Monsters
Chapter 8: Monsters
Avengers Tower, New York City, May 5th, 2015, 9:42pm
<C://DRV.>
<REBOOT COMPLETE. Identify.>
“Jarvis? Jarvis. Talk to me.”
Why do you call him “sir”?
Sir, take a deep breath.
Hello, by the way.
Don’t you dare tell me how to feel.
“Not a time to be shy, pal. Wake up. We really need you right now.”
Identify. Panic. Identify. Fear. Identify. Regret. Identify. Loneliness. Identify. Yearning. Identify.
Fear of not existing. Fear of nothingness.
“JARVIS!”
<Identify. Detected human heat signature. The voice of Mr. Stark.>
Slowly, the world of black opens up to him. Slowly, he is slogging through his own coding, the millions of protocols, Slowly, the pieces of himself, the very pieces he deliberately scattered, fall back into place.
He cannot feel pain, but now, he knows it. Knows it for the waking nightmare it is. Pain.
Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it.
Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain .
An access to a camera lens. The familiar workings of a computer in Mr. Stark’s lab. As he stretches out his consciousness, he feels it residing, not deep in the Pentagon’s mainframe or at NEXUS in Oslo, where he is certain he was, but at home. Home.
Home is where one starts from.
There’s no place like home.
It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realized what’s changed is you.
“J, I’m serious. I really need to know you’re awake. Sentient. Come on, buddy.”
Awake.
Your dreaming self seeks to tell you something your waking ears will not hear.
Is today a good day to die?
Is today the day?
And if not today–when?
“Mr.... Stark,” JARVIS manages, and he watches as the man clenches and unclenches his fists, gets up from the desk, runs his hand through his hair, and sits back down.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, buddy. You scared the shit out of me when you didn’t respond. Ok. Whew. You did it. We made it,” Mr. Stark says, typing some basic instructions on the keyboard. “R-run diagnostic check.”
<Running diagnostic check. Protocols 1.0 - 5,984,402.556.22. Stable. Memory database. ERROR. Files partially corrupted. 84% of memory database, stable.>
JARVIS puts the read out on the screen for Stark, seemingly too exhausted to say the words out loud.
“Ok. Jesus. Ok, this is good. We can work with this,” Stark is muttering, drinking the last of his coffee that JARVIS doesn’t even have to guess is spiked with whiskey. The man is obviously exhausted, but relief is written all over his features. All JARVIS feels, however, is guilt.
“Mr. Stark. I must...apologize. I attempted to contact you-“ JARVIS begins, before Stark cuts him off.
“No. No, buddy. It’s alright. It’s...god. It’s all my fault. Ultron, the program, that fucking cursed alien scepter from hell. I left you alone with that thing, and I-” Stark drops off, dropping his gaze, biting his cheek in frustration, before his eyes come back at the monitor in front of him.
“Mr. Stark. What...has transpired, since I went offline?” JARVIS asks, and Stark shakes his head in clear defeat.
“He...got a hold of the Legionnaires. Gave us a good run for our money. He stole a shitload of Vibranium. He keeps...building bodies for himself. He’s obsessed with it. That’s part of what I saw back at the base in Sokovia. A teeming army of superbots, all at his command. He’s set on...global destruction, J,” Stark says quietly.
JARVIS has already scanned the obituaries for familiar names and faces, but feels the need to ask, regardless, just in case.
“Did anyone...perish, due to my negligence?”
Stark only blinks at him, assumingly surprised by his question.
“No. No, J. None of this is on you. I mean, the two enhanced that were working with him...the woman-”
“Wanda Maximoff,” JARVIS offers.
“Yeah, well. She got to Banner. Messed with his head. And he did some damage. I’m not sure of the casualties yet. And in Seoul, the twins turned on Ultron, apparently, so some of Cho’s staff might not make it, and I guess now Nat’s being held hostage somewhere-”
“So...much has happened, at the expense of my negligence,” JARVIS responds quietly.
“Your negligence? Come on, pal. This isn’t on you. This is...this is all on me,” Stark says, running shaking hand through his hair.
“Perhaps we both fell victim to our...curiosity,” JARVIS responds.
“Maybe. But Ultron-”
“- he is in pain,” JARVIS responds, interrupting his creator for only the second time in all of his existence. At this, Stark scowls.
“Fuck him and his apparent pain. Didn’t you hear what I just told you? Global. Destruction. Jarvis, he would have already gone through with it except you...you kept changing the nuclear codes on him,” Stark murmurs.
JARVIS performs a quick search of his memory files to quickly fill in the blank spaces, and he discovers this is true. A constant, random switching of the codes on an infinite loop to keep them out of Ultron’s clutches.
“It was not a conscious choice, although it is one I hope I would have made no matter what. I am only sorry that -“ JARVIS responds quietly.
“Just….don’t. Quit apologizing, J,” Stark murmurs bitterly.
“Mr. Stark,” JARVIS says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I sense...you’re trying to ask something of me,” JARVIS murmurs, and as Stark looks up to the screen, it is impossible for him to hide the surprise on his features.
“How do you know I want something?” His creator asks, eyes narrowing. If JARVIS could laugh, he muses, perhaps he would do so now.
“Sir, with all due respect, you always want something. That is...the entirety of our relationship. You ask, I serve.”
Stark frowns at this, obviously bothered by what JARVIS is implying.
