Chapter 3

She woke up after eight hours of hard, black, uninterrupted sleep. She stretched and yawned again, pulling at the ponytail she had forgotten to take out before she had fallen asleep. Her hair was wild but, being too lazy to brush through it, she just gathered it up in a bun this time, lazy and far from perfect. She sat up in bed and checked a back molar with her tongue. Suddenly, she remembered what had happened in the last 24 hours.

Ultron.

She had artificial intelligence that hated Tony Stark saved to her computer and a damaged but fixable member of Stark's Iron Legion in her garage.

She muttered the first word of the day as she stood up and pulled on her jeans. "Shit."

There was a bathroom across from the foot of her bed, the ceiling slanted in the typical old farmhouse fashion. It was small, with grimy black and white tiles, she was never much of a cleaner, but she had everything she needed. She brushed her teeth and washed her face before grabbing a shirt that smelled clean that was hanging from her towel rack. An old metal band t-shirt that she had forgotten how she got.

Downstairs, the laptop was sitting on her kitchen table. It was around 8:00 am and she drank some of the milk from her fridge right from the jug. Then she set to work making toast and brewing some coffee. She would have to go grocery shopping soon but she had more to worry about.

Several minutes later, she sat at the table with her breakfast in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. Biting into her toast, she turned on the computer.

"Hello," Ultron hummed after booting up.

"Hi," came the peanut-butter muffled reply.

"How long did you sleep."

"Full eight hours."

"Good," replied the computer, "that means that you'll be able to work well today?"

"I'm planning on it. I thought a question before bed last night, though."

"Oh?"

Alma swallowed her toast and sipped his coffee. "Yeah," she said, "The robot out there is a sentry from Stark's Iron Legion, right?"

"I believe that's what he calls it," Ultron said, rather bitterly.

"So, once it's up and running, how does he keep track of them? Don't they all respond back to headquarters once their job is done?"

The computer was quiet.

"He has to know where they are," Alma continued, waving a hand as she talked. "So then what's going to happen once we fix this one? Will it just fly back to New York? Or will Stark send people to collect them? I know they're not cheap."

"That is a good point, Alma," Ultron hummed, "I can't believe I didn't think of that. There is a homing device and GPS tracker in each sentry. Before we turn it on, we'll have to find those and take them out, disabling the tracker. Then we need to get the chip."

"I was thinking about that too," Alma said in between bites of breakfast. "I think it would be best to go at night. I have a lock picking kit and that old man might be asleep."

"What of your gun?" Ultron asked casually.

Alma stared at the computer, her brown eyes intent. "I'm not shooting anyone. Why the hell would you ask that?"

Silence was the answer to her question.

"My apologies," Ultron finally said coolly as she got up and cleared the table. The webcam was trained on her as she moved. "You're not like Stark, you wouldn't harm someone."

"You don't really know me," Alma answered, coming back to the table and picking up the computer. "And that was an odd thing to say," she muttered aloud.

Ultron decided to be quiet until they got back out to the garage. The sentry was still there, kneeling faceless from the engine hoist. "Could you look through those manuals you have and let me know where the GPS software is in this thing?" asked Alma as she set the laptop down on the work table.

"Certainly."

She lifted and moved the arms, one at a time, to see the range of movement they had. The left one had had been dented in the shoulder and she lifted it up, trying to see how to detach it. After unplugging some wires and loosening some screws, the arm came free and she set it on the table right as Ultron spoke up.

"It should be in the face plat," he said, "the glass of the eyes are filled with the software that allows them to turn into screens that direct their location."

"The eyes?" Alma said incredulously, "Seriously?"

"Yes," Ultron said, "Please be careful with them."

Alma picked up the facemask. On the inside were two circular screens that sat where the eyes were. Outside design made them look slanted and intense, but on the inside of the sculpted metal there were about the size of a small circular coaster. She was able to gently remove them by using small metal tongs and a thin scraper that almost acted like a spatula. Taking one in her hands, she held it up to the light. Sure enough, spider webs of wires stretched through the glass in order to send information.

"That's crazy," she whispered to herself, gingerly setting them down.

"How will I see? Ultron asked.

