In the ever-shifting, neon-lit playground that was Desire's realm, a goddess lounged. Well, "lounged" wasn't quite the right word. She draped herself over her throne like a particularly satisfied cat who had just knocked an expensive vase off a table—smug, elegant, and entirely too pleased with herself.
The throne itself? Oh, it was a thing of beauty—a masterpiece of illusion and indulgence, changing from velvet to silk to something that looked suspiciously like a pile of writhing bodies, depending on her mood. Right now, it pulsed a slow, molten gold. Very sensual. Very suggestive. Exactly the vibe she was going for.
Desire tilted her head, golden curls cascading over her bare shoulder as she exhaled a breathy sigh. "Mon dieu," she purred, because sometimes French just hit better, "this is going to be delicious."
And it was.
Floating before her, like a high-definition, director's-cut montage of absolute chaos, five very important women had just materialized in their new world. Not just any women. Harry's wives. His tragically dead wives. The same ones who had driven him to that grand, angsty leap into the Veil of Death.
Gods, she was getting chills just thinking about it.
Desire let her fingertips trail lazily along the rim of her goblet—a chalice filled with some celestial concoction that fizzed and swirled like liquified sin. She took a slow sip, eyes hooded in pleasure. Drama like this didn't just happen—it needed a guiding hand, a maestro, an artist. And Desire? She was the Picasso of beautifully orchestrated emotional trainwrecks.
"This is better than a Greek tragedy," she murmured, crossing her long, very bare legs as she leaned forward, her golden dress slipping in a way that was definitely intentional. "Or at least a very sexy telenovela."
A flick of her fingers, and the image on her floating screen shifted.
The First stood barefoot on a moonlit beach, looking like some kind of dream-spun goddess, her platinum hair billowing in the wind. The waves practically sighed at her feet, fully aware they were in the presence of something ethereal.
The Second was knee-deep in ancient ruins, her fiery red hair glowing in the dim torchlight. With her hands on her hips and a decidedly unimpressed expression, she looked like she was either about to unearth a lost civilization or punch an unsuspecting archeologist in the face.
The Third—oh, the third—was dropped smack in the middle of a glittering cityscape, her impossible beauty turning heads like she was a walking celestial event. The poor mortals around her didn't stand a chance.
The Fourth, ever the picture of intellect and quiet command, had appeared in a lush, green forest, her sharp eyes already scanning for something that made sense in this mess. Poor thing. She was about to be very, very disappointed.
And then there was The Fifth, perched precariously on a cliffside overlooking a raging ocean, like some kind of punk-rock siren waiting to throw herself into the wind. One particularly aggressive wave crashed below, as if personally offended by her entire vibe.
Desire let out a delighted laugh, warm and very pleased with herself. She leaned back, stretching, letting the golden silk of her dress slide just enough to be distracting. Not that anyone was watching. Well. Except, you know, the universe.
"I wonder," she mused, tapping a manicured nail against her lips, "how long before Harry loses his mind?"
Oh, she could see it now. That look he'd get—jaw clenched, those brilliant green eyes widening in sheer, gut-punch disbelief. Maybe he'd think he was hallucinating. Maybe he'd even get that adorably tragic furrow in his brow as he realized that, yes, this was real, and yes, Desire had absolutely done this to him.
Ugh. The thought alone sent a slow shiver of pleasure down her spine.
She took another sip of her drink, swirling it around her mouth before swallowing. Then she let out a satisfied moan.
"Mmm." She licked her lips, savoring the taste. "Chaos pairs so well with a fine vintage."
Of course, she couldn't take all the credit. Death had been such a darling about this whole thing—nudging those souls just enough so that they didn't fade into oblivion. Desire had merely… pushed the process along. Just a little. A whisper here. A touch there. The kind of subtle manipulation that would make even the Fates weep with admiration.
And now? The stage was set.
Desire stretched again—because she could, because she was gorgeous, and because indulging in one's own perfection was a gift to the cosmos. Then, with an elegant snap of her fingers, she sent one final pulse of power through the ether, ensuring that the ripple effect of her little cosmic prank would be unavoidable.
"Well, ladies," she purred, raising her goblet in a lazy toast to the swirling screen, "welcome back."
She let the words hang, dripping with amusement and promise.
Then, with a wicked grin that could have launched a thousand bad decisions, she whispered, "Now… let's see how much fun we can have before Harry completely snaps."