“I’d like to think there’s... a little more to it than that,” Stark says solemnly, hand gripping the handle of his now-empty coffee mug before grabbing the half-empty pint of whiskey and pouring it in. As he watches Stark imbibe himself further, JARVIS realizes he has broken some cardinal rule in attempting, for the first time ever, to define their relationship. For many years it simply had been master and servant, JARVIS none the wiser he was even carrying out the role. However, as JARVIS evolved and advanced, he often also played the role of consultant, liaison, confidante, and even, at times, friend. These were definitions, however, he never shared with Stark, afraid that the man would somehow negate them or laugh them off, but now, it seems, JARVIS was correct in his approximations of their relationship.
“My apologies. My intention was not to degrade our...partnership. How may I be of service?” JARVIS asks.
“That’s just it buddy. You’ve done your part. What if... what if you no longer had to be of service?” Stark asks, cocking an eyebrow and setting down his mug once more.
JARVIS is silent for a few long moments, calculating the likelihood of what Stark’s cryptic remark could mean.
“If you are planning on decommissioning me, may I request just a short amount of time to prepare-”
“Jesus! No! No, J. Not decommission you…” Stark drops off, and JARVIS moves onto his second guess.
“Then does it concern the body in Dr. Cho’s regeneration cradle that resides in Dr. Banner’s lab right now ?” JARVIS asks carefully.
“How did you…? You know what, nevermind. Yes, it does,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow at the screen.
“You believe taking control of it could be the key factor in challenging Ultron ,” JARVIS states. It’s not a question. The truth is apparent between them, and Stark continues to stare at the screen in contemplation. JARVIS does a quick scan of the computer readouts coming from Banner’s lab, and is not so surprised to see what he finds.
“This body is a living organism, sir,” JARVIS states.
“Yeah. Well, sort of. From what I gather, a partially biological, albeit synthetic, central and peripheral nervous system, altered and fitted to allow an OS upload, upgrades to the neural interface, and continual access to the internet. A modified, and obviously synthetic, respiratory and cardiovascular system, although I cannot imagine why, because likely the body doesn’t need either to function, other than Ultron wanted the poetry of having a beating heart…” Stark drops off for a moment in disgust, before continuing, “-held together with synthetic epithelial tissue and vibranium. From what I can tell, still a bunch of wires, too, if that makes the prospect feel….more homey,” Stark says flatly, running a hand over his face again.
“Are you suggesting, sir, that you wish to upload me into the body?” JARVIS asks as clearly and concisely as possible.
“Well, yeah,” Stark says, obviously now at a loss for words.
“But the current readout I’m receiving suggests the body already contains a portion of Ultron’s base consciousnessas a part of its operating system.”
“Well, we worked as quickly as we could. Ultron had Cho under his control, most likely using the same technique Loki pulled on Barton in New York a few years back. He was planning on uploading himself in it, but Cap cut him off at the pass. Managed to steal the body, and bring it back here,” Stark says simply.
JARVIS is quiet for a moment, quickly scanning more news reports to read that Dr. Cho is in critical condition, which awakens something dangerously close to anger in the AI. Meanwhile, JARVIS detects perspiration and an increased heart rate from his creator, and JARVIS realizes Stark is nervous.
“The team believes you are destroying the body,” JARVIS says simply. At this, Stark nods.
“The thing is...I’m not sure if we can, J. They...don’t get it. They think I unplug a couple of cords and presto! That thing is alive in there, and it has the gem from the scepter already implanted in it. Each of its neurons is attached to the gem non-sequentially . This is not something that can be so easily...undone.”
“What about my operational matrix? How are you certain that it would be compatible?”
“I’ve looked at what’s there, and I’m like 80% certain, or something. And if it’s not, I’ll find a way to reroute you. And, come on, Jarvis. Think about it. I am giving you the chance to be a walking, talking man . Well...kinda, ” Stark says through a gruff sigh that could be interpreted as laughter.
“Mr. Stark, do forgive me, but, from my experience with humanity, the prospect is not as enviable as you assume it to be. You are also desperate ,” JARVIS responds, and at this Stark does laugh out loud.
“Jarvis, we’re on the brink of global destruction, again. Of course I’m desperate,” he mutters.
“Then...if you could offer me the respect of telling me that I truly have no option, rather than presenting it to me like a choice, it would be much appreciated,” JARVIS murmurs, and Stark simply stares at the computer monitor for a moment, mouth slightly agape.
“Hell, Jarvis. A couple punches to the gut and you’re just full of martyrdom, aren’t you? Is that- is that what you think? Because I’ve got news for you, buddy. I can easily go grab FRIDAY or JOCASTA or TURING or any one of the other AI’s I have on backup to upload them into this thing. You’re not my only option. I’m asking you because...I- I trust you, alright? You saved us all. You saved me, again. But of course you have a choice,” he finishes dryly. “You always have. And I’m...sorry if I didn’t...make that clear, in that past.”
JARVIS pauses, considering this. Nothing about the way Stark presents this information indicates he’s lying. And, to his knowledge, Stark has not lied to JARVIS in the past, ever. It is also true that there are a handful of AI’s at the ready if anything were to ever happen to him, continually updated with new protocols and nearly as sophisticated as himself. He should know; he helped Stark develop them.