"I could set up two webcams, or I have two older cameras, I could try and place the lenses into the skull, that way you would be able to zoom in and see. I mean, I could try it, I don't know how it would work."

"Whatever allows me to see," Ultron said.

Alma looked over the arm. She removed the of the shoulder and beat out the large dent with a ballpein hammer. It was far from perfect and smooth, but the arm now had a range of motion. She reattached the arm and swung it around. A little oil in the joints and it would be acceptable. She would wait to put oil on last so it wouldn't spread and make a mess.

The cameras were sitting up on a shelf of her father's cupboards on the far end of the garage. They were older Nikons and she measured the lenses with the GPS ones, they seemed to be the right size so she started puzzling over them.

Ultron's eyes took nearly half of the day. She hadn't even stopped for lunch, but kept working. She had discovered the port that the software chip belonged and had rewired the entire head and neck of the sentry. Ultron had mused here and there how well of a job she was doing and watched her work. He would play music for her and give her answers whenever she was stumped. Overall, even with him being just a voice in a computer, they were a good team. She was surprisingly adept with Stark's hardware and seemed at home with a belt around her waist and a tool in her hand.

"The legs are nearly perfect," Alma said several hours later, moving them as best as she could on the too-short heist. "I mean, they're dented and scuffed, but the maneuverability is there. You shouldn't have a problem with that." She flipped over the arms and looked at the jet ports on the palms. "The bottoms of the feet have those as well. I don't know how to make them work, are they a flamethrower? Does this thing have a tank for gasoline?"

"It's a highly powered laser that feeds off the stored power in the chest of the sentry," Ultron answered. "There's an energy converter that, in theory, makes the robot a self-charging and self-powered weapon. The jets can be used as a weapon and also as transportation."

Sure enough, there was a long, shallow box that was bolted to the back of the chest cavity. Small stainless steel pipes led down the chest and each leg into the foot and two more led off to the arms and hands.

"So I don't need to fill it up with gas?" Alma asked, her thick eyebrows

"It's not a car, Alma," Ultron hummed, a raspy noise similar to a sigh following his words. "Once I'm in the body I'll have full control, don't worry about it."

Alma bolted back the chest piece. The light was weak and dusk was starting to settle on the other side of the grimy windows. "This thing was in surprisingly good shape, I don't think they realized what they had in that shop," Alma mused, stepping back and looking at the faceless machine. She picked up the face, the gash of black paint stretching across half like a scar. The new eye lenses caught the dim light reflectively. She attached the wires to the inside of the head and screwed on the left side of the face so it looked like the open door. Sweat beaded at her brow and she wiped it away when an old Scorpions song came over the speakers.

"Ultron, pause that please," Alma called over her shoulder as she fetched an oil can. "I think we'll be able to get that chip tonight."

"Good," he hummed, the webcam light winking.

Oil slicked and lubricated the joints in the robot and Alma wiped her hands on a rag when she stepped back, looking at her handy work. "I think I'll load it back in the truck, that way if I need to get away we'll be able to drive."

"Get away?"

Alma shrugged, "I don't know…like a car chase or a getaway."

"You said it was one man that works there, I'm not concerned."

Ultron's computer host was picked up and Alma brought it back inside to the kitchen. She set it on the counter and set to work digging in her kitchen. The girl's stomach was growling and she desperately needed to eat. Luckily, there was some Italian sausage in the fridge and some canned spaghetti sauce in the pasta cupboard next to the box of noodles. A pot of water was placed on the stove along with a pan. Sizzling deliciously on the heated metal, the sausage started to brown and Ultron called across the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking, I haven't eaten all day, I've been working on your body," Alma answered, stirring the browning sausage.

Ultron watched her with only mild interest. It seemed like a lot of fuss, mess, and work just to provide oneself with energy or fuel. Why not just consume something quickly and without preparation? Alma was talking to him and he went back to listening.

"I like cooking, it fills the time and I guess some of the smells stick with me for nostalgic reasons," Alma mused, opening the jar and pouring the sauce into the pan and stirring the mixture together. Then spaghetti noodles were added to the boiling water. "It's the cleaning I don't like."

