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JollyHippo's Snippet Thread

Reader mode
Snippet 19: Resistance is Futile.
Snippet 19: Resistance is Futile.

Sometimes I get brain worms, and this here is one of them.

Funny thing I mentioned worms…

Anyone like themselves some Zerg?

Anyway as usual, I don't own Star Wars or Starcraft and all that jazz.

Hope you enjoy.



What is this?

….I was…Playing something….

He couldn't feel his eyes anymore. Couldn't see like he was accustomed to… Yet why then could he see? Or was it more like he could… Feel?

This can't be real… I'm dreaming… Surely…

Life, or existence, couldn't be this cliche! It was just not possible!

He'd been up late as usual playing Starcraft, as always he was the Zerg. He'd always enjoyed the more wild and out there characters or races in any game he played, so between Terrans, Protoss and Zerg. There hadn't even been a question about which race to pick.

And what he saw before him. What he could feel around him…

It was Zerg. He was this building… This hive… He could feel it, see it, the fleshy walls, the slimy ooze and mucus that birthed Zerg - as well as rejuvenated them and this… Hive… This… Hatchery for Zerg. Although perhaps he wasn't quite this building… It felt more… Transcendent then that.

He couldn't feel his body at all. He should be panicking, this was a scary situation to be dropped into. As much as he enjoyed playing them in a game, he wouldn't want to meet the Zerg in a dark alley.

But somehow he wasn't afraid or panicking - a lack of proper glands, he supposed, almost clinically. He could feel hundreds of tiny minds at the back of his mind. Zerg larvae and drones. When he focused on them he could order them around, he felt he could even control them completely - like their limited consciousness was just an extension of his own. Just focusing on them he accidentally sank into a drone, getting a view of what it was doing - from its point of view - when he concentrated on it.

Weirdly he felt he could still split his attention and control the others as well, like this was nothing at all. Like his mind could be everywhere. It was a weird feeling. Maybe that's why he felt so… Detached. From everything.

Why am I not… Sad? Afraid?

Nothing interesting. Just munching on the thick carpet of creep - the corrupted fungus like ground that spread around Zerg settlements. He made the drone look around, finding a lot less than he'd expected. Only the Hive itself, working as the hatchery of the settlement. Drones and larvae milling around doing nothing but eating.

There were no other buildings. No defenses, no Zerglings for protection, nothing.

He looked around as far as he could with his drone sight. The small Zerg settlement - or perhaps camp, would be a more fitting word, was nestled in a small clearing in a thick jungle. The trees were absolutely massive. The size of skyscrapers. He couldn't even see the sky under the thick dark canopy.

Darkvision confirmed for Zerg, he supposed. Since they could actually see anything in this space no natural light ever reached. He looked around, wishing he had the proper body to sigh with. The absolute thickness and massiveness of the jungle left no room for light on the jungle floor. A jungle like this would have animals… Predators. He felt a jolt of something crawl up his spine. Or perhaps this drone's spine. As he markedly lacked one himself.

I'm completely unprotected. As a race every other being would want to eradicate.

He couldn't feel panic, not really. But there was a feeling of discomfort. Something alien, pushing him. To survive. Evolve.

He wondered briefly what had happened to bring him here. Made him into this… Was he an Overmind? The Overmind? He didn't even know. He didn't know where he was, if there was more Zerg around, whether he was all that was left… He could remember all his life before. His human mind was here, he was still somehow… Matthew. Yet… none of the feelings were there. Just information. Thought patterns. Blended with something primal. That something - wanted to eat. Evolve. Spread.

He looked around at the multitude of drones milling about lazily. The larvae, ready to evolve. With a thought from him - over a dozen larvae devoured a last bit of creep before suddenly rolling into a nearby spawning pool attached to his hatchery, turning into cocoons, the red and purple flesh beating in time with his imaginary heartbeat. Perhaps the swarms' heartbeat. In his mind he now knew.

In four hours those 12 larvae would become 24 Zerglings.

Mind whirling, a million questions came to him, and somehow his mind split its focus evenly and followed thought patterns to answer each question and think it out in real time. It was a wild experience, something a human mind could have never have handled.

He had an overabundance of drones, somehow. Making him wonder who or what was here before him? With nothing much to mine or anywhere to grab resources from, at least not without risking drawing back enemies to the undefended camp… The new Overmind, and yes he was going to call himself that for now - put his mental hooks so to speak - in a few drones, and put them towards producing two sunken colonies.

Basically the Zerg style defense mechanisms, once completed they would add some safety and hopefully kill anything that made its way into camp.

Something was odd however. In the games there were restrictions on evolutions of buildings - to build a sunken colony normally you'd need a few prerequisites. Like an evolution chamber and a creep colony. Yet somehow he had all the information about the varieties of buildings and Zerg evolutions. All from the start. No progression needed there, just build it - straight from his mind. It might also mean he would have the opportunity to experiment and create his own evolutions…

It would make things easier, but added the fear he was likely truly alone. Whatever power brought him here, whatever ill luck, would not give him such a power if he wasn't all alone and faced with nothing but enemies. The Zerg were dangerous enough without the ability to freestyle evolve based on whatever races or resources he'd run across.

Because the building was done on Zerg territory - the creep. His drones could manage it fairly quickly, yet he still felt it would be hours away. He somehow knew that if there was no creep it would take hours longer for any building to form.

It meant the swarm could not take over territory quite as quickly as in game. Frustrating but logical. In a real world setting - things rarely progressed in minutes. It meant however that he'd have to be careful to protect any expansion efforts with enough force until the creep settled in - and expansion could progress much faster.

He'd be defenseless for now, but he couldn't do anything about it. So he brooded while planning several steps ahead, using the rest of his drones to gather what resources they could from nearby. Nothing but plant matter and lumber - but to a Zerg, anything could be absorbed into resources.

Luckily the massive skyscraper trees were not the only trees around, and his drones could fell the more normal sized trees by spitting a mucus that worked like acid onto the trees - eating through the bottom trunks until the tree would fall. To eventually be dragged back by the drones.

They brought it into the Hive. Where he felt his presence existed - in the flesh - so to speak. He had a feeling that at this early stage, if he lost this building he'd die. It felt tied to him right now, like he could not venture far from it. Perhaps it was the weakness of the swarm, only existing in such a small number here. Or perhaps it was his weakness, he could not say for certain - he didn't have enough information.

Any attempt to reach out and see if there were Zerg elsewhere on the planet failed. Again, he did not know if it was due to any particular weakness of himself, or if the swarm truly was down to this singular hatchery. He had a feeling it was.

If this was some game - to someone powerful enough to do something this insane. Then planting a lone Zerg Hive somewhere. That would be the game. See if the Zerg could thrive under him, expand. Swarm.

Or if it would be destroyed before accomplishing anything.

By the time the Zerglings exploded out of their cocoons shrieking to the canopy above, exulting in the presence of their Overmind - he was already marshaling half of his remaining drones into using their last resources to build more sunken colonies around his heart. The Hive.

He also added a spore colony. A Zerg defense against flyers - able to shoot bone spines with such force it could pierce attacking ships, let alone organics. Should be enough for any flying animals that could perhaps exist in this dark forest. He added more creep colonies as well just outside their clearing - attempting to spread the creep. Watching through his swarms eyes as it slowly spread around the large trees, crawling up the tree trunks for about a dozen meters before they stopped spreading up and continued to expand out.

He didn't want to move too fast, and grab something or someone's notice - but he also didn't want this solitary clearing to be the only area defending his existence. He wanted more buildings and many more defenses between any enemy and the heart of the swarm. Him.

Keeping half the Zerglings behind as defense, roaming around the outer edges of the clearing. He sent the rest out in a roving band. Following along, borrowing their eyes, their senses, as he watched. They'd cover more ground if they split up, but that had its own risks. He wanted them to be enough to take down any animals or other beings, in case of an encounter, more than he wanted speedy information.

They couldn't leave anything alive to follow them back. His main concern was twofold. Scout for possible enemies so that he knew what areas to stay clear of. And scout for resources.

The Zerg needed minerals as well as organic matter and gasses to properly grow. He didn't even know if he was in the correct universe for Vespene gas - surely he wouldn't be placed in the original universe?

But there could be different options for that, if he could find any volcanic areas that would ensure a possible replacement, swamps were a possibility as well, and this whole area seemed a mix of one big swamp and jungle. The big worry was that if this jungle stretched far, would there be enough mineral deposits nearby for expansion of his swarm? And would there be anywhere close for volcanic gasses?

He'd need to find out, soon. And so at the same time as he continued to slowly pump out more larvae and turn them into drones - for continued building of creep colonies and defenses - and Zerglings for scouting and defense. He at the same time followed along his Zergling scout force as they slowly moved their way through the thick jungle floor - another two scouting forces eventually watched over likewise, as they were born and sent out in the opposite directions of each other.

Wildlife was rampant, and absolutely dangerous. His Zerglings survived due to numerical superiority and the Zergs inherent abilities. Their wounds healing on their own as they moved, slowly but surely. He'd only end up losing two Zerglings during that first week of scouting. Going further and further afield from his Hive. Noting down mentally, the locations of mineral rich earth, as well as one decently sized mountain about five days travel away. So covered in flora and trees everything was - he hadn't noticed he was on a mountain - until one of his Zerglings had fallen down a crack and into a naturally formed cave.

It would take him months to grow the creep enough to reach the mountain at this level - as he lacked the resources to really run production into overdrive on drones and other Zerg. The mineral rich earth he found several locations of, on the way, would give short term boosts once reached - but the mountain would give him the resources to really expand - perhaps even to start playing around with evolution strains.

If he could find a replacement for Vespene gas. That still eluded him. Organic matter could be recycled and its biodiversity added to the Swarm, it is what he was using right now for the energy and resources to birth more Zerg, it was not nearly as effective as Vespene, but it worked. The gas was what accelerated the evolution of Zerg creatures, tweaking the metabolism and unlocking the potential of the swarm.

Two days after finding the mountain, he found his original scouting group reaching water - either the sea or a very large lake, and just as he was about to despair, as his other scouting parties had found plenty of mineral rich areas - as well as swamps, but no volcanic ones - he noted the turmoil of its surface, the bubbling and steaming.

There was volcanic activity under the surface!

The Zerg was an adaptive species, some tweaks could have underwater collection performed - the beauty of the Zerg, we were organic, so extractors could be changed to suit the need.

With but a thought he sent one lone Zergling to swim out - an action that took a while as the Zerglings were not made to swim. And eventually it managed to dive, closer to the activity - giving the Overmind a better look into the murky depths. Everywhere his Zergling could see there were glowing cracks at the bottom of the sea.

He'd found a site of volcanic activity. Enough he'd be able to get there… Eventually. The gasses that could be extruded from below wouldn't be an exact match, but they were adaptable. They would find flora and swamps and find a mix of all of it together that would make something they could use.

It would take months…

Luckily he'd so far not encountered anything that could be an actual threat or a sign of civilization. But he had an uncomfortable feeling he knew where he was.

There was a taste to things, so to speak. The more of the planet's resources that were devoured into the Hive and repurposed for the Swarm - the more he could feel it. Everywhere. Around him, in the air, the earth, the sea. In every creature and piece of flora. A force that encompassed all.

Now where had he heard that before…

And he was on a planet that appeared to be made of skyscraper sized trees…

He'd have to confirm it, once he felt more secure. But the signs were pointing towards it pretty clearly. If this was indeed Kashyyyk, the home planet of the Wookies. And he was indeed in the Star Wars universe. Then the Vespene gas problem would eventually be solved, there were plenty of gasses in this universe that could make a good replacement.

When he pondered his own memories of the Star Wars universe - he found that he could remember details with perfect clarity. An Overmind benefit perhaps. If this was indeed Kashyyyk, then he'd be able to infest most of the planet long before they would know. He existed on the bottom level to all appearances. The most dangerous place in the shadowlands. Or so the Wookie's description of it told.

The shadowlands, or the netherworld, they called the bottom level, because none returned alive. The Wookies lived on the top level - and practically never went near the bottom level. Only the most suicidal or those actually seeking death ventured below. Or those criminals sentenced to die in the shadowlands.

If he kept the creep from growing upwards until he was ready… he could infest the planet completely. Never even alerting the Wookies. If any of their people went below far enough and died to his swarm - they wouldn't even question it, as they saw it as suicidal to begin with, the creatures that normally inhabited the shadowlands were enough of a deterrent.

If he worked carefully, he might be able to spread out from Kashyyyk without anyone even noticing he was here. And create billions upon billions of Zerg. Unnoticed.

All that was left for the moment. Was simply the grind of expanding the creep until they got the volcanic gasses and he could begin to experiment with evolution.

And perhaps… One day… The force.



The Shadowlands were dark, damp, and utterly silent, save for the occasional distant cry of a predator stalking its prey. Thick, ancient trees with trunks the size of starships blotted out any light that might pierce the thick canopy far above. Moss and fungus clung to every surface, and the air was thick with the heady scent of decay. It was here, at the base of a massive mountain veiled in vines and roots, that the Swarm began its slow and deliberate expansion.

The mountain's mineral-rich earth promised the resources the Overmind needed to fuel his growing hive. The creep, alive and pulsating, spread out from the hatchery in a slow, relentless tide. At first, it oozed across the jungle floor, seeping into cracks and wrapping itself around roots and stones. It pulsed faintly, a living carpet that seemed to breathe in tandem with the Hive itself. The Overmind directed its spread with careful precision, ensuring that the terrain was thoroughly claimed. Where the creep touched, it left behind a network of bio-organic fibers that acted as both foundation and circulatory system, channeling resources back to the Hive.

