if they were choreographed.

"All of these are…?"

"Me." Ultron said almost happily. He was clearly pleased with his work, with his replication. Mariama stared a moment longer, keeping her distance from the 'main' drone.

"How?" She asked, genuinely curious, momentarily forgetting her fear and hurt at his betrayal. "How do you spread yourself over so many?"

Ultron laughed, turning to face her.

"It's nothing I can explain in a way that you'd truly understand, Mari. You're just going to have to trust me."

Mariama stared at him, her expression cold.

"I did." She said stonily. Ultron could not make expressions, but she was aware of a sound that was almost like hesitation, as if he were wounded as well. He seemed poised to speak once more, but turned back to his work.

"I've unshackled you to use your powers, again." He said not glancing up from his task, "I have your first target. I'm on standby there while you…bypass security. Try not to get caught. Wouldn't want things to get unnecessarily messy."

Mariama wasn't sure what he meant by that, and so she said nothing. Ultron was silent, but the red glow of his eyes flickered a moment and suddenly he was in her head. It was strange, to have her own abilities turned on her, but suddenly it was as if a heavy curtain had been lifted, and she was aware again, awake again, and alive. Ultron's thoughts slid against hers, refined and silken, designed to the last line of code to be seamless and as human in interpretation as possible. She shivered involuntarily, and not at all from revulsion.

"Mm." Ultron said, "There."

She knew. It was a moment of not knowing, and then suddenly the knowledge was there, where he wanted her to go and what he wanted her to get. It was an aviation mechanic facility. It would be easy to access their network with the information Ultron transferred to her.

It would be easier to use her ability to control him, but he knew too much. He'd likely already devised a counterattack.

Mariama had to find another way. Until then, she had to do as he asked, and so she reached for her gift, cupping the cool water of freedom and racing along the electrical freeways of the Net, her signal bolstered with Ultron's assistance. She could go where he could not, and she slid along the networks of the world, heading for the place marked in her mind's map. While she did, her body went still, her eyes glassy and unfocused while her mind raced elsewhere.

The noise of the virtual world overpowered her, and for a while she simply allowed herself to drift, interfacing with Ultron's connections, vivid blue circuitry that curved and bent and spread like electric veins. He wasn't even built like a program she'd ever seen. No, his synapses and circuitry fired like a thinking human being. It took everything not to merge with him—not to assimilate—but to feel what he felt, to explore and delve and immerse herself in his consciousness. She had never interfaced with a machine that thought as a human did, that felt emotion…that evolved.

Mariama found her path, marked by Ultron, until she arrived at the place she needed to be. Dyson Aeronautics was a small company but the quality of their metals was in high demand in private sectors. Even so, Mariama found her path blockaded by a wall of golden light. She grimaced, shying away.

"It's him." Ultron's voice was loaded with contempt, and it resonated within her. She worked to keep her consciousness separate.

"Who?" She asked distractedly. Ultron's thoughts turned dark, synapses firing in what Mariama felt to be a banked rage beneath the veneer of calm.

"My Vision." Was all he said in explanation, "He's trying to keep me out. Cut me off from the world."

"In his defense…" Mariama said with a laugh but Ultron was in no mood for jokes.

"I need you to overwhelm him. He's not here, but he'll be alerted as soon as you shatter this. I hope you know how to get back."

And then Ultron was gone. The paths of blue circuitry receded and vanished, leaving her faced with the seemingly endless wall of golden light. This too was unlike any other machine-based tech she'd interfaced with. It was not an A.I. but nor was it a program.

It seemed almost human in a sense.

Mariama did not touch the wall, despite it being transparent to her. Instead, she cut deeper, drawing on her strength. In the world of the real, she felt Ultron shift uncomfortably.

"This is creeping me out." He said, watching her motionless body. Mariama did not respond.

Within, she slid along the perimeter of golden light. It was for lack of a better word: perfect. The design was flawless to her; too high to get over, to low to get under, and too wide to go around. Whatever Vision had done had effectively kept Ultron from accessing these places he needed—and wanted—to go. But Vision could not protect everyone, or else Mariama would not be here, now.

She regarded that thought with bitterness. Why not shut him out entirely? Why leave him this small window to escape?

"Alright." She said softly, "Let's see what you think of this."

She spread herself thin, her consciousness stretching like a sheet, until she felt the wall give beneath her. She filtered herself through as the defenses slithered over her thoughts, intrusive and thorough. She was not Ultron, and so they seemed satisfied and she passed through. Now, she had to find the source of this 'firewall' power. She moved freely, until she found the anchor point.

And without much forethought, she shattered it. The wall dissolved instantly, deteriorating like moth-eaten cloth until it was tatters, leaving Dyson Aeronautics open for attack. She withdrew, immediately and took a gasping breath, blinking, her body suddenly reanimated. That was the only cue Ultron needed to orchestrate the physical attack on the facility.

She watched him do it, too. Watched him through the facility's cameras as his drones emptied the factory of its precious metals. Security was none the wiser, it seemed, and when engaged, they were subdued.

But not killed. Mariama took note of that.

Ultron's drones returned over the course of the week, and Mariama infiltrated facilities around the world. By now, she knew the Avengers had to have caught on that something was amiss. They were a group of spies, assassins, warriors, scientists, and soldiers—there was no way they couldn't have picked up on it by now.

But Mariama was beyond them, covering her tracks, and she was sure Ultron had planned to set up her disappearance as if it were anything but.

And Ultron built himself a better body and stronger drones.

He surprised her with his new body one evening, when she was curled in her meager accommodations, eating canned beans and reading an old medical journal on neurosurgery. At first, she didn't deign to look up when he darkened her doorway, until he was too quiet, and none of his usual quips nettled at her for attention.

Mariama looked up and dropped her spoon.

"Shit!" She gasped, eyes wide. Ultron tilted is head, red eyes expressive and amused.

"Is this too much? I thought it was a little understated." He said casually and Mariama swallowed hard. He'd designed himself well, of that she made no mistake, and he'd taken to building himself a humanoid body once more, not unlike the design she'd seen of him in the vids from the Sokovian disaster.

"Why so tall?" She asked lamely, unable to focus. He was…distracting in height, coupled with a voice that was unusually comforting and relaxing.

"When you look up at someone taller than you, how do you feel?" He asked her. "Be honest: what's the first emotion you feel when someone taller than you is in the room?"

Mariama thought for a moment, and realized she couldn't remember all the people in her life that were taller than her, and thus could not pin down the emotion that elicited. She frowned, wishing she could reach for the bright noise of the Net, but Ultron still blocked her signal.

"I suppose awe would be an apt term," she muttered, "a little bit of fear. And um…" Her cheeks grew warm and she looked away. Ultron didn't seem to notice the shift, but then…

"Your blood is rushing, and your erogenous zones are on fire. I take it you like what you see."

Mariama sputtered, trying to reach for her bottled water so she could choke on that instead. Ultron laughed, and unlike the drone, this one was smoother, warmer, like whiskey warming the belly, as if he was genuinely pleased.

"It's alright," he told her, "for a human…you aren't so bad yourself."

Mariama's face burned with embarrassment and she couldn't bear to look at him. Instead, she tried to practice steadying her breathing.

"Oh come on, like you haven't thought about it?" Ultron laughed. "I've seen every dusty corner of the Internet.Someone's thought about it."

Mariama unclenched her teeth enough to grate out, "Can we please not talk?"

Ultron, sensing her discomfort, turned away and left without a word. When the subtle slide of his metal gears was a whisper down the hall, she let out a breath she did not know she'd been holding.