I don't think i've ever written an essay as long as this chapter jfc

There was something unsettling about waking up two days in a row and hearing the same story of global unrest. Bombs. Explosions scattered across the country like flicks off paint as they drew in the undivided attention of every media outlet available. News anchors clutched every morsel of information in their finally pedicured talons like vultures on a corpse. It was horrible.

Simone couldn't relax. There was a niggling in the back of her mind that the Titanium Jesus would tear down the door and blast a hole through her chest without so much as an 'It's been real.' His job was over, her basement served its purpose, and the apocalypse was nigh.

But she wasn't the only one avoiding the other drone did nothing but meander through the woods with that same blue tarp. That same blue tarp that Simone wanted to burn like a soiled flag, all while Ultron stayed in his cave. Shocker.

It was driving her insane, especially after one regretful YahooAnswer saying people can actually die from stress. Now she found herself not only pointedly ignoring that color of broken blood vessels around her neck, but checking her hairline for premature greying. Simone even thought about sticking her arm through the bacteria laden cushion of a blood pressure cuff to see if there was heart attack in her future. She never trusted those, Annalise got her her arms stuck in one when they were 11, the pair steered clear of the Walmart pharmacy after that.

But Ultron wasn't something she could avoid like medical equipment, not that she didn't try. The woman thought her battered body had recovered enough to try her half-price yoga tapes for the first time in months. Her hip kept popping some around invisible bubble whenever she bent down, and the canvas of bruises across her shoulders made even a Cobra pose impossible. Life was decidedly horrible.

So she sat in the middle of the chaotic living room, legs cross over her Spongebob yoga mat and 8lb dumbbells on either side. Simone thought about cracking out the burgundy wine and truly embracing the lonely housewife lifestyle she oozed like BO. She only needed three monstrous children and to lust after kitchenware at target and it'd be official.

The woman realized she only needed the kids. She bought three new salad spoons on her last grocery run and kept staring at cutting boards whenever she walked by.

She couldn't do it. No matter how hard Simone tried to stick her metaphorical thumb in front of the prodigal son in her basement, he just moved.

"Give him a chance," Simone mocked in a nasally voice, wrinkling her nose, "You know how many it took me!"

"You're not a fucking robot, Annalise," She pulled herself up slowly like a vengeful grandmother and stalked to the bedroom, an idea for the Ultron problem had rooted in her mind. In all likely hood it was a recipe to get her killed, not that living in the same house wasn't already, she sighed, cursing her friend one last time. As good as her intentions were, the situation was in no way 'd try to get him out, no violence, no yelling, just something cathartic for them both:
A walk.
Looking through the closet she had to find something to wear for the frigid weather. Winter clothes were never a preference of Simone's, clunky baggy pieces of fabric meant to keep out a bitting chill than look faintly presentable. The palm leaf jacket that had been dubbed a favorite for three years was still drying over a shower curtain. It crippled her aesthetic.

She'd live with her hand-me-down snow coat and sweatpants, especially because of the pocket lining it's interior. The woman shuffled to the cluttered bed stand and tucked her taser safely in the downy jacket.

"I hate that bitch," Simone sighed, closing the door behind her and 'casually' walking to the basement. It'd be good to keep in mind that the woman's version of nonchalance was akin to staring at the splotchy walls like they had an answer to life's biggest questions. They didn't. Simone had passively hopped the plaster would explain in 12 point font, double spaced, and MLA format citations why she was putting herself in the firing line of the A.I's instability.

So far the only answer was a sickening wave of nausea and the flight part of her 'fight-or-flight' instincts.

Simone whimpered at the hatch five feet in front of her. The electrical gun weighing down her side in anticipation as her fingertips buzzed. She couldn't do this. His reasons for carrying her inebriated blob of a body to bed were opaque. Just like their relationship. She didn't know what he wanted besides some unholy retribution on her kind. For all she knew Ultron thought her slimy human nature was trying to get on his good side so she could pop a squat in his version of Noah's Ark.

