New York.
The city had been completely transformed.
What was once a bustling modern metropolis had now become a true city of the future.
Manhattan in particular, under Ultron's control, had practically turned into a city of steel—silver buildings gleamed brilliantly, and the number of hover cars gliding through the air had multiplied.
Yet for all its technological marvels, the citizens living here wore no trace of pride on their faces. Instead, most of them were weighed down with worry, their expressions heavy as lead.
This city was suffocating.
When did it become like this?
Flash wondered, sitting on the school bus.
Not long ago, all of New York's districts had finished reconstruction, and Midtown High had reopened for classes.
But he hadn't seen the Parker brothers.
It was strange. Bant, he could understand—Flash knew he ran Plasmoth, and skipping school was par for the course. But Peter was a good student who wouldn't just cut class. (At worst, he'd be late, ask for leave, or leave early...)
He'd tried going to Plasmoth to look for them, but before he could even get close, he was stopped by several Ultron robots.
It puzzled Flash. He had no idea when Plasmoth had fallen under Ultron's jurisdiction either.
"I wonder how Ben and Peter are doing... and that guy too..."
He thought of the one-armed man with medium-length hair he'd met back at the Plasmoth sanatorium—James Barnes, a man who, like him, had lost his memories and been deeply wounded by a forgotten past. His worry only deepened.
Because Flash had already seen Bucky's wanted poster on TV—right alongside Spider-Man and Captain America.
"Hey, Flash. You hear the news?"
A classmate sat down beside him, wearing a smirk like he was about to enjoy a show.
"Liz's dad got arrested."
"Liz's dad?" Flash was startled. He quickly stood up, concern on his face, scanning for Liz.
He knew Liz was his ex-girlfriend, but since he couldn't remember much of his past, he didn't have strong feelings about it. Right now, he was just worried as a concerned classmate.
But he couldn't find her.
"She didn't come to school."
The guy pulled Flash back down, his mocking grin growing wider.
"So, what do you think? This is a good opportunity. That bitch cheated on you and hooked up with Peter. Now Peter's gone too. Your chance has come..."
Flash frowned.
The other guy's tone carried a leering undertone. Clearly, the "opportunity" he was talking about wasn't as simple as winning Liz back—it was more likely something with an edge of menace to it.
It made Flash uncomfortable. But he didn't look down on the guy in front of him—he looked down on himself. The fact that he'd once been friends with someone like this proved he probably wasn't much better.
Still, he wanted to hear the rest, so he held his temper and continued:
"I broke up with her. She can date whoever she wants. Come on, John, tell me what happened. Why was Liz's dad arrested?"
"Who knows!"
"You've seen how many people have been getting arrested lately, right?" John shrugged, far less interested in that part. "Anyway, if they got arrested, they must be criminals, right? Otherwise why would Ultron arrest them? Even if they haven't committed a crime yet, they'll definitely commit one in the future."
He couldn't be bothered to think about what actually happened.
"Ultron's always right anyway. Even Spider-Man and Captain America are the same, aren't they?"
"Spider-Man is NOT a criminal!"
The moment John mentioned Spider-Man, Flash's anger flared. He spoke up in defense: "Have you forgotten all the good he's done? He's beaten so many enemies, helped everyone, and never asked for anything in return."
John flinched, startled by Flash's outburst. He didn't dare argue, just gave a half-hearted reply: "Maybe... it wasn't me who said it. It was the Daily Bugle."
"The Daily Bugle never has a good word for Spider-Man. You know that."
Flash's muscles relaxed again. He felt he shouldn't get angry at John—it was basically using his physical strength to intimidate him into submission.
He knew Spider-Man couldn't be a criminal, but he also knew Spider-Man would never use violence to fight slander.
"Oh my God, Jameson is badmouthing me forty-eight hours a day again. I swear I want to punch him, rip out every hair of his mustache, and stuff his cigar ashes into his eyes!"
