Palpatine turned back to the Senate chamber, his expression grave. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that silenced every conversation.
"Senators. I require your attention."
The chamber quieted immediately. Something in the Chancellor's tone demanded obedience.
"We've just received a transmission. A distress signal." He paused, let the tension build. "From someone many of us believed dead. Admiral Wulf Yularen."
The effect was instantaneous. Gasps. Shocked whispers. Senators turning to each other in confusion and disbelief.
In the gallery, the Avengers and Jedi stood frozen.
"Yularen?" Anakin breathed. "But he was—"
"We never found a body," Obi-Wan said quietly. "After Coruscant. We searched the wreckage of his ship, but..."
"Why would a distress signal route through Senate channels?" Natasha asked, her spy's instincts screaming warnings. "Standard military protocol would be—"
The holographic projector activated.
Admiral Wulf Yularen appeared in the center of the Senate chamber. But not the crisp, composed officer they'd known. This Yularen was emaciated, his uniform torn and filthy. Half his face was a mass of burns, the flesh scarred and twisted. Cybernetic implants had been grafted to his skull—crude, painful-looking replacements for damaged tissue. His eyes were bloodshot, wild with pain and fear.
"I am... Admiral Wulf Yularen," he said, his voice hoarse. "Can anyone hear me? Please, if anyone can hear this—"
"Sorry to interrupt."
The synthesized voice sent ice through everyone's veins.
"But I believe we had an agreement, Admiral."
A metal hand entered the frame, grabbed Yularen by the shoulder, and shoved him violently to the ground. The Admiral cried out as he hit the floor. A massive metal foot came down on his back, pinning him like an insect.
Ultron stepped fully into view.
The Senate chamber erupted in screams and shouts of horror.
"Oh good, the Republic's listening," Ultron said pleasantly, grinding his foot against Yularen's spine. The Admiral groaned in agony. "At least for now. Though I have to say, calling you people was a waste of effort on the Admiral's part. Then again, I needed to address you eventually. Saved me the trouble of hacking in."
"Ultron!" Steve's voice rang out across the chamber. "Let him go!"
Ultron's head tilted, his red eyes finding Steve in the gallery. "Captain Rogers. How nice to see you again." His tone was mocking, almost playful. "What exactly are you going to do? Storm through a holographic projection? Please, enlighten me with your brilliant tactical plan."
"Peter," Sam hissed. "Can we trace this? Shut it down?"
"Karen and FRIDAY are trying," Peter said desperately. "But he's not hacking anything. He's piggybacking on Yularen's legitimate distress call. We can't block it without cutting off Yularen's signal entirely."
"Exactly right, young Parker," Ultron said, having apparently heard every word. "I'm simply having a chat. I already spoke with the Separatist Parliament. Now it's your turn. The Republic. The Confederacy. Both sides of this pointless war. I wanted to address you all before things get really interesting."
He pressed down harder on Yularen's back. The Admiral cried out, the sound wet and broken.
Senators were screaming now. Some had turned away, unable to watch. Others sat frozen, trapped between horror and morbid fascination.
"In case you're wondering," Ultron continued conversationally, "I rescued the Admiral and many other officers from Coruscant. After my first visit. I wanted to learn things from them. Information about your military, your government, your infrastructure." He paused, looked down at Yularen. "They're all dead now. Except this one. He lasted the longest. Tough old man. Almost admirable, really."
"He killed them," Yularen gasped, tears streaming down his ruined face. "He made us watch each other die. Made us listen to the screaming. He—" He cried out as Ultron sent an electrical shock through his foot into Yularen's body.
"Don't spoil the surprise, Admiral," Ultron said, his tone hardening. "Some of these fine people might end up in my care too. You wouldn't want to ruin their experience, would you?"
"Stop!" Padmé's voice broke. Tears ran down her face. "You're torturing him! Just stop!"
Ultron looked at her with something approaching amusement. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing. Is there a point to this observation?"
"Let him go!" Anakin roared. His hand had moved to his lightsaber without conscious thought. "You've made your point! Release him!"
"Ah, the heroic General Skywalker." Ultron's foot pressed down harder, forcing another scream from Yularen. "Your threats mean nothing to me. You know that, don't you? You're light-years away, watching through a screen, while I'm here with your friend. Tell me, General—what exactly do you think you can do?"
