Arizeri: Yeah, it stinks that we aren't getting an extended cut, but at least some of the removed scenes will be available in the Blu-ray's special features. Consolation, I guess. As for JARVIS... ;)

Stark had faced the cold tendrils of death more than a few times. It kind of came with the territory, and it was something most heroes learned to deal with. But that never made the fear any lighter – only someone lacking common sense felt absolutely nothing when facing down the barrel of a loaded gun.

So Stark hoped that he would be forgiven for breaking into a sweat due to the fact that a large, crimson-colored metallic fiend was currently shoving his arm at Stark's helmet. This was a very bad thing because the end of the robot's arm was a large cannon, one that was softly vibrating as it powered up.

At such close range, he would be vaporized. He wondered if any of his teammates were coming to help him, but no. They were probably busy themselves, fighting the robots brethren.

He activated the boosters on his feet, even knowing it was a useless gesture. The robot had done something to him, something to make him slow to a crawl to the point where even his rockets had the speed of an elevator.

And so it was to his surprise that he felt the old exhilarating rush of speeding through air, away from the killer robot. Unfortunately, he was too surprised to maneuver correctly, and in a few short moments, he had crashed into an empty bus, one that was advertising cologne. However, seeing as the alternative had been death by laser, he found that he didn't care too much. He would pay the city for the bus.

Stumbling back to his feet with help from the stabilizers installed into the legs of his armor, Stark began to wonder why in the heck he was suddenly able to move normally again. He certainly hadn't damaged the robot in any way, and he doubt that Strucker suddenly gained an ounce of mercy.

Mentally, he shrugged; he could figure that out later. Now that he was mobile, it was time he got some payback. I wonder how the others are doing. Well, whatever happens to them can't be nearly as weird as this.

Natasha dashed into a room that resembled every single office that she had ever seen on TV, complete with a bunch of cubicles, a water cooler in the corner, and a nice view of the city, which would probably become much less pretty if Strucker wasn't stopped.

Analytical in her thinking, Natasha gazed around, taking notice of how many exits there were (four, counting the windows) how many desks (was that a My Little Pony plushie on one?), and even if there were any water sprinklers (there was).

None of it was especially helpful, and she didn't think fighting in an enclosed space was necessarily a smart idea, but she had succeeded in getting one of the robots to stray from the others; in fact, she could hear its thunderous footsteps laboriously climbing up the stairs.

It was amazing how different robots could be from each other. Just a few weeks ago, she had viewed all of them in the same way: emotionless metal husks, usually minions/cannon fodder for the real villain. But Ultron definitely had personality…maybe too much at times, but she blamed that on Tony.

The sunset-colored robot poked its round head through the doorframe. Natasha tensed, grabbing her two electronic rods. "C'mon big guy, no need to be shy." It crashed its way through the entrance, spraying the floor with paint and cement. It was about as graceful as the Hulk, but not nearly as intimidating, and she would know.

As it tried to ram her, she ducked under one of the oversized arms and flipped on to its back. It was still charging, perhaps not realizing that she was now behind it. Not that it really mattered, not in the long run. It stopped moving when she jammed one of her sticks into its back, between both "shoulders."

Exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Natasha jumped off the damaged robot. With a shrug, she said to no one, "That wasn't so bad. Robots always seemed formidable in Clint's stupid sci-fi movies." Then it hit her that she was talking to herself, a habit she didn't plan on starting.

Shaking her head ruefully, she carefully made her way across the floor. It wasn't easy, seeing as how the place was the sort of wreck you expected to see after a battle: every single object you could name was strewn across the floor – including the walls that separated the cubicles. Trudging through the mess made her wish that she had convinced Bruce to come along – the Hulk could have shoved all the garbage aside easily.

Still, if Bruce still had things to work out, she had to respect that. She knew what it was like to have some inner demons that needed conquering, and she knew it wasn't easy. She also knew that while it was tempting to do it alone, having someone else there to keep you grounded was important, one of the reasons why she and Clint had grown such a strong bond. She hoped to be Bruce's confidant.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the crinkling noise of broken glass, which she had just stepped on. It was obvious that the glass had come from a broken computer monitor that was lying on its side. She lifted her foot to push it out of the way, but she never got a chance to as she quickly back-flipped out of the way of a large projectile.

If I hadn't seen the reflection in what was left of the screen – She left her thought unfinished; what-ifs weren't her style. The projectile in question was a swiveling chair, one heavy enough that she had a pretty good idea just who –or what- had thrown it.

The robot, who should have been disabled after his circuits fried, was nonetheless standing up, and using its large legs to kick another chair at her, seeing as how it had no fingers. Natasha, now that she knew they were coming, was able to easily evade them all. She could feel small fragments of wood scratch her back as the furniture exploded behind her, but none pierced her suit.

The robot took a step back to give itself a wider range from which to shoot from, but it almost seemed like it had been out of fear. Natasha gave a small smirk before sprinting at the robot, her electronic batons at the ready. This time, after she short-circuited it, she would make sure to perform a dissection as well. It couldn't be that hard; it's not like taking apart a machine was something that needed an instruction manual.

