its only been what,a year? lol happy 2018 i watched a compilation of Ultron scenes and remembered this.
There is drunk, and then there is blistering drunk. Simone was settling somewhere ten miles past the later, and banging her free fist against the basement door. The laptop's lips bit into her hip, forearm flat against her ribs with a bottle in between her fingers. That door was coming down. It was coming down if it was the last thing she did.
So maybe she had been crying, so maybe she gone through a witches brew of liquor. She was mourning, it was allowed. Her grandmother was dead and she was going to watch a movie. She was going to watch a movie and for once it wasn't going to be alone.
Simone pays no mind to the A.I's yells, what could he do, bruise her? Been there, done that. She shrieks back, peeling yells from the back of her throat. And yes, maybe her hand was hurting and yes, maybe Simone was a two heartbeats from switching to kicking. Thankfully, he answers, thankfully, Ultron with those cold hands wrapped just to tight around her shoulder caught her.
"Watch a movie"
The blubbering feel of her lips dragging together makes Simone wonder if three words merged into one.
"No."
He tries to shove her away, but she pushes further into the pinching slots of the robot's palm.
"My grandma died."
"Boo-hoo. It wasn't me."
Her brow pulls together, briefly remembering it had been weeks since she'd plucked them. Was her unibrow back?
"I'm sad"
"I'm annoyed."
"A movie would help, they're fun, they're so much fun, Ultron." Vertigo drags the woman harshly left and she stumbles before sucking from the bottle once-forgotten between tingling fingers, "I'll make popcorn."
"Simone, I'm flattered by your consideration but I'm on a diet."
"And my grandma's dead."
She grabs his wrist, stiff against his thigh, "Please." Simone tugs and she really isn't about to cry again she promises, sometimes blinking was just hard to remember. That was all. "Please. I don't wanna be alone. I can't."
Pulling again, her heart soars when a foot shifts.
"Please."
"Thirty minutes."
If anyone asked her later, Simone definitely did not rush forward. She definitely did not clunk her forehead against a metal chest, and there was absolutely, irrefutably, no way the pitiable thank you that snaked between her teeth wasn't shuddered with a barely contained sob.
He says to her, drug along in the clutter of books and pictures across the wood halls. There is a picture book cracked apart like eggshells besides the sofa, tiny squares with a tinier girl in a bright red sari, "You have no idea how hard it is to be such a saint."
She laughs, skittering her fingers across the beaten DVD player between stacks of magazines and disregarded mail. The sound of him settling behind her in the dark means more than Simone could understand. "Gran raised me, you know."
"I really love Carrie Fisher,"There is a hum from him, and a blaring trumpet behind the bold yellow font across a black screen as she stands, "She's like her, too. Really just… Top stock kind of person. When everything was shite she found what made it good."
There is a respectful three feet between the two of them, she almost offers to make popcorn before remembers his organless disposition, "She left Sri Lanka to pop my mom out somewhere the UK wasn't jabbin' with an iron prong."
"To america, I assume?"
"Nah, to Tamil Nadu, colonialism is everywhere, unfortunately," Ultron is watching the screen, and maybe she's a little smug about that, "My mom came here for school."
"That sword wouldn't work, by the way."
Simone gasps, nearling springing from a cushion that was all too comfortable, "You leave Obi Wan alone!"
"His name is ridiculous."
"Alone!" She flicks a wad of paper at his thigh, snorting as he stared.
"What would it take you to defend me like that?" Ultron tosses a book she smacks deftly from the air, grinning, "I do so much for you."
"If I protect you I'm the Obi Wan! You're gonna be my padawan-"
Simone scrambles from the coach into the layers of laminated pictures. There were so many people she'd forgotten to call, to write; how many of them still remembered her? The thought doesn't brew on her for long, the missing memory folding between her dragging fingers. Presented in front of him, she loves this picture, and Simone feels her cheeks ache with a smile, "-I was Yoda, once!"
"'Once?" He's amused(she can tell, kind off) and takes it as encouragement to continue.
"Gran and my mom loved Star Wars. Gran's the sith-in the black- I had like three teeth so I couldn't eat any candy but she bought us icecream instead." The green face paint was splotchy against her skin, she remembered her mother laughing when the older woman, wrought with laugh lines and thick grey hair, painted it on, "Mom was still in school still, I think she feels guilty about that, but don't tell her I told you."