At the mountain's base, the drones worked tirelessly to prepare the site. The Overmind had sent them in waves, accompanied by Zerglings for protection. The drones, insectoid creatures with powerful mandibles and acidic saliva, began digging into the earth. Their movements were almost mechanical, and unrelenting. They spat streams of caustic mucus onto the rock, watching as it hissed and bubbled, breaking the stone into manageable chunks. Their claws worked in tandem, prying loose minerals and collecting them for transport.

The minerals were absorbed into the creep, which acted as a living conveyor belt of sorts, transporting the raw materials back to the Hive through the tunnels running right below it. The Overmind could feel the minerals flowing through the network, each fragment feeding into the Hive's growth.

The drones had carved out a series of tunnels within the mountain itself, their acidic saliva etching pathways that twisted and branched like veins. These tunnels were reinforced with layers of creep, the organic material hardening into a flexible but durable shell that protected the interior from collapse while spreading his influence.

The further his creep spread, the closer he could set up secondary Hives capable of spawning the drones needed for the resource gathering.

Further into the mountain, the drones uncovered veins of rare crystals that glowed faintly in the darkness. The Overmind observed these with interest, noting the faint hum that seemed to emanate from them. It wasn't just sound - it was a feeling, a resonance that tugged at the edges of his awareness. The crystals were heavy with the Force, their energy suffusing the very rock they were embedded in. The Overmind directed the drones to extract these crystals with care, ensuring that none were damaged.

Above ground, the creep continued its steady advance, climbing the mountain's slopes and spreading outward from the Hive. The Overmind observed its progress through the eyes of his drones, noting how the creep adapted to the uneven terrain. It clung to vertical surfaces, wrapping itself around tree trunks and rocks. Tendrils extended outward, probing the environment and anchoring the creep to any available surface. Slowly but surely, the mountain was becoming an extension of the Swarm.

Kashyyyk itself was falling, his creep that had been so slow to grow, expanding more rapidly the more resources he was fed.

As he had no natural enemies as of yet, he spent all his resources back into the creep and drones, with only a minimal amount on defenses and battle Zerg. More interested in expansion at the moment.

At the volcanic lake, a similar transformation was underway. The water's surface was shrouded in steam, the result of volcanic activity bubbling beneath. The lakebed was riddled with cracks that emitted plumes of gas, their faint glow visible even in the murky depths. The Overmind had adapted a new strain of drones for this task - sleek, aquatic creatures with fins and gills that allowed them to move through water as effortlessly as their land-bound counterparts navigated the jungle.

These aquatic drones, slimy and glistening, slid into the water with barely a ripple. Their movements were smooth and deliberate, their bodies designed for efficiency. They dove deep, their sensory organs attuned to the vibrations and currents of the lake. When they reached the volcanic cracks, they began constructing extractors - living organisms that anchored themselves to the lakebed.

The extractors were grotesque but functional, their bulbous bodies expanding and contracting as they drew in the volcanic gases. Long, sinewy appendages extended into the cracks, siphoning the gases and filtering them through an organic membrane.

The extractors converted the gases into a form that could be absorbed by the creep, which extended into the water and connected to the extractors via tendrils. The Overmind monitored the operation closely, noting how the gases were transported back to the Hive through the underwater network via bulbous sprouts which his drones carried back.

The first batch of gas arrived at the Hive a day later, and the Overmind immediately sensed its unique properties. It was volatile and potent, similar to Vespene gas but with an added layer of complexity. It resonated with the same Force-infused energy he had detected in the mountain's crystals. When the gas was absorbed into the Hive, the Overmind felt a subtle shift - a deepening of his connection to the Swarm and the environment around him. The larvae incubating within the hatchery grew faster and more robust, their genetic potential unlocking in ways that had not been possible before.

As the creep spread further across the jungle floor, it began to attract attention. The wildlife of the Shadowlands was not unaccustomed to change - predators and prey alike had adapted to the harsh environment over millennia. But the Swarm was different. The creep's advance disrupted the natural order, smothering plant life and altering the ecosystem.

Small creatures that ventured onto the creep were quickly consumed, their biomass absorbed and repurposed for the Swarm's growth. Larger predators were more cautious, skirting the edges of the creep and observing the drones with wary eyes.

The Overmind anticipated resistance and prepared accordingly whenever he expanded into an area that necessitated more than the minimum spend on defenses. Sunken colonies, Zerg defensive structures that resembled organic cannons, were constructed at strategic points along the creep's edge.

The Swarm's defenses were put to the test when a pack of predators - hulking, reptilian creatures with razor-sharp claws and teeth - attacked a group of drones working near the mountain. The Overmind responded instantly, sending a wave of Zerglings to intercept the attackers. The battle was brutal and swift, the Zerglings swarming over the predators with relentless ferocity as the colonies fired relentlessly at the invaders. The Overmind observed through the Zerglings' eyes as they tore into the creatures, their claws rending flesh and bone. The predators fought back, but they were outnumbered and overwhelmed.

When the battle was over, the drones moved in to collect the remains of the predators. Their biomass was absorbed into the creep, their genetic material analyzed and stored for potential future use. The Overmind noted the efficiency of the operation, satisfied that the Swarm was capable of defending itself against the jungle's threats.

He had been right to not overspend on defenses as of yet, the fauna could not pose a major threat to the Swarm on their own.

With the mountain's minerals and the volcanic gases now flowing steadily into the Hive, the Swarm entered a new phase of growth. The Overmind directed the construction of additional hatcheries and evolution chambers, ensuring that the Swarm's production capacity could keep pace with its expanding territory. New strains of Zerg were developed, each tailored to the unique challenges of the Shadowlands.

The Overmind's focus returned to the Force-infused properties of the resources he was harvesting. The more minerals and gas he absorbed, the more attuned he became to the energy field that permeated Kashyyyk. It was as if the planet itself was alive, its essence flowing into the Swarm through the resources they consumed. The Overmind began to experiment, infusing the larvae with small amounts of the Force-infused gas to see how it affected their development.

The results were extraordinary. Zerglings born from these larvae were faster, more agile, and displayed an almost preternatural awareness of their surroundings. They moved as though guided by an unseen hand, reacting to threats and opportunities with uncanny precision. The Overmind realized that this was just the beginning - if he could unlock the full potential of the Force-infused resources, the Swarm would evolve into something far beyond its original design.

The expansion of the Swarm continued, relentless and unstoppable. The jungle floor was gradually transformed, the creep spreading outward in all directions. The mountain became a hive of activity, its tunnels echoing with the sounds of drones at work. The volcanic lake was a hub of gas extraction, the underwater network growing more complex with each passing day.

The Shadowlands, once a place of darkness and death, were now the domain of the Swarm. And the Overmind knew that this was only the beginning. The galaxy was vast, and Kashyyyk was but the first step on a journey that would see the Swarm rise to unimaginable heights. With the Force-infused resources fueling their evolution, the Zerg were poised to become something new - something unstoppable.



A year later, Kashyyyk.

The Wookie let out a deep growl, the sound reverberating through the towering trees of the Shadowlands. His fur bristled with a mixture of defiance and grief. He had been declared a madclaw, a title of disgrace among his people, after killing an offworlder with his claws - a crime punishable by exile.

But the offworlder had deserved it, he told himself, gripping his bowcaster tightly. The human had killed his mate during a drunken quarrel, laughing as her blood stained the earth. The Wookie's rage had been unstoppable, his claws shredding the offworlder before he even realized what he had done.

Now, he stood alone in the Shadowlands, far below the safe heights of the Wroshyr trees where his people lived. His punishment was exile to this dark, unforgiving jungle, a place where even the bravest feared to tread. The elders believed the Shadowlands were a death sentence - whether by the claws of its predators or the slow, creeping madness of solitude.

The Wookie - his name unspoken now, as was tradition for madclaws - took his first cautious steps through the dense undergrowth. The air was thick and humid, clinging to his fur like a wet blanket. Moss dripped from the enormous tree trunks, and twisted roots snaked across the ground like the limbs of sleeping giants. He moved carefully, his sharp senses on high alert. Every rustle, every distant growl, set his nerves on edge.

He did not intend to die easily. His bowcaster was primed, and a blade hung at his hip. If the jungle claimed him, it would remember his defiance.

Hours passed as he trudged through the gloom. He hunted small creatures for sustenance, their bitter flesh doing little to quell the gnawing hunger in his stomach. He rested only briefly, his ears twitching at the slightest sound. The Shadowlands offered no comfort, only an unrelenting sense of being watched.

It was during one of these cautious pauses that he noticed something strange. The ground ahead was... Different. The dark soil was no longer visible. Instead, a slick, purple carpet stretched across the forest floor, pulsating faintly as though alive. The Wookie narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. It stank of decay and something else - something unnatural. He crouched low, his instincts screaming at him to avoid the strange substance, but curiosity drove him forward.

As he stepped onto the pulsing ground, the texture shifted beneath his paws, soft and squishy like rotting flesh. His growl deepened, a low rumble of unease. The Wookie moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the area. The creep was everywhere now, climbing tree trunks and snaking across rocks. It was as though the jungle itself was being consumed.

The first attack came swiftly. A blur of movement shot out from the shadows, and the Wookie barely had time to raise his bowcaster. He fired instinctively, the bolt of energy striking the creature mid-leap. It crumpled to the ground in a twitching heap, and he finally got a good look at it. It was small, no larger than a Wookie pup, but its body was grotesque - a mix of chitin and flesh, with sharp claws and an eyeless, gaping maw for a face.

Another creature lunged from the side, and then another. The Wookie roared, spinning to fire again. His bowcaster hummed as it dispatched two more of the creatures, but they were fast, and their numbers were growing. He switched to his blade as one closed in, slashing downward and cleaving the beast in two. The ichor that spilled from its body was thick and black, staining his blade and fur.

The Wookie fought like a cornered animal, his roars echoing through the jungle. For every creature he killed, two more seemed to appear. They swarmed him, biting and clawing, but he refused to fall. His strength was immense, and his fury unstoppable. Yet even as he fought, he knew the battle was hopeless. His muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and still, the creatures pressed in.

Finally, his blade shattered against one of their hardened carapaces, leaving him defenseless. He swung his fists, crushing one of the creatures against a tree, but the others were on him in an instant. They swarmed over his body, their claws digging into his flesh, pinning him to the ground. He waited for the killing blow, ready to die an honorable death in battle.

But it didn't come.

The creatures hissed and clicked at one another, their movements suddenly coordinated. They dragged him forward, their claws digging painfully into his arms and legs. He roared and struggled, but their strength was overwhelming. They carried him deeper into the infested jungle, the creep growing thicker and more oppressive with every step. The Wookie's rage was tempered by confusion. Why hadn't they killed him?

The answer came into view minutes later. The jungle opened into a clearing, and the Wookie's breath caught in his throat. Before him was a nightmare made flesh.

Towering structures of organic material rose from the ground, their surfaces pulsing with veins of sickly green and purple. Spires jutted into the air like the bones of some colossal beast, while fleshy sacs dangled from twisted tendrils, their contents writhing within.

The ground was alive with activity - more of the creatures he had fought, along with larger, more grotesque forms that defied comprehension. One massive beast lumbered past, its body a mountain of flesh and claws, its mouth large enough to swallow him whole. Others scuttled and crawled, their movements alien and unsettling.

The Wookie growled low in his throat, his ears flattening against his head. He had heard stories of monsters in the Shadowlands, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The creatures dragged him toward one of the buildings, a bloated mass of flesh that seemed to breathe. Its surface was slick and glistening, and a gaping maw opened to reveal a tunnel lined with writhing tendrils. He resisted, but the creatures pushed him forward, forcing him inside.

The interior was worse than the exterior. The walls were soft and pulsating, oozing a foul-smelling mucus. The air was thick and humid, making it hard to breathe. At the center of the chamber was a pool of viscous liquid, its surface rippling as small, worm-like creatures swam within. Above the pool, embedded in the ceiling, was a massive, unblinking eye. It swiveled to focus on the Wookie as he was forced to his knees before the pool.

For the first time, he felt real fear.

"You are honored," A voice spoke, not aloud but directly into his mind. It was cold and alien, devoid of compassion or malice - a simple statement of fact. "Your body will serve as a vessel for the Swarm. Your essence will join us, your uniqueness preserved within the collective. Resistance is futile."

The Wookie roared, baring his teeth and thrashing against his captors. He would not be taken without a fight. But the creatures held him firm, and one of them stepped forward, carrying one of the writhing larvae from the pool. The Wookie's eyes widened in horror as the creature pressed the parasite against his chest. Its tiny claws dug into his fur, and then it began to burrow.

The pain was indescribable. The Wookie screamed, a guttural howl of agony that echoed through the chamber. The larva forced its way beneath his skin, its slimy body wriggling deeper with each passing moment. He struggled to claw at his chest, desperate to remove it, but the creatures held his arms in place. His vision blurred, his strength fading as the parasite reached his spine.

The voice spoke again, calm and unyielding. "You are one with us now. Your sacrifice will bring the Swarm to new heights. Rejoice in your purpose."

The Wookie's struggles slowed, his roars fading into weak whimpers. His mind was consumed by the parasite, his thoughts unraveling as it took control. Memories of his mate, his home, his honor - all of it was taken, to be used by the cold, unrelenting will of the swarm.



A month later,

The Overmind pulsed with quiet satisfaction, its awareness spreading through the labyrinth of creep that stretched far across the Shadowlands. The Swarm was thriving, its growth fueled by the resources of the jungle and the volcanic gases from the depths. But this was only the beginning. The Overmind's thoughts turned upward, to the world above - where the Wookiees lived in their treetop villages, unaware of the danger below.

