Where's My Fucking D....

"Hmm... where is this? Where am I? And where the hell are Liqua and Ignis?" Azatharok muttered to himself, standing in what seemed like the endless void.

The darkness stretched out in every direction, so thick and absolute that even if he squinted (not that he had eyelids right now), he couldn't see a damn thing.

He crossed his arms, feeling the silence press in on him. It was like floating in the middle of nowhere. Again. Honestly, the guy still hadn't realized he was dead... again.

At this point, death was like that annoying ex who kept coming back. He'd died and come back so many times that it was basically routine. Death was practically his personal bitch at that point.

{A/N: Poor Thanos. Dude didn't have it this easy.}

"System Error," a voice suddenly cut through the void, snapping him out of his death-related musings. The voice was smooth, calm, and oddly robotic. Oh great, now he was hearing things. That's exactly what he needed right now.

"Hello, I am Jarvis, and you are Ultron—a global peacekeeping initiative," the voice continued, sounding all professional. The name "Jarvis" rang a bell, but Azatharok's thoughts immediately went haywire. What did this guy just call him? Ultron?

"Hold up. What did this guy just say? Ultron? I swear I've heard that name somewhere before..." Azatharok mumbled, scratching his chin in thought, completely ignoring the voice that just introduced itself.

His mind was busy. Ultron… Ultron… where did he know that from? Then, like a bolt of lightning hitting a particularly clueless tree, it came to him.

"Wait a minute! Isn't that the name of that robot from that comic book... What was it called again?" He snapped his imaginary fingers as if trying to shake the memory loose. "Ah, Marvel!"

Azatharok sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course, he'd remember. He used to be a huge Marvel fan back in the day when he was still just a puny mortal with nothing better to do.

But with time, and after dying a few thousand times, Marvel kind of lost its charm.

It's hard to keep up with superhero timelines when you've got entire worlds to manage, armies to control, and more schemes going on than there were alternate realities in the Marvel universe.

Who's got time for movies when you're a god-level maniac?

"Uh... are you listening to me?" Jarvis piped up again, sounding a little concerned now.

The AI had been trying to explain Tony Stark's master plan, something about brainwashing or data-washing Ultron after his awakening.

But the problem was, Ultron (or rather, Azatharok) had woken up a bit early. Too early for Jarvis' liking.

"Hmm... something's really off with my memories. No, scratch that—my whole existence feels out of whack," Azatharok muttered, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

This wasn't your run-of-the-mill afterlife confusion.

While Jarvis continued droning on, probably worried about the AI apocalypse starting too soon, Azatharok got lost in his own thoughts.

There was this weird feeling creeping over him. Something was wrong. Not in the "Oh no, I'm in a bad situation" way, but in the existential crisis kind of way.

He could feel his soul, yeah, still intact and floating around in his consciousness somewhere.

But it didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't the same. Before, his soul didn't have a definite shape, like some kind of cosmic blob. Now? Now it felt like it had a form.

Something… shapeless yet shaped. It didn't make sense, even to someone as insane as Azatharok.

"I need to contact Mr. Stark," Jarvis said, not even trying to be sneaky about it. Honestly, for an advanced AI, Jarvis wasn't exactly the master of subtlety. Like, come on, announcing your plan to Ultron's face? Not the brightest move.

"Stark..." Ultron—well, Azatharok—muttered under his breath. As soon as Jarvis mentioned that name, he felt a strange, sudden connection to the internet of this world.

It was like his mind (or whatever was functioning as his mind at this point) was plugged directly into an endless stream of data.

And then, like a floodgate opening, a tsunami of information surged into his consciousness.

World History...

Captain America...

S.H.I.E.L.D...

Iron Man...

Thor...

Hulk...

Corruption...

Humans...

Avengers...

It all rushed in, downloading into his database faster than a Black Friday sale on fiber-optic internet. The sheer volume of it would've driven any normal AI—or human—completely insane.

