Genesis of Vengeance
Everyone stood inside what looked like a sealed energy cell—or rather, two separate ones.
In one of them was Scott Lang; in the other, Hank Pym, his face tense and his eyes filled with anger as he glared at Tony Stark for reasons Tony still didn't understand.
"I was just talking about Ultron," Tony said, already tired of the old man's hostile stare.
"I'm not telling a Stark anything," Hank replied instantly.
Tony rolled his eyes in frustration. It was the same answer he got every time he tried to talk to him. He turned toward Banner and Steve, who were standing nearby in silence.
"It's important, sir," Steve began calmly. "A few days ago, something infiltrated one of Stark's robots. Several leads point to your old company as the origin, under the name Ultron. It would be a huge help if you could share any information. Apparently, Ultron mentioned he wanted to meet with you… though he said he still needed to 'improve' before doing so."
The old man held Steve's gaze. He didn't say a word, but there was a faint tremor in his expression—a flicker of doubt, a memory, a buried emotion. Even so, it was clear he had no intention of cooperating with anyone associated with Tony Stark, even if it meant endangering the world.
Steve slowly shook his head and turned back to Tony and Banner.
"He won't talk. He's stubborn, and he holds a grudge… though not against you. Seems to be something about your father."
"Well, he wouldn't be the first or the last. He can take a number," Tony replied with his usual sarcasm.
Banner crossed his arms.
"Wanda tried to get inside his head, but his resistance is impressive. Looks like he prepared himself for that kind of thing."
Tony sighed with resignation.
"He should be grateful Owen left. With the mood he's been in lately, I'm sure he could squeeze information out of a corpse."
At that moment, the door opened with a metallic hiss. The three of them turned simultaneously.
Owen entered with a serious expression, and behind him came General Nathaniel, walking calmly, his mere presence silencing the room.
"You three, out," ordered the general in a calm tone, though his look said everything. "Let me have a word with Doctor Pym."
Owen, visibly annoyed, gave a small nod and gestured for the others to follow him out. Before leaving, he approached Scott's cell and opened it.
Scott, now without his suit—which had been removed to prevent trouble—saw his chance and immediately threw a punch at Owen's face.
Owen simply tilted his head, dodging the blow effortlessly, and countered with a short, precise hook—so fast and clean it felt more like mockery than a real attack. Scott hit the ground instantly, unconscious. Without the suit's protection, one hit had been enough.
Owen glanced down for a moment to confirm he was out cold, then reactivated the cell and stepped back.
"Why did you do that?" asked Steve, confused.
"Kids shouldn't listen to grown-up conversations. Especially not this one," Owen replied without looking back, walking toward the exit. His expression hardened briefly as he passed Hank Pym—a man who, in too many universes, had caused chaos driven only by ego and pride.
The four of them left, leaving Nathaniel alone in the room.
They waited outside, in what appeared to be VITAE's underground detention facility. Normally, the team didn't need a place like this, but sometimes they had to contain someone temporarily before transferring them elsewhere. In this case, it had proven quite useful.
"You know what they're going to talk about, right? Do you think he'll convince him to tell us about Ultron?" Tony asked, his tone serious.
"He will," Owen replied confidently. He stood against the wall, arms crossed, though his expression betrayed that his thoughts were elsewhere. It looked as if he was processing too much at once—as though he'd just uncovered something enormous and was struggling to absorb it.
…
In an enormous mansion built atop a mountain, a man stepped out of his car.
He glanced around; the silence was unnatural.
If Owen had been there, he would have recognized him immediately—it was the same journalist who had once shouted "murderer!" or the one who spewed venomous comments about Tony and Nicolas on television.
The man ran a hand through his curly hair, adjusted his glasses, and walked toward the mansion with a confidence that didn't quite fit the eerie atmosphere.
As he entered the property, he noticed the marks on the ground: footprints, grooves, metallic stains—signs that something violent had taken place there.