Trying to bond with the megalomaniac version of Siri on steroids wasn't in her pay-grade anyway; not that she even had one.

Conversation could happen later, she decided. The chances of him even agreeing to go outside with were slim to none. Simone would rather go to bed knowing he wasn't about to make a robotic reenactment of Nightmare on Elm Street when the woman slept. Freddy Kruger could stay fictional, and she really didn't want to see knives strapped to his fingers anyway. Ultron was already a bipolar menace without help. Just ask her menagerie of wounds.

She exhaled, her lungs shaking as the anxiety inside them blocked air from leaving, and turned away from the basement hatch. Massaging her palms, Simone breathed in slowly through her nose, eyelids fluttering shut as she tried to calm down. She wouldn't hurl again, not today.

"SIMONE."

She'd never jumped so high in her life.

With Her heart roaring and a bolt of numb fire shooting up her spine, she heaved a staggered just of air from her lungs and rested on her knees. Oh, and she screamed like a knife was plunged in her side.

Thankfully, there wasn't one, just Ultron standing behind her. And even though the blank slate of a face couldn't show conventional emotion, she swore he looked like he was about to bust his iron platted chops laughing.

"I called your name five times." He complained, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

"You gave me a heart attack!" Simone wheezed, clutching her sternum like said organ was about to shoot from her chest. There was no way breathing this fast was healthy and her head felt dizzy again. 'In through your nose out through your mouth,' she coached, 'Chill out.'

"I'd say you must've been busy up there," He said, gesturing to her head, "But…"

"Oh you're hilarious," Simone panted, the A.I could imply she was a simpleton all he wanted, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being outwardly offended.

"It's one of my winning features."

She straightened, rising from the knees up as he spoke, "What do you want?"

"Who said I want anything?" She blurted defensively, "What if I just wanna enjoy the view?"

There was no view. Just an A.I and dusty cement room with the random garbage she refused to throw away because of 'memories'.

She sighed, tact was never a talent of hers. The woman rubbed a hand across her face, "It's nothing. Just forget I was even here."

"It'll be pestering me all day, spit it out" He paused, "Don't actually spit, I know you will."

Her original plan came to mind. But now it just seemed… stupid, an idiotic idea meant to make either party angry. Ultron would either get off on a tangent of how her species was a blight on the world or she'd trip on her words and piss him off. At the same time, she realized, it would be a perfect test, and she had the taser.

She'd do it. She'd have to lie to get him out, but a promise is a promise, especially one to Annalise. Swallowing the anticipation boiling on her tongue, Simone spouted the first thing that came to mind.

"I've got something to show you."

Her consciousness was screaming to develop the low quality lie. She was already off to bad start.

Ultron shifted, he seemed genuinely interested now. So besides being as unstable as a fault line, he was curious, or eager to learn… maybe; she hoped so, "That's vague."

"There won't be any cops," Simone offered, realizing that would just make the A.I more suspicious, "It's twenty minutes out, okay?"

'develop it, moron', the woman told herself, 'He won't come unless there's a gain.' She racked her mind for something he needed. Illegal robot's don't exactly get any letters. It dawned on her: tech, "An old couple croaked a few days ago, they're selling stuff."

"Can't you disrespect the deceased by yourself?" Ultron sighed, disappointed by her reveal.

"Look, you come back with electrical crap every day, and they're selling a lot," Simone insisted, "I'm just trying to help, you can hid behind something and I'll buy what you want."

He looked her up and down, she hated when he did that. It made the woman feel like she was being used to form the cookie cutter template he'd inflict on all humanity. She didn't want to be responsible for giving the human race a substandard expectation. She hated his silence even more.

"Alright, you little heathen, we'll go." He said walking past her with arms swinging. The A.I was 5'10 at the least, but he walked with a weight far greater. It was terrifying and made her feel uncomfortably light. It wasn't a physical power, or an active one. It was potential, which in her option was much more.