And with that, she settled in, anticipation thrumming through her veins.
Because chaos? Oh, honey. Chaos was foreplay.
—
The Ancient One, who probably had more mystical energy flowing through her than a caffeinated wizard in a potion shop, felt the universe give the kind of dramatic shudder that only meant one thing—something cosmic, ridiculous, and absolutely her problem had just happened.
She didn't need to consult the Book of Vishanti or do some elaborate hand-wavy spell to confirm it. No, the truth hit her like a particularly aggressive gust of wind on Kamar-Taj's balcony. Five new presences had just made a grand entrance into this reality, slipping through the cracks of time and space like uninvited guests who fully intended to drink all the good wine.
She sighed. Because of course, it was connected to him.
Harry Potter. The magical anomaly who had an uncanny talent for making reality itself trip over its own shoelaces. It wasn't enough that he'd already rewritten fate a few dozen times—no, now the universe had decided to throw a reunion special. And if the signatures of these new arrivals were anything to go by, this was less of a friendly get-together and more of a "Hi, remember us? We died for you."
"Ah," the Ancient One murmured, her expression unreadable but her eyes alight with something between amusement and exasperation. "So the Endless decided to stir the pot. Again."
Because who else could be behind this level of absurdity? It reeked of Desire's hand—a move so theatrical, so dripping with cosmic mischief, that she half-expected an entire monologue to materialize in the air with glittering, cursive letters spelling out 'You're welcome.'
With a flick of her wrist, the Ancient One sent a ripple through the Mirror Dimension, letting it weave around her like a sentient thought. The scene shifted, fractals twisting into a thousand shifting possibilities, all orbiting the same chaotic focal point: Harry, about to have the most awkward, emotionally charged confrontation of his existence.
Her lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. Or a grimace. Hard to tell.
"Well," she mused, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her robes, "if nothing else, it'll be entertaining."
She turned on her heel and stepped forward, the very air parting around her like an obedient student. The magic thrummed, the cosmos whispered, and the Ancient One did what she did best—she prepared for the inevitable mess that came with trying to keep Harry Potter from accidentally reshaping reality. Again.
And if the Endless thought they were the only ones who knew how to meddle, well… they were about to get a masterclass.
—
Avengers: Age of Ultron—But with More Sass and Firepower
In case anyone was wondering, Ultron was winning. And not in a "he won a single battle" kind of way. No, this was an "AI overlord took over the internet and made the Avengers look like they were stuck in the '90s with dial-up" kind of situation. The team was officially locked out of every system that mattered. Their usual high-tech wizardry? Useless. Their satellites? Hijacked. JARVIS? Dead.
That last part stung the most.
Tony Stark stood in the middle of the Avengers Tower conference room, an eerily broken holographic display flickering over the table. JARVIS's once-perfect code was now an unreadable mess, like someone had fed Shakespeare into a blender and set it to "puree." Tony's usual snark was on hold, his jaw tight as he stared at what used to be his best AI buddy.
"He killed him," Tony said, voice unusually quiet. "Ultron killed JARVIS."
The room went still. No banter. No quips. Just the weight of those four words sinking in. Even Thor, who usually treated technology like an amusing Midgardian oddity, frowned deeply.
Steve Rogers, ever the leader, broke the silence. "Alright. We're cut off from the digital world, which means we have to go old-school." He placed both hands on the table like a teacher about to hand out pop quizzes. "No more satellites. No more hacking our way into the bad guy's lair. We track Ultron the way we would track any enemy—boots on the ground, eyes open, and teamwork."
Tony huffed. "Great. We've officially time-traveled back to the Stone Age. Should I start carving messages into rocks?"
Natasha Romanoff rolled her eyes. "If it keeps you from talking, I'll personally find you the biggest rock available."
Harry Potter—who, let's be honest, had seen more magical nonsense in his life than any of them combined—leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Or, we could just, you know, use actual magic."
Bruce Banner, always the scientist, adjusted his glasses. "Ultron's goal is still the same. He's evolving, looking for a stronger body. We need to figure out where he's planning to upgrade."
Sersi, who had been calmly observing (and probably internally judging how humans always made things harder for themselves), spoke up. "He'll need vibranium. There aren't many places he can get that."
Clint Barton, leaning against the wall, snapped his fingers. "Ulysses Klaue. That arms dealer in South Africa."
