Stiles against Ultron

Thing (11)

Stiles sat. His bloodshot eyes never leaving the box, barely containing the literal end of the world, inside.

His mind felt muddy. So many thoughts yet all buried underneath such a heavy muck. He couldn't process what he hat been forced to live through. He was tired. So so tired. Tired of these 'gifts'. Tired of this life. Tired of himself.

The outside world watched as the young God sat, trapped in his own mind—hoping he wasn't spiraling.

But oh, he most certainly was.

You left your friend.

You just left her.

You didn't know where she was. If she was ok.

No. You left her.

She wouldn't have done that.

He wished his friends would come back. But no. This wasn't Foxy or the Tesseract tormenting him. This was Stiles. The thoughts were his own, said in his own voice, his own verbiage. But one...one cut him to his core. Slicing down to his very soul, forcing himself to look directly into the being that was Stiles. The thought swallowed him whole.

And you don't regret it.

He wanted to. He really really really wanted to. He wanted to say he'd never do it again. Maybe that is was his shock that made him do it. Or that he thought she was ok.

No...No...No...

He knew she was in trouble. He could feel it. He could feel the fear. Natasha's fear. But he abandoned her anyways. He simply did not care.

The thought alone made him shake. Cracking him open, allowing everyone and everything to see the ugly, disgusting truth of what he had become—had always been. The monster his brother knew he was.

And even with that knowledge.

He would do it again.

He would do it again and again and again, if it meant Ultron never got that thing.

He would sacrifice anything—anyone, to never live through the end of the world again.

He didn't care that it made him a monster. He didn't care his brother—rather brothers—had been correct. He didn't care his family would look at him differently.

He didn't fucking care.

He would never be so weak—so helpless—again.

Never again.

His mind spilled with memories of the weak, frail 135 pound human. That life was far from simple but he had had a purpose. A place. A shtick if you will. He was the human. The best friend. The sarcastic little shit that everyone loved to hate. Human.

But he never was.

He was always this thing. A God, many would call it. He would call himself a monster.

"The boy who ran with wolves and turned into a monster."

His brother was right...he was a monster.

And he died.

Loki died.

His father—adopted —died.

Both mothers. Dead.

So many people.

Dead.

Maybe he himself would die.

Stiles didn't care all too much about that either.

The monster didn't react when his team began bickering.

He didn't react when the twins showed up. He knew they were there long before they stepped foot onto the grounds.

He didn't even react when they began to physically fight one another.

He did however, react when his brother showed up, using his power to Frankenstein the shit out of Ultron's child-thing.

"NO!"

His whole body was in panic. He can't let this thing live. He can't. He won't.

"Thor!" Stiles tried. He didn't want to hurt his brother but he would. "Stop!"

Thor didn't. So Stiles began chanting, eyes glowing green as he forced Thor's power back to him. Thor's head snapped to his brother, his face scrunched.

Brother, let me do this.

Stiles violently shook his head at Thor's plea. Thor closed his eyes as he forced more power into the being, making Stiles wince.

Stiles chanted more and more, desperately trying to stop his brother. With each passing second he became more frantic.

"Please-

Thor don't! It

"-will kill everything! I-"

can't-

Stiles' body was tackled by something, causing a blast. Mid air, the blast shoveled him through the window. Rapidly spinning, free falling, Stiles head was empty. The wind rushed through his body, cooling his skin.

Taking in a breath, he stopped. Mid air, he rotated his body so his eyes were facing the Mew York sky. Floating, he stared at the starless sky. Blinking the tears away, he laid on air. With a final deep breath, he maneuvered the wind around him to push him up.

A buzzing noise made him rise faster. The closer he got to his family, the louder the buzzing became. He rose faster and faster as his heart began to race.

He stopped.

The buzzing died down into a low humming as he stared into the eyes of a red floating being.

The same buzz the witch had.

"Mind."

"Space."

It was alive.

It spoke.

"I won't let you do it,"Stiles was visibly shaking. "I will kill you."

"What are we doing?" Tony threw up his hand.

The other team members watched on, wondering just what the teenager had been through. They'd never seen this side of their friend before. What had caused the poor boy to be this upset. They were ready for a fight, all warily watching the new...thing in the room.

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I said the f word.

Oopsie.

See you in six months.

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