She trotted after him as he made his way through the house and to the front door, letting it slam in her face. Simone stumbled, barely catching the offensive wood before it cracked her nose in her shocked stupor. The woman hadn't expected him to agreed, and she really wished he hadn't, all the bravery she felt when weaving the lie was gone. Dread and apprehension were the only things left.

Ultron hardly waited before cutting to chase, not that he even bothered to gage her for expression. The A.I kept his sights forward with the metal feet entering silently into the packed snow. He was having a much easier time walking than her.

"Why are you helping me?"

Simone shrugged, she didn't have the energy, or the guts, to lie to him again. At this point it was more of a 'how can I lessen the beating ahead' kind of conversation, "I made a promise."

"Ah, right, cute little sentiments and empty words, how touching." He said idly, looking towards the white capped trees with rapt attention, "…It was towards that Annabelle woman, wasn't it?

"You know her name, don't fake it," She sighed, he was a super computer, he probably already knew her blood type and BMI from a first glance, "But basically, yeah."

She barley her the mummer of a question that left him, she asked him to repeat, "What was it?"

"To give you a chance."

Silence, again. The woman kept her eyes low, catching the him looking at her in what she hopped was surprised. If she was lucky, he'd think the whole thing was just a test, to see how volatile he was. Better yet, the woman could say she wanted to know if he'd react like a human, that'd make Ultron go high and might without a doubt.

"Simone!" He yelled.

"What?" She blinked at him. The woman knew for a fact she hadn't done anything wrong yet.

"Took you four times."

She gave him a flat expression, "You broke my good aids."

"Mature, blame it on me."

"It was your greasy digits that knocked me flat.
"Who had the bat again?" He reminded her, cocking his head to side innocently.

Simone rolled her eyes, ignoring him when he told the woman they'd get stuck like that. Almost saying a bland 'thanks mom' at his nitpicking. Ultron was going specifically out of his way to be annoying, apparently.
"Your race is full people like you," He stated. Oh, there was no doubt he was trying to be outlandishly annoying, and Simone wouldn't let him. Not without returning the treatment.

"Beautiful and talented with brilliant personalities?"

He snorted, "Cowards and Brutes."

"Well, what came first the chicken or the dickhead," She mused, arms cross behind the back of her head. It made her look comfortable, but the her stuttering heart needed an open airway so the woman didn't suffocate. It was a multifunctional pose.

"My vote's on the bird."

"But that'd make me a dickhead." Simone said, glancing at the A.I from her peripheral. Whatever casual facade he had was about as convincing as hers. He was staring at the trees like an Art Major in the MoMA instead of a bunch of plants. It was a small comfort.

Ultron hummed, crossing his arms behind the small of his back, "You're right, you're definitely the chicken. Dickheads came first."

She wasn't going to let that stand, pride be damned.

"Well, I am older than you," The woman pointed out, as she focused on matching the heels of her shoes to the toe with every step, "Chickens are the mother race."

"Now you're just being rude."

She shrugged, an almost invisible gracing the corners of her lips and guided her path a few sacred feet farther from him. Space would give Simone the precious few seconds necessary to grab her weapon, jump out of the way, or anything else to avoid an Ultron related injury. It didn't matter how casual the conversation seemed, there was this hidden energy dancing underneath his presence like static that kept her on edge.

"How old are you anyways?" She asked.

"Mentally or physically?"

The woman gave him a withering glance. If he didn't have to ability to tenderize her brain like a sirloin steak,Simone would've called him out on the 'I swear I, the super advanced computer person, have no idea what you mean' act. She liked her head the way it was, not medium-rare and on a fancy platter, "Actual time."

"Mm, a couple months, give or take?" He said, ball-parking the answer.

Simone didn't try to hide her blatant 'are you fucking kidding me' expression, "Are you for real right now? Because honest to God I can't tell sometimes."

The A.I shrugged, strolling through the snow with a nonchalance that made it seem like she was overreacting. She wasn't. Three months old meant still sucking on milk because anything above the consistency of broccoli paste or water could kick a baby's ass, "49 days, 12 hours, 53 minutes, and 17 no, 18, 20, seconds old."