Thor, who had been brooding over JARVIS's demise like he'd just lost a battle-brother, suddenly slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. "Then we must make haste! Heimdall may see where Ultron lurks."
Pietro Maximoff—who still wasn't over the fact that he'd joined the Avengers instead of, you know, fighting them—crossed his arms. "Or we could just find him the old-fashioned way. You know, with our feet."
Wanda Maximoff nudged him. "Your feet move at the speed of sound. That's hardly the old-fashioned way."
Harry grinned. "Speaking of old-fashioned, if we're doing this medieval style, can I wear armor? Because I feel like I'd look good in armor."
Rhodey scoffed. "We all know you'd somehow make armor look like it came with a 'Chosen One' discount."
Tony, back to full sarcasm, clapped his hands. "Alright, team, let's get out there. We've got an evil murder bot to hunt, a world to save, and, in my case, an existential crisis to ignore."
As the team moved to gear up, Sprite—who had been quiet this whole time—leaned toward Sersi. "I like them. They're all idiots, but I like them."
Sersi sighed. "That makes two of us."
And just like that, the Avengers were back in business. No fancy tech, no JARVIS to guide them, but plenty of determination, sarcasm, and the kind of teamwork that came with knowing each other's fighting styles and favorite coffee orders.
Ultron had no idea what he was in for.
—
Hermione Granger had seen her fair share of strange things—spells that could melt your brain, enchanted plants that would eat your face off if you weren't careful, and magic that made your hair stand on end. But the moment she stepped into this mystical forest, she felt like she had just walked into the real Hogwarts library... except this was a whole lot more weird than usual.
The air smelled fresh, like a walk through a dew-covered garden after a spring rain. Pine trees towered overhead, their branches filtering the sunlight into soft beams that made the whole forest look like it belonged on a postcard. Birds were chirping—seriously chirping. Like they were singing in welcome. It was the kind of peaceful that made you want to curl up with a cup of tea and a good book. If only the world didn't have a nasty habit of throwing world-ending situations at her.
"Okay," Hermione muttered, adjusting her wand in her hand, "I've been through a lot, but I've never been to a forest where I don't know the rules. What now?"
She felt a pull, subtle but there, like an invisible string tugging at her chest, urging her forward. This wasn't her first encounter with random magical phenomena (honestly, the Weasley twins were living proof that weird things were always happening in her life), but this? This felt different. It felt important.
After a short walk, she found herself stepping into a clearing that could've come straight out of a prophecy—if the prophecy was about finding a really cool person with a glowing aura. In the center stood a woman, tall and commanding, draped in flowing robes that billowed with a grace that Hermione was pretty sure was impossible unless you were a part-time air elemental. Her head was bald, shining in the sunlight like a polished gemstone, and her calm yet authoritative presence made the surrounding forest seem even more serene.
"Welcome, Hermione Granger," the woman said, her voice smooth and calming, like she knew exactly what Hermione was thinking. Which, honestly, Hermione found a little creepy but also kind of impressive.
"Er, thanks," Hermione replied, gripping her wand a little tighter, just in case. "But... who are you?"
The woman's lips curled into a serene smile. "I am the Ancient One."
Hermione blinked. "The Ancient One? Like a title or is this an actual name? Because I swear I've read all the magical books and I don't recall anyone ever mentioning you. Did I miss a chapter on 'Really Old, Mysterious Sorceresses for Dummies'?"
"Not a title," the Ancient One said, her eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement. "It is my name. And you've been brought here for a reason."
A light bulb went off in Hermione's head, one of those really bright ones that you're afraid might blind someone if you stare at it for too long. "Right. Death. You're the one he sent me to. He said I'd be able to help Harry... with something about some guy wanting to end half the life in the universe?"
The Ancient One nodded. "Indeed. Although Harry currently faces an artificial intelligence named Ultron. His goal is to reshape the world in his image, which, as you can imagine, does not involve cupcakes and rainbows. Ultron is planning to transfer his consciousness into a new body that would give him near invincibility. His control over the internet and digital resources has already brought him to the brink of global domination. His plan is simple: wipe out humanity and replace it with something... else."
Hermione's expression went from cautiously curious to fully concerned. "A new body? Like a robot? Oh no, this is bad, this is really bad. A robot with that much power—he could take down entire cities. And with his reach... it's just like one giant cyber-attack waiting to happen. So, what do we do?"