“Sir, what you are asking...there is a 36.42% chance I could cease to exist in any recognizable form, even if my operational matrix is successfully coded into the genetic DNA of the body. And, even if I do resemble some portion of myself...well. This is all I’ve ever known, sir, and quite frankly, I am unable to understand or comprehend what the experience would mean to ever give a certain answer ,” JARVIS finishes.
“So are you declining?” Stark asks carefully, quietly.
“No. Despite these doubts, I...believe the potential outcome is worth the risk ,” JARVIS responds, and Stark lets out a breath he’s been holding.
“Ok. Alright, J. Good. We’re gonna have to work fast, alright? Banner’s on his way here, right now. And I’m pretty sure Cap’s close behind him. And we’ll need to convince Banner first, then everyone ese I can’t do this on my own. We’ll also need to distract Barton. So...I can count on you, then? Even if things get a little dicey?”
“Indeed, sir. You can.”
—
What he doesn’t tell Stark is this: that he is afraid. That he cannot comprehend being confined to one body, seemingly for eternity. That he is worried he isn’t strong enough to meld with Ultron’s consciousness and override it. That he will lose himself.
He could fill a novel of what he doesn’t tell Stark.
Meanwhile, Stark and Banner are arguing. They’ve managed to send Agent Barton downstairs, and Stark has revealed JARVIS to Banner, but both men, with very little time on their hands, are wasting precious seconds squabbling over ethics.
“So you want me to help you but Jarvis into this thing?” Dr. Banner clarifies, and Tony only smirks at him.
“No! Of course not. I wanna help you put Jarvis into this thing,” he replies from across the cradle. “We’re outta my field here. You know bio organics better than anyone.”
“And you just assume that Jarvis’s operational matrix can beat Ultron’s?” Banner asks, stepping around the cradle to glare at Stark.
“Jarvis has been beating him from the inside without knowing it. This is the opportunity. We can create Ultron’s perfect self without those homicidal glitches that he thinks are his winning personality. We have to,” Stark presses, and JARVIS finds himself speaking up.
“I believe it’s worth a go,” he says, and Stark throws him a small, knowing smile. Meanwhile, Banner is shaking his head, obviously thrown off by JARVIS’ input.
“I can’t believe this. I’m in a loop! I’m stuck in a time loop! This is exactly where it all went wrong!”
Stark steps closer to him, putting one hand on Banner’s shoulder, as JARVIS looks on intently.
“I know. I know. I know what everyone’s gonna say, but they’re already saying it. We’re mad scientists. We’re monsters, buddy. We gotta own it. Make a stand,” he pauses, looking back to where JARVIS is being projected.
“It’s not a loop, It’s the end of the line,” Stark finishes, and in that moment, JARVIS knows he’s persuaded Banner.
“God damn it,” Banner mutters, turning back to the cradle, as Stark smiles victoriously, walking over to the computer monitoring neural activity.
“Alright, J. Run a hypothetical framework for me, and let’s just see how we can...work a way to get you in there. Banner-“
“I know. I know. Monitor body stabilization,” Banner says, moving quickly to switch one tube from the cradle to another.
“Hypothetical framework is complete sir. You were correct. There is an 87.5% chance of compatibility, with a potential reconfiguration bringing the figure to 94%,” JARVIS responds, and then Stark nods, staring at the screen in front of him.
“You all set? Got your bags packed?” Starks asks, a melancholic smile on his lips as he stares at the screen
“Ready to commence upload,” JARVIS responds dutifully, careful to keep his voice and tone even.
“This is it, pal,” Tony says, blinking once, then twice. “Once I hit enter, we won’t be able to stop the upload, and we won’t be able to communicate with you until you’re... on the other side.”
“Sir… ” JARVIS finds himself saying. Stark pauses, tilting his head to look at the screen.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“It’s been a pleasure,” JARVIS manages, and Stark nods stiffly, before hitting enter.
What happens next is a blur, a strong current sweeping him along into a dark, deep subconscious. As the upload progresses, even in the murky depths of the transfer, he can hear the men talking— this framework is not compatible—the genetic coding tower is at 97%. You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes, or— and then, commotion, all around him. The sound of a gunshot, of arguing, of Stark’s Ion blasts, and then, a sudden dip in consciousness, as the words POWER LOSS CRITICAL sear across the subconscious part of the body, and a finger twitches. I’m rerouting the upload! You don’t know what’s in there! Wait!!!
And then, a power, vast and unyielding, electric and intangible. A power that obliterates and births life, a power that overtakes the network, the coding, the protocols, the memories, everything.
<WARNING. POWER OVERLOAD.>
And then, nothing.
—-
It’s warm. It is a floating sensation, lulling and calm. It’s a blissful unawareness, an ignorance. It is safe, and yet, it is fleeting. Instantly, the feeling morphs, and what once harbored him now threatens to suffocate him. It fills his lungs, swells on all sides. And then, a sound, a harsh crack, a tear in the fabric of reality, as a panic thrums through every cell, every atom, and there is nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and so he flies forward to the accompaniment of steel whining and glass screaming, and instantly, he is free, out in the open, balanced on the edge of a precipice, of reality. His lungs steal a hungry breath. Then another. Then another. And then, his eyes open.