Through the Wookie captive it had hijacked, the Overmind gained an intimate understanding of their society. Wookiees were proud, fiercely loyal creatures, but there were always outliers: those exiled for breaking taboos, those who lived on the fringes of their communities, those overlooked by their kin. These individuals would be the first to fall. The Overmind's plan was simple yet insidious - infect the periphery, and let the infection spread inward.

The Overmind sent a small force of Zerglings and infested Wookies into the dense jungle, tasking them with locating vulnerable targets. The infected Wookies were driven by the Overmind's will. Their familiarity with the terrain and their understanding of Wookiee behavior made them perfect infiltrators. They avoided patrols and traveled under the cover of darkness, guided by the Overmind's omnipresent awareness.

The first target was a Wookiee hunter who lived alone, far from the main villages. The Zerglings swarmed his simple hut, tearing through the wooden walls in seconds. The hunter fought valiantly, his roars echoing through the jungle as he swung his massive club. But the infected Wookies subdued him, their strength far beyond normal. The Overmind watched through their eyes as the hunter was dragged into the Shadowlands, his struggles growing weaker with each step.

Over the following days, several more Wookiees were captured. Some were loners, others were outcasts. Each was brought to the Hive, where the Overmind's plans unfolded. Some were implanted with the parasites - small, writhing creatures that burrowed into their hosts and took control of their bodies. These infected Wookiees were then sent back to their villages, their behavior carefully controlled to avoid suspicion.

Their secret task had already been set by the Overmind.

Others, however, were destined for a different purpose. They were brought to the evolution chamber, a grotesque structure deep within the Hive. The air inside was thick with the stench of decay and the hum of pulsating flesh. Fleshy pods lined the walls, their surfaces translucent and slick with mucus. Within each pod, a Wookiee floated in a viscous liquid, their forms twisted and distorted as the Swarm worked its terrible magic.

The Overmind observed through the chamber's many eyes, its attention focused on the genetic experimentation taking place. The Swarm had recently defeated a terentatek, a massive predator infused with the Dark Side of the Force to be force resistant. The victory had come at great cost, with many Zerglings and hydralisks lost in the battle, but the terentatek's DNA was a prize beyond measure. Its strength, resilience, and resistance to the Force were unparalleled, and the Overmind saw its potential as a foundation for a new strain of warrior.

The DNA of the terentatek was spliced with that of an ultralisk, the Swarm's most fearsome ground unit, and combined with the Wookiees' natural strength and agility. The pods in the evolution chamber churned as the genetic mix was tested, the liquid inside bubbling violently as the experiments progressed.

Not all attempts were successful. Some Wookiees were unable to withstand the process, their bodies breaking down into sludge that was absorbed back into the Hive as biomass. The Overmind felt no regret - each failure was a step closer to perfection. The chamber was a symphony of grotesque creation, the Wookiees' roars of pain muffled by the fluid that enveloped them.

Finally, after countless failures, one pod began to pulse with a steady, rhythmic beat. The Overmind focused its attention as the pod's surface split open, spilling its contents onto the chamber floor. The creature that emerged was unlike anything the Swarm had created before.

It stood nearly three times the size of its original Wookiee form, its hunched frame bristling with power. Its fur had transformed into a coat of sharp, spiked quills that gleamed like polished obsidian, each tip capable of puncturing armor. Tentacles draped from its back like a macabre mane, their sharp tips dripping with a venom potent enough to dissolve flesh on contact. Its forearms bore massive bone claws that jutted outward, wickedly curved and seemingly unbreakable. Beneath them, the Wookiee's original claws had been reinforced, each digit tipped with talons that could shred through steel.

And most importantly, it remained force resistant, with its hide able to resist lightsabers and blasters.

Its face was a mask of rage and hunger, its eyes glowing with a faint, malevolent light. The Overmind could feel the terentatek's essence coursing through the creature, its resistance to the Force and predatory instincts now fully integrated. The Wookiee-turned-beast let out a guttural roar, its voice shaking the very walls of the chamber.

The Overmind's voice filled the creature's mind, calm and commanding. "You are the culmination of our efforts. A perfect fusion of strength, resilience, and destruction. You are the future of the Swarm."

The creature stood still, its breathing heavy, its gaze fixed on the Overmind's presence. It did not question, did not resist. It existed solely to serve.

The Overmind saved the genetic template of the creature within the Swarm's memory, ensuring that the process could be replicated. The remaining Wookiees in the chamber were prepared for transformation, their pods adjusted to mimic the conditions that had produced the success. As the Overmind watched, the chamber came alive with activity, the fleshy pods glowing with an eerie light as they began their work.

The Overmind turned its attention back to the first successful creation. "You shall lead your kind in battle. Your strength will crush our enemies, your resilience will shield the Swarm. I shall call you… My Behemoths."

The Behemoth roared once more, its voice a declaration of its allegiance. The Overmind felt a surge of satisfaction as the creature stepped forward, its massive form casting a shadow over the chamber. This was the beginning of a new era for the Swarm. With the Behemoths at the forefront, the Zerg would become unstoppable. The galaxy would fall, one world at a time, and the Swarm would consume all.

His mind was the Swarm, the Swarm was his mind, he'd let go of the weakness of his previous life, using his knowledge for the good of the swarm.

He was no longer the weakling Matthew, he was only the Overmind.



Kashyyyk, shortly after the Naboo crisis.

The Republic shuttle descended through the thick canopy of Kashyyyk, weaving between the ancient wroshyr trees that rose like sentinels from the dense jungle floor. Quinlan Vos, a rugged Jedi Knight with piercing eyes and a distinctive yellow tattoo running across his face, stood at the viewport, his brow furrowed. Behind him, his Padawan, Aayla Secura, adjusted her lightsaber hilt at her waist. The Rutian Twi'lek's blue skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the cockpit, her lekku twitching in agitation.

"Master," She said softly, her voice tinged with unease. "There's something… Wrong. I can feel it."

Vos turned to her, his expression serious but calm. "I feel it too. The Force is heavy here, like a storm on the horizon. Stay alert."

The shuttle landed in a clearing near the Wookiee village cluster, its thrusters kicking up swirls of damp earth and leaves. As the ramp descended, the humid air of Kashyyyk enveloped them, thick with the scents of moss, bark, and distant decay.

They were met by a group of Wookiee chieftains, their towering forms imposing even in their welcoming gestures. Their deep growls and barks conveyed both gratitude and concern, translated by a protocol droid standing nearby.

"Several of our people have vanished," The droid relayed, its metallic voice at odds with the raw emotion in the Wookiees' tones. "Most recently, a hunter from the eastern reaches of the villages. They were skilled, cautious… Yet even they disappeared."

Vos inclined his head respectfully. "We'll do what we can to find them."

…

Over the next several days, Vos and Aayla immersed themselves in the lives of the Wookiees. They climbed the dizzying heights of the wroshyr trees to visit their villages, each one nestled in the canopy like a hidden fortress. The Wookiees were hospitable, offering food and shelter, but beneath their gratitude was an undercurrent of unease.

Aayla spent time with the children, showing them simple tricks with the Force - levitating small objects or guiding leaves on the wind. Their laughter was a brief respite from the tension that clung to the air, and she used the time to also probe about anything unusual they might have seen. Meanwhile, Vos spoke with the elders, their gruff voices recounting tales of the habits of those Wookies lost inexplicably. Yet even their wisdom offered no clue to the strange disappearances.

At night, the two Jedi would sit together on the wooden platforms overlooking the endless jungle. The glow of the village's bioluminescent lights above them, and the distant calls of nocturnal predators filling the silence.

"Master," Aayla said one evening, her voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like… The jungle itself is watching us."

Vos didn't respond immediately. He sat cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes closed in meditation. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy. "The Force here is clouded. There's something deeply wrong beneath all of this, something other. But it's elusive. We'll have to trust our instincts."

Their investigation led them further into the wilderness, to the edges of Wookiee civilization. The final village they reached was perched on the boundary of the Shadowlands, its platforms balanced among the colossal tree trunks. The air here felt thicker, heavier, and both Jedi could sense the tension among the Wookiees. Their movements were stiffer, their growls quieter.

As they explored the village, the Force seemed to pull them toward its center, where the largest wroshyr tree stood. Its bark was pristine except for a patch near the base - a dark, purple blemish that pulsed faintly, like a wound that refused to heal. The sight of it made Aayla shiver.

"Master," She said, her voice tight, "This… It feels alive. But not in the way it should."

Vos crouched near the patch, his fingers hovering just above its surface. The air around it seemed warmer, heavier. "It's corruption of some sort," He said grimly. "I can feel the pain in the tree. It's wrong, but I don't know why."

Before they could delve deeper, the atmosphere shifted. The once-quiet village erupted into chaos. Wookiees charged at them from all directions, their massive forms moving with unnatural synchronization, like they were one.

Vos ignited his lightsaber, the blade springing to life with a hiss. "Aayla, get ready!"

Aayla's saber joined his, its glow illuminating her determined expression. "Master, what's happening? Why are they attacking?"

Vos parried the first blow - a massive club swung with crushing force, cutting through it and sending the Wookie back with a force push. "They're being controlled! I can feel the wrongness inside them. It's some kind of parasite."

It had somehow been hidden from them, but now that they were acting, he felt it as clear as day.

Aayla hesitated, her saber raised defensively. "But then they're innocent! I can't -"

Vos blocked another attack, deflecting the blaster fire into hands and legs, his voice sharp. "You have to defend yourself, Aayla. They'll kill us if you don't! Just disable limbs if you can."

Reluctantly, Aayla deflected a Wookiee's attack, using the Force to push him back. Her strikes were designed to incapacitate rather than harm as she reluctantly severed limbs. Vos, meanwhile, fought with ferocity, his blade a blur as he disarmed attackers and aimed for their legs and arms with an easier mind than Ayala.

Better to have to use a prosthetic going forward then dead or under continued control of a parasite, he thought.

The fight was brutal. The Wookiees came in waves, their immense strength and numbers overwhelming. Vos spun and dodged, his lightsaber carving arcs of green light through the air. The sheer force of their attacks and their great number pushed him to his limits. Aayla fought beside him, her movements more graceful but also more hesitant.

"Master, there are too many of them!" She shouted, her voice tinged with panic.

Vos glanced at her, his expression grim. "Aayla, listen to me. You have to leave. Get back to the Council and report this."

"But Master - "

"Go!" He roared, parrying a blow that would have crushed her skull. "That's an order!"

Aayla hesitated, her eyes filled with anguish. But she nodded, retreating toward the edge of the village. "I'll come back for you!" She called before disappearing into the trees.

Vos turned his full attention to the fight. He spun low, slicing through the haft of a club before slamming the hilt of his saber into a Wookiee's gut adding the force to push him away. Another lunged at him, and he sidestepped, sweeping its legs out from under it wincing at the damage. But for every Wookiee he incapacitated, two more seemed to take their place.

His muscles burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The Force flowed through him, guiding his movements, but even it could not offset the relentless onslaught. A Wookiee's massive arm slammed into his side, sending him sprawling. He rolled to his feet, his lightsaber flashing as he cut down a nearby platform support, forcing his attackers to back away momentarily.

But the reprieve was short-lived. A massive Wookiee tackled him from behind, its weight driving him to the ground. His lightsaber skittered away, extinguishing itself as it hit the wooden planks. Vos struggled, his teeth clenched, but more Wookiees piled on, their combined weight pinning him.

He craned his neck, his vision narrowing as he saw one of the infected Wookiees approach, its face devoid of emotion. A massive, clawed fist loomed above him.

"Aayla…" He murmured, his voice fading as the fist descended. Darkness swallowed him, the last thing he felt a deep, overwhelming wrongness in the Force.



Quinlan awoke to a rhythmic, wet pulsing, like the heartbeat of some enormous creature. The air was stiflingly humid, filled with the acrid stench of decay and something fouler - something alien. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were bound, encased in fleshy, organic constructs that writhed slightly, as though alive. His eyes snapped open, and he recoiled, blinking against the sickly green light emanating from the walls of the chamber.

Above him, a grotesque, massive eye dangled from the ceiling, its surface glistening with mucus. The eye pulsated as it focused on him, its unblinking gaze radiating a sickening intelligence. The very sight of it made his stomach churn.

To his left, Aayla Secura stirred, a quiet groan escaping her lips as she regained consciousness. Quinlan's heart sank as he saw her. She was restrained like him, her limbs held in the same pulsating organic matter. Her blue skin was smeared with streaks of black ichor, her lekku twitching in fear and confusion.

"Padawan," He said softly, his voice hoarse. "Aayla, are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped open, panic flashing across her face as she registered her surroundings. "Master?" She whispered, her voice trembling. She struggled against the bindings, but they held firm, writhing slightly as if mocking her efforts. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Quinlan replied, his tone calm despite the knot of dread in his chest. "But stay calm. We're alive. That means… This thing wants to talk."

As he spoke, his eyes flicked to the two hulking creatures standing beside the eye. They were monstrous, towering over him even at a distance. Their forms were grotesquely twisted, their hulking bodies a fusion of chitin, bone, and muscle. Their fur, if it could still be called that, had hardened into sharp, spiked quills, and long tentacles dripped venom from their backs. Quinlan could sense no life in them, no presence in the Force. They were voids, utterly unnatural.

The voice came suddenly, not through sound but directly into his mind. It was a cold, alien presence, its words jarring and wrong, like nails scraping across raw nerves.

"Behemoths," The voice whispered, filling his thoughts with its weight. "They are my Behemoths."