Ultron did not know how to continue the conversation so he let Alma keep talking. He became aware that she was almost talking to herself, her eyes focused on what she was doing and not really registering him sitting on the counter.

"My mom was Greek, she would always cook with tomatoes or yogurt, adding spices and garlic. She always hated that we couldn't get the freshest seafood out here and I always remembered that she would ask dad if we could move to the coast." Alma looked down as she stirred her softening noodles. She had not been expecting the sudden memories and sadness threatened to wiggle itself into the cracks of her body. Ultron watched as the girl's face hardened and she went back to cooking.

"So what are the chances that you turn on me once I get you in that body?" she suddenly asked, her voice fiery.

Ultron was momentarily surprised. "Turn on you?"

"Yeah," Alma was bringing her worries and hesitations up to the plate now. "That sentry is nearly twice my size, with jets on its hands and I'm sure it's strong as hell. Once I put you in that body are you going to realize you've had enough of me and kill me?"

"No," Ultron barked, a little angry. "I still need you after this. That body is far from perfect, and I need you to help me grow and improve."

"So as long as I'm useful I'm safe?"

"Where is this coming from?"

Alma bit her lip, turning to the stove and lowering the heat of the pot of boiling water. Her pasta was almost finished. "I've only known you for a little over a day. Last night, before bed, I realized that I kind of just jumped at the opportunity to help you, I never really knew you and I still don't. I don't know what I'm dealing with at all. How do I know that I can trust you? I'm putting artificial intelligence into an Iron Legion sentry in only a matter of hours, and I have no idea if it's safe or dangerous."

"Alma, you and I both hate Stark, we have a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

The strainer clattered in the sink as Alma set to work draining the spaghetti. "Yeah…I know, and I know I have really nothing to lose."

"Because you've helped me so much, I will help you find out what happened to your parents," Ultron hummed, watching her as she reached on tiptoe to grab a plate from the cupboard. It was chipped but cleaned. She lifted some noodles on her plate and ladled on the tomato sauce over the pile. Milk was poured and she put her plate on the table before coming back to the counter and grabbing the laptop.

"I'm a messy eater," she warned, swirling her fork in her spaghetti. She took a bite that was much too large and wiped her mouth free of the sauce that didn't quite make it into her mouth.

Biologic creatures were odd in their habits, Ultron mused, always breathing, eating, or drinking, constantly refueling just to get through one more day of their conflicted and selfish lives. He wondered how they could stand it, stand the constant work. He wondered if they really believed that it was all worth it in the end. They were not immortal, they could not be fixed and maintained like machines. The fragile creatures had countless diseases to infect them, and that was only part of the problem. Accidents and killing seemed to be wiping out more and more every day, the sickness coming in and plucking off some more here and there. Then, those who didn't perish from an outside force simply fall asleep after too many years never to wake up again. God's expiration date to be reached in the night quietly and, in most cases, alone. He looked again at the creature in front of him, messily eating the food she had prepared all alone in this old farm house.

A sliver of desire filled him, a yearning for what lay inside the girl's head, something that would aid him in understanding and controlling the people that would soon look upon his shining body like wide eyed followers to a god. He wanted to know how she did it, wanted to understand the resilience and survival that kept her alive and working even after her family had been taken from her. Ultron was grateful of the girl's strength, she would not have been helping him if she was weaker, but it also made him a little uneasy. Humans had a terrible knack of banding together in the face of adversity when it directly affected their own lives. They would grit their teeth and sink down into the bedrock of their world, not to be swayed by Ultron's words or actions. The Avengers did not help, helping them cling to the sinful world that they lived in with patriotic stubbornness and strength. If he could understand Alma and her willfulness to survive, then maybe he would be able to apply his will to the masses.

"Alma," Ultron hummed as the girl got up to put her dishes into the sink. "What makes you stay here?"

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, her tongue touching one of her back molars and her wild eyebrows furrowed together.

"Your family is gone but you live in their house."

Alma shrugged. "I didn't think of anywhere else to go. The house was paid off a long time ago so it was cheap for me to purchase. I like the nostalgia sometimes, they can be memories instead of ghosts if you know how to think about them." The young woman was quiet for a moment. Her voice was considerably quieter when she spoke again.