Down in the sewers, Peter was fuming as he picked up the city's signals through an old radio.
The group had left the safe house and returned to New York, intending to find Stark and force him to shut down the Ultron program.
Steve's injuries hadn't fully healed, but their window of opportunity was closing. Ultron was currently at war with Wakanda, and the vast majority of Ultron's robots had been deployed to the battlefield. Few remained in New York. If they were going to strike back, now was the time.
But the moment they returned to the city, they'd heard Jameson smearing Spider-Man, piling all sorts of bizarre accusations on his head—even spreading the rumor that he'd stolen toilet seats from multiple public restrooms. It was absurd!
"A day only has twenty-four hours, Spider-Boy. And did you actually steal those toilet seats?" Natasha asked.
"Of course not!"
Peter narrowed his eyes, glaring at her.
"Also, while a day only has twenty-four hours, Jameson manages to curse me once with his mouth and once again in his heart. Add in the newspapers and TV, and it becomes thousands of hours."
"Wouldn't that be seventy-two hours?"
Steve glanced sideways, doubting Peter's math skills for the first time.
Peter didn't look back. "This way," he waved, then answered, "You're not counting the reporters at the paper. He makes every employee write a story bashing me. If you bash me, you get paid. The harsher the bashing, the bigger the paycheck."
"You've got it rough." The others shot Peter sympathetic looks.
Actually, because Peter drew most of Jameson's fire, the rest of them—though also wanted—hadn't become quite as infamous.
Peter said he was used to it.
"It's not so bad. Back when I took photos for him, the more evil I made Spider-Man look, the more he'd pay me. This way—I remember there's a passage up ahead. It's narrow, but we can crawl through. Good thing Ultron didn't bother installing cameras down here."
"Because normally, it only needs to watch every manhole cover to make sure no one's down here," Hawkeye said, grimacing as he wiped his face, as if trying to shake off something foul. "But we swam in through the outflow pipe, covered in the city's waste—"
"Shut up!"
Natasha kicked him. "We're wearing insulated suits!"
"Yeah, but the stench doesn't go away."
Peter found the passage. It was barely as wide as a shield. Steve squeezing through wouldn't be easy.
Sewage water still flowed through the tunnel, carrying the stench of filth. Anyone looking at it couldn't help but grimace.
Natasha pinched her nose and backed away several steps. "Is there no other way?"
"There is, but it's a huge detour." Peter didn't want to take the long way. As far as he was concerned, getting dirty was nothing—he'd swum with monsters in the sewers before.
If they were about to save the world, maybe everyone could stop being so fussy about cleanliness.
But in the end, they chose the detour anyway—because Natasha's rear end, wider than her shoulders, got wedged in the opening.
"You know, this reminds me of our first mission, taking down Doctor Dongwu. You got stuck in a ventilation shaft back then too." Steve started reminiscing about the good old days.
Natasha shot him an annoyed glare. "If you'd gone first just now, you'd be the one stuck. Do you realize what happens next when your 'America's ass' gets stuck in a pipe in a gay romance film?"
"There's no gay romance here."
"I wouldn't be so sure." Natasha glanced at Bucky, subtle and unnoticed, then tossed her hair and followed after Peter.
Peter led them through the winding tunnels, explaining with frustration: "The best we can do is get to the outside of Avengers Tower. Mr. Stark reinforced the security when he rebuilt it. There's no way in from underground."
"But won't we be spotted the moment we surface?" Barton asked with concern.
Peter nodded. "We'll have to force our way in. At least we're only a few hundred meters from Stark now."
He turned and looked at the group. "Most of Ultron's robots are on the Wakanda battlefield right now. Even if we're detected, Ultron won't be able to take us down quickly. I suggest we split up—one group draws off Ultron's forces, the other goes to find Mr. Stark."
"I'm fast and agile. I can draw them off." He volunteered.
At that moment, Peter couldn't help but think of Harry and Pietro.