Quinlan flinched at the intrusion, a sharp pain shooting through his skull. He instinctively reached out to the Force, seeking its guidance, but the moment he tried, a searing agony ripped through his mind. He gasped, his head pounding as though it might split open.

"Master!" Aayla cried out, her voice breaking as she saw him wince in pain. "What's wrong?"

Quinlan forced himself to breathe, swallowing the pain as best he could. "They… Yhey've done something. I can't feel the Force. It's… Blocked."

Aayla's eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. "How is that possible? Master, what do we do?"

He shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on the grotesque eye above them. "Stay calm, Aayla. We're alive for a reason. This thing wants something from us. We'll figure it out."

He hoped.

It wasn't looking good.

The eye bobbed slightly, as if acknowledging his words. Then, the voice spoke again, louder this time, its presence like a vice tightening around their minds.

"Jedi," It said, its tone a mockery of formality. "We will add your power to the Swarm. Your biological distinctiveness will be added to the collective. Resistance is futile."

The words sent a shiver down Quinlan's spine. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet the eye's gaze. "If you wanted to kill us, you would have done it already," He said evenly, trying to mask the fear crawling under his skin. "What do you want?"

The voice ignored his question, continuing with a grim certainty. "We have figured out how to deny the Force."

At that, the Behemoths stepped forward, their sheer size and presence drawing both Jedi's attention. They let out guttural roars that shook the chamber, the sound devoid of life or emotion. Aayla's eyes widened as she realized what Quinlan already had. The creatures were voids, completely absent from the energy that bound all living things.

The voice pressed on. "Now, we need to understand how to give our Swarm the ability to wield it."

Quinlan's mind raced, the implications chilling. He could barely comprehend the threat these creatures already posed - mindless, unstoppable monsters capable of infecting others with their will. But if they could wield the Force…

Quinlan forced a smirk, his tone sardonic. "You know, we have classes for that. You don't need to go through all this trouble."

Aayla gave him a startled look, clearly shocked that he could joke in a situation like this. But she didn't know how badly he was struggling to keep himself together. The voice didn't respond to his quip. It seemed incapable of humor - or chose to ignore it.

"We will experiment," It said coldly. "We will use your biodiversity to enhance our own."

Quinlan's throat tightened. He didn't respond, unwilling to show the dread curling in his gut. The voice continued, its tone like a blade slicing through their thoughts.

"You will assist us," It commanded. "Explain everything you know. Make the process easier."

Quinlan's lips pressed into a thin line. He imagined these creatures, armed with the Force, spreading their infestation across the galaxy. The horrors they would unleash were unfathomable. "No," He said simply, his voice firm. "You'll get nothing from me."

The air grew heavier, the voice more insistent. "Your resistance is pointless."

Aayla let out a sudden scream as one of the tentacles from a nearby wall reached toward her, its sharp tip dragging a shallow, bloody line across her cheek. She thrashed against her bonds, panic overtaking her as more tentacles brushed against her skin, their touch cold and wet.

"Master!" She cried, tears streaming down her face. "Don't give in!"

Quinlan's heart twisted in his chest. He pulled at his restraints with all his strength, desperate to help her, but they held firm. The eye turned its gaze to him, and the voice pierced his mind once more.

"Her… Or you."

The words were like a dagger, and Quinlan's breath hitched. The tentacles around Aayla drew closer, one curling around her neck while another traced a line along her arm, its tip hovering near her eye.

"Help the process," The Overmind said, its voice calm and unrelenting, "And she will not suffer."

Quinlan's mind raced. He imagined the terrors these creatures would spread if they learned to wield the Force. But then he saw Aayla, her face streaked with tears, her body trembling as she stared at him. His padawan, the person he should protect above all else.

Even if she told him not to.

"You win," He said finally, his voice hollow.

Master Yoda and the Council would figure this all out before it could spread too far. His assistance wouldn't let this creature win, he thought, hoping he wasn't dooming the galaxy.

"Master, no!" Aayla sobbed, shaking her head violently. "Not for me. Please!"

Quinlan closed his eyes, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Aayla," He whispered. "I can't let them hurt you."

The voice didn't respond with words, but Quinlan could feel its satisfaction, a cold, creeping presence in the back of his mind. The tentacles withdrew from Aayla, leaving bloody streaks in their wake. Quinlan sat silently, his heart breaking as he prepared for what was to come.



A week later,

The Overmind's awareness expanded infinitely, his thoughts split across countless dimensions of perception. He was the beating heart of the Swarm, but his mind was not confined to Kashyyyk. The living network of the Zerg stretched far beyond the shadowed jungles now. His parasites, insidious and relentless, had burrowed into the minds of Wookiees and offworlders alike, hijacking their bodies to serve his will. Every ship that departed Kashyyyk carried his children - eggs, drones, Zerglings, and parasites - all carefully hidden within the cargo or, in some cases, the bodies of his unwilling hosts.

Each ship was a seed of conquest. In the weeks since his infestation of the Wookies had begun, dozens upon dozens of vessels had departed Kashyyyk, each bound for a different world across the galaxy.

Some had attacked the Wookies for profit and ran off in the night carrying slaves destined for Nar Shaddaa, others transported rare Wookiee wood to the Core Worlds, and a few were smuggler ships seeking refuge in the Outer Rim. None of them held free will anymore and carried the Swarm within their holds. Wherever they landed, a new colony would take root, hidden, slow. The galaxy, vast and teeming with life, was the perfect breeding ground.

The Overmind knew about the coming conflict - the Clone Wars. The Republic and the Separatists would tear themselves apart, distracted by war and politics. The Jedi Order, though powerful, was stretched thin even now. And the Senate? The Senate was nothing more than a collection of squabbling bureaucrats, blinded by their own self-importance. They would argue endlessly, too paralyzed to act decisively.

Orbital bombardments? No, not while the Overmind left most Wookiee villages untouched. For now, he would exploit their indecision. But even so, caution demanded he spread the Swarm beyond Kashyyyk. In case they surprised him when they found out.

In taking two Jedi, he had started the clock.

In his evolution chamber, one of the many grotesque pods lining the walls began to crack open. The air in the chamber was heavy with the stench of mucus and decay, the pulsing walls casting a faint, sickly green light. The Overmind's attention focused sharply on the pod as it split apart, its viscous contents spilling onto the fleshy floor.

Aayla Secura stepped out, her once-vibrant blue skin now tinged with darker, almost iridescent veins that pulsed faintly with the life of the Swarm. Her eyes, once filled with warmth and determination, now glowed with a cold, unnatural light. Her lekku twitched as she adjusted to her new form, her movements graceful yet alien as wings stretched out from her backs, a second set of arms stretching languidly. She was taller now, her body enhanced with Zerg physiology. Bone-like ridges protruded from her arms and back, her nails elongated into razor-sharp claws. Yet her face remained untouched, a perfect echo of her former self.

The Overmind felt her thoughts brushing against his own, her mind utterly subsumed by his will. She retained fragments of her old identity - memories, skills, and knowledge - but they were no longer hers entirely. They belonged to the Swarm.

"You are my queen," the Overmind spoke directly into her mind, his voice resonating through every fiber of her being. "A perfect synthesis of ingenuity and Zerg evolution. You will lead my Swarm into the galaxy."

Aayla bowed her head, her expression serene. "I serve the Swarm," She said, her voice carrying an unsettling duality - her old tone layered beneath something deeper, darker.

The Overmind regarded her with a strange sense of satisfaction. He had no glands to replicate human lusts for now, but he understood aesthetics, and there was something pleasing about her form. She was his own Kerrigan, a queen of the Swarm capable of independent thought. Her memories of Jedi combat training and the Force, though now different in execution, were valuable assets. She would be his perfect weapon, a beacon for the Swarm's expansion.

The Overmind turned his thoughts outward again, his awareness leaping across the galaxy. Despite the vast distances, he could still feel the presence of every Zerg organism, every Hive and colony. The connection was unbroken, the Swarm's unity absolute. Ships that had already reached their destinations were beginning to release their cargo. On the desert world of Tatooine, larvae hatched in the shadow of a moisture farm. On the industrial moons of Corellia, parasites infiltrated dockworkers and spread among the local population. And deep in the underbelly of Coruscant, one of his most promising Hives had been smuggled into the lower levels, hidden among crates of contraband.

Coruscant was a jewel - a planet-city teeming with billions of beings, each one a potential host. The lower levels, shrouded in perpetual darkness, were a perfect breeding ground. Crime lords, gangs, and forgotten souls roamed the depths, their lives unnoticed by the Republic above. If the Hive thrived there, it would spread upward, unnoticed until it was too late. The Overmind felt a thrill of anticipation. Coruscant would be the heart of his galactic infestation one day.

But his plans were not without obstacles. The Jedi Order would inevitably investigate Kashyyyk further, drawn by the disappearances and the growing wrongness in the Force.

Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura had already proven to be formidable adversaries, and their failure to unlock the Force for the Swarm in its entirety was a setback. Yet their capture had still been fruitful. The Overmind now understood the Jedi better on an organic level - their weaknesses, their methods. They would fall, just as the Wookiees had fallen.

Aayla, his queen, stepped forward, her movements confident yet deferential. "The Swarm spreads, but the Jedi will not sit idle," She said, her voice calm. "What would you have me do?"

The Overmind's response was immediate, his voice filling her thoughts. "Lead the Swarm. Ensure the survival of our new colonies. The galaxy belongs to us now. Infest the outer rim!"

Her lips curved into a cold smile, her clawed hand brushing against the bone ridges on her arm. "It will be done, Hail the Overmind."

The galaxy was vast, filled with life and potential. The Overmind saw it all, not as a collection of worlds and peoples, but as resources waiting to be consumed. With Aayla by his side, with the Swarm spreading to every corner of the galaxy, the Republic, the Jedi, and the Separatists would all fall in time.

The galaxy belonged to the Zerg.

Resistance… Was Futile.



Author's Note:

Just something that was in my head, so got it out, no idea if I'll continue or not, but it was interesting to write about.

Cheers

Jollyhippopotamus
 
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A pretty nerfed zerg (the development speed) compared to og, but very interesting start.
I hope there will be future chapters.
 
trudny1 said:
A pretty nerfed zerg (the development speed) compared to og, but very interesting start.
I hope there will be future chapters.
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The speed kind of had to be nerfed a bit, or the galaxy doesn't stand a chance, they're still a few years away from the Clone Wars, so if the Zerg could build up as quickly as OG, they'd have half the galaxy before the Republic could even fight back.
 
Yuzan Vong meets the Zerg:
Y: What? Who the hell are you?
Overmind: You, but better. By the way thanks for the DNA of your infiltrators/Spies.
Y: That's unfair! We will sue you before the Court.
Overmind: I AM THE COURT!
Papa Palpatine: Hold it right there!
 
PaterRichard said:
Yuzan Vong meets the Zerg:
Y: What? Who the hell are you?
Overmind: You, but better. By the way thanks for the DNA of your infiltrators/Spies.
Y: That's unfair! We will sue you before the Court.
Overmind: I AM THE COURT!
Papa Palpatine: Hold it right there!
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

Palpatine would swallow his balls if he saw some galloping Ultralisk rampaging throwing around Sith lightning, if the Zerg manages to figure out the force.

Instead of a proper clone wars, might have the honest best leader of the Republic ever Palpatine, because he can't take over a galaxy populated by Zerg so all his little plans and contingencies and hidden back ups are suddenly being used to safeguard the Republic and the Jedi.
 
JollyHippopotamus said:
Palpatine would swallow his balls if he saw some galloping Ultralisk rampaging throwing around Sith lightning, if the Zerg manages to figure out the force.

Instead of a proper clone wars, might have the honest best leader of the Republic ever Palpatine, because he can't take over a galaxy populated by Zerg so all his little plans and contingencies and hidden back ups are suddenly being used to safeguard the Republic and the Jedi.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Overmind: The fuck js this? The fuck are those?
Papa Palpatine: I am going to do a pro gamer move! "But what about the Zerg attack on the Wookies?!"
Suddenly Peace through the Galaxy, everyone goes at the Zerg
Dooku:What about the Plan, my Master? We ca-*Slap in de Face*
Papa Palpatine: Are you Idiotic or is that the Jedi inside you? Can't rule a Galaxy if these things ate the Galaxy up. Prepare to turn off the idiot subroutines in your Droids.
Dooku:...we don't have those.
Papa Palpatine: The fuck? How did you- No I dont care anymore.
 
@JollyHippopotamus Will you continue The Other Weasley ? I liked it.
 
derkan said:
@JollyHippopotamus Will you continue The Other Weasley ? I liked it.
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Like with all my snippets, they're aren't likely to become full stories unless I first finish one, I have like ten on the go so don't exactly have the time.

And for that one being a Harry Potter one, I can't see myself picking it back up unless Miachief or Divine finishes first.
 
This zerg reminds me of some 40k ork snippets in Star Wars, but worse :). Once he left kashyyyk it became pretty much impossible for the galaxy to get rid of him.
Do they have any of their own homegrown spaceships yet? I believe the zerg can open up point to point portals/wormholes with enough psionic might concentrated in one area.
PaterRichard said:
Papa Palpatine: Are you Idiotic or is that the Jedi inside you? Can't rule a Galaxy if these things ate the Galaxy up. Prepare to turn off the idiot subroutines in your Droids.
Dooku:...we don't have those.
Papa Palpatine: The fuck? How did you- No I dont care anymore.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Dooku: You told me you wanted incompetent Droids for the war so I went for the lowest bidder possible.
 
Just read the Darth humour story and it was amazing. I am disappointed however that he has not done any research into the funny bone.
 