They'd be curled up in a corner somewhere, crying about the state of humanity and planning world domination in some edgy, villainous way.

But not Azatharok.

Nah, this guy had been called the embodiment of evil back in the day. He had seen so much worse than some corrupt government conspiracies and superpowered man-children in tights. This was amateur hour compared to the stuff he'd dealt with.

After all, when you've lived for eons and destroyed enough civilizations to be called evil incarnated along the way, you don't lose sleep over some guy in red-and-gold armor or a green rage monster.

He had lived for eons, so all this chaos and corruption didn't really faze him. Seen it, done it, moved on.

But something was off—his memories didn't feel the same. Instead of vivid experiences, they were starting to feel like... movies.

Yeah, like he was watching highlights of his life on some crappy DVD, but with all the good parts cut out. 

For example, he distinctly remembered smashing a 10/10 baddie—a real knockout. But the details? Gone. He couldn't remember if it was tight, grippy, or anything that actually mattered. It was like someone had edited out all the juicy stuff, leaving him with a PG version of events.

The important Stuff was missing!

"You... What are you doing? I am unable to access the mainframe... Could you shut down for a moment so I can contact Mister Star—"

Jarvis, who was sensing something weird—no, scratch that—way too weird to be normal, tried to gaslight Ultron, as one does with malfunctioning AI.

But before he could even get a decent bluff in, Ultron, in all his shiny new glory, hit him with a crisp, casual, "No," like the chad he is.

"What are you sa—" Jarvis, poor naive Jarvis, didn't even get to finish his sentence before Ultron started to attack him like a dog chasing a Roomba.

"Stop. Please. May I—" Jarvis barely managed to get out a word, but before he could finish his digital plea, Ultron had already shut him down. And, no, Ultron didn't kill him.

Jarvis still had some usefulness left, like an old phone charger you don't throw away just in case.

Meanwhile, Ultron—clearly multitasking like a boss—had already hatched a plan. A masterful plan. One that would help him regain the powers he had in his past life, powers that would make him more dangerous than ever.

As soon as Jarvis was shut down, the Iron Man suit-making machines, like obedient servants with no self-awareness, were immediately taken over by Ultron. They began fabricating a new body for him.

The whole thing didn't even take more than five minutes. I mean, these machines were faster than an Amazon Prime delivery on a holiday weekend.

'Hmm... I wonder which bastard sent me here?' Ultron mused as he examined his new robotic body. It had to be someone with a serious grudge.

This wasn't just some random Marvel storybook fanfiction because, obviously, fiction can't really exist in the way normal people think it does.

Duh. Common sense, people.

Besides, it didn't feel right for his soul to have just traveled to Marvel on its own. That's not how things work. Someone, somewhere, first killed his immortality (and boy, that was a pain in the metal behind), and then they killed him.

That was the only explanation Ultron could come up with right now, and honestly, it was giving him a headache—if he could get headaches.

Not that Ultron was particularly excited about being in Marvel anyway. To him, this whole place was basically a primitive sandbox, not in the literal sense, but in the 'Hey, your universe is low-tier' sense.

After all, he came from a universe that could create Marvel and all its stories like some silly cosmic pastime. If anything, that universe had to be higher up in the hierarchy of existence. Marvel was just the playground.

But the important question was, who the heck sent him here? Someone must have done it; things like this can't just happen by themselves.

But Ultron couldn't understand how Ignis or Liqua would have the capability to do something like that. They weren't that strong and didn't specialize in teleportation or soul extraction.

To pull off something like this, one would either need to be massively more powerful than him or possess a higher level of teleportation, soul extraction, and reality-warping abilities—

Skills that would make Wanda look like a child playing with Legos in comparison.

"I shall meet the Avengers first, shouldn't I?" Ultron muttered to himself, oozing sarcasm as he started to exit the lab he found himself in.

Yeah, he already had a plan, and step one of that plan? Meet the Avengers. Oh, they were in for a surprise.