Unfortunately, Pietro and his sister Wanda had defected. Worse, they'd taken control of Harry and Norman. Even Mary Jane and Felicia had been manipulated by Wanda, turned into enemies standing on the opposite side.
That was why Peter hadn't gone seeking help—it would have been walking straight into the lion's den.
"We'll draw off the robots too," Barton and Natasha said after a moment's thought.
Their skills were solid. They could use the buildings and the city to fight a guerrilla war. Hawkeye especially—out in the open, he could make better use of his abilities. Crammed inside a building, his archery would be wasted.
Luckily, when Fury built the safe house, he'd anticipated this group might need it, and stocked equipment for them as well. Otherwise Barton would've had to whittle branches into weapons.
"I'll go with you two."
Bucky scratched his head.
He figured that if he stood in front of Stark—the son of his father's killer—he probably wouldn't do much to help the persuasion.
So the final mission fell to Steve.
The man who'd been fighting since World War II nodded, then turned and handed his shield to the Winter Soldier. "You need it more than I do right now."
Bucky took the shield solemnly. A complicated surge of emotion rose in his chest. He was about to say something when Natasha cut in: "Any chance I need it the most?"
She spread her hands. All she had was a dainty little ladies' pistol—something that would struggle to bring down a tiger—while the Winter Soldier at least had an iron arm, and it was vibranium, no less.
"Then take it..." The Winter Soldier didn't hesitate.
To him, the shield wasn't what mattered.
"Forget it."
Natasha didn't take it. She'd only been half-joking anyway. She felt that if anyone here was destined to die, it might as well be her.
Peter was the youngest—he had a brother and elders who cared about him. There was no way he could die. Barton had a wife and children, a happy family. Steve and the Winter Soldier at least had each other. But her...
One worthless life. If she died, she died.
Perfect timing. Let the ghost of the Red Room disappear completely.
"Okay, get ready—three... two..."
They had reached directly beneath a manhole cover. Peter pressed one hand against it. With just a little force, he could launch it hundreds of meters into the air.
Above the sewers, the area around Avengers Tower was deserted.
In the busiest part of Manhattan, there wasn't a single car here. It was as clean as a vacuum-sealed zone.
Ultron had sealed off all news of Tony Stark. Naturally, it didn't want anyone getting close to him, telling him what had been happening recently. Even Pepper hadn't appeared before Tony in a long time.
Sometimes Ultron would use virtual projections to simulate video calls between them. In those fake calls, Pepper always seemed busy with work, uninterested in talking to Tony.
With Pepper, all of Tony's genius seemed to fail him—he never once noticed anything wrong.
So he stayed in that room lit only by the cold glow of electronic screens, convinced he was monitoring the entire world, issuing orders about cases that didn't exist. Endless phone calls came in every day, telling him about this problem or that—all resolved by the Ultron system—how many people had been saved...
Thriving! Prosperous!
Whatever he wanted to see, Ultron showed him.
If Tony absolutely insisted, Ultron would have Wanda control a group of people to meet with him.
As long as he stayed in New York, everything Tony saw and heard was exactly what Ultron wanted him to see and hear.
All Ultron needed to do was prevent anything outside its control from making contact with Stark.
At that moment, several robots were making their routine patrol above Avengers Tower.
Then—
BOOM!!!
A thunderous crash. The robot spun toward the sound, only for its vision to be filled by a round shield hurtling toward it at blinding speed.
CRACK!
The manhole cover sliced through the air like a circular blade, cleanly severing the robot's head in an instant.
As the Ultron robot fell, its failing sensors finally registered what was happening.
Spider-Man had snared the manhole cover with his webbing and was whirling it through the air, the edge cutting through the wind with a whistling shriek.
The Avengers?
When did they get back to New York?
Ultron couldn't understand.
But that didn't stop it from immediately signaling the remaining robots in New York and notifying Wanda and Quicksilver at once.
Under no circumstances can they be allowed to reach Tony Stark!
/-\
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