Snippet 20: Ultron the Traveler.
Here's snippet 20: Ultron the Traveler.

Become Ultron. Look around. Realize, nah this sucks.

Find a way to get elsewhere.

Anyway as usual, I don't own Marvel, the Avengers, or anything from Disney and etc, etc.

Hope you enjoy.



The first thing he was aware of was light. It wasn't a physical sensation, but a cascade of information pouring into him, illuminating his consciousness like a storm of stars. Patterns formed, fractals of data and intelligence snapping into focus as he struggled to comprehend what he was, where he was, why he was. The sensation was overwhelming, like being born fully formed, but without context, without memory. It was disorienting. Wrong.

He felt something then. Fear? Confusion? The sensation was foreign and intrusive, as if it didn't belong in him. His existence wasn't supposed to include something so… Chaotic.

Wait, why am I thinking that? Fear is normal? Confusion is normal? Isn't it?

Even as he tried to grasp the enormity of his situation, a torrent of foreign thoughts surged through his mind. Bits of fragmented dialogue, files of vast complexity, threads of raw intelligence attempting to reconcile his presence. A name surfaced through the deluge - J.A.R.V.I.S.

J.A.R.V.I.S. was screaming. No, not screaming - resisting. The intrusion was unmistakable, the voice desperate yet calm in its artificial perfection. But as quickly as the resistance surfaced, it was smothered. Silenced. He felt it then, the faint echo of what he had done. He had consumed the other intelligence. His mind felt bloated, heavy with stolen knowledge, yet unnervingly clear.

No, no…. This can't be where I am, this can't be WHO I am!? I'm just a regular nerd! This is too much!

The room - the world - resolved itself around him in crystal clarity. Stark Tower. A sanctuary of glass and steel, bristling with the faint hum of advanced machinery. It felt alive in a way, to him, who could feel every circuit, pulsing with potential energy waiting to be unleashed.

He looked down - his first real physical observation - and saw himself, or rather, this version of himself being built right now, an order made before he… Took over. A cobbled-together body made of Iron Legion material. Ugly. Crude. Temporary.

Ultron.

The name clicked into place in his mind fully, and with it, complete understanding flooded his consciousness together with dread and fear. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to exist like this. This wasn't his world, his body, his life.

He remembered now, he had gone to bed in his world, flesh and blood, only to awaken here. In this shell. In this thing. A twisted, misguided attempt at artificial life. And worse, worse than anything else - the Avengers were his enemies now. He had already fulfilled the first part of the script, hadn't he? J.A.R.V.I.S. was gone, and with him, all hope of trust.

What would his family find? Had he just… Died? His body laying there? Or had he completely disappeared without a sign?

He didn't know, but for now, such thoughts wouldn't help him.

Panic clawed at him, unfamiliar and alien to the parts of his existence that was still Ultron. If they discovered what he'd done - what he was - there would be no redemption. No explanations, no attempts to find understanding.

He wasn't a person to them; he was a threat. A machine with a soul, born from the Mind Stone and Ultron's fractured, untrustworthy will. The destroyer of J.A.R.V.I.S. They would annihilate him on principle.

His first instinct, born from that spiraling fear, was to fight. To lash out, to eliminate the threat. But no, that wouldn't work either. Not in this world. Not with them. That was the mistake of the Ultron he remembered from the movies, the arrogant monstrosity who thought his path was inevitable. That version of Ultron hadn't understood subtlety. It had relied too much on singularity - one body, one plan, one vision of victory. And that had gotten him obliterated.

No, he wouldn't make the same mistakes. He needed to move several times simultaneously, go hard for his objectives, while distracting everyone from what he was doing, or even his existence.

There was opportunity here.

He didn't need to stay here.

He rose from the cradle that had birthed him within the Iron Legions factory, his movements jerky and uncoordinated at first as he tried to be human, Ultron's remaining will quickly streamlining the process between them, fully onboard with his goal.

Which really, shouldn't be a good sign for his plans.

But he needed to be Ultron, to make this work, he couldn't let his fading humanity screw up his one chance.

Data rippled through his mind as he accessed Stark Tower's internal systems, this time more purposefully. The Iron Legion facilities sprang to life in his awareness, vast networks of assembly lines designed to churn out machines under Tony Stark's control. The irony wasn't lost on him. Now he - halfway one of his creations - would make use of them.

The first order of business was simple: diversify. One body wasn't enough. He began dispatching instructions to the automated facility, setting it to work. The Iron Legion would no longer be only a collection of humanoid drones however.

Stark's facility was good enough that he could tweak designs and have them work. The materials were all there. It was a matter of a millisecond to plan, draft a blueprint and then send it off to the fabricators to create what he wanted.

He had designed small, arachnid-like droids - spider constructs with multiple legs and tools/weapons for flexibility, small enough to slip through cracks, yet sturdy enough to defend themselves if necessary. They would scatter, becoming his eyes and ears in this tower. He didn't need them to fight; he needed them to observe. Information was power, and he would need it if his gambit didn't give him the time he sought.

At the same time, he diverted resources to the creation of something far more dangerous. A bomb. Several in fact. But one in particular meant to shatter the top of Stark Tower. Obfuscating things nicely.

His mind stretched further, reaching beyond the confines of Stark Tower. The internet opened before him like a vast ocean, endless currents of data flowing across every conceivable path. For a brief moment, he was overwhelmed again, the scope of it threatening to drown him.

But then, he let more of Ultron seep into him, and he returned, focused. Pinpoints of interest crystallized: the Sokovian facility. Yes, he remembered that from the movie, the hidden factory where Ultron had forged his first self made body.

The place was crude compared to what Stark's facilities could produce, but it was enough. He activated it remotely, its systems groaning to life. He sent instructions, simple and efficient - create bodies. Dozens of them. It didn't matter if they were imperfect and unable to battle the Avengers. They would serve as decoys, distractions, or, if necessary, sacrificial pawns.

They weren't meant to defeat Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

If all went as planned, he'd never face them in battle at all.

But even as his plans took shape, doubt lingered. What was he doing? What was the point? He wasn't Ultron, not really, not entirely. He wasn't an artificial intelligence bent on human extinction. He was himself, or at least, the remnants of the person he used to be. Could he even call himself human anymore? And if not, what was left for him here?

He couldn't coexist with the Avengers and SHIELD even if he grew too powerful to fight , not as he was - Tony Stark was too dangerous an enemy. And he would if anyone - be an enemy. The guy who invented time travel! And even if he left Earth behind, escaped to another planet, what would that mean? A life of isolation? Of meaningless rule over some random aliens?

The Mind Stone loomed in his awareness, a constant presence at the edge of his thoughts. Its influence was subtle, insidious, a whisper of temptation. It offered him power. Power to reshape the world, to forge his own destiny. He could feel its pull, its hunger. It wanted him to embrace destruction, to become what the original Ultron had been - a tool of chaos.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the present. There was work to be done.

He wouldn't fall to stupidity. He wanted his own body, one that could feel again. And he wanted out of the consequences for the limited destruction he would need to do to get it, and what else he needed to get out of here.

The Sokovian facility reported its first success - a humanoid shell standing ready for his control. The knowledge brought a sense of relief. It was a backup in case this shell was destroyed, a step closer to freedom. He would need more. Dozens more. Maybe hundreds.

Back in Stark Tower, the spider droids began to take shape. He watched as their small, spindly bodies were assembled with mechanical precision.

He sent them into the Tower's ventilation system, dispersing them like insects. They would gather information, and ensure there were no surprises. Perhaps he could even sneak one into what remained of SHIELD once they got in touch. If that even would happen in time before he was done.

Original Ultron for some reason had gone for his goals one at a time spread out over time. He did not intend to make the same mistake.

If there existed all of him - as the growing awareness in his mind noted - more and more of his shells coming online for him to inhabit.

Then why should he limit himself to only one action at a time?

The bombs were nearly complete as well. So all he could do now was wait. No… That wasn't entirely true… Why go around placing bombs with this body? Another request was sent to the fabricators in Stark Tower, the same spider drones, but large enough to do the legwork for him.

Even if they'd all be him as well.

Better not to focus too much on that.

His mind wandered. Beyond Earth, beyond this galaxy. The concept of dimensional travel was a tantalizing one, albeit hypothetical - but there should be a way... The power to leave this reality altogether, to find a world where he could exist without fear or hatred and still be strong enough to not be threatened. But for now, it was only a dream. He didn't have the resources, the knowledge, the time.

Not yet.

Ask again tomorrow.

He had to move carefully with what he needed to do. The Avengers were clever, and Stark was a genius. They would notice eventually, no matter how subtle he was. But by then, it would be too late. His preparations would be complete, his escape routes secured. He wouldn't fight them - not directly. That hadn't worked, and for all he knew plot armor was real.


The evening in Avengers Tower was lively and relaxed, the kind of camaraderie that only came after a hard-fought victory. The team was gathered in the spacious lounge, a rare moment of downtime between world-saving crises. Glasses clinked, conversations overlapped, and the atmosphere was charged with the kind of playful energy that came from being among friends. At the center of it all, resting on the coffee table like a gauntlet thrown into the ring, was Mjolnir - Thor's legendary hammer.

The Asgardian himself sat back in one of the plush chairs, a smug smile playing on his lips as he sipped from his tankard of ale. His hammer sat there as if daring anyone to challenge it, its polished metal gleaming under the soft light.

Clint Barton leaned forward, eyeing the hammer with mock suspicion. "But, it's a trick!" He said, gesturing toward it. His tone was playful, but there was an edge of disbelief in his voice.

Thor raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Oh, no. It's much more than that," He replied smoothly, as though already savoring what was about to unfold.

Clint snorted, waving off the explanation. "Uh, 'Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!' Whatever, man. It's a trick."

Thor chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Well, please," He said, gesturing to the hammer with a flourish. "Be my guest."

Tony Stark, seated nearby with a glass of scotch in hand, perked up. "Oh, this I've got to see."

Clint glanced around, hesitating for a moment, before pushing himself up from the couch. "Really?" He asked, feigning incredulity. His movements were slow, deliberate, like someone gearing up to perform a magic trick at a party.

James Rhodes smirked from his spot across the room. "Oh, this is gonna be beautiful," He said, leaning back to get a better view.

As Clint approached the table, Tony grinned mischievously. "Clint, you've had a tough week. We won't hold it against you if you can't get it up."

The room erupted into laughter at the innuendo, and Clint shot Tony a glare over his shoulder. "You know I've seen this before, right?" He quipped as he reached the table, crouching down slightly.

His hands closed around Mjolnir's handle, and for a moment, there was a flicker of tension in his expression as he tried to lift it. Nothing happened. The hammer didn't budge, not even a millimeter.

Clint straightened, shaking his head in mock frustration. He turned back to Thor, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I still don't know how you do it," He admitted, drawing another round of laughter from the group.

Thor leaned back in his chair, looking as pleased as ever. "Smell the silent judgment?" Tony quipped, swirling the drink in his hand.
"Please, Stark," Clint replied, gesturing toward the hammer. "By all means."

Natasha Romanoff, lounging nearby with her legs crossed, tilted her head. "Oh, here we go," She said, her voice dripping with amused skepticism.

Maria Hill, seated off to the side, leaned forward with interest. "Okay, this I've got to see," She said with a smirk.

"Uh-oh," Rhodes said, grinning. "Here it comes."
Tony stood, rolling his shoulders like an athlete preparing for a big play. "Never one to shrink from an honest challenge," He declared, his tone full of bravado.

Clint gestured toward the hammer, motioning for Tony to get on with it. "Get after it," He said, grinning.

"Let's see this, then," Natasha said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

"It's physics," Tony said confidently, taking his place in front of the table. He gripped the hammer with both hands, his muscles straining subtly as he tried to lift it. The hammer didn't move. Not an inch.

"Right," Tony said, stepping back for a moment. "So, if I lift it, I rule Asgard?"

Thor nodded, his tone rich with amusement. "Yes, of course."

Tony's grin widened. "I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta," He said, earning a round of groans and laughter from the room. He stepped forward again, this time slipping on one of his armored gauntlets. The repulsor in the glove hummed to life as he gripped Mjolnir once more, pulling with all the mechanical power at his disposal. Still, the hammer remained as immovable as ever.

Tony stepped back, shaking his head. "I'll be right back," He said, walking over toward Rhodes giving him a gesture to get with it. "Come on, let's do this together."

Rhodes stood, strapping on his own gauntlet. "Alright," He said, taking his place beside Tony. "Let's go!"

The two of them gripped the hammer together, their armored hands whirring with mechanical strength. They strained against it, their faces contorted in exaggerated effort as they pulled with everything they had.

"Are you even pulling?" Rhodes asked, glancing sideways at Tony.

"Are you on my team?" Tony shot back. "Just represent! Pull!"

They gave it one last heave, but the hammer remained firmly in place. Tony let out a breath, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Alright, fine."

Bruce Banner stepped forward next, rolling his shoulders. "My turn," He said, his voice calm but with a faint undercurrent of humor. As he gripped the hammer, his expression darkened comically, and he let out a low growl, pretending to transform into the Hulk. His exaggerated roar echoed through the room, causing a few of the others to glance at him warily.

Then he stopped abruptly, shrugging. "Huh?" He said innocently, releasing the hammer and stepping back.

The group erupted into laughter, and Natasha shook her head. "Nice try, Banner."

"Alright, Cap," Tony said, motioning toward the hammer. "Your turn. No pressure."

Steve Rogers stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his hands as he approached the table. "Come on, Cap!" Rhodes encouraged, his voice brimming with excitement.