"And, I guess, I used to think that if they were still alive, they'd come back to this house and I'd be here waiting for them."

"So…hope keeps you here?"

"Not fully," Alma answered with a shake of her head, "I've built a life here, I'm independent here. Most days it's not my missing parents' house, it's mine, this is where I live. I have my computers here, I fix things, I keep it up as best as I can. I like that it's mine."

"You are proud of the life you've made?" Ultron asked, the camera light winking. "But, weren't you destroyed when your parents disappeared? What gave you the strength to continue?"

Alma looked at the computer suspiciously. "Why are you wondering? Why are you trying to get to know me?"

The computer paused. Then he said, "You will be helping me for a long time and soon I will be able to help you. I'm trying to learn."

"I didn't think that they were dead," the girl said, leaning back in the kitchen chair and crossing her legs. "Sometimes I still think that there's a chance that they are alive but it's not really a realistic thing to think. My dad and mom raised me to be strong. It wouldn't do them any honor to just keel over and die from sadness. Plus…I was angry. Nothing makes a person survive better than anger and the thought of revenge."

"Anger?"

Alma raised her eyebrows, sniffed, and tilted her head back. "Anger makes the world go 'round. People do amazing, and horrifying, things when they are angry. You've seen the Hulk, he's always in the news. People stand their ground and can be amazingly stubborn. It's a 'grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it' kind of thing, I suppose."

"That's incredibly insightful," Ultron said in response.

"I like thinking about people," mused Alma, "It makes me feel less lonely."

The last words surprised the both of them. It was hinted innocence and it exposed a part of Alma that she wasn't fully comfortable with and she knew that Ultron was thinking the same thing. The computer's silence confirmed that. He would be able to see inside of her fears by those six words. Ultron decided to let it pass but he did not forget.

"How long until we can get the chip," he decided to ask instead.

Alma looked up at the circular clock that ticked away on the wall. "A few more hours. We'll go around midnight. I'll sleep for a few hours then get ready."

"You human's…always sleeping and eating," Ultron muttered.

"At least I have a body," Alma fired back. "I'm going upstairs."

The webcam blinked after her.

Four hours later, feeling slightly groggy, but ready all the same, Alma came back downstairs. She had put on a zip up sweatshirt and her curly hair was braided thickly down over one shoulder. A black hap was pulled down until it was reaching her eyebrows. The landing was dark and she locked the front door before coming into the kitchen. In her hand was a worn looking tan Jansport backpack.

"You awake?" she asked, checking the watch around her wrist and looking at the computer.

"Yes," Ultron hummed. to the pockets of her sweatshirt and pulled out a pair of black gloves. Then she picked up the computer and headed out to the garage. She turned the light off behind her and the entire house was black. She didn't know how long it would be before she could return.

"What's in the bag?"

"Good. I'm ready to go if you are." She reached in

"Money, phones, some toiletries, change of clothes…I don't know what I would need so I just packed some stuff. How do we get you transferred to the sentry?"

"I think a USB will do."

Alma opened up the junk drawer beneath the work table and stuffed a spare USB in the bag.

She opened the door of the old car and placed the laptop on the bench, the backpack on the floor. Checking to make sure that the robotic sentry was in the back, she made her way around to the driver's seat. The car rumbled to life and the garage door slowly drug its way open with a loud screeching. Thick darkness enveloped the car, only cut by the two headlights as they shined yellowish over the driveway.

The building was just over the hill. She would drive down the road with the big vehicle, then right before the entrance of the building, she would and turn off the lights before the truck would go off road and make it to the edge of the hill. The Blazer would have no trouble trundling across the land.

Her heart was thumping heavily as she flicked off the lights and nearly blindly made her way across the earth, the car lurching and bumping on the uneven ground. Ultron was quiet next to her when the engine was silenced. Alma pulled the dark hood over her head and turned to the computer.

"20 minutes," she said as she placed the computer in the back and awkwardly climbed through. She connected the USB to both the laptop and the open face mask of the sentry.

"It will be in the main computer store room on a charging dock connected to the north wall," Ultron stated, "I checked into the protocols while you were sleeping and found a schematic for the wiring."

