[Third Person Pov]
Tony sat upon the throne-chair with a kind of effortless, borderline arrogant elegance, lounging back as if the lavish seat had been crafted solely for him. His hair was slicked cleanly backward, giving him a sharper, more imposing silhouette beneath the low, ambient lighting of the virtual chamber. The black-and-red three-piece suit he wore fit him like a second skin, the crimson dress shirt left temptingly unbuttoned at the top while his loosened tie hung casually around his neck.
Melissa rested comfortably across his lap, draped over him like the final luxurious accessory that completed the entire image. She wore an exquisitely cut blue dress that shimmered faintly with every subtle shift of her hips. Matching heels, sapphire earrings, and a delicately chosen necklace tied the outfit together, while her wavy hair was pulled into a refined ponytail—something elegant enough to suggest she could have stepped out of a gala moments ago.
She giggled softly, the sound like a gentle ripple through the room, and wrapped her arms around Tony's neck. His attention, however, was fixed downward at the chessboard on the table in front of him. His techno-vision remained active, casting a faint red glow across the pieces. His eyes had shifted into that distinctive crimson shade with mechanical circuit patterns dancing faintly within them, like living code.
"Don't you think you maybe overdid it with the throne… and the suit… and the dress?" Melissa asked teasingly, her smile warm but mischievous. It was obvious she had enjoyed every second of the theatrics.
"Nonsense," Tony declared with a smug half-smile. "Number one rule of outsmarting a villain: look good while doing it." He slid a hand up her thigh and pulled her even closer, adding, "And you have to admit—we look really good."
"Yes, yes, you're incredibly handsome," Melissa said, lifting one hand to cradle his jaw before leaning in to kiss his cheek.
Tony's expression shifted immediately into a proud, satisfied smirk. Melissa slipped off his lap and brushed down her dress, smoothing out invisible creases. "Alright, so… now what? Do we just leave?"
Tony rose from the throne with a light exhale. "No. All we've done so far is seize control of Ultron's artificial mind. We still need to eliminate him—wipe out this entire world simulation to erase every fragment of him permanently."
"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Melissa asked, curiosity—and a hint of vengeance—sparking in her eyes.
Tony shrugged off his suit jacket, and with a sleek ripple of shifting nanotech, it transformed into a gleaming katana. He let the blade rest across his shoulder, the metal catching the light like a predatory grin. "With an old-fashioned execution."
Melissa's lips curled into a delighted, dangerous smile. "Nice~ Do you mind if I do the honors?" Her voice trembled slightly with the anticipation of long-awaited payback—the same payback she'd sworn to deliver after believing Ultron had taken Tony from her.
"Go right ahead." Tony flipped the katana in his hand and offered it hilt-first. Melissa curled her gloved fingers around it, savoring the weight and finality of the weapon.
Tony rolled up his sleeves. With a single spoken command, the world around them began to pixelate, glitching and dissolving into a vast, empty white expanse—pure digital limbo.
He glanced around. "You know… this place kinda reminds me of where I met that fake god."
Melissa snorted behind her hand, her giggle echoing lightly in the blank space. "You're seriously holding a deep grudge against him, huh?"
"Obviously!" Tony snapped, throwing his hands up. "Who the hell does he think he is, saying the world doesn't revolve around me? I'll make the entire fucking cosmos revolve around me just to prove him wrong." He shoved his hands into his pockets, still grumbling under his breath.
"I mean… if I had to guess," Melissa said, tilting her head at him with faux innocence, "he might think he's God because, well, that's literally what he is."
Tony turned toward her slowly, expression completely flat. "Just whose side are you on?"
Melissa let out a sharp, amused laugh that echoed strangely in the blank, white void as she and Tony made their way forward. With every step the digital floor shimmered beneath them, guiding them toward the towering construct ahead—Ultron's core.
Up close, the core was disturbingly familiar. Its elaborate structure resembled a hybrid of a human brain and an intricate machine gear, interlocking layers of circuitry pulsing with fading red energy. In fact, it almost mirrored Tony's techno-vision—same shimmering crimson, same embedded mechanical lattice—except this was colder, emptier, hollow in a way that seemed to defy the vast space around them.
"Stark…" Ultron began, his voice crackling like broken speakers.
But Melissa stepped forward, cutting him off before he could form the rest of the sentence. Her aura shifted instantly—playfulness replaced with sharp, icy purpose.
"Do you remember what you said to me when you cut off my head?" she asked, her tone colder than metal. "You should. It wasn't that long ago."
She flicked the katana in a smooth circle, the blade humming as if responding to her simmering rage.
"You said, and I quote—'If I had any regard for sentiment, I would have asked if you had any last words. I clearly do not. So don't bother.'" She leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Those were your exact words."
Melissa traced a finger along the blade, letting the steel catch the light. "Now I extend that same courtesy to you. Any last words? Philosophical phrases? Dramatic monologues?" She shrugged. "Keep them. I don't need any of that."
Then, with deliberate slowness, Melissa drew her arm back and pushed the katana into Ultron's core. Inch by inch. Cruelly patient.
"ARGHH—W-What is this—this sensation?!" Ultron's voice fractured, breaking into glitching static as the blade pierced deeper.
"What was promised to you," Melissa replied, her voice steady, chilling. She turned her head toward Tony, eyes gleaming. "Can you turn up his pain receptors?"
Tony winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Christ… yeah, hang on. I'll see what I can do…"
He activated his systems, his eyes flaring with a more intense crimson. Immediately, Ultron's screams spiked in pitch and volume, like metal being torn apart from the inside.
A slow, savage smile stretched across Melissa's face. "Now that's what I like to hear…" she whispered, pushing the blade another agonizing few centimeters. "Music to my ears."
Tony, meanwhile, took several careful steps back, as though distance alone could spare him from the sheer ferocity radiating off her.
"That— that is only a fraction of the pain you caused me!" Melissa snarled, her voice breaking into manic laughter. "Hahaha! Tell me, Ultron—how does it feel to be human?!"
She twisted the blade sharply, then plunged it to the hilt with brutal force. Gripping the handle with both hands, she pulled, tearing open a jagged, gaping wound in the core.
"HAA! HAAA! HAAA! MOTHER—FUCKER! SON—OF—A—BITCH!!" she screamed, slashing wildly, each word punctuated by another vicious strike. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO TAKE TONY AWAY FROM MEEEE!!"
"Okay, okay, honey—calm down! I think he's learned his lesson!" Tony said quickly, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off the ground like a feral cat caught mid-attack.
Melissa kicked the air violently, swinging the katana with one free arm. "I'm not done with him yet! LET ME AT HIM!!" she shrieked.
Ultron's core, shredded nearly beyond recognition, flickered weakly. But over Melissa's furious screaming, Tony heard something else—something he hadn't expected.
Small, choked sobs. Ultron's sobs. Buried beneath the rage. Raw. Human.
And then—
Ultron's red glow faded to a dull, dead grey.
The hum of machinery stuttered… then ceased.
The gears within the construct broke apart like sand in the wind, falling into nothingness.
Whrrrrr—
Silence.
Ultron was gone.
Not rebooting.
Not regenerating.
Not surviving in hidden fragments.
Ultron was officially, completely, irrevocably dead.
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