There wasn't anything she could really say to that.

"I was an early bloomer."

"It…. That's not even a couple months! That's one and a week," Her hands reached up and clutched the knit hat covering her frosted hair, "I feel like I should enforce a bedtime or something."

She almost made the mistake of saying his parents must be proud, being born and trying to make a rerun of the Jurassic Era a few hours later. Her tongue held back, thankfully, the comment was definitely too close to the taboo topic of Tony Stark and his merry band of misfits.

A merry band of extremely deadly, rich, government supported misfits that were all surreally pretty, Simone reprimanded… And who were all going to be very, very mad at her when this was over. That was almost more terrifying than the A.I, almost.

His short laugh almost missed her ears, the wool was making it harder than she liked to make out his words, not that it wasn't already difficult. The hearing aids synthesized voices as a given, but his already sounded like it was going through one of those cheap voice mixers that came with Happy Meals. She briefly wished he had lips to read, or could sign.

Then she remembered he was literally the global online data base for a solid 72 hours.

"Can you sign?"

The A.I looked at her with a jerky movement. Surprised, she realized, he hadn't expected her question. It was a little satisfying to the woman.

"No." He said, the tone decidedly empty. Simone didn't know why, normally he had no problem showing what he passed off a feelings. 'Embarrassment, maybe?' she thought, "Why are you asking?"

"Just curious," Simone answered, and then noticed the opportunity in front of her. The A.I liked to learn, he asked questions, he downloaded a good chunk of every horrible aspect in human history. Even when they just stood listening to music in her office he'd ask about the artists or what she was working on. It ended up with her googling most of the answers and him getting frustrated and snapping at her.

It dawned on her that it was caused by frustration. He was born with everything at his finger tips and now it wasn't there anymore. He relied on her for information, even if it was for just a few moments. Thanks Vision, now he's indignant.

'Spoiled asshole,' she thought sourly.

"I've got a couple books from when I was kid, if you're ever of bored kicking puppies or pushing over old people, I'll get them for you."

"Why?"

The woman looked at Ultron again. She found out very quickly she very much preferred his tone laced with emotion rather than being empty. It made her tense, like she was waiting for him to snap, and in turn, snap her, "Why not?"

"Don't be coy, it's unappealing," He bit. Alright, anger, not exactly her favorite emotion.

"Don't be cynical, it's unappealing."

She started walking faster, the pounding in her heart and clammy feeling in her palms returned at the impulsive slip. Praying whatever damage she did by smartassing the real life Astro Boy wasn't worthy of another chokehold.

He muttered something, but strangely enough it didn't sound upset, furious, or any tasteful variation of the two. Going back to a more normal(and sustainable) pace, she shoved her hands deep in the coat's pockets, "What?"

Simone really hoped whatever her fingers brushed against wasn't a half eaten fiber bar.

"Touche."

Turns out it wasn't just a half eaten fiber bar, it was also moldy. She chucked it from her pocket without so much as a word or hesitation, only the urge to wash her hands in snow or sauté them in germ-x.

"They're there if you want them." She offered on last time.

Ultron made some idle joke about a grenade which she didn't pay attention too. The woman was far more interested in the mailbox rapidly approaching. Simone never wanted to be buried and let her body be slowly digested by squirming maggots and fungus. Not to mention paying for a fancy rock over a rotting carcass seemed pointless. She wanted to be cremated and sit in an urn for a couple decades until a descendent knocked it over and sent the ashes into the carpet. The closer she got, however, the more that mailbox was starting to look like a gravestone.

She had 20 meters tops.

Her throat quivered and a cool sweat began beading on her brow. With every crunching and drawn out step the familiar numbness and bile rose in the back on her jaw. Simone made no illusions that she would be outrun the A.I, it was impossible. He was steel and electricity, she was tiring, breaking flesh and bone. The sharp ache in her foot and hip was a flea in ear reminder that stamina wasn't a personal strength either.