"I'm sure that wouldn't be the most pressing thing about meeting in the in-laws."
She saddles back up onto the couch, fixing Ultron with the most severe expression she could muster, "Promise."
"On my honor." He laughs, and surprises Simone in a not wholly unpleasant way as he accepts her wayward offer for a pinky-swear, "Now watch you're stupid movie."
"Ha!", Her head lolls heavy as lead in the worn canvas, "You love it I know it."
"I worry I won't make her proud," Simone has no reason to admit this, but for now, with burning liquid in her gut, it feels goods, "I'll never really get to know now, but that's life I guess."
Her eyes are not burning, she was an adult.
"Thanks for sitting with me,"There is frame on the wall of her grandmother that smiles in a way that tells her she'll never really be a grown up, she'll always be someone's child. Simone isn't sure how to find comfort there yet. She sighs, old and young and lonely, "I hope you get someone in your life like that."
"Someone to crush you under the weight of expectation?"
"Ha! No, someone who's like warm honey."
Luke Skywalker is stung by the training droid, Han Solo has little pity for a foolish farm boy.
"Someone who you… shit," There is an unfortunate roll in her stomach, "…. Someone who makes you wanna do right but s'okay if you don't. It makes you good, brighter."
Ultron hums, fingers weaved on his gut, and she thinks about fingers into wicker baskets and jedi robes. Which would he be, a Jedi or a Sith? She thinks the power had its appeal, and the instability fit like a puzzle-piece, but he wanted order. Would it kill him like Vader to heal?
"You better not be Anakin." Is the last thing she says before falling asleep, "You're like kinda a friend and I don't wanna lose anymore."
"She'd think you're fine, Simone," he responds, the woman doesn't hear.
"Simone, wake up."
"Wake up."
Her neck screams, the cartilage between joints angry from a night of compression.
"Dont. Move."
He is standing by the window, a hand outstretched to the ungangly sprawl of her body. It's almost a nice picture she thinks from the throbbing in her skull, the white light against snow seeping in the warmth of her home.
And then he's shot through the head.
She screams, kicking from the coach. Simone sees glass shatter as he's struck again, again, again, until the beaten metal collapses. Blood roars in her ears, beating against the tightness and her neck and Simone isn't sure if she's stopped screaming.
"Ultron!" The woman wishes she's brave enough to crawl to him, but she stays pressed behind the coach, "Ultron!?"
He doesn't spark, he doesn't move, and Simone won't admit to a shuddering heave as she understands what the deadlights of his eyes meant. Ultron was dead. Ultron was dead on her living room floor. Ultron was dead on her living room floor because he was shot.
With guns.
"Oh, God."
She scrambled, socked feet sliding across wood, a singular objective to snatch the tiny weapon on her bedside drawer becomes paramount. Simone does not stop when her doors crash down, she does not stop when dozen of heavy boots trample through her home.
The taser bounces through numb fingers, and unsteady in her palm. She swallows the sour bile in her throat and pulls herself through a bedside window. Iron and polymer scrape red into her skin, and snow burns as she drops.
Simone runs.
How? She doesn't understand, weaving behind a tree thinner than her. How did they get here so fast? Bark erupts and splinters her arms. How did Ultron not know? The woman tries to turn and heavy arms wrap the woman's waist.
Ice strikes her bone deep and she kicks the black mass of fabric.
She pulls her leg forward, and strikes him in the closest approximation of a groin she good. Money shots, she thinks, dropped to the ground, I love money shots.
"Yield!" the man demands, "We are here to help!"
"Fuck you," There is a multi-headed dragon brazen across his chest that tells her otherwise, "You killed my robot."
"We are here to help."
Guns didn't carry that message, and Simone rolls her taser. Clumps of ice seperate her palms from the plastic, the freezerburn hardly registers. What does, however, is the man being ripped from the earth in an ungodly crunch of bones and meat.
A giant stands before her, and Simone's heart threatens to combust.
She pulls the trigger.
It crashes to its knees, shuttering, wild, and the hollow jowls glow like embers.
"SIMONE!"
No. The mass, missing an arm, splattered in red with echoing eyes knew her, and she knew him.
"ULTRON?!"
If everyone who reviewed this can get in a line so i can suck ur dick in gratitude that would be swell, for real reading those is why i wanted to write this again bc yall? like up my world? like no body else?
reviews are so appreciated and motivating thank u all for reading 3 I hope ur 2018 starts well!