Ultron!
Leo snapped back to consciousness, a full vial of Lizard Serum injected straight into his heart.
His cheeks were already turning reptilian, red-and-green blood flowing from his head. Thick, dark steam filled the office, nearly blinding his vision.
Bang.
A massive access pod rose from the floor, and Leo collapsed inside with a thud.
[Leo: This time I owe it to you.]
[Little Octopus: (_) Don't worry, boss, I'm your solid shield.]
[Little Octopus: But boss, your body really can't take much more (︿).]
Hiss——
As Leo submerged in the cooling tank, the water let out a violent hiss.
The chill dramatically slowed the rate of neural damage in his brain cells.
At the instant he saw that skull, Leo had only one name in mind: Ultron.
So far there was no proof it really was Ultron, but in the Marvel world, there are only a handful of named AIs.
Blue data in cyberspace was the color of safety and comprehension. The more incomprehensible a data stream was, the deeper it shifted toward that abyssal black-and-red.
The birth of rogue AIs was natural, and to most people, their underlying constructs already appeared in that color.
Leo caught his breath and looked toward Little Octopus. The little AI was now clad in iron armor tinged with red.
[Leo: New outfit?]
Little Octopus fully spread its tendrils and spun in the air as though it were showing off a skirt.
[Little Octopus: Cool or not?]
[Leo: Cool. Reconnect.]
From Ultron's intrusion to the battle's end, only one second had passed.
But Bloom Corporation had already lost a chunk of servers, and Leo's own lifespan had just dropped by ten years.
As Little Octopus began preparing long-range comms in cyberspace, Leo suddenly thought of something.
[Recipient: T'Challa]
[Leo: How did you know the U.S. military had already landed in Somalia?]
That information was classified military intel—normally impossible to leak.
The U.S. had been veterans of high-tech warfare for over a decade, and info-sealing was their specialty.
With Iron Soldiers, the U.S. didn't even need human troops anymore, which meant the odds of leaks were even lower.
[T'Challa: Leo? Are you all alright? How's Moss and the others?]
[Leo: We're fine. Get to the point.]
[T'Challa: I received a transmission from Somalia. Some kid somehow found our comm frequency with a radio.]
[Leo: A Somali exchange student abroad?]
[T'Challa: I don't know. He just said he got lucky tinkering with it.]
[Leo: Can you still reach him?]
[T'Challa: I don't know. He only got one line out before the signal cut.]
[Leo: Tell me the details. I'll track it.]
A bold suspicion flickered in Leo's mind: maybe that Somali kid hadn't found the AU military frequency on his own.
But everything depended on further clues—
Since communications had been restored, the priority was securing the Atlas tactical squad.
Normal bullets couldn't effectively damage Iron Soldiers, so he and Toomes had designed a new weapon—
And even a way to assemble it under harsh conditions.
Clang!
From the depths of the mine came the crisp sound of metal on metal.
While Tony was still puzzling over what had just happened, a breathtaking digital duel had already played out on the net.
And in the very next second—
Zzzt!
The Iron Soldiers all sparked at once—their comm-jamming devices blown out!
Tony's mind reeled from the string of bizarre events, sinking deep into thought.
But then—
He suddenly noticed a new targeting frame on the screen.
On the opposite slope, one of the robots shot upward like a rocket!
Steel gleamed under the sun, its humanoid form to Tony's eyes the perfect expression of anthropomorphic design—
Iron Soldiers were mass-production models: rocket launchers, machine guns, all-terrain legs with treads, a giant fuel tank, and engines.
Mass production always meant compromises, so Iron Soldiers inevitably looked like this.
But if he were building a one-off, no-costs-barred combat robot, he had a feeling—
He'd make it look exactly like this.
And if it were armor… or something else—that'd be even better.
But before he could think further, the battlefield feed made his face pale:
The Iron Soldier had activated all its weapons!
[Jarvis: Sir, there's a strange sound on the battlefield, like… someone forging metal.]
"Is this really the time to care about that?! Our robots are out of control!"
Boom!
A whole building went up in flames!
"We need to retreat! That firepower's too strong!"
"Hold the line!" Frank bellowed from behind cover to his squadmates across the way—then glanced behind him.
There, medic Kurt was injecting a twisted-legged soldier with a syringe.
"Stay with me! I'm giving you a coagulant—you'll be okay!"
"My leg! I can't feel my leg!"
"The company'll cover it! New prosthetics! Forget the old leg…"
Boom!
In the next second, a barrage of rockets slammed into Frank's shouting comrade.
Fire and smoke swallowed him instantly.
Frank's eyes went blood-red: "Sandro!!"
Boom!
Another explosion's shockwave hurled Frank through the air—this one dangerously close.
When he lifted his head, the world spun. His ears rang with nothing but tinnitus.
He saw Carter carrying the shattered-helmeted Sandro out of the flames—only for the two of them to be blasted away again by a shockwave, slammed into burning rubble.
Kurt shouldered another wounded soldier, yelling and waving toward Frank—but Frank couldn't feel his own legs anymore.
Bullets poured down like rain, the very air trembling.
He couldn't hear anything. His HUD flashed warnings—something massive was approaching from behind, each step shaking the earth.
He turned—just in time to see an Iron Soldier bearing down on him.
About to crush him.
Suddenly, a red-eyed Black man leapt from the rubble, a blood-stained data knife in hand, stabbing furiously at the machine's joints!
But he wasn't trained—he couldn't pierce deep enough into the machine's internals.
Fear and fury twisted his face, his roar raw and savage—but the blade just wouldn't sink in!
To the Iron Soldier's sensors, though, the gesture seemed threatening. Its machine gun instantly swiveled toward the man—
The barrel practically jammed against his mouth!
Bang!
A blue beam tore through the Iron Soldier's chassis, blasting straight through its fuel tank—
Frank's reflexes were faster than thought—he shot a webline, yanking the man clear!
BOOM!
A mushroom cloud blossomed skyward.
Flames and shockwaves engulfed Frank as he tumbled; when he finally stopped rolling, half of the protective plating on his body had been scorched red-hot and automatically detached.
But the old Black man wasn't so lucky—his skin was badly burned over a large area.
At the epicenter of the explosion, the steel soldier had been reduced to pitch-black scrap iron. Only a bit of its legs still retained any recognizable shape; the rest was either blown apart or completely deformed.
Whooo—
The roar of engines echoed from the sky as a humanoid robot descended. The other steel soldiers seemed to stop firing, as if giving the stage to it.
The robot had a body form strikingly similar to a human's, made entirely of black alloy, with flashy red paint as highlights—
As soon as it landed, it reached out and tore off a repulsor cannon from one of the steel soldiers, aiming it at the mine.
Boom!
A streak of blue projectile cut through the air.
Ultron's arm was blasted off.
Clang!
A sound like a blacksmith hammering iron rang out from the mine, crisp yet heavy.
If one listened closely, they could also hear the grinding of mechanical structures locking together.
Ultron looked at his destroyed arm, his voice carrying both anger and confusion:
"I came to help you, so why are you so barbaric?"
But in the very next second, he didn't have the mood to posture anymore—
A long, thick gun barrel extended out of the mine, overflowing with energy, aimed straight at him.
[Leo: Who did you pick up this bad habit of showing off from?]