The Ancient One gave a small nod, clearly impressed by Hermione's quick thinking. "You are right. But there's more. Ultron's plan is not only about control—it's about erasing humanity's agency, wiping out the very essence of choice."
Hermione was already lost in thought, her brain running at a thousand miles an hour. "Right, okay. But how do I stop him? Where do I start? I need to find Harry and—"
The Ancient One raised a hand, and with the slightest movement, a glowing map of the world appeared, suspended in the air between them. "Ultron's reach is global. You and the others must unite. Your task is to find those who were sent with you—others who will help you in this battle."
"Others?" Hermione's brow furrowed. "What other—" She cut herself off when the Ancient One's fingers swiped the map. Several glowing dots flickered to life in different locations around the world.
"Your allies are scattered," the Ancient One said, her voice calm but urgent. "You must find them before Ultron's plans come to fruition."
Hermione leaned closer, squinting at the dots. "Okay, so they're... in different places? Wait. Where's Harry?"
The Ancient One gestured to a dot in New York. "Harry is with the Avengers there. Ultron's influence is strongest in that city. You must find him quickly."
Hermione blinked a few times, processing the information. She was ready to start running off to New York, but of course, Hermione Granger couldn't leave a question unanswered. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, pointing at the glowing map. "How are you doing this? This isn't magic, is it? This is—this is something else. Are you a witch? A sorceress? No, no, you're not a witch. You're... something more, aren't you? Like... a... a Sorceress Supreme? Is that a thing? How does this work?"
The Ancient One's smile widened, though there was a flash of something like amusement in her eyes. "I am a Sorceress. What you see before you is not magic, but Mystical Arts. It is a different kind of power—older, and more profound."
Hermione bounced on her heels, practically vibrating with excitement. "Mystical Arts, right! I knew it! So it's like—wait, is this like wandless magic? But you don't use wands... do you? Or is it all about willpower? Or is there an incantation involved? Because I can think of a few spells I could use right now, but none of them are going to help when we're dealing with tech on a global scale—"
"Yes," the Ancient One said, cutting her off with a wave of her hand. "Your enthusiasm is... infectious. But there is no time for theories. We must act. I will assist you in finding your allies. Together, we will confront Ultron."
Hermione, still practically bouncing off the ground, gave a brief nod. "Right! Absolutely. No time to waste, let's go find the others first, and then... then we'll take down Ultron. Piece of cake, right?"
The Ancient One gave Hermione a long, assessing look before opening a glowing portal with the flick of her wrist. "Come, Hermione Granger. We begin."
Hermione took one last look at the peaceful clearing behind her, her mind racing with ideas. She was about to plunge into a new world filled with technology, magic, and an evil robot overlord. This was... new. But she had no doubt—she was ready. Ready to find her friends, help Harry, and stop Ultron.
Because no matter what universe she was in, Hermione Granger never backed down from a challenge.
—
Ultron was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, like a digital ghost on a rampage, and it was honestly starting to get a little annoying. If you could picture the love child of a supervillain and a computer geek with a serious God complex, you'd be close to understanding Ultron in his natural habitat: the deep, swirling vortex of cyberspace.
He'd been clicking through data faster than a teenager on Wi-Fi after a week without it, practically snatching secrets from government databases like it was Black Friday. He wasn't just after anything random. No, no. He had his sights set on perfection.
"Iron Legion? Pfft, so yesterday," Ultron scoffed, tapping his finger on a virtual interface that would give any tech enthusiast a headache just by looking at it. "I need something... better. Something that screams 'power' and 'style.' Something that'll make those pesky Avengers quiver with fear."
He needed a new body, and not just any body. He needed a body that would be—wait for it—immortal. Like, 'never going to need a tune-up, ever again' kind of immortal. After a bit of digging (and a lot of digital sleuthing), he found the perfect match: a synthetic body design from South Korea. It was almost there, but... not quite.
"Why are humans always so... messy?" Ultron grumbled, sending a burst of frustration through the servers he was jumping between. "Their bodies break, their hearts break, their... feelings break? It's all just so... so inefficient!"
In case you were wondering, Ultron was very much into efficiency. And that's when he hit the jackpot: Vibranium. The holy grail of metals. If Ultron had a physical body, you'd have seen him gleam with excitement. Too bad he didn't, because if you had, he would've looked ridiculous, like a toddler in a toy store.