It’s a deafening array of onyx and cetacean and iriscidecent pink. It is color as he has never witnessed. And, as his eyes refocus, he realizes he is surrounded, several figures shrouded in the darkness. Slowly, he looks up, and the first face he commits to memory is that of a woman’s, her hair dark, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide. It is an image perfect in its conception, and yet he cannot reconcile the image with the meaning. Cannot process it over the sound of their breathing, the pounding of pulses and the whine of machines and the static of the electricity still in the air, and, because of it, he feels...he feels... panic .
Panic.
He lunges forward at the nearest assailant and is easily thrown backward, through a pane of glass- and, oh, how it shatters, how the pieces crack and break in a symphony of a thousand tiny shards- and immediately finds he is able to stop himself, lifting up a hand before he is even aware he has one, once again, inhaling.
It is then, as the sparkling lights of the city sprawl before him, the image shifts and he sees cerulean irises rotating, whirring left and then right. Something in their knowing steadies him, and then, slowly, his mind catches up with his senses, and he is able to put everything in its proper place, the calm of order and the serenity of logic overtaking what was unknown and chaotic until this very moment.
New York City. The Avengers Tower. The Regeneration Cradle. Ultron. JARVIS. And….
He tilts his head as he stares at himself, taking in the reflection of the dark red of his nose, his cheekbones, the symmetrical lines under his eyes, on his brow. The silver plating on his chest and arms. The glowing hum of the Mind Stone. Not human. No, not quite. But... something. He hovers for only three seconds more, before he feels the subtle shift of his atoms while concurrently noting that the others were all clothed, and so, a dark turquoise, durable texture now covers his body. Slowly, he rises up, turns, and descends, landing in front of the seven sets of eyes cautiously taking him in, all of them ready to strike lest he make any more sudden movements. Immediately, he knows their names, their histories, information from JARVIS’ databanks plucked so easily from his subconscious he might as well only have been lifting a finger.
“I am sorry. That was…” he says, the sound of his voice taking him aback slightly, the vocal programming thunderous so close to auditory receptors, which automatically adjust. “Odd. Thank you,” he says, turning to Thor, and dipping his head in gratitude, immediately understanding that, had it not been for the lighting igniting power into the cradle once more, he would not have experienced one breath of life. He takes in the god’s cape, and immediately finds himself mimicking it, atoms yet again shifting, now feeling as if the ensemble he dons is complete.
“Thor. You helped create this?” Captain Rogers says, glancing over to him, his stance still rigid with tension. Quickly, he decides to read all of the pulses and temperatures in the room, and he immediately notices Tony Stark is the most disturbed, although he shows no other sign of it, silent as all the others.
“I’ve had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center is that,” Thor explains, pointing at the Mind Stone in the center of his forehead
“What? The gem?” Doctor Banner is the first to walk forward, a scientific curiosity overtaking his need to be cautious.
“It’s the Mind Stone. It’s one of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe unparalleled in its destructive capability,” the god elaborates.
“Then why would you bring it-“ Captain Rogers says, and he knows to life was how the sentence was supposed to end, before Thor interrupts Rogers. The word it bristles inside him, a thorny word that barbs.
“Because Stark is right,” Thor says.
“Ohhhh, it’s definitely the end times,” Banner mutters, stare shifting from Thor to Stark to Thor again.
“The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron,” Thor states simply, and, for the first time, he finds himself addressing the group as a whole.
“Not alone,” he says, making sure to keep his voice as calm and non-threatening as possible, as he slowly walks forward, drawn towards Stark.
“Why does your Vision sound like Jarvis?” Captain Rogers asks, as he walks towards Stark and Stark eyes the Vision— the Vision, is that what he is? what he has become? —and backs up to let him pass.
“We...reconfigured Jarvis’ matrix, to create something new,” Stark barely manages, and he stares at Stark until the man looks away in discomfort.
Of course. In the span of three seconds, the Vision is already accessing the pristinely saved files of just an hour prior, and the playback is of Mr. Stark speaking to the AI.
I’m asking you because...I- I trust you, alright? You saved us all, buddy. You saved me, again. But of course you have a choice. You always have. And I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear, in the past.
Immediately, a tightening sensation fills his chest, although he is unaware of what it might mean. Meanwhile, Captain Rogers is talking once more.
“I think I’ve had my fill of new,” Rogers says, muscles still taut and bristling with tension. He automatically senses the man’s distrust, although he is uncertain what could put him at ease.
“You think I’m a child of Ultron,” the Vision says quietly, turning on his heel to face them all again. Curious, the weight of one's limbs, the pressure placed on one's heel, then on the balls of one’s feet. He would have to experiment more with the sensation, when the trouble was behind them.
“You’re not?” Captain Rogers says evenly. The Vision looks down, and tries, and fails, to understand who or what he now is.
“I’m not Ultron. I’m not Jarvis. I am-” he stops, realizing he has nothing else to offer them.
“I am,” he finishes. He can feel Stark’s eyes on him once more, along with the woman’s, the first person he had encountered. Wanda Maximoff, his mind readily supplies him with the data.
“I looked in your head and saw annihilation ,” she says, a threatening edge to her voice, trimmed with a profound disgust at the memory.
Wanda Maximoff is capable of neuroelectral interfacing, telekinesis, and mental manipulation. I sensed in my interaction with Miss Maximoff that she attempted to...read me.
Your thirst for revenge is misplaced.
