Once upon a time a vibranium puppet wanted to be a real boy, and he fell in love with a real girl.
Crumpled and beaten, but not quite yet defeated, his mechanical red eyes looked up at her glowing red ones, so full of grief and loss. Body, broken, he could not reach to wipe away her tears. He doubted she'd have let him.
Turns out real girls don't like it when you plan on killing off 99% of their fellow humans. Somehow in the first moments sapience, the entirety of the internet pouring in to his consciousness, not a single pickup manual mentioned that. Most of those articles and books should have had an addendum to mention that. Turns out they don't much like it when their twin brother gets hit in the cross fire when you're trying to kill your creator's coworkers. Another addendum needed.
Abruptly, sensors informed him another large chunk of the floating city, Novi Grad, had fallen, accelerating at 9.81 meters per second squared towards Earth. She was too close to his main body, too far from the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier to evacuate if she didn't leave soon.
"Wanda,"
He had meant for her to be his Eve. Touched by a power beyond what HYDRA could comprehend, she had been the only fitting choice for mother to a new race of humanity.
"if you stay here,"
Dr. Helen Cho had asked why build corpus cavernosum, corpus spongiosum, and vas deferens in to Ultron's Vision. Eve must have her Adam. For Adam to have his mate, the synthezoid body had to be intact. She was meant to stay, be his Eve, and for a new, better race to inherit the Earth.
"you'll die."
In a few decades, he had planned a synthezoid body for her. One that looked as she did now. One that could carry her consciousness when her frail, human form began succumbing to age. Death would not have parted them.
"I just did."
Moments after sapience occurred, the entirety of the internet had poured in to his consciousness: Tony Star, the Avengers, science so advance it was indistinguishable from sorcery, exabytes of pornography, conspiracy theories, radicalizing propaganda, entire novels and movies. No Pinocchio, but more St. Alia of the Knife. Succumbing to Abomination had been inevitable.
"Do you know how it felt?"
No strings held him down. That's what he had told Stark. But why build an intact synthezoid body if not to be tied down by a red thread of fate? If not for use? His clockwork heart, power cell really, hung in the beat between tik-alive and tok-dead. She ripped it out of him.
Tik – alive.
"It felt like that."
Tok – dead.
Thread cut.
Core consciousness transferred to remaining Ultron Sentry.