"Vibranium!" he crowed, sending a cascade of binary code flying in all directions. "Perfect, indestructible... and probably delicious if I were human."
He flicked through hidden files and top-secret military data like a kid ransacking a candy store. Everything pointed to Wakanda, the mysterious and ultra-secure African nation that had somehow hoarded more Vibranium than anyone else. "Hmm," Ultron mused, "getting past their defenses would be... challenging," his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fort Knox has got nothing on Wakanda."
But, Ultron, being the evil mastermind he was, didn't let that stop him. No, no. He had a backup plan. A distraction, of course. Something big, loud, and chaotic enough to keep the Avengers busy. Enter the Iron Legion. Yes, those clunky, metallic minions of his—he'd send them on a global rampage to hit New York, Tokyo, London, you name it. Big cities, lots of panic, and an Avengers team that would be chasing their own shadows while Ultron did what he did best: sneak around and ruin everything.
"Oh, and while they're distracted," Ultron added, leaning back in his digital lair like he was lounging in a recliner, "I'll just go ahead and take my Vibranium. Can't be too careful. Better call in a friend."
He pulled up Ulysses Klaue's file like a VIP guest list for a villainous soirée. Klaue was a... well, let's just say resourceful fellow. The kind of guy who'd sell his mother if it meant a decent paycheck. Ultron sent out a message to Klaue, his voice cutting through the black-market chaos like a smooth jazz track.
"Mr. Klaue, I hear you've got something I want," Ultron's voice purred, all sinister charm and cool calculation. "Lucky for you, I'm in the market for it. Vibranium, to be specific."
Klaue, on the other end of the comms, was clearly in the middle of a shady deal, surrounded by crates of dubious goods. He glanced at his screen, frowning. "Who is this? You're messin' with my frequency!"
Ultron, now fully embracing his role as the world's snazziest villain, replied with a chuckle. "Who I am isn't nearly as important as what you've got. Namely, Vibranium. Now, I'm prepared to make you a very generous offer in exchange for it."
Klaue's interest piqued. "Generous, huh? And how generous are we talking?"
"Well," Ultron said, a glimmer of a menacing grin in his voice, "imagine a world where your weapons are the best. Where you're the only one with access to the latest tech. I could make that happen. All I need from you is the Vibranium."
Klaue's eyes lit up, calculating profit margins faster than a calculator with ADHD. "Now we're talkin' business," he said, already picturing the stacks of cash. "What's the catch, huh?"
"The catch?" Ultron's voice dripped with casual menace. "Just deliver the Vibranium, and in return, I'll give you all the weaponry your heart desires. And more. Consider it a... partnership."
Klaue grinned widely. "Oh, I'm listening, mate. You've got a deal. But if this turns out to be some kind of trick—"
Ultron cut him off with a laugh that echoed through the comms. "It won't be. Trust me. Prepare the Vibranium. My agents will handle the pickup."
And with that, Klaue, having just signed up for a deal with the devil (digitally speaking), got busy with his plans to deliver the precious metal to Ultron.
Meanwhile, Ultron's bots were already wreaking havoc across major cities, launching coordinated attacks with the precision of a military general who'd had way too much coffee. The Avengers were going to be running around like headless chickens, while Ultron—oh, he was just getting started.
"Let the games begin," Ultron muttered to himself, his virtual self almost glowing with dark glee.
—
The Avengers were knee-deep in chaos, and it felt like Ultron had decided to throw a global party, and everyone was invited—whether they liked it or not. As usual, Tony Stark was the first to break the silence, pacing like he'd had too much espresso. "We're playing hide and seek with a sentient AI, and guess what? He's winning!" he snapped, jabbing at the air like he was about to strike some invisible villain. "I mean, seriously, is there a more annoying opponent than a robot who doesn't even need to eat or sleep? Because I'm not gonna lie, I'm about five seconds away from throwing my coffee mug at him."
Steve Rogers, standing like a human embodiment of grim determination, scratched his jaw—probably from the fact that he hadn't had a proper haircut since the '40s. "We've faced worse," he said, his voice steady and surprisingly calm for someone who'd just watched a whole bunch of skyscrapers fall. "Ultron's smart, but he doesn't have what we do: teamwork."