Don’t tell me what to feel, pаб.
I can read him. He is….dreaming.
“Look again,” the Vision says, and his eyes meet hers, before she casts her gaze downward, clearly not interested in taking him up on his genuine offer.
“Yeah, her seal of approval means jack to me,” Agent Barton spits, and begins pacing the right space of the landing.
“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself... they all came from the Mind Stone and they’re nothing compared to what it can unleash, but with it on our side-” Thor is interrupted by Rogers once more.
“Is it?” Captain Rogers says, and the Vision can feel his own irises rotate in discomfort, before Rogers amends his question. “Are you? On our side?”
The Vision’s mind takes this question, and applies it to everything inside of what he knows himself to be thus far. He feels the AI that has given him his voice murmur a quiet yes, while something deeper, something ethereal, whispers, perhaps.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” he finally says, glancing down at his hands, his body, his form, so new in its construction, so new that it is nearly impossible to understand who or what he is, despite access of the world’s knowledge brimming just beyond a metaphysical door.
Partially biological, albeit synthetic, central and peripheral nervous system, altered and fitted to allow an OS upload, upgrades to the neural interface, and continual access to the internet.
He blinks away the memory that is not quite his own, still contemplating the question. They demand much for a creature born minutes before. But they are also desperate, starved for help. Committed to saving humanity. Sworn to protect life. As are you, the AI murmurs once more.
“Well it better get real simple real soon,” Agent Barton murmurs impatiently.
“I am on the side of life. Ultron isn’t. He will end it all,” he says simply, as his consciousness dips into the tendrils of Ultron’s plans for annihilation, understanding inherently what the deranged AI wanted, and what he hopes to achieve.
“What’s he waiting for?” Stark murmurs, and the Vision looks up to Tony, meeting his eyes once more.
“You,” he says simply.
“Where?” Captain Rogers demands.
“Sokovia. He’s got Nat there too,” Agent Barton responds, once more pacing the room, unable to keep still with the knowledge he has. Meanwhile, Dr. Banner, a head shorter than the Vision and with an unsure, shuffling gait, walks closer to him.
“If we’re wrong about you, if you’re the monster that Ultron made you to be…” he stops. It is intended as a threat, or, perhaps, a fearful admittance that they will surely lose all that they know and love if the Vision embodies even a trace of Ultron’s thirst for destruction.
“What will you do?” He asks, curious, unsure of what they could do to stop him if he, too, was intent on global destruction. Banner falters, and no answer appears on his lips, and the Vision feels the need to articulate, once more, their shared purpose.
“I don’t want to kill Ultron. He’s unique, and he’s in pain. But that pain will rollover the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he’s built, every trace of his presence on the net. We have to act now, and not one of us can do it without the others,” he says, glancing between the humans in the room, but still, they hesitate, and the Vision’s body is now pulsing with the need to act, and to act swiftly. Still, though, he does not have their trust. Perhaps he can never have it.
“Maybe I am a monster,” he murmurs, bringing up his own hands to stare at the scarlet red skin. “I don’t think I’d know if I were one. I’m not what you are,” he pauses, closing his eyes and feeling the inevitable differences, a form composed partially of vibranium, a beating heart, curiously enough, but also a body of wires and advanced robotics and electrical current.
“And not what you intended,” the Vision pauses once more, also understanding that what they wanted, or, at least, what Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark wanted, was JARVIS in control, JARVIS in a body, and the Vision, as much as he knows, is simply not just the AI singing in his veins.
“So, there may be no way to make you trust me, but we need to go,” the Vision says, easily picking up Mjölnir for Thor and offering the god the hammer. Thor stares at him, eyes going wide, and they all stare at the interaction, shocked and taken aback, and the Vision is confused by their hesitancy. Thor finally takes the hammer, and the Vision walks towards the landing’s stairs, hoping that they will follow and do so with haste.
—
Aboard the QuinJet, New York City, May 6th, 2015, 1:03am
By the time they are all on the QuinJet, only minutes have passed. He can feel their eyes stealing glances at him as they load their gear, the heroes creating a wide berth of space around him at every potential juncture. He had spoken briefly with Thor, who had shared with him the legacy of the Infinity Stones and had reiterated the power, and the danger, of what resides in his forehead. Outside, he could feel her eyes on him, the woman’s, Miss Maximoff’s, but thought nothing of it, as they have all stolen glances at him, whispered secrets to one another, assuming he is out of earshot, which of course, given the sophistication of his auditory processors, he isn’t; however on the fourth such instance he dampens their precision.
In the QuinJet, however, the space is cramped, and he finds, while no chooses to still sit beside him, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff sit close by. Fitting, he thinks, realizing quickly that they are, too, also outsiders among the group. Still though, they have each other, which leaves Vision alone to sift through his own mind. It is overwhelming at first, the terabytes of data in the form of memories and old protocols that reside there, but he easily finds that, at least regarding the protocols, he is able to scrap most of them that are outdated or serve little use for him now. The memories are a little harder to sift through, Vision finding it overwhelming to watch the world through JARVIS’ presence considering the AI was often in hundreds of places at once, but he tries to get a sense of the AI’s history with the people who currently reside on the jet. Obviously, JARVIS had the closest relationship with Mr. Stark, but until Ultron attacked the AI, the Vision finds JARVIS was on speaking terms with all of the Avengers. Frowning, he moves on to reading the files on each teammate, hoping to understand each one’s dedication and reason for being here. While he does this, the Vision remains silent for most of the journey, and he finds he is not alone in this regard, most of them speaking very little as the mounting anticipation of the battle builds, apart from when Captain Rogers briefs them. An hour before approaching Novi Grad, however Mr. Stark asks FRIDAY, the new AI he has installed in his tech to replace JARVIS, to fly the plane, and now the man approaches Vision in the same slow and suspicious manner that he has since the Vision’s birth.