He pulled out his phone, checked a specific message, nodded silently, and kept walking.
When he slowly opened the front door, a heavy metallic scent hit him square in the face. Blood.
The air was dense, almost solid. He took another step, and the world seemed to freeze.
Dozens of bodies covered the floor.
Men and women—some still wearing Hydra uniforms—were strewn across the entrance.
The journalist clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit, his face twisting with pure disgust and horror.
"Oh… looks like you've arrived," said a cybernetic voice from the shadows.
Another body was tossed aside like garbage, landing on the heap of corpses with a dull thud.
"Don't mind these fools. They were Hydra rats. This used to be one of their operational bases," the voice continued, its tone cold and mechanical, as footsteps echoed out of the darkness.
Then, its form emerged.
No longer a simple model from Tony Stark's Iron Legion.
No—this one was different. Taller. Stronger. More menacing. The metal of its body gleamed with a dark, almost organic sheen, as if it were alive. Its design was violent, stripped of Stark's elegance.
It was Ultron.
"I'm glad I was able to help you. That means you'll help me too, right? To end him?" the man asked eagerly, studying Ultron's silhouette. A look filled with hatred crossed his eyes.
"Ah, yes. I promised that. Mm… well, I'm a man of my word. Besides, I need your help," Ultron replied calmly. In one of his hands, he held two vials that immediately caught the young man's attention.
One of them glowed with an intense red light; the other emanated a golden hue that seemed to contain living embers. Both appeared to burn from within, their sealed caps trapping what looked like liquid fire.
"Interesting, isn't it? They kept these in case a power ever appeared that they couldn't face. Now, you can use them to confront your enemy," said Ultron, circling the man as his metallic voice echoed through the chamber.
The journalist's gaze locked greedily onto the serums. He didn't even blink.
"You have a choice," Ultron offered, his tone tempting.
"I want both," the man said without hesitation.
"Both? Even if your body is destroyed before you can take your revenge?" Ultron asked, almost curiously.
"I'll endure it," he replied with confidence. "I was born to withstand anything. My only flaw is that I'm human—my limit is human. But if I have to stop being one to carry out my vengeance, I don't care." His voice was cold and calculated, a promise wrapped in fury.
Ultron let out a brief, malicious laugh. "I knew you'd say that. That's why I prepared everything for you." He moved his hand, and the room's darkness came alive: spotlights, panels, and mechanical arms activated, revealing a structure reminiscent of the one once used for Steve Rogers.
The man took the two vials with trembling hands and walked toward the chamber without hesitation. He examined where the vials would be connected, stripped off his clothes with quick, mechanical motions, and stepped inside. The door closed behind him with a sharp metallic thud.
Inside, the machinery began to hum. Strobe lights flickered, cables spread like metallic veins, and the air filled with the scent of ozone and chemicals. The man smiled—a smile devoid of joy, born of rage, hatred, and an unrelenting thirst for vengeance.
"I hope you're ready, Owen Colt," he said, his voice echoing through the chamber as Ultron initiated the sequence. "I'll avenge my father's death with your blood."
Ultron began to operate the controls; the fusion had begun.
…
Back at the VITAE base, Nathaniel exited the room with composed steps; Hank Pym followed, his face still tense.
"Doctor Pym has agreed to cooperate," Nathaniel reported calmly, nodding toward Hank. "He'll provide all the information he has on Ultron. He's also agreed to help stop him—along with his… assistant."
"I'll only provide information about Ultron and help stop him. Nothing else," Hank quickly clarified, his voice carrying a mix of pride and caution.
"That's all we need," said Steve, nodding with quiet resolve. His tone wasn't triumphant; it carried the firm certainty of someone who knows that wars neither begin nor end with words.
Hank tilted his head slightly, still uneasy. The silence between them was brief but heavy: while elsewhere Ultron set his plan in motion and a man crossed the threshold between humanity and something far darker, here the final pieces were falling into place—perhaps the only ones capable of stopping the coming madness.