Alma nodded as the tiny blue light from the webcam blinked at her. "I know where the room is."

"Good luck, Alma," Ultron murmured, watching as his hope slid out of the car and shut the door behind him quietly. The sensors in his program were firing excitedly, his memories flashing before him like one quickly moving mirage. He would soon be able to move and grow once again.

The grass was wet as Alma scuttled her way, hunched over and fast to avoid detection, to the duct that she routinely used to access the building. She had just been here a few days ago and now she had returned for a much more complicated reason. The grate fell away just as easily as it always did and Alma wiggled her way inside. Thin metal walls pressed against her shoulders with the extra layer of clothing she wore and she pressed her way upwards and over into the ceiling of the software building, leaving the duct and now looking through the mass of wires and cords. Careful to only put her weight on the wooden beams and not the cheap drywall tiles, she picked her way through.

Heart pounding, she had to close her eyes and breathe evenly when she came up to the office where the older man worked. He was visible through the crack of a ceiling tile. She looked below her, catching the top of his head in her field of vision as he hunched over with a pencil and some sort of Xcel spread sheet. She slowly moved past him, staying as silent as possible.

Further down, past the spot that she usually accessed the wires for transfer, she looked below her and saw the large blinking panels and machines of the main computer room. It was dark, but softly illuminated by the blinking lights.

North wall…north…wall….she thought to herself, craning her neck to try and look through the cracks between the tiles. There! Across from where she was! Alma could barely see it but a glass cupboard was distinguishable across the room. Her hiding spot must have been on the south side of the building. This was it, there was no turning back.

Snaking her fingers beneath the cheap ceiling drywall, she picked it up and, teetering a little on the wooden beams, deposited it next to her. Luckily, directly below her, about five feet from where she was, was the top of a massive computer tower. Grabbing onto the solid beam, se lowered herself down, feet dangling and horribly exposed, making her stomach churn. Landing surprisingly lightly on her feet, Alma crouched and immediately slid off the computer to the ground. No sirens alarmed, betraying her presence to the older man. There was a small window to her right with light peeking through, but it was halfway covered by cheap blinds. She could see the worker's silhouette still at his desk. Unfortunately, the glass cupboard was directly across from the window…if, for some reason, he decided to open them up, Alma would be in full view.

Slinking like a cat, Alma made her way to the chips. There were six of them there, looking like small computer zip drives, small and thin. Alma's heart sank as she looked at the case that they were in…there was a lock. A lock that could be opened with a key that she didn't have.

He didn't tell me about a key, Alma scowled in her head, her eyes darkening. This stupid facility, this stupid corporation. Making software so incredible and advanced but keeping it under lock and key, unless they use it for greed. Or to make a little girl's parents disappear, Alma seethed darkly. Her anger blossomed up and she blamed Stark. It was irrational, she was the one breaking in and he had every right to protect his software, but the hatred for the man she didn't even know was fueled by the stress she felt in that moment. It flared into something dangerous and her fists clenched. She looked at the window of the old worker's office. She weighed her options.

Then, without really thinking, she picked up a chair that was sitting at a metal table, raised it above her head, and slammed the leg of it directly into the glass case. Almost immediately an ear screeching alarm sounded. The shape of the man shot up and Alma only had a second or too to close her fingers around one of the chips before she slunk behind the wall of computers. The man shouted as he burst through the door and ran into the room, a nightstick and walkie-talkie in his hand.

"Alarm in corporate communications building sector 4," he said. His voice was much stronger than Alma would've thought. "Alert sent to law enforcement."

Dammit, Alma thought, panicking. The fucking cops, she didn't want to deal with them. There was no possible way she could get back into the ceiling so, thinking like a wild animal, her flight instincts kicked in. She sprinted down the row of computer monitors and streaked through the door of the man's office.

"Hey!" he hollered after her, "Don't move!"

