Keep The frisbee Away Old Man

"I get it now! This hammer works with Thor's fingerprints. Whoever has them will be able to wield it," Tony said, looking overly confident after failing to lift Thor's hammer.

A moment ago, he was so sure he'd manage to pick it up and joked about reinstating prima nocta in Asgard if he succeeded.

Thor, who had been silently watching Tony's attempts, smiled. It wasn't just any smile, but the kind that screamed, "Nice try, but no." He crossed his arms and leaned back, clearly amused by Tony's latest theory.

"Ah, well, that's a very, very interesting theory you've got there, Stark," Thor said, his voice carrying that signature Asgardian amusement.

As he stood up, Thor casually strolled over to the hammer sitting on the table. The table, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be "lifting" the hammer, even though it wasn't exactly worthy, which made the whole thing funnier to Thor.

"But I have a simpler explanation," Thor said with a grin. He reached out, effortlessly gripping the handle of Mjolnir, and in one swift motion, lifted it off the table and flipped it in the air like it was nothing. "None of you are wort—"

Before he could finish the sentence, a voice cut through the room, completing it for him.

"None of you are worthy."

Everyone froze, recognizing that the voice didn't belong to any of them. They turned around to see Ultron, his newly assembled, barely functional robotic body staggering awkwardly as if he was still getting the hang of balancing.

His mismatched parts looked like they were scavenged from a junkyard, with wires hanging out in every direction, and honestly, it seemed like Ultron had been put together on a budget.

"!" Thor's grip on the hammer tightened, and the room's atmosphere shifted from lighthearted to tense.

The Avengers, who had been enjoying themselves moments earlier, were now fully alert. This wasn't exactly a normal party guest.

"Stark..." Steve said in his usual serious tone, his face stern as ever. He gave Tony a side-eye that said everything without needing more words—Is this your mess?

Tony, in typical Tony fashion, wasn't exactly concerned about Steve's silent accusations. He waved it off for the moment, focusing on the more pressing issue of Ultron. "Jarvis, reboot all systems."

"I think we've got a virus situation here," Tony said, only to be met with silence. For the first time ever, Jarvis didn't respond.

And then it hit Tony—Jarvis wasn't available. He'd been taken out by Ultron already. Tony's expression hardened slightly as he processed that fact, though he still carried his usual nonchalant attitude.

Thor, on the other hand, wasn't having it. His gaze sharpened, and he pointed Mjolnir directly at Ultron. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice low and serious. His grip on the hammer tightened even more, and you could feel the tension in the air.

It was as if he was one second away from turning Ultron into scrap metal—because, after all, who wouldn't be on guard when a creepy, half-broken robot suddenly strolls in?

Unless, of course, it's an anime girl with thick thighs, in which case, everyone might just let their guard down.

Ultron, however, seemed unfazed by Thor's intensity. In fact, he looked almost bored. He tilted his head slightly, his red eyes glowing eerily as he took in the Avengers, clearly treating the whole thing like a game.

"Who sent me... hmm..." he muttered, almost to himself, completely ignoring Thor, much like people tend to ignore Captain Marvel these days.

"No one," Ultron replied after a mock display of deep thought, his robotic voice attempting to sound as innocent and cute as a machine could manage.

The response only made things more awkward and tense.

Steve's hand instinctively reached for his shield, which was resting on the floor to his left, while Thor's face twisted into a scowl so fierce it looked like he was seconds away from smashing something—or someone—with Mjolnir.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there, old man, put the frisbee away," Ultron said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.

His tone was casual, like he was the chillest guy in the room, though the fact that his version of 'chill' involved casually threatening humanity made that questionable.

But hey, if you count a cosmic overlord who's basically the poster child for evil as your friend, maybe that's what "chill" looks like.

"And you too, plumber god. How about you hand over the hammer while we're at it?" Ultron added, with a smirk in his robotic voice, clearly mocking Thor's title and the Avengers in general.

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. His patience was wearing thin, and it was obvious in the way his jaw clenched.

"I'll ask one last time—who sent you?" Thor growled, his voice sharp, just a breath away from unleashing a lightning storm in the room.

No matter how calm he was trying to appear on the surface, everyone knew he was right on the edge of giving Ultron a very personal lesson in pain.

Ultron, meanwhile, just sighed internally, his glowing eyes flickering slightly. "Sigh... puny god," he thought, before switching tactics.

Without missing a beat, he activated a small speaker built into his chest, and a recorded voice began playing.

"I see a suit of armor around the world."

The words echoed through the room, and suddenly, the smirk on Tony's face disappeared. Bruce, too, went still, his expression morphing from curiosity to a mix of confusion and unease. The voice wasn't long, but it was all too familiar.

"Ultron..." Bruce muttered, his brow furrowed deeply, the name slipping out almost like a reflex. His confusion was so obvious, it bordered on funny, like someone who just saw a ghost but wasn't sure if they believed in ghosts in the first place.

Tony, on the other hand, had a look that was harder to read. It was a mix of guilt, dread, and maybe just a little regret—though you wouldn't catch him admitting that out loud. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the robot in front of them, piecing together what had happened.

"Who?" Steve asked, his tone as serious as ever. He was still holding his shield tightly, glancing back and forth between Bruce and Tony, waiting for answers. His usual deadpan expression was locked in place, but you could tell he was expecting the worst.

As he waited, he threw both of them a questioning look—side-eyes that demanded an explanation.

Tony, of course, ignored Steve's question completely, staring at Ultron like he was figuring out how to handle the mess. Bruce, avoiding eye contact, looked everywhere but at Steve, clearly uncomfortable with whatever was coming next.

"I am Ultron, an initiative for global peace," Ultron declared, his voice steady as he noticed the sideways glances from Captain Frisbee—uh, Steve—and the rest of the Avengers, all of whom were now giving Tony and Bruce judgmental looks.

Ultron was clearly trying to stir the pot and get a little "divide and conquer" action going.

{A/N: British theme intensifies}

"Global peace?" Steve and Thor muttered in unison, their expressions darkening. They both knew all too well how unrealistic that dream was.

At one point or another, both of them had wanted the same thing, only to realize it was as far-fetched as finding a girlfriend who understood your superhero schedule.

Let's be real—global peace? It was easier to score a date than pull that off.

"Yeah, that's what I was made for," Ultron replied smoothly, his words making Tony and Bruce squirm where they stood. The uncomfortable silence that followed was almost as awkward as if their dirty laundry had been aired for the whole room to see.

It was like their little science project had just come back to bite them, and now everyone was staring.

"Made by whom?" Black Widow suddenly chimed in, her voice calm but laced with suspicion as she subtly reached for her gun.

Probably not the smartest move—shooting a killer robot? Yeah, good luck with that. But hey, Nat's nothing if not prepared.

Ultron didn't miss a beat. "By Mr. Stark," he said, the robotic grin in his voice unmistakable as he stepped closer to the group, his heavy metallic feet clanking on the floor with each step.

The minute those words left Ultron's mouth, Steve's expression shifted dramatically. His side-eye game, which was already strong, went full-on judgmental spouse mode.

He locked eyes with Tony, and it was like the temperature in the room dropped. If looks could kill, Tony would be six feet under by now.

It was the classic Captain America look of disapproval—the one where he looked like the betrayed wife who just caught her husband cheating. And Tony? Well, Tony didn't exactly look innocent.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact with Steve like a guy caught red-handed but trying to play it cool.

You could practically hear the internal monologue playing out in Steve's head: Really, Stark? This is what you've been up to?

Classic Captain America and Iron Man, I tell you.