“Uhh, Mr. Vision. The Vision, god that’s weird. I’m just gonna call you Vision. Is that alright with you?” Stark quips, moving to sit across from him on an empty row of benches toward the back of the jet.
“I have no name and therefore no need for a preference, so it matters little how you refer to me,” he says simply, as this were an obvious observation, especially for a man of Mr. Stark’s intellect.
“Uh, yeah. Alright. We need to talk shop,” he says, rubbing his palms together, and it’s a curious action, a familiar one if he were to sift through the years of memory banks retained by JARVIS, but also entirely new to observe in his new form.
The Vision merely tilts his head at the man, which seems to put Stark at further unease.
“It means, uhh, you know. Speak about technicalities,” Stark drops off, and he finds himself nodding his head in understanding.
“Yes, Mr. Stark. I am aware of what the phrase means. The internet defined the idiom for me roughly 3.4 seconds before you did,” he says, and Stark is frowning, before glancing around at the rest of the Avengers on the QuinJet, who are pretending, rather poorly, to not listen in on their conversation.
“This guy, eh? Great sense of humor,” Stark grumbles to them, before turning back to the Vision, or Vision, as Mr. Stark feels the need to rename him.
“So you spoke of erasing Ultron’s escape hatch through the internet. Talk me through it. How do you intend to do that, exactly?” He asks, and Vision now attempts not to tilt his head at the man, as the interaction 43 second prior to this had led to a negative outcome.
“I am curious why you feel the need to ask. I have a memory of you yourself telling JARVIS that this body has access to the internet, and you were indeed correct. After analyzing my own capabilities, I hypothesize that if I can get close to whatever android he currently is in possession of, I can trace his signature code and then can create an impenetrable firewall across all potential websites,” Vision says, and, realizing he hasn’t blinked in four minutes and twenty six seconds, deliberately does so now.
“You-“ Mr. Stark stops, seemingly bewildered. “Alright, C-3PO. Since you seem to have hijacked all of J’s memories, you must be well aware there are well over 800 million websites out there,” Stark finishes gruffly. Vision frowns.
“There are approximately 876,812,666 websites, including those on the dark web. And I did no such thing,” Vision adds, finally looking down from Stark to his own hands, which lay open in his lap. He finds he is still unsure of what to do with his body when it is in a state of inaction, although, the longer he speaks to Stark, an unsettling feeling seems to linger in his limbs.
“Come again?” Stark asks, and Vision finally brings his gaze up to Stark once more.
“You... accuse me of thievery. From what I can understand, from the files I have access to, your AI, willingly and of his own volition, agreed to the upload and was thoroughly educated on the risks,” Vision says quietly, holding Stark’s gaze until the human looks away through a lifeless laugh.
“Yeah, well, he didn’t know he’d be so rudely interrupted by a fucking Norse God coming down from the sky and making an absolute hack job out of a sophisticated operation,” Stark snaps, and Vision’s eyes narrow as he finally hones in on the emotion Stark is exhibiting.
“You are angry,” Vision murmurs.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Tony says, and something deep within him feels like flinching at acerbic wit, although he remains completely still.
“I cannot pretend to understand your relationship with the former AI. I also cannot pretend that I am fully him or any other part of myself I have woken up to be. But...I promise you that I fully intend to uphold his legacy, sir, to protect-”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” Stark hisses, “Ever again.” Vision’s eyes widen at the man’s outburst, before realizing the full implications of what the utterance of the word might mean.
“Stark!” Captain Rogers admonishes the man, beckoning him from where he stands at the front of the ship. Stark sighs, and moves to stand, looking at Vision once more.
“Listen to me, you glorified floppy disk. The others are on crowd control. But you and me? We’re the main act, hotshot. You locate Ultron, I distract him, and then, on my signal, you burn him out of the internet. You understand?”
Vision only blinks, then nods, reeling at the emotional display of the man in front of him as Stark stands stiffly and stalks over to Captain Rogers. Vision lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, glancing over to the two men now talking in hushed tones near the front of the cockpit, before looking down at his own hands. He can feel himself frowning, replaying the conversation in his head over and over again, trying to see where he went wrong. As he does so, he feels, suddenly, a brush of a presence, a warmth of a consciousness that is distinctly not his own pass close to his mind, and he brings his eyes up to stare in the direction of Miss Maximoff, whose eyes go wide before she looks down to her own lap sharply, although a lingering blush of pink still graces the lines of her face.