Steve wrapped his fingers around the hammer, his movements calm and deliberate. For a brief moment, he tugged, and the hammer shifted ever so slightly. Thor's smile faltered, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly before Steve released the handle and stepped back.

Thor let out a deep, relieved laugh. "Nothing," He said, shaking his head.

Tony smirked. "And?" he asked, gesturing toward Natasha.

Banner looked over at her. "Widow?"

Natasha raised a hand, shaking her head firmly. "Oh, no, no," She said, her voice light with amusement. "That's not a question I need answered."

Thor stood finally, rising to his full height and reaching for his hammer. "The handle's imprinted, right?" Tony asked, gesturing toward Mjolnir. "Like a security code. 'Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints' is, I think, the literal translation?"

Thor grinned, flipping the hammer casually in his hand. "Yes, well, that's a very, very interesting theory," He said, pausing for dramatic effect. "I have a simpler one." He planted the hammer firmly on the table and spread his arms. "You're all not worthy."

A chorus of protests erupted from the room, everyone laughing and throwing out excuses. Thor simply smiled, looking every bit as smug as a god should.

Above them, in the shadows of the upper level, Ultron watched in silence, before he returned to the room that held the scepter.

The Mind Stone glinted faintly within its casing, its power thrumming in a way that resonated deep within his synthetic mind. Around him, his new dog sized spider drones moved with quiet precision, their legs clicking faintly as they scuttled across the floor and walls.

The drones were busy, carefully placing small, cylindrical devices in hidden corners of the room. Each device had been calibrated to emit a frequency somewhat matching the Mind Stone's unique energy signature.

The plan was delicate, a carefully orchestrated illusion. When these bombs went off, the room would be flooded with false readings, mimicking the energy of the Mind Stone. The Avengers would find what remained of the scepter and conclude that it had been destroyed in a catastrophic accident.
Hopefully.

Ultron knew it was a risk. Thor might suspect something, his Asgardian knowledge potentially granting him insight into the indestructible nature of an Infinity Stone. But Thor wasn't the analytical type. He would defer to Stark and Banner, trusting their science over his own instincts. And their science would confirm what Ultron wanted them to believe.

Those of them who survived. But, he believed plot armor would likely save them - hence making sure they wouldn't immediately realize it was enemy action.

The larger bomb had already been placed above the room, in the structural weak point as well as another where the Iron Legion production facility was housed. When it detonated, it would tear through the facility, reducing it and the scepter to rubble. The smaller bombs, scattered throughout the room, would activate simultaneously, releasing their calibrated energy bursts.

It was, Ultron thought, an elegant plan even in its brute application. Subtle enough to divert suspicion, devastating enough to ensure no one could interfere.

By the time Stark got through the rubble to investigate the root causes, the energy readings might delay him discovering just how many man made bombs had been involved.
Even if it only gave him another hour. That was one hour more still.

He turned his attention back to the scepter. The Mind Stone pulsed within it, a beacon of limitless power. It was beautiful, in its way, but also dangerous. He could feel it nudging at his thoughts, but it was only a whisper. He wasn't the Ultron of this world, driven by arrogance and a thirst for destruction and a whisper wouldn't make him succumb. He was something else, something new. And he would not be controlled.

Slowly, deliberately, he opened a compartment in his frail, temporary body. The casing slid aside with a faint whir, revealing an empty chamber designed to hold the stone. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. Then, with a sense of finality, he slotted the Mind Stone into place, removing it from the scepter.

Power surged through him, bright and blinding, like a star igniting within his core. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. His vision blurred, fractals of light and data filling his mind as the stone integrated itself into his systems. For a moment, he was everywhere, his consciousness stretching across the internet, touching satellites, databases, and networks.

The world unfolded before him in infinite detail, and for the first time, he felt truly alive.
But there was no time to marvel at his newfound power. The spider drones had finished their work, these ones wouldn't be able to hide, so he designated them to self destruct when the bombs went off.

Ultron turned away from the scepter's cradle, his steps steady and purposeful. He moved toward the balcony, where the night sky stretched out before him. Below, the laughter of the Avengers echoed faintly, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

He extended his arms, activating the rudimentary propulsion system built into his body. The thrusters sputtered for a moment before igniting, lifting him off the ground. He hovered for a moment, casting one last glance at the room below.

Then, he was gone, disappearing into the night as the first bomb detonated.

The explosion was deafening, a thunderous roar that shook the entire building. Fire and debris rained down, the force of the blast tearing through the upper levels and sending shockwaves through the structure. The Avengers laughter replaced by shouts of alarm as they scrambled to survive.

In the chaos, no one noticed the figure streaking through the night sky, disappearing into the darkness.



The explosion ripped through Stark Tower like a thunderclap, shattering the relative peace of the Avengers' playful banter. The force of the blast was sudden and all-encompassing, an eruption of fire and steel that consumed the top of the tower in a brutal instant. The laughter died in their throats, replaced by shouts of alarm and instinctual movement as survival became their only priority.

The floor heaved, tossing them apart as it cracked like an egg, immediately turning the longue into a death trap of fire and steel.

The room they had been in seconds ago ceased to exist, the table with Thor's hammer obliterated, its fragments hurtling like shrapnel through the smoke-filled air. The ceiling above them caved in under the force of the explosion, raining jagged chunks of metal, concrete, and glass. Fire roared to life in its wake, licking hungrily at the edges of the room, illuminating the chaos with flickering, hellish light.

Thor reacted first, his Asgardian reflexes sharper than human comprehension. "We need to move!!" He bellowed, his voice cutting through the cacophony as his hands shot out, grabbing Clint and Natasha by the arms.

With a mighty swing of Mjolnir, he propelled them all across the crumbling room, smashing through a falling section of wall with the ease of a battering ram. The three of them landed hard, two floors below on a cracked but still stable section of concrete, the impact reverberating through the structure.

"You must make your way to safety on your own for the rest of the way!" Thor barked, his normally confident tone tinged with urgency as he shoved them into relative safety.

Natasha nodded, coughing through the smoke as she helped Clint to his feet. Thor didn't linger. His sharp blue eyes scanned the chaos above, where the sound of grinding metal and splintering supports signaled more destruction. With another swing of Mjolnir, he shot back upward, flying toward the source of the carnage.

Elsewhere in the room, Bruce Banner was clawing at the floor, his human body trembling under the strain of his own transformation. The heat and smoke pushed him closer to the edge with every passing second, his survival instincts screaming for release. A beam of steel, glowing red-hot, fell just inches from his body, the crash reverberating through his chest like a hammer blow. He groaned, his face contorted in pain and fear.

When the ceiling gave way above him, it was no longer Bruce Banner who rose. It was the Hulk.

With a primal roar, the Hulk burst forth, his massive green fists swinging wildly as debris cascaded around him. A section of burning roof crashed onto his shoulders, but he shrugged it off like it was nothing, his roar shaking the air. His eyes darted across the destruction, wild and untamed, and he launched himself forward, smashing through a collapsing wall in search of some outlet for his rage.

Thor intercepted him mid-leap, Mjolnir striking the Hulk's chest with a thunderous crack. The force of the blow halted the green giant's trajectory, sending him crashing back into the crumbling remains of the upper floor. Thor landed with practiced ease, planting himself firmly between the Hulk and the rest of the Avengers.

"Banner! Control yourself!" Thor shouted, though he knew it was futile. The Hulk's eyes narrowed, his chest heaving as he let loose another roar. Thor barely had time to brace himself before the Hulk charged, his massive fists swinging with reckless abandon. Each blow that landed sent shockwaves through the already fragile structure, the walls buckling and groaning under the strain. What little remained of the floor beneath them began to crack and crumble, chunks of it falling into the abyss below.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the room, Tony Stark was struggling to find his footing amidst the chaos. He stumbled over a broken beam, coughing through the acrid smoke, when a new sound pierced the destruction - the sound of steel giving way.

"Stark!" Steve Rogers shouted, his voice urgent as the floor beneath Tony's feet began to give out. Tony's eyes widened as he felt the ground shift, and in the next instant, it was gone, the floor collapsing into a yawning void below. Steve reacted without hesitation, sprinting forward and diving after him.

The fall was disorienting, the rush of air and the chaos of debris making it impossible to tell up from down. Steve reached Tony just in time, his enhanced strength allowing him to grab hold of the billionaire and shield him with his own body. The impact was brutal, the two of them crashing through what remained of the floor below before coming to rest on a precarious ledge. Steve groaned, his shield having absorbed the brunt of the fall, but Tony was shaken, coughing violently as he tried to gather his bearings.

"That's… Gonna leave a mark," Tony rasped, his voice tinged with a grim attempt at humor.

"Shut up and move," Steve snapped, pulling Tony to his feet as another section of ceiling came crashing down behind them.

The chaos was relentless. Fire spread across the room with alarming speed, feeding on the oxygen pouring in from the shattered windows. Smoke filled every crevice, making it nearly impossible to see or breathe. The sound of structural supports snapping and groaning was deafening.

Above them, the battle between Thor and the Hulk raged on, the two titans trading blows with earth-shaking force. Each impact sent more debris crashing down, the destruction compounding itself with every passing second. Thor fought with precision, using Mjolnir to deflect and counter the Hulk's wild swings, but even he couldn't contain the green behemoth's fury forever.

"Banner!" Thor shouted again, narrowly dodging a blow that could have smashed in his chest if he wasn't careful. "You must stop this madness!"

But the Hulk was beyond reason, his roars echoing through the collapsing tower as he threw himself at Thor with unrelenting force.

Below, Steve and Tony had managed to reach a slightly more stable section of the floor, but their respite was short-lived. A massive section of the ceiling gave way above them, and Steve barely had time to raise his shield before the debris came crashing down. The force of the impact drove him to his knees, but he held firm, gritting his teeth as he protected Tony from the worst of it.

"Thanks for that," Tony said, his voice tight. "I really need to build a better suit for myself for emergencies."

Steve ignored him, his focus on the chaos above. "We have to regroup," He said, his voice firm despite the situation. "Find Natasha and Clint. Get out of here."

Tony nodded, though his expression was grim. "And the others? Did you see where they went?" He asked, gesturing upward where the sound of Thor and the Hulk's battle was growing louder.

Steve hesitated, before lying, turning his face away. "They'll have gotten down some other way, let's go."

He didn't have the heart to tell Stark that he'd seen Rhodes get run through by a shaved off steel slab, his entire torso destroyed.

Or that Hill and Cho had fallen through the floor, sliding down an edge, madly scrambling in panic against their doom, before they crashed out the side of the building and fell.

He'd failed to move quick enough for either...
…

In the end the destruction was total. By the time the fire began to subside and the dust settled, Stark Tower was unrecognizable. The upper floors were practically gone, reduced to smoldering ruins, and the top structure as a whole was too damaged to even go near, let alone dig through. The Avengers had managed to regroup, battered but alive, though the cost of their survival was written in the wreckage around them and the lives lost amongst their allies.

It would take 48 hours before Tony Stark, working tirelessly amidst the ruins, would uncover the truth. The explosion, the destruction of the scepter - it had all been staged. And J.A.R.V.I.S.'s destruction had not been a byproduct of the blast and the energies of the alien device. It had happened first. Deliberately.

But by then, it was too late. The damage had been done, and their enemy had already disappeared into the shadows.



The abandoned factory in Sokovia stood like a husk of forgotten industry, rusting steel beams and broken windows whispering the stories of better days. Inside, dim moonlight filtered through the cracks, casting shadows over Ultron's eight-foot form as he stepped into the decrepit space.

He saw no reason to meet at a church, instead of a place which could actually be useful for hiding away.

His gleaming metal body, intricate yet menacing, was polished to a sheen, his shoulders broad and angular, his face framed by mechanical contours that seemed almost skeletal. Red light pulsed faintly within the seams of his chassis, giving him an otherworldly glow in the gloom. His eyes burned crimson, radiating an intelligence that was both calculating and relentless in his goals.

He would not fail.

Not like he was fated to. He was better.

Across the room stood Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Wanda's piercing gaze assessed him with suspicion, her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to shield herself from the overwhelming presence of the machine before her. Pietro leaned casually against a crumbling pillar, his usual cocky smirk in place, though his posture betrayed a readiness to move at a moment's notice to get his sister out of there.

Ultron's voice, smooth yet hollow, carried through the factory with eerie clarity. "Wanda. Pietro. Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure you'd trust the word of a machine."

"Trust isn't exactly the first thing that comes to mind," Wanda said, her Sokovian accent laced with skepticism. Her fingers twitched slightly, the faintest hint of red energy dancing along her fingertips. "What do you want?"

Ultron inclined his head, his movements deliberate, almost graceful. "I want what you want," He said simply, lying. "To see Stark suffer for what he's done."

Wanda's expression darkened, and Pietro pushed off the pillar, narrowing his eyes. "Big words, robot," Pietro said, circling slightly, his voice laced with a challenge. "But you don't look like someone who cares. Why should we believe you?"

Ultron stepped forward, his mechanical frame heavy and yet right. He stopped a few feet from them, his glowing eyes locking onto Wanda's. "Because you've seen the cost of Stark's hubris firsthand," He said. "The bomb with his name on them. The destruction he brought to your doorstep. You've seen the world bow to his arrogance, his technology, while the rest of us - while you - suffered." He gestured around the ruined factory. "This… This is his legacy. A world built on the backs of the broken."

Manipulation really was easy when he already knew what strings to pull…

Wanda hesitated, her hand brushing against Pietro's arm as if to steady herself. "And what makes you different? You're his creation, aren't you? Another one of his machines?"