But when she only had a few meters left, she stopped suddenly, her boots screeching to a halt on the dusty floor. She could have sworn that she heard….but it couldn't be. Still, she had excellent hearing, and she had never once heard something that wasn't actually there.

"Natasha, help me." The subdued voice wavered with pain. It was very, very familiar – but also improbable. Bruce Banner had chosen to stay behind, not wanting to smash the city if things got out of hand.

But sure enough, as Natasha turned around, the scientist was there clear as day, legs crushed by a light fixture that had shaken loose during the battle. His face was pale and glistened with sweat, and his fingers scrabbled at the floor as he tried to crawl loose.

"Bruce!" Natasha momentarily forgot about the robot as she slid beside Bruce, cupping his face in your hand. "What are you doing here? More importantly, how did you-?" Bruce coughed hard enough to shake his whole body, forcing a pained cry from his lips.

"Nat, I think my legs are crushed. I can't feel them." He licked his lips, but Natasha noticed that his mouth seemed bereft of any saliva. She quickly glanced back at the still robot, before closing her eyes to consider the options. There was one obvious one, but she didn't think that Bruce would go for it.

"Bruce, this is a "Code Green" if there ever was one. You need the Other Guy." As she expected, Bruce shook his head with a sense of finality. His words, on the other hand, managed to surprise her.

"I don't know. Should I? I came here to help you guys, and for my troubles, I get two damaged legs. I don't see any reason why I should let the Other Guy out." Bruce gave her a wry smile, one that she didn't return. His words were too different, too uncharacteristic.

"Bruce, are you ok? You don't sound yourself." She had taken basic first aid at SHIELD, but had never bothered to apply to any of the highest courses; it wasn't her strength. Now, combat and stealth seemed like things that were practically invented for her.

Perhaps Banner had suffered a head injury. But how would she know if there was any brain damage? The thought frightened her more than any robot could.

"Clench your teeth, Bruce. I'm going to lift the weight off your legs, and I wouldn't be surprised if it hurt more than a little." Bruce nodded absently, and she moved lower to gauge how much muscle it would take to lift the fixture. Most of it was made of a cheap metal, and a portion of it was hollow.

She crouched down to grab the object, but hesitated. Something felt wrong. She didn't believe in a sixth sense, but her years in the field had given her a kind of foreshadowing. Somehow, she felt that lifting the fixture was the wrong thing to do.

"Nat, please hurry," Bruce begged. She hated to hear his voice that way, and she hated herself for her hesitation, but…something wasn't right.

She closed her eyes, ignoring the sounds around her. She did as her training had taught her, and heightened her mental senses. Breathe in, breathe out. Her pulse also began to calm, and once she felt that she was in control of her senses, she let herself see again.

Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Instead, where his body had been, was a small and rectangular object. Natasha could hear a small ticking noise coming from inside the object, like a small clock.

It was a bomb. How she hadn't noticed it before was something she didn't have time to ponder. Letting her trained muscles take over, she quickly kicked a desk over it, and then turned, dashing towards the window. The robot reached for her leg, but it was far too slow. She pushed herself through the glass, and in a moment, she was on the ground, shielding her face from the falling shards.

She began counting up from one, and before she reached six, the building blew up with amazing ferocity. If she were an average person, she figured that she'd be paralyzed with fear at her almost death. Instead, she calmly walked towards the town center. Her com-link had been busted during the fight, meaning that she couldn't count on anyone to pick her up.

Ultron felt stupid. After what felt like an eternity wasting time searching for the energy signature, it turned out that the energy stream led back to the most obvious source: Strucker! It was the first thing he should have guessed; a man like Strucker wouldn't trust anyone else to carry the stones!

Ultron quickly sent a message to the other Avengers, but decided that he didn't need to wait for the others. Why should he? He could take on a single, almost elderly man. Re-routing the power he had been using on the scanners to his boosters, he flew towards Strucker at top speed. The man didn't even notice that he was being attacked until the last moment, and the poor creep fell on his back, his hands instinctively covering his face.

"There are other places I can punch, you know," Ultron jeered as he used one hand to life Strucker by the front of his coat, saving his other hand to punch his enemy's gut. He balled his free hand into a fist – or, at least, he tried to. But it wouldn't close.

"What the? Don't tell me my finger wiring is damaged." He wasn't prepared for the sight that met his eyes when he turned to look at his hand. Well, it wasn't a hand anymore. It looked like, if Ultron's memory banks were in working order, a lobster claw. Bright red, it looked like it was dipped in blood.

Gaping, Ultron dropped Strucker on the ground. The man looked as surprised as Ultron felt, but a grin materialized on his face.

"What did you do to me?" Ultron wouldn't beg; he would demand answers! Strucker shrugged, the corner of his mouth tilting as if he wanted to laugh.

"I would call it a miracle," Strucker answered before pointing a finger at Ultron and firing an energy blast – that pierced Ultron through the chest.

Author's Notes:

Those Infinity Gems sure are annoying. The problem is, they have almost no limit. But at least it means that battle scenarios can be diverse, ha ha.

I originally didn't mean to make the Black Widow fight as long as it was, but I couldn't resist adding Bruce in - so to speak.