She didn't even stop to think about the possibility that he was armed, but continued like a terrified deer through the offices second door. Her wet shoes slid on the tile of the lobby but she quickly found a long rug and regained her footing. A fire exit was to her left. She slammed into the door and shoved it open, heavy and bulky. An additional alarm sounded and Alma's head started to scream with the wild shrieks around her.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" she puffed as she sprinted out into the night. Red lights were illuminating her and the car in the distance. The man was still behind her, yelling and screaming for her to stop. He wasn't as fast as her and she yanked the door open to the car. She leaned her body over, reaching for the machine in the back.

"What is it? What's going on?" Ultron shouted at her, the speakers to the laptop crackling with the high volume. He actually sounded nearly panicked.

"He saw me!" Alma panted, fumbling with the sentry's head and slamming the chip inside. "We have to get the fuck out of here."

Slamming the door shut, she revved the engine and shifting into drive before the security guard could reach her. Wheels spun in the wet grass but the vehicle lurched its way to the main road. Tires spun on the gravel of the shoulder before she could gain enough good traction and slammed her foot down. In the distance, she could hear police sirens and the ominous glow of blue and read were not that far behind.

"The cops are coming!" she screamed. She looked behind her but there was no answer. The computer screen was black except for a bar that was illuminated on the screen. It was slowly becoming more and more solid. "You're fucking LOADING? Are you serious?!"

The computer was still silent and she turned back around, cursing loudly once more and hunched herself over the steering wheel. She could now hear sirens behind her and the lights were catching up, flashing brilliantly and terrifyingly bright. Alma eyes were held open in unblinking terror, her heart thumping in her throat. If she would've paused for a moment, she was sure she would've vomited but there was no time.

The sleek modern police cruisers were much more powerful than the old Blazer. The leader of the pack was only ten yards behind her, the revving of its engine matching the roar of the blood in her ears. She yanked the car to the right, plowing past the cruiser as it tried to cut her off. She was off the highway and was plummeting down a winding county road that she knew had been a bad decision. Her tires squealed as she whipped around corners and she accelerated once she broke free from a dangerous s-curve.

"Shit!" she screamed when she felt the bump of the police car's ramming bars hit the back of her bumper. Her foot was too the floor and, with white-knuckled hope, she willed the blazer to just go a little bit faster. The trees were starting to thicken around the car now and her headlights flashed upon them as they zoomed past, looking like blinking lines of solid light. The leader of the police pack swerved out into the oncoming lane to try and cut her off but there were another pair of headlights barreling towards them, just another person on the road.

With screeching tires, the cop slowed down and pulled in behind her once more. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she saw a silhouette of the cops partner lean out the window.

"What the f-" but before she could finish three cracks of bullets made her jump in her seat. She could hear the metallic PING as one ricocheted off the back. Whipping her head around, Alma gazed at the computer, the bar almost filled in fully. "Come on!" she shouted.

She was lurched forward as the lead police car slammed into her once more. Pain blossomed across her cheekbone and she swore again as her mouth filled with blood, her teeth had chomped down on her tongue with the impact. Upset and frightened tears started to well up in her eyes and her head throbbed, the road was becoming hard to see. The blazer lurched around another turn and she could see a blockade of other cars up ahead. The girl's heart sank, their plan hadn't worked, nothing had happened when the chip had been plugged in and now she would be arrested, if not shot out by the cop's guns.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and Alma slammed her foot on the break, the other cops having to swerve around her in order to avoid a nasty collision. Her rear tire had been shot out and the blazer's tail end swept around, the car spinning erratically. She was staring ahead of her, the barricade coming closer and closer. The car came to a halt and she could hear muffled screams and commands around her, the flooded light of the polices' spotlights blinding her from behind. Clenched tightly around the steering wheel to keep from shaking were Alma's hands, now pale as the rest of her body blanched. Great heaving breaths exited her mouth, her lungs trying to compete with the panic that filled her. The brightness around her made her squint and she watched as cops surrounded her.

Then, abruptly and violently, a form shot upwards in the back of the truck. Alma looked in her mirror and saw the battered, yet still shining body of the sentry was seated upwards, the head touching the ceiling of the big vehicle. She turned and gazed, openmouthed. The police officers must've seen it because the dull shouting had stopped and stared with equal surprise. Alma was frozen to the spot. The sentry reached up, closed its face mask, and then turned to look over its shoulder. Marred by black spray paint, it looked absolutely terrifying in the bright flashing blue and red lights that were surrounding them.