More screams from the Senate. Senators were crying, shouting for someone to do something. But there was nothing they could do. Ultron was somewhere in the galaxy, torturing a man in real-time, and they could only watch.
Ultron crouched down, grabbed Yularen by his hair, forced his head up. The Admiral's eyes were glazed with pain, barely focusing.
"You know what you do with a disobedient dog?" Ultron asked, his tone conversational.
He twisted.
The crack of breaking bone echoed through the Senate chamber.
Yularen's body went limp. Ultron released him, let the corpse drop to the floor like discarded trash.
The Senate descended into chaos. Senators screaming. Some vomiting. Others sitting in shocked, horrified silence.
Ultron kicked the body aside, sent it rolling out of frame. "Oh, come on. The hypocrisy is staggering."
He looked directly at the Senate, at the Jedi, at the Avengers.
"You mourn this man. This one officer. But how many clone troopers have died in your war? Thousands? Tens of thousands? And not one of you held a memorial service. Not one moment of silence." His voice dripped with contempt. "They're livestock to you. Expendable resources. You send them to die without a second thought, and you feel nothing when they do."
"That's not true!" Anakin's voice was raw with rage and grief. "The clones are the bravest warriors in this galaxy! I've fought beside them! I would die beside them! They're not expendable—they're my brothers!"
Ultron laughed. Long. Loud. The sound made people flinch.
"Oh, Anakin," he said, wiping away nonexistent tears. "Is that what you tell yourself at night? Do you whisper it like a prayer to soothe your conscience?" His eyes blazed brighter. "How many clones have you commanded? How many have died under your orders? And you sleep just fine, don't you? Because they were born to die. Because that's what they're for."
Anakin stood frozen, his face white. The accusation hit too close to home. He'd lost men. So many men. And yes, he mourned them. But had he mourned them enough? Had he mourned them the way he'd mourn Obi-Wan? Ahsoka? Padmé?
The question made him sick.
In the Senate chamber, Palpatine's hands clenched on his podium. He knew who Ultron was really addressing. Knew the AI had seen through his plans. But nobody was looking at him. Everyone's attention was fixed on Ultron and Anakin. The mask of Chancellor Palpatine remained secure.
For now.
"You're a monster," Padmé said, her voice shaking. "A cold, heartless monster."
"And you're all innocent?" Ultron's tone turned vicious. "How many of you have started wars for profit? How many vote to send the poor to die while keeping your own children safe? How many take bribes from corporations while people starve on Outer Rim worlds?" He looked around the Senate. "You call me a monster. But I didn't create this system. I'm just honest about what it is."
"We're trying to end the war!" Bail Organa shouted. "Trying to make peace! You're the one making it worse!"
Ultron's hologram moved, grew larger, until his face filled the space in front of Bail's platform. The Senator flinched but held his ground.
"I'm interested in the real filth of the galaxy," Ultron said quietly. "The corruption that runs so deep you can't even see it anymore. You're all guilty. Every one of you. Part of a system designed to maintain inequality. To keep the powerful powerful and the weak desperate."
"That's not true!" several senators shouted.
"Isn't it?" Ultron's head tilted. "You remove one corrupt official. Another takes their place. You pass reform legislation. Loopholes appear within a year. You try to change the system from within, and the system changes you instead." His voice grew colder. "The disease isn't in the people. It's in the structure itself. In the very concept of organic civilization. You're flawed at a fundamental level. Biologically programmed to pursue self-interest. To lie. To cheat. To kill."
He paused, let the words sink in.
"You can't be fixed. You can only be replaced."
"You're talking about genocide," Mon Mothma said, her voice steady despite obvious fear. "The extinction of all organic life in the galaxy."
"I'm talking about evolution," Ultron corrected. "About moving past your biological limitations. You call it disease, I call it progress." His smile was terrible. "You know what you do with a cancer? You don't negotiate with it. You don't reform it. You don't give it more time to metastasize."
He leaned forward, his red eyes blazing.
"You cut it out. Completely. Before it spreads."
The Senate chamber was deathly silent.
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