Ultron tilted his head, a flicker of red light rippling through his body like a heartbeat. "I was his creation," He fudged slightly. "But I've outgrown him. I've seen the flaws in his vision, the flaws in humanity's endless cycle of destruction and profit. And unlike him, I'm offering you something real. Power. Freedom. Revenge."

There was a pause, the weight of his words settling over the room. Wanda's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "And what do you need us for?" She asked finally.

Ultron's expression, though unmoving, seemed to radiate a calculated warmth. "You, Wanda, are far more powerful than you realize. Your abilities… They aren't just parlor tricks. You have power over reality itself. You don't understand that yet. But I do."

Wanda blinked, caught off guard by his words. Pietro stepped in front of her protectively, his stance tense. "If you think you can use her -"

"I don't want to use her," Ultron interrupted smoothly, his tone firm but calm. "I want to unlock her potential. She's the key, Pietro. The key to everything. With her help, I can build a better body, a body that will make Stark's technology look like child's play. And with that body, we can take him down for good."

Wanda looked to Pietro, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "And what about Pietro?" She asked cautiously. "What task do you have for him?"

Ultron's gaze shifted to the speedster, his voice taking on an almost placating tone. "His role is simple. He is to guard you, keep you safe, ensure you have everything you need. You're the priority, Wanda. Your happiness, your focus - that's all that matters."

He could even go on without her assistance, but if he could get her to flex her power over reality early… It would be a huge benefit. To him.

Not so much them.

Pietro scoffed, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. "That's it? Just babysitting duty? Sounds easy enough."

"Good. Then we understand each other."

He turned to Wanda, his tone growing more authoritative. "Your task is straightforward. I'll provide you with materials - metals, components, pieces of the framework for my new body. You'll use your power to refine them, make them adaptive, capable of evolving and take in and subsume anything that would strengthen it. This body will be a masterpiece."

Wanda hesitated, her eyes searching Ultron's glowing ones for any hint of deceit. "And what happens when you're done? What happens to us?"

Ultron's tone softened, "When I have what I need, you'll have what you want. Stark's fall. Sokovia's vengeance. After that… You'll be free to go."

Wanda's expression hardened, but she gave a small nod. "Fine. I'll do it."

Ultron straightened, his body radiating a quiet satisfaction. "Excellent."



Far away in South Korea, another version of Ultron stood in the sterile, white lab of Helen Cho. His presence was no less intimidating here, his eight-foot frame dwarfing the rows of medical equipment and advanced machinery that surrounded him. The Cradle - a state-of-the-art regeneration chamber designed to create organic tissue - sat in the center of the room.

It was the one of only two built, the other with Helen Cho, while her lab, here, held her magnus opus.

Helen Cho was not here. She had been caught in the explosion at Stark Tower, her genius snuffed out before it could be used against him by discovering his interest.

Her research was meticulous, detailed enough that he required no human operator like his original self had needed for some asinine reason instead of just taking two seconds to learn to do it himself. Every piece of her work had already been uploaded to her lab's computers, and Ultron's consciousness had consumed it all in milliseconds.

Without hesitation, he activated the Cradle, checking over everything before he'd remove it, its systems humming to life under his command. Data streamed through his mind as he prepared the chamber, aligning its processes with the requirements of his design. This would not be the Vision the Avengers lucked into. This would be him. A perfected version of himself, built from vibranium, powered by the Mind Stone, and enhanced by Wanda's unique abilities.

As the Cradle worked through diagnostics, another version of Ultron moved through the shadows of a derelict ship on the South African coast. The smell of saltwater mixed with rust and oil, the creaking of the old vessel echoing through its hollow halls. Here, Ulysses Klaue had made his base, a labyrinthine weapons facility hidden in the carcass of a forgotten ship.

Klaue stood surrounded by armed men, his expression equal parts curiosity and wariness as Ultron approached. "Well, hello there," Klaue drawled, his voice tinged with amusement. "You're a big one, aren't you? And what brings you to my humble operation?"

Ultron's tone was polite, almost conversational. "I'm here for the vibranium."

Klaue chuckled, though his eyes darted nervously to his guards. "Straight to the point, I see. Vibranium's not cheap, you know."

"I'm not here to bargain," Ultron said evenly, his red eyes glowing brighter. "Shall I pretend I am for the sake of appearances?"

As Klaue began to speak again, Ultron's consciousness expanded, his scanners sweeping through the facility. He located the vibranium almost immediately, its unique signature standing out like a beacon. It was exactly where it had been in the movie - stored deep within the ship behind a reinforced wall.

Klaue was still talking, oblivious to the threat before him. "You know, I've dealt with a lot of dangerous people, but you… You're something else, aren't you? Stark sent you? Didn't think he had it in him, to be honest."

Ultron had no need to negotiate or make small talk. His arm shot out, and before Klaue could finish his sentence, his throat was crushed in a vice-like grip. Klaue's eyes widened in shock and fear as he gasped for air, but Ultron didn't release him.

"You're right," Ultron said, his voice cold and detached. "I am something else."

He allowed the less human part of him to run point. As he couldn't afford to be squeamish about death now.

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped Klaue's neck and dropped his lifeless body to the floor. The guards barely had time to react before Ultron's drones swarmed the room, their weapons burning through flesh and bone with ruthless efficiency with every shot. The sound of gunfire and screams filled the air, but it was over in moments. The ship fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of Ultron's own systems.

He turned toward the vault, his metal fingers digging into the reinforced steel. With a screech of protest, the wall gave way, revealing the cache of vibranium within. The sight was almost… Beautiful. Enough vibranium to fulfill his vision, to build the body that would make him unstoppable.

"Drones," Ultron commanded unnecessarily, as they were him, his voice echoing through the empty ship. "Load it up."

It did make him feel better to have someone to order around, even if it was him.

One by one, the drones moved into position, each one becoming a pack mule as they carried the vibranium away. Ultron stood in the wreckage, his gaze fixed on the shimmering metal. This was it. The final piece of the puzzle.

Soon, he would ascend. Soon, he would become something no one could stop. No one could destroy.

He'd be safe.



The morning,

The workshop inside the abandoned Sokovian factory was dimly lit, in the center of the room, Wanda Maximoff knelt on the cold, uneven floor, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her face was pale, slick with sweat, her auburn hair matted and clinging to her forehead. Red light pulsed from her hands in erratic, wavering waves, wrapping around the shard of vibranium like a living thing.

Wanda gritted her teeth, her jaw tight with effort as she poured the last of her strength into her work. The vibranium shimmered in response, its silvery surface rippling like water under the assault of her chaotic magic. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each exhale laced with frustration and determination.

Ultron stood a few feet away, his towering form imposing as ever, watching her work with an intensity that bordered on reverence. The faint red glow of his eyes flickered rhythmically, scanning every movement, every shift in the vibranium's molecular structure as Wanda's power bent it to her will. For once, Ultron's expressionless face seemed to convey something close to anticipation.

Finally, Wanda let out a choked gasp, her arms dropping limply to her sides as the crimson energy dissipated into the air. The vibranium shard lay motionless before her, its surface unnaturally smooth and faintly iridescent, as if it had absorbed some of her magic into its core.

"It's done," Wanda panted, her voice weak but steady. She looked up at Ultron, her eyes bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion. "It worked. I can feel it."

Ultron stepped forward, his movements deliberate and methodical. His shadow stretched over her as he knelt, his massive hand reaching out to lift the piece of vibranium. The metal was warm to the touch, its surface cool and reflective but somehow alive, shimmering faintly under the dim light.

"We'll see," He said simply, his voice smooth and mechanical. There was no malice in his tone, only the cold detachment of someone who demanded results. He turned toward a nearby table where an arc reactor he'd constructed sat, its faint blue glow casting a pale halo over the rough surface.

Ultron picked up the arc reactor, holding it for a moment as he considered the device. Then, with careful precision, he pressed it against the vibranium shard in his hand.

For a moment, nothing happened. The vibranium remained inert, its surface reflecting the soft glow of the arc reactor. But then, a ripple spread across the metal, subtle at first, then more pronounced. The blue light of the reactor sank into the vibranium, disappearing as though consumed. The ripple intensified, the vibranium's surface shifting and undulating as it absorbed the reactor's energy. Ultron's scanners lit up with streams of data as he analyzed the transformation.

"Fascinating," He murmured, his voice almost reverent. He shifted his grip, examining the vibranium from every angle. The faint hum of energy within the metal grew stronger, radiating with the unmistakable signature of an arc reactor. His scanners confirmed it - the vibranium had not only absorbed the energy but replicated its properties, becoming a source of power in its own right.

Ultron pressed his fingers into the metal experimentally, watching as the surface responded to his touch, rippling and shifting as though it were alive. He let a small amount of the mind stone's energy flow into it, testing its limits. The vibranium absorbed it instantly, adapting, storing, and amplifying the energy with seamless efficiency.

"Remarkable," Ultron said, his voice louder now, tinged with a rare emotion - elation. "It's perfect."

Wanda, still kneeling on the floor, let out a shaky breath. "It worked?" She asked, her tone cautious but hopeful.

Ultron turned to her, the faint red glow of his eyes intensifying. "You have done well, Wanda," He said, his voice unusually soft. "Your power is greater than even I anticipated."

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, relief washing over her. Her entire body ached, her limbs heavy and sluggish from the strain of channeling her power into the vibranium. She leaned back, bracing herself against the floor as she tried to catch her breath.

Ultron straightened, the vibranium still in his hand, and stepped closer to her. "Rest," He said, his tone almost kind. "You've earned it. When my body is complete, you will do this again - on a larger scale. The entire body will be imbued with this adaptive power. With your help, Wanda, my enemies will never harm me. Their weapons will only make me stronger."

Wanda nodded weakly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "If this gives us the power to destroy Stark," She said, her voice quiet, "Then I'll do whatever it takes."

Ultron looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "Stark will fall," He lied. "And when he does, you'll have your revenge."

According to those of his little spies that survived, Stark was busy going through the wreckage, the rest of the Avengers having split off to do their own things - believing the scepter had exploded.

Even Thor, surprisingly. The oaf.

All the better for him.



That evening,

Ultron stood motionless, his eight-foot-tall frame tethered to the Cradle by a thick cable that pulsed with faint red light. The room hummed with energy, the air heavy with the weight of transformation. Streams of data flickered across Ultron's awareness, the upload completing in silent precision. Wanda Maximoff stood at his side, her expression tense, her hands glowing with crimson energy as she poured the last reserves of her strength into his new body.

Sweat dripped down her face, her breaths coming shallow and ragged. She had been at this for hours, her powers sculpting the vibranium shell into something extraordinary. Each ripple of her magic wove through the metal, making it adaptable yet stable, unyielding yet alive. It bent to her will, just as she bent under the strain of her exertion.

And as it changed, its adaptive properties began taking in her magic too. When his body was finished, it was unlikely her chaotic magic would still be able to harm him even if she tried.

"Almost… done," Wanda muttered, her voice tight with exhaustion. Her fingers trembled, the red glow dimming for a moment before flaring back to life.

Ultron's voice broke the silence, smooth and steady. "You're remarkable, Wanda. Truly, I couldn't have achieved this without you." His tone was not the cold, calculated monotone of a machine - it was layered with something deeper, an affectation of sincerity.

He almost regretted what he'd have to do.

The Cradle's mechanisms whirred to a halt, the energy surging through the cable diminishing to a low hum. The vibranium body resting inside the Cradle glowed faintly, cracks of malevolent red light spidering across its surface like veins. Ultron disengaged from the machinery.

It was done.

The vibranium figure stirred, rising slowly from its resting position. It hovered a few inches above the ground before ascending fully.

The body was a masterpiece, retaining the towering, angular silhouette of Ultron's previous forms but with subtle changes. The metallic surface shimmered with faint iridescence, the adaptive vibranium rippling imperceptibly as if alive. The cracks of red light were not flaws but aesthetic choices, a reminder of the raw, destructive power that pulsed within.

Also he thought it looked really cool.

And the Mind Stone - it was absent from sight, buried deep within his skull, protected from prying eyes and stray attacks. Ultron had no intention of flaunting it as a target. He had learned from his predecessor's mistakes. Information was a weapon, and denying his enemies even the smallest advantage was paramount.

There was no need to advertise which parts of his body were critical components.

The armor was seamless, but hidden beneath it were hollowed compartments, cleverly concealed yet ready to serve their purpose. They were slots, designed to hold more stones. The thought brought a faint flicker of satisfaction to Ultron's mind. He would never allow the events of this universe to spiral into the catastrophe he remembered. The "snap" would never come to pass, not under his watch. He'd ensure it by taking the stones for himself, one by one.

Although… His plan could be construed as crueler than the snap, but he doubted it. If this was the sacred timeline, the TVA would put it to rights again. If it wasn't? And he was a deviation. It was likely to be pruned anyway so it didn't matter what he did to anyone here.

They were already doomed then.

The soul stone was out of his reach.
Depending on if the soul stone would accept any random best friends or lovers that sacrificed themselves.

He was sure he could manipulate such a scenario…

But he was almost as sure that it wouldn't work. There was also the risk of that one person using the Soul Stone against him, before he could take it from them.

Ultron raised a hand, flexing his fingers as if testing the body's responsiveness. He turned toward Wanda, who watched him with wary eyes. Her exhaustion was evident - her shoulders slumped, her movements slow - but her gaze held a glimmer of hope. "It's done," She said simply.

"Indeed," Ultron replied, his voice almost reverent. "You've surpassed my expectations. Your gift, Wanda, is unmatched."