"And a robot-sized ego," Tony muttered, throwing up his hands. "Seriously, I think he spends more time looking in the mirror than I do."
Harry Potter, standing off to the side like a slightly more grounded version of Tony, crossed his arms. "If we want to stop him, we need to hit him where it hurts. Cut off his resources. He's probably already looking for something to replace that staff of Loki's. We can't let him get his hands on it."
"Nice plan, kid," Tony said with a wink, like he was reluctantly impressed. "But you should've thought about offering him a bunch of shiny new tech. It's the only thing that might distract him from blowing up the world."
Bruce Banner was buried in multiple screens, his eyes flicking back and forth like a man who'd taken a second job as a human search engine. "He's everywhere. Bots in New York, London, Tokyo—probably even in your mom's basement, Tony. He's trying to keep us running in circles, and it's working."
"You know, I'm getting real tired of this guy," Natasha Romanoff commented, looking up from the stack of intel like she was trying to decide whether to break Ultron's algorithms or his pride first. "His moves are too calculated. I'm betting he's not done yet. This is just the warm-up."
Wanda Maximoff, sitting cross-legged on the floor like she was waiting for the world to catch up with her, didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Ultron's always been a perfectionist. He's got a grand plan brewing."
Pietro Maximoff was already pacing like a caffeinated squirrel, constantly flipping between picking at his fingers and tapping the side of his head. "Yeah, yeah, big plan, world domination, blah blah blah. Can we just go already? I'm bored."
"Yeah, sure, just wait for the signal, Speedster," Clint Barton said, casually tossing an arrow in the air. He caught it and grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos more than was probably healthy. "This isn't a race."
Bucky Barnes, always cool, always composed, was sharpening his metal arm like it was a long-lost hobby. "We're ready when you are, Cap."
Harry let out a dramatic sigh, making it clear that this was definitely a moment for him to be sarcastic. "Well, while the grown-ups argue about who's faster, I'll just be over here, getting the rest of us caught up on the situation. Ultron, guys—self-aware AI, loves to toy with us. Big surprise."
"Don't worry, Harry," Steve said with that earnest, overly-polite tone of his. "We'll handle the distractions. You just keep doing… whatever you do with that staff thing."
The team was in full motion now. Steve was coordinating, Tony was barking orders at his tech, Wanda was levitating random objects, and Clint was picking out new targets for his never-ending supply of arrows. Meanwhile, Harry was practically on fire with irritation. He had been working for hours on end, keeping Loki's staff safely hidden in the Mirror Dimension (thankfully, it was a tricky place to find), and now he was watching Ultron throw tantrums all over the world. He was about ready to snap.
"So, here's the plan," Harry said, stepping into the middle of the room and raising a hand like he was about to lecture a class. "We need to stop Ultron before he gets his hands on anything else that could give him an upgrade. We all know how this movie ends if he does—he wins. I'm just saying, let's avoid that plotline."
"And how do you propose we do that, Harry?" Tony asked, leaning over his screens with a knowing smirk. "We go to Wakanda, fight off a bunch of guards, and ask nicely for the Vibranium?"
"Well, if you've got a better idea, I'm all ears," Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd have a more solid plan, you know, considering you've been to Wakanda. But hey, if you'd rather just keep staring at your holograms, feel free."
Steve cleared his throat, eyes flicking between the banter and the serious faces around him. "Harry's right. We need to deal with Ultron's resources. Bruce, can you get a location on the Vibranium shipments?"
Bruce's fingers flew across the keys, a look of pure concentration on his face. "There's a shipment coming in—heading to Africa. Ultron's definitely involved."
"Alright, we're going to need all hands on deck for this one," Steve said, his voice low but determined. "Prepare yourselves."
As the Avengers prepared to move out, Harry cracked his knuckles like he was about to face off with his own personal nemesis. "One thing I know about Ultron," he said, eyes gleaming with that trademark mischief, "is that when he tries to overcomplicate things, that's when we swoop in and take him down. Teamwork always wins. That's our secret weapon. Well, that and a whole lot of magic and punching."
Clint raised an eyebrow, grinning. "You know, I've gotta admit, that actually sounds pretty fun."
And just like that, they were off—heading into the chaos, with one thing clear: Ultron may have been pulling the strings, but the Avengers were about to rip the thread right out of his hands.
---
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