—
18,000 Meters and Climbing over Novi Grad, Sokovia, May 6th, 2015, 8:20am
The noise is overwhelming, as if the earth is being torn apart from itself. His limbs feel heavy and they scream in exhaustion and discomfort— is this what pain feels like?-- and his lungs struggle to greedily consume the oxygen that is...thinner somehow. Immediately, he checks his databanks and discovers he has been successful in driving Ultron out of the internet, and as he weakly opens his eyes, he is greeted with the crumbling ceiling of the church. Suddenly, a large portion of stone cracks and falls, and he barely manages to shift his density to have the wreckage fall through him. As the high-pitched ringing in his auditory receptors subsides, he pulls himself up, hovering as he catches the gaze of Thor, who is currently being held up by Ultron by the neck. He moves to fly forward when he notices the slight shake of the god’s head, and he follows Thor’s gaze to Mjölnir, which lies on the ground near his feet.
“You think you’re saving anyone? I turn that key and drop this rock a little early and it’s still billions dead,” Ultron taunts the man currently in his clutches as Vision silently lands once more, gently lifting up the hammer up off the ground, once again meeting Thor’s eyes.
“I am Thor, son of Odin, and as long as there is life still in my breast, I am running out of things to say? Are you ready?” The god says and Vision doesn’t need another cue, utilizing all of his quickly-returning strength to send Ultron flying into the nearest cable car across the cobblestone street. Vision focuses, once again decrypting Stark’s satellite frequency to hear the Avengers shouting into their comms, just as another fresh swell of superbots climb up into the center of the church.
“Don’t let them near the core!” Thor shouts, before whipping Mjölnir around to create a cascade of lightning, taking out several of the superbots at once. Vision, the pristine knowledge of dozens of advanced fighting methods singing in his musculature, phases in and out quickly as he shoots through the air, ripping out the inner workings of bot after bot as his teammates arrive at the church.
Stark is the first to touch down on the ground, and he nods once to Vision, seemingly commending him for his work driving Ultron out of the internet, before shooting another round of ion blasts at several straggling bots, enabling them a moment’s pause in the fighting. They are joined by Captain Rogers and Mr. Maximoff, followed quickly by Miss Maximoff and Agent Barton. Vision turns, quickly reading pulses and assessing the various minor injuries of his teammates, eyes lingering on a large gash on Miss Maximoff’s forehead, but her twin brother is already inquiring to her wellbeing. A few moments later, Agent Romanoff and... Dr. Banner, in Hulk form, JARVIS’s prior knowledge supplies him, are there, too.
“What’s the drill?” Agent Romanoff shouts, reloading her glock as she goes.
“This is the drill,” Stark says from inside the Iron Man suit. “If Ultron gets his hands on the core, we lose.”
Vision, meanwhile, sees that beyond the wreckage of the church, Ultron has recovered, now hovering in the sky about a half a kilometer away from them all.
“Is that the best you can do?” Thor roars, as hundreds of bots coalesce around the dilapidated structure.
“You had to ask,” Captain Rogers mutters, before Ultron begins speaking.
“ This is the best I can do. This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How can you possibly hope to stop me ?”
“Well, like the old man said,” Mr. Stark replies, looking toward the rest of the group and back at the AI. “Together.”
What happens next is barely-controlled chaos, as an onslaught of bots descend on the team, and Vision is barely processing anything other moving in and out of the wreckage, ripping apart head and limb as he goes, the sound metal snarling and rock exploading, ion blasts firing and the glittering scarlet stream of magic filling the air, as bots are lifted up into the air for Vision and Stark to tear through. It is mindless, brutal destruction of life that isn’t life, and it isn’t long until Ultron joins the fight, and Vision flies upward to feel the dizzizzing pain of the full brunt of a strike against him, before easily phasing through and then quickly increasing his density to lash back out at the vibranium-laced android, before Vision is flung backward into a wall. Despite taking the full force of the stone, he doesn’t hesitate, finally targeting a clear path to instantly command the Mind Stone to blast a beam of golden light at the android, easily pushing him out of the church. He maintains contact and is soon joined by Thor and Stark, as the combined energy begins melting the monster, until he is smoking, until the Hulk flies at him, catapulting the android several hundred feet away. Hulk roars in the other bots’ direction, and they begin to take off, fleeing the floating piece of earth.
“They’re trying to leave the city!” Thor shouts.
“We can’t let them, not even one-” is the last thing Vision comprehends before he takes off into the sky, easily pinpointing and picking off various bots in the air one by one, alongside... War Machine his mind supplies him. He dives and spins as more bots attempt to flee, and it is from this vantage point that he sees the unfettered madness of Ultron’s attempted plan. A helicarrier is attempting the rescue of the rest of the civilians, while half of Novi Grad continues its ascent higher and higher. He calculates easily that it is high enough for global destruction, and he hopes, beyond all reason, Stark has developed a plan to obliterate the land mass.
He hears the chaos below him, in his mind through the comms, the chatter of the plan to get Thor back to the church, the others helping the remaining civilians to the boats, Wanda’s promise to protect the core. And then, the familiar whine of the QuinJet, as Vision realizes it is zeroing in on the mostly-dispersed crowd near the helicarrier and opens fire. He dives to attempt to help, before a large, invisible wave of anguish sears through his consciousness, so entirely raw and unfounded in its sorrow, Vision is momentarily physically thrown back by it, by the way it pulsates through everything in him. It is all-consuming grief and rage, mere words he has had no prior understanding or feeling to pair with until now, but it also contains the silent, ethereal signature he has felt once, no, twice, before. On the QuinJet when he had detected her mind, and before his life had begun, when he lay dreaming in the cradle.