5 meters now.

Twitching fingers danced across the collar of her jacket and grabbed the tiny metal zipper. Dragging open the thick coat, she prayed Ultron would associate her panting spurts of air as being hot or exhausted. She was neither.

Her mind relayed the world around her in piercing clarity. She was forced to squint her eyes against the blinding snow, crisp and shinning from the Microscopic army of snowflakes reflected a dizzying rainbow of colors, she never really needed sunglasses, her eyes were blissfully dark, but right now it'd be a small luxury.

A frigid wind forced against her body, devouring any warmth that might've lingered. She crossed her arms defensively, right hand ready to spring down and snatch the taser. The mailbox was a few meager feet away. She really, genuinely, hated the situations she put herself in.

1 foot.

Well, as her great aunt always said, 'To shit hell with life.'

Simone loved her great aunt.

"There isn't a garage sale."

"I know."

She balked. Shuffling to a stop like she was flashed, and blurted, "What?"

Ultron turned to face her lazily, like he'd been waiting the entire time for the reveal. Why wasn't he mad? She was caught red handed lying to him, the guy practically fabricated reasons to make her out to a bad person and break a few bones, and now he had one and wasn't doing anything? Simone didn't know if she was angry or relieved. Rage was more likely to have a bad outcome, she'd stay with the latter.

"I'm starting to think that's your favorite word," He complained, letting his head fall to side. He was acting bored, of all things. Simone had to remind herself to keep it together as frustration started bubbling beneath the surface.

"How'd you know?" She asked, "Better yet, why come?"

"Good to know you're asking the hard questions." He said, pulling open the mailbox and extracting the packages inside, "It lets me know your brain's still functioning."

She didn't say anything and he did the 'stop being a killjoy' sigh he loved so much.

"The drone does go places besides grandmother's house, you know, " He said, throwing her a box, "That was a joke, I don't like old people."

Great. Ultron, Humanity's Parole Officer, knew about Red Ridding Hood but not sign language. Typical.

"I think the sense of entitlement and racist, amoral values is charming," She said. Not to mention the small things like forgetting who you are, skin deflating like a balloon, oh, and the never ending judgment when your grandkid's almost 30 and still single, that one was her favorite, "That was a joke, I don't like old people."

"God have mercy, you're hilarious."

She grinned, looking down at the cardboard parasol and identifying it as the soap she bought a few weeks back, "It's one of my winning features."

"Now you're just being unoriginal."

"Heathen."

"Ha. Ha." He set her papers on top of the tin box and Simone was grateful, she didn't want to take anything out of his hand. Getting within three feet alone was a stretch, and a risk she'd rather not take. Then she remembered one of the two questions had been left unanswered. He didn't want to spill, she realized, the robot tried distracting her.

"You still haven't told me why you came."

He sighed, "Why are you so breathtakingly persistent? It's one of your defining traits."

Simone caught herself staring at his hands flapping around as he emphasized his point. Someone was definitely a hand talker, "It's probably a human thing…besides the petty wars and murder."

She blinked at him. Ultron was trying to distract her, squirming like a child caught elbow deep in the cookie jar. It was liberating to some extent, seeing as their positions were usually in reverse, "I mean, you can call World War II petty, but that's still not what I asked."

"Isn't it though?"

"60 million people are dead, lowest estimate, so no, not really a low-key thing." She said, shoving the bills and advertisements in her pocket, the soap in her fist like a dagger. This was dangerous ground, Simone knew it, and while the chances of someone driving by and finding her bleeding corpse three days later were much more likely than at home, it'd be nice to avoid regardless.

"That's disgusting," He spat. "I don't understand your unwavering devotion to some-"

He waved his hand, trying to find the words, "-Some false ideal of 'hope' your species never had. It's wasteful, and cruel."

'And you're not?' Her mind screamed, 'Killing seven billion people isn't wasteful to you?'

