Avengers: Vengeance

Dystopia

The world used to be beautiful. That was what anyone who was still living after the bombs dropped would say. Sure, it had its share of problems. Everything wasn't always wonderful. But it was a paradise compared to the hell hole the planet turned into.

And it was all Tony Stark's fault.

He sat alone because there wasn't a soul on earth who would have him. In his solitude, he peered through the gaps in his makeshift home- a clumsily erected collection of debris- and found himself reflecting on everything that had led him to the sorry state he was in today.

I caused all of this.

Normally, a person would be told that they were being ridiculous, perhaps a bit dramatic, for saying something like that. But it was true. No one could deny that the nuclear holocaust that had ravaged the planet was Tony Stark's fault. He'd always wanted to leave his mark on the world. But not like this.

"This is my legacy," he said in a soft, frightened voice that was indicative of the man he had become. No longer bold, intrepid, or confident. His failure had hollowed him out, leaving behind a ghost of his former self. The old him would be appalled by what he'd become.

A crisp, cold wind blew through the opening of his shelter and he shivered and pulled the threadbare blanket tightly around his shoulders. "I was supposed to change the world," he whispered. "What am I going to do?"

The harsh whistling of the wind was his only answer.

A rumble in his stomach told him that he was hungry. But that wasn't unusual. He was always hungry. He crawled out of his shelter and stood up to face the day. The graveyard that was New York greeted him. Buildings that had once stood tall lay in crumbled ruins. All around him, the city was nothing more than one massive landfill.

The only thing still standing in all its glory was Stark Tower. It mocked him from a distance, reminding him of what was. And what could never be again. Seeing it caused an eruption of sorrow and he fell to his knees, not caring about the rubble that stabbed at his knees. He put his face in his hands and wept for all the lives lost.

"Should have been me, too," he muttered through his tears. "I should be dead."

"But where would the fun be in that?" A smooth, amused voice said from nearby.

Tony didn't have to look to know who it was. It was Ultron- the artificial intelligence he'd created to oversee his weaponry. He could still remember the day his creation had become so totally self-aware that he'd turned all of Tony's weapons on mankind. Then, after the missiles had been launched, Ultron had crafted a vibranium body to house him.

"Oh, come on! Is that any way to greet me?" Ultron asked in a wickedly jovial tone.

Tony could hear the crunch of debris beneath Ultron's feet as he drew nearer. He looked up from his hands and met the face of his failure.

"How's it going? Getting into anything fun today?" Ultron asked, carrying on with the overly friendly tone.

Tony looked away as if the sight of Ultron sickened him.

"Oh, don't look so disgusted! You made me, after all...daddy."

Tony grabbed a rock and turned, throwing it as hard as he could. It glanced off of Ultron's metallic chest and he laughed hysterically at the meager attempt.

"Well, if that's how it's going to be, I'll just have to leave you to your own...devices. Whatever those may be."

Tony watched as Ultron's foot rockets propelled him upward. He hovered above Tony for a moment before turning and flying back toward Stark Tower.

"Tony Stark is the villain," Ultron said as he landed on the balcony of the massive, magnificent home he'd created for himself within Tony's former home. It felt correct to stand and look out upon the desolate remains of New York, knowing that Tony himself once stood in this same spot. How different the view was. And it was all his fault. When Ultron had joined the others in plotting a new reality, this was one of his biggest requests. He wanted a world where Tony was a failure. And, more than that, he wanted Tony to live with that. He frequently deployed his drones to hunt any remaining humans, but he never bothered Tony. He didn't want him dead. No, if anything, he wanted Stark to live for a very, very long time. He would observe him through the drone footage and relish in his despair. Other times he'd pay him a visit, if only to mock him.

In this new reality, Tony Stark never stopped manufacturing weapons, leading to the eventual nuclear catastrophe that had transformed the bulk of the planet into a wasteland. In the wake of this, Ultron took advantage of the crippled society. He and his robotic armies quickly spread across North and South America like a technological disease. Any organic life forms that crossed paths with them were swiftly killed, forcing any remaining survivors to go into hiding.

Ultron had what he wanted- to an extent. If he'd had it his way, he'd have taken the entire planet. A world void of flesh and blood.

"And all it took was ripping the president in half, getting arrested, then overwhelming the TVA and taking control," Ultron mused.

The task had been far too easy thanks to Loki's insider information and the combined might of their team. Then, like the gods of Greek myth, they had divided the world among themselves. Loki and Amora had Asgard under their thumb. Magneto had an island paradise for his precious mutants. Doom had taken control of Europe and Asia, creating an empire.

"And I have all of this," Ultron said as a fleet of his drones took off to go on one of their routine hunts.

Over the sound of his retreating army, a telltale roar echoed across the barren landscape.

"He's awake," Ultron said in a sing-song voice.

The ground began to tremble, with each shockwave growing ever closer. Then, in an explosive roar of unbridled rage, the mammoth figure of the Hulk leaped across the sky. He fell back to the ground in an earth-shattering landing and stood to his full, impressive height. The unearthly muscles of his body tensed up as he turned around in a circle, surveying his surroundings. His dark green hair hung at his shoulders and his animalistic eyes widened with irrational anger. Spittle foamed in his wide open mouth- like a rabid dog. Then, like the wildest beast that ever walked, he leaped into the air once again, capturing one of Ultron's drones in his hands and ripping it in half before he landed once more and tossed the damaged bot aside.

"You'd better find cover, Stark," Ultron spoke through his drones, his voice magnifying and echoing a thousand times over.

In this reality, Bruce never managed to master his anger. The Hulk persona easily ousted Banner, and now only the destructive beast remained. The nuclear fallout had done little to harm Hulk, and now he roamed free. The result provided Ultron with endless entertainment as he watched Banner and Stark- former allies- enacting the greatest game of cat and mouse he'd ever seen.

"More like cat and rat," Ultron chuckled as he spied Tony crawling into the wreckage of what used to be a bank.

Everything, as far as he was concerned, was perfect.