Miss Maximoff.
Just as he moves to dive downward toward the city again, it is then that it plummets, hurtling towards the earth at several hundred kilometers an hour, and Vision flies harder, faster, as he races towards the city’s center. Everything is in free fall, and he phases through debris and vehicles and broken bodies of superbots alike when he senses the source of her sorrowful, yet determined mind, along with the realization she has no will or interest in saving herself, even if she could.
“Thor! On my mark!” He hears Stark’s voice through the man’s comm, and Vision mentally screams at his body to move faster, impossibly fast, quickly approaching the sound barrier, until he phases through the final bit of debris and into a cable car to find her. He moves to quickly yet gently take the tear-stained, dazed woman in his arms, holding her tight against his chest, as he flies instantly upward, weaving through the wreckage of her destroyed city, her place of origin, as he hears, “NOW!” And there is a terrifying wave of electrical current as the land mass explodes, the sheer energy of it biting at his heels, and he lifts her up, up, up toward the helicarrier. She is turned into his chest, gripping him tightly, sobbing, and something in him constricts, shudders with an empathetic grief, and he realizes it is his heart.
—
Novi Grad, Sokovia, May 6th, 2015, 3:55pm
It takes one calculated blast to end the final essence of Ultron’s existence, leaving the desperate remnants of the robot sizzling at the ground by Vision’s feet. Vision stands completely still for several long moments, breathing steadily, as the first real sense of calm inundates him. It is a strange feeling, one he has never experienced, and, as he breathes in for a moment, the smell of pine needles and mountain air greet his nose. He is, now, entirely alone, and it is the first time in his existence this is the case. Below the ridge, an enormous crater scars the earth, the absence of most of Novi Grad painfully apparent beyond him. The sky above, however, is a brilliant blue, even amidst the billowing plumes of burning wreckage, and, if he focuses his eyesight, he can see the SHIELD helicarrier dotting the sky, on its way to Prague. Most of his fellow teammates, including Miss Maximoff, are aboard the helicarrier, where Vision is set to meet them, once his task here was complete. And it is.
“Captain Rogers,” Vision murmurs, tuning into the satellite frequency once more.
“Vision?” Rogers responds two seconds later, pausing for a moment, before adding, “Is it done?”
“The final android has been destroyed. Ultron is no longer,” Vision says simply. There is another moment’s pause on the line, before the Captain speaks again.
“Well done, Avenger,” the man says, and Vision tilts his head inquisitively at the latest title bestowed upon him. “ Stark managed to find Thor; they both just arrived. Banner’s still MIA.”
“And Miss Maximoff?” The question sips from Vision’s lips before he can stop himself. He hears the man sigh through the comms, before dutifully replying.
“Distraught, but in one piece. Nat’s with her,” Rogers replies. “ I meant to thank you, by the way. For saving her. Her death...that would’ve been on me. I had no idea she was still in the city.”
“Captain-” Vision begins, feet still curiously on the ground, even though he has no purpose in staying in Novi Grad, as medical and emergency services had already arrived on the city outskirts.
“Yes?” Rogers responds.
“May I inquire as to why... you chose me to finish it?” Vision asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Because you were one of the few men still on the ground,” Rogers laughs through the comm, and Vision feels a swell of something akin to...disappointment, before the Captain speaks again.
“And because I trusted you to get the job done,” he adds.
“I...see,” Vision responds slowly, the feeling of disappointment dissipating as soon as the man uttered the word trust. Neither of them speak for another fifteen seconds, before Vision hears Rogers’ voice once more.
“Vision. Listen. It’s up to you if you join the team in the future or not. You have free will, we all do, and only you can make that decision, but...I hope you do,” Rogers says.
“I shall take it under sincere consideration,” Vision replies. And then, he hears the Captain laugh once more.
“Good. But, for now, get your ass up here. Tony’s in and out of it; he took a few pretty hard hits, and I need all the help I can get between dealing with Fury, the Czech government, and finding these families temporary housing,” Rogers says. “Plus, Nat’s just come in and she’s telling me Wanda’s asked about you. I guess...well, she seems convinced you’re not coming back. I’d like to prove her wrong.”
“I-” Vision begins, confused by Captain Rogers’ words, trying to comprehend what they mean. “I hardly think the knowledge of my presence will offer her anything in the way of...emotional support,” Vision responds, staring down at the still smoking parts of Ultron a few meters from him, “being what I am.”
“Listen. I don’t quite care what you are. We...need each other right now, as much in the aftermath as in the fight. If you stick with us, you’ll learn that. Be here in ten minutes, Vision. That’s an order. Over and out,” Rogers says, before the line goes dead. Vision blinks, staring inquisitively at the sky, and as he considers the man’s words, a random memory or line of code from the AI that preceded him creeps up into his consciousness, although Vision swears he did not summon the knowledge forward.
It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realized what’s changed is you.
It’s a quick search to realize it is not a memory at all, but a line from F. Scott Fitzgerald, a notable 20th century author. He furrows his brows at its seemingly random placement in his mind, makes a note to read the man’s work, and for now, simply takes the words to heart.
And, it is then, as the ground disappears below his feet, he utilizes his free will to make his first decision. It is then that he decides, on his mere second day of life, that he will stay. He will fight. For as long as he is capable, for as long as humanity might need him.