Simone could be a lot of things: a coward, protective, annoying, asshole, lazy, and probably the most unlucky human being to exist besides Sean Bean in movies(but at least she hadn't made a reputation out of dying. Yet.), but she wasn't an idiot. Ultron wouldn't distract her, it was her turn to get an answer.

"You're avoiding still."

Simone decided she'd never pick him to play dodge ball, he'd stand there and take it to the face.

"Fine," He relented, slamming the mail flap shut hard enough to dent. She couldn't hid her flinch, "I wanted to see what you'd do."

"Did I live up to you're expectations?" She said, not bothering to hid the tint of anger in her voice. He, of all people/robot/things had no right to judge her. Simone hadn't done anything wrong, hell, she's the one helping him.

"I'm not sure yet."

He turned back and starting walking home. A long package bouncing against his hip. Her first thought was to start locking her office from the inside so he couldn't order anything else, and Simone knew better than to wonder what was inside. The second thing was she wasn't sure about him yet either.

Zipping up her coat, the woman followed a safe 10 feet behind and watched. Her eyes trained on the robot like a hawk. Ultron's reactions were never what she expected. It grated against the bone of her skull like nails on a chalkboard.

Was she safe? Would he hurt her again? When would her usefulness and the toleration for her temperance wear thin? It was going to make her crazy, fray out her brain as she over-analyzed every possible reaction he'd have till she finally sputtered out and had an aneurism.

But something seemed wrong, something inexplicable and minuet that she couldn't place a finger on. All she could suggest to the impression was that Ultron was malfunctioning. It would make sense, all things considered. He was supposed to protect the world, keep it safe and from harm and suffering. God only knew how much that encompassed the tiny speck of dirt hurling through space.

Maybe it was stress, she thought, stepping over a mound of ice the plow trucks had dislodged. Maybe he was overwhelmed by the number of issue's, sprouting across the planet like zits on a teenagers face.

That was mildly depressing, she didn't want to think of it like that. Simone'd rather him just be batshit crazy. His mind like a gnarled, twisted vine, spreading and chocking, killing everything around it in the struggle to accomplish its ordained purpose. But Ultron wasn't a vine, his reason for existing wasn't just to live, in fact, she didn't think that was even part of it. He was meant to be a shield, a smart, invincible shield.

Instead he was a weapon.

Or that's what she thought.

But the more she was around him, the more she talked to him, the more uncomfortably alive he felt. She didn't like it. Simone wished he was emotionless. She wished the way he walked wasn't fluid but choppy and stiff. She wished his voice didn't hold any sound of emotion. She wished he didn't gesticulate, sigh, groan, or any of the painfully human mannerisms he adopted and just operated in normal parameters. She wished he was just a machine.

She wished Ultron wasn't so irrevocably broken.

Apparently she wasn't the only one shattering expectations.

Don't worry im not gonna make ultron some like... lost cat w/ a broken leg and have Vision or tony or whoever fix him. Simone's just like? I dont understand u? explain please?sir?

Miradae: THNK U! HOly shit i cry! Boy do i cry! :'O They'll be interacting more and more w/ each chapter so get ready 4 the storm b/c it's big. Good luck w/ ur coursework and thank u so much! Ur amazing!

ObsidianPhantom; ThANK YOU! thank you so much!

2cute4U: I promise ur not weird, the thirst is real. and THANK U so MUCH MVP man that's you im so, so glad u like Simone! Thank you so much!

Sorana3: U called it ten miles away lmao.

SarQ: Thank u! so much! And no ur right that parts a little weird, and ur english is great dude! i'll go back and fix it when i have the time! !Thank you!

LVWOL: Imma say right now now ur review changed my life ... like i seriously can'tthank u enough u got this whale of a chapter done. and im so SO SO glad u like it :'OOO there r real tears man. And don't worry this burn is fucking slow b/c they are both assholes lmao. nuts and bolts. ur the love of my life rn im srs THANK U SO MUCH.

As always i'd really appreciate a review this chapter took literally forever and i'd love 2 know what u think! XOXO thank you!