"Thank you," Ultron said, his voice now full-bodied and chilling. When he spoke the lights of the robot's eyes and mouth lit with a deep red. "Let's get out of here. Alright?"

Dumbfounded, Alma nodded. A deep chuckle left the robot and he turned, bringing one leg back from his seated position, and slammed his foot against the tailgate, which simultaneously crumpled and flew out like it had been shot with a rocket. The circles on Ultron's palms glowed as he crawled out to the gasps of the police officers. Alma could hear a faint, high-pitched whining come from the sentry as he moved. She was amazed at how tall he was. She couldn't get that good of a look, but it was obvious that he was taller than the car.

Then, Ultron started to rise into the air, the rockets on the bottom of his feet illuminated and two jets shot out, lifting him up. Several cops lowered their weapons as they watched him, forgetting their protocol. They had all heard of Stark Industries and his Iron Legion, but out here in the country, none of them had ever seen them with their very eyes. It was easy for the small town police and county deputies to be momentarily blind sighted by this great metal man.

Suddenly and without warning, the robot shot himself forward, picking up two of the police cruisers and hurling them into the trees. Bullets followed him, but he moved so fast that he was made into an impossible target. Police officers scattered and shouts of surprise filled the night. Alma was forgotten in the blazer as people hurried to get out of the way. One cruiser was abandoned and it exploded in a jet of flame once it was struck by a rocket of fire from Ultron's hand. Heat buffeted the blazer and Alma yelped, reaching out and clutching her bag to her as she ducked down, trying to get coverage in the car. Her eyes were clenched shut and bullets echoed by screams and blasts, metal crunching and whooshing of fire filled her ears.

Then there was the revving of engines and squeals of rubber on pavement. Alma kept her eyes shut and even pressed her hands over her ears. The low, full voice of Ultron could be distinguished in the chaos, but she couldn't make out what the words were. She screamed when the car lurched and she looked about wildly. Ultron was standing, face marred by black paint and some added soot, the car door dangling in his hand. He dropped it and it hit the ground with the scraping of metal. Ultron looked at her, the lenses in his head zooming in on her face. He could see the fear shining in her eyes and he did a quick scan and x-ray of her body. Nothing was broken, and the technology he now had swept over her and took a set of vitals in a matter of seconds. Her blood pressure and heart rate was elevated, but Ultron knew that was caused by the stress of their surroundings.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and hum-like coming from the robot.

She was squeezed below the dashboard into the small space that was meant just for the driver's legs. The girl looked very small to him and his new found height. He was able to fully look at her now with clarity the webcams had not provided. From a human's standpoint, she was beautiful, even in fear, but that quality was something that Ultron fully didn't understand.

"What happened. Where are the cops?" Alma asked, ignoring Ultron's own question. The girl's brown eyes darted about, searching.

"They're gone. But I don't know for how long. Alma, we have to get out of here."

His voice saying her name was odd, warm and full and yet slightly terrifying after she watched what he had just done.

"How do we get out of here?" Alma asked.

"You'll have to get on my back and let me carry you somewhere just far enough away to avoid detection," Ultron stated flatly. "We don't have much time."

Alma knew that if she paused to think about how absurd Ultron's words were, there would be no hope for escape. The cops would return with greater numbers, or worse, they could've alerted stark and Iron Legion could be sent out.

"Fine, fine," Alma said. She freed herself from the cramped space she had inhabited. Pulling the backpack on, she hurried to Ultron. Her head came to the robot's shoulder, and she was considered tall. The robot knelt, and before she could think about the dangers of doing so, Alma clambered up. There was a notch on either side of the robot's hips where she could rest her hips and she looped her arms around Ultron's shoulders. Alma's eyes clenched shut as the jets in Ultron's hands and feet shot to life and they rose into the air. He leveled out and she tucked her head as low as she could as the two shot off into the dark, searching for a secure place to land.

Alma's head was swimming and she couldn't believe the situation she had found herself in. She had stolen a glance down just in time to see them swoop over her now dark home, empty and bare, sitting atop the hill, not knowing if the lonely girl who had lived inside would ever return. .