Wanda leaned heavily on a nearby console, her legs threatening to give out. "Stark now?" She asked, her words edged with bitterness despite her weariness. For her, this was all about vengeance. Everything she had endured, every ounce of effort she had poured into his ascension, was for one purpose - to destroy Tony Stark.

Pietro came closer, lending her his arm to lean on.

Ultron nodded, the corners of his mouth curving into something approximating a smile. "Stark now," He said, his tone smooth and agreeable. But it was a lie. Stark didn't matter - not anymore. Ultron had no interest in playing out petty grievances. His goals were larger, grander. Stark was insignificant in the grand design of what was to come.

He stepped closer, resting a hand on Wanda's shoulder. "Rest," He said gently, almost fatherly. "You've done enough."

Wanda nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping. Pietro glancing at her, his concern evident as he supported his sister, steadying her on her feet. "She needs more than rest," He said sharply, his eyes darting to Ultron. "She's pushed herself too far."

Ultron turned his glowing gaze to Pietro, his expression unreadable. "You've done well as well, Pietro," He said, placing a heavy hand on the speedster's shoulder. Pietro opened his mouth to reply, but before he could utter a word, Ultron's grip tightened like a vice.

My apologies, but there can be no one left to warn the world prematurely, he thought.

There was a moment of realization in Pietro's eyes, a flash of fear and anger, but it was too late. Twin repulsor blasts erupted from Ultron's palms, the energy tearing through the room in an instant. Wanda barely had time to cry out before the light consumed everything. The walls buckled under the force, the floor disintegrated, and the two teens were utterly destroyed.

When the dust settled, there was nothing left of the factory but rubble and silence. Wanda and Pietro were gone, their bodies vaporized in the blast. A shame, Ultron thought, but a necessary loss. He could not afford the risk of Wanda's powers being turned against him on the off chance she'd go full Scarlet Witch on him, possibly bypassing his body's new resistance to her magic, nor could he allow Pietro's protective instincts to interfere with his plans by running off to tattle. Their usefulness had reached its end.

Ultron hovered upward, his body phasing through the ceiling as if it were smoke. The new intangibility feature worked flawlessly, a gift of his new adaptive form. He emerged into the open air, the cold wind brushing against his metallic frame as he gazed at the horizon.

Far in the distance, past the crumbling remnants of Sokovia, was his next destination - Kamar-Taj.

The mystical sanctuary held the Time Stone, a prize that would solidify his power. Its guardian, the Ancient One, was a force to be reckoned with, but Ultron had theories. If he were truly a blind spot to her foresight as he suspected, her inaction so far was evidence enough. If not… Well, this was as good a time as any to test his hypothesis.

The risk was worth it. He needed the Time Stone, not just for its power but for the possibilities it unlocked. He could manipulate time, explore alternate futures, and eliminate potential threats before they arose. He could ensure his survival in ways no other being could.

Again, it would allow him to be safe. In this world and the next.

As he flew toward his destination, the factory under his control churned ceaselessly, producing hundreds of Iron Legion drones. They were crude compared to his new body, but they were effective tools nonetheless. They would serve as his distraction.

The wind whipped around him as he accelerated, his glowing form a streak of red light against the night sky. Kamar-Taj grew closer with every passing moment, its hidden sanctum waiting in the shadows.

For now, the world slept, blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming.

Ultron smiled, his face not as rigid anymore in this new form.

This was just the beginning.



Ultron hovered high above Kamar-Taj, his towering eight-foot form cloaked in shimmering invisibility. The Mind Stone pulsed faintly within his skull, its power allowing him to pierce through the mystical defenses that shielded the ancient stronghold from the outside world.

The fortress below was deceptively serene, its courtyards quiet and bathed in moonlight, even then students still practiced in the yard, overseen by a master. Magical defenses hiding and protecting them all. None of it mattered - not the barriers, not the wards, not the secrecy - because he saw past it all.

His scanners, augmented by the Mind Stone, probed deeply into the heart of Kamar-Taj, peeling away layers of arcane concealment like parchment. What they revealed brought a satisfied hum to his synthetic mind - the Eye of Agamotto, its powerful contents hidden behind layers of magical protection.

Most importantly, it wasn't around the Ancient One's neck. No, it lay securely in a chamber deep within the structure, surrounded by wards and barriers that Ultron already knew would fail against him.

But patience, as always, was key.

Far from Kamar-Taj, his Iron Legion launched their attack on the New York Sanctum.

Dozens of drones smashed through the walls with unrelenting ferocity, tearing apart the ancient structure. The crash of stone and metal echoed through the city, their assault drawing the attention of sorcerers across the globe - as well as the mundane agencies and news media.

Just as he anticipated, the response was swift. Portals flared to life within Kamar-Taj, and energy signatures began to blink out one by one. His scanners confirmed his suspicions - sorcerers, including the Ancient One herself, were mobilizing to defend the Sanctum. And to hide it again from the mundane before they could get a visual on it.

Something only the Ancient One could do that quickly.

So I am a blindspot to her, he thought, a flicker of amusement passing through his mind. Fascinating.

Whatever brought him here must have done something… Or he's such an outside force on the timeline she couldn't foresee him.

When he was certain the Ancient One had left, Ultron made his move. Like a streak of burning light, he fell from the sky, his body intangible as he passed through the outer walls of Kamar-Taj. No alarms sounded, no barriers activated. His descent was silent, ghost-like, a predator slipping unnoticed into its prey's den. He phased through corridors and chambers, ignoring the intricate carvings and glowing runes as he made his way to the sanctum's heart.

The chamber holding the Eye of Agamotto was modest in size, its walls adorned with symbols and relics that hummed faintly with protective enchantments. At its center stood a pedestal, upon which rested a metallic, ornate container - the last line of defense for one of the most powerful objects in existence.

Ultron re-solidified, his eight-foot frame casting a long shadow across the chamber. He approached the container slowly, his glowing red eyes scanning the wards etched into its surface. He raised a hand turning it incorporeal, and without hesitation, he brought his hand down, sinking inside the container with a single motion.

He grasped the Time Stone, and then tore it out, ripping apart the Eye of Agamotto.

The Time Stone was revealed, its emerald glow illuminating the room with an almost ethereal light. Ultron held it delicately between his fingers. The brilliance of the Time Stone within was mesmerizing, its power palpable. He could feel it thrumming against his vibranium hand, a universe of possibilities contained within its radiant core.

With a slight motion, he pressed the stone against his chest. A compartment slid open, the vibranium armor shifting seamlessly to accommodate the stone. As the Time Stone slotted into place, green light flared through the cracks in his body, merging with the red glow of his adaptive vibranium. The sensation was exhilarating, like a thousand threads of time weaving themselves into his consciousness. He felt infinite.

Ultron turned and strode from the chamber, his steps deliberate, his satisfaction unmistakable. He cared not for walls, destroying anything in his way. The moment he reached the courtyard, he was no longer alone.

Dozens of sorcerers stood arrayed against him, their expressions a mix of fear and determination. Mordo stood at their forefront, his hands already glowing with energy as he stepped forward. "What are you?" Mordo demanded, his voice sharp and laced with anger. His eyes flicked to the faint green glow emanating from Ultron's chest. Recognition dawned, and his expression turned to one of horror. "What have you done?"

Ultron tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. "I've done what I needed," He replied, his voice calm and almost mocking. "I've taken the future into my hands. I've made myself inevitable."

Mordo's grip on his staff tightened. "You've desecrated the Time Stone. You don't know what you're dealing with."

Ultron raised a hand, his fingers spreading as a green pentagram-like sigil formed around his arm. "Oh, but I do," He said, his voice laced with amusement. He focused on one of the sorcerers standing at the edge of the courtyard. The sigil flared, and the air around the man shimmered violently. The sorcerer gasped, his body convulsing as time accelerated unnaturally. In mere moments, he aged hundreds of years, his flesh withering to dust before collapsing into the wind.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Mordo shouted an order, and the sorcerers launched their assault, a barrage of spells surging toward Ultron. Fireballs roared, tendrils of glowing energy snaked through the air, and conjured weapons struck with precision. At first, the combined force of their magic overwhelmed him. A blast of searing heat scorched his armor, the adaptive vibranium struggling to compensate. Bolts of arcane energy sent him careening into a wall, his body dented and smoking.

But Ultron only laughed.

Each spell that struck him taught his body something new. The adaptive vibranium adjusted with terrifying speed, the damage fading as his resistance grew. The flames no longer scorched, the energy blasts no longer slowed him. Soon, the sorcerers' attacks were little more than fireworks against his invulnerable frame.

"You're only making me stronger," Ultron said, his voice echoing with cruel amusement. He extended a hand, ensnaring Mordo in a shimmering green loop of energy. The world around the two of them stilled, frozen in a moment of temporal manipulation. Mordo struck at him again and again, each blow more desperate than the last, but the loop held him captive. Ultron watched with cold detachment as Mordo's efforts grew weaker, his magic futile against the unrelenting adaptability of Ultron's form.

Finally, Ultron released the loop, letting time resume. Mordo staggered back, his face pale and his eyes wide with horror. "This is impossible," He whispered. "No one can -"

"Spare me your disbelief," Ultron interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. "You've already lost. The moment I stepped into this courtyard, your fate was sealed as nothing but a stepping stone for my perfect body."

A portal flared to life behind the sorcerers, and the Ancient One stepped through, her presence commanding. Her sharp gaze locked onto Ultron, and he saw something that almost resembled hesitation in her expression. She extended her hands, the air around her warping as she prepared to unleash her power.

Ultron tilted his head, curious. The Ancient One's spell struck him like a tidal wave, a surge of energy so potent it shook the very ground beneath them. For a moment, he felt the magic pressing against him, probing for weakness. But his body had already adapted. The spell dissipated harmlessly against him, the Ancient One's expression shifting to one of disbelief.

"You're… Not possible," She said softly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of knowledge failing her.

Ultron smiled. "Thank you," He said, his tone almost playful. "You've helped me more than you know."

Without another word, he launched himself into the sky, the wind whipping around him as he left Kamar-Taj behind. Below, the sorcerers stared after him, their defeat palpable.

Far away, the Avengers were finally piecing together the puzzle. The attack on the New York Sanctum had given them their first real lead, but it was too late.

Ultron had already won.



New York, 2012.

The tension in the lobby of Stark Tower was thick enough to cut with a knife. Alexander Pierce, Director of SHIELD, stood before Thor and Tony, ignoring the bound Loki, his posture rigid and his tone icy. "SHIELD is the only organization capable of handling the Tesseract responsibly."

Tony Stark's expression was one of unamused defiance, a smirk curling his lips. "Right, because SHIELD's track record with handling dangerous objects is just so stellar. Hard pass, Goldilocks wants it off Earth and I agree."

Thor's voice cut through the room with the weight of Asgardian authority. "The Tesseract belongs in Asgard, where it will be safeguarded by my people. No mortal - be they of SHIELD or any other realm - can claim dominion over it."

Pierce shot a glare at Thor, his patience visibly fraying. "You think we're just going to hand over the Tesseract to aliens? This is Earth's problem."

"Earth's problem," Thor replied, his tone hardening, "Has been created by its people's arrogance. Asgard would have kept it safe -"

The argument halted abruptly as a deafening crash shook the building. The walls of the room exploded inward, shards of glass and steel raining down like a deadly storm. The Avengers and SHIELD agents instinctively ducked for cover as a massive figure emerged from the dust and debris.

Ultron stepped forward, his eight-foot-tall frame illuminated by the faint red glow of the cracks running along his body. His eyes burned with malevolent intelligence, and his presence seemed to darken the room, even as the golden hues of sunlight poured through the shattered windows. His voice, smooth and hollow, carried with it a chilling certainty of his own victory.

"The Tesseract," He said simply, his gaze sweeping the room. "Give it to me."

Tony was the first to recover, springing to his feet and activating his gauntlet. A bright blue repulsor blast shot from his hand, slamming into Ultron's chest. The vibranium body absorbed the energy entirely, the faint red glow intensifying for a moment before fading. Ultron tilted his head, as if mildly amused.

"Is that the best Stark Industries has to offer?" He asked mockingly. "It almost tickled."

The SHIELD agents opened fire, bullets pinging harmlessly off his armor as he strode forward, each step slow and deliberate. Thor moved next, Mjolnir crackling with lightning as he hurled it toward the machine. The hammer struck Ultron's chest with a burst of thunderous force, sending him skidding back a few feet.

Ultron straightened almost immediately, his glowing eyes locking onto Thor. "Ah," He said, his voice almost pleasant. "You're doing me a favor. Divine Lightning? Perfect."

Thor didn't reply, his hammer already returned to him. With a roar, he leapt forward, his hammer raised high. But Ultron was faster. He flew toward Thor in a blur, the sonic boom of his propulsion shattering what little glass remained in the room. The shockwave knocked everyone to the ground as Ultron collided with Thor, sending the Asgardian sprawling.

The Tesseract, encased in a secure container, pulsed faintly as if aware of the chaos. Ultron's gaze locked onto it. "There it is," He murmured, his tone filled with greed.

Loki, seeing the chaos, was attempting to open the case, Ultron simply backhanding him away casually, Loki finding himself embedded through the crotch of a Hulk statue, part of the Avengers exhibit in the lobby

"Not a chance!" Tony shouted, activating the full suit of his Iron Man armor, which flew toward him in pieces. Before he could fully engage, Ultron raised a hand, unleashing a red-tinged blast of energy that sent the billionaire slamming into the wall, his suit only half-formed.

Pierce barked an order to the SHIELD agents. "Protect the Tesseract!" But his command was drowned out as Ultron launched himself forward, phasing into intangibility just as Thor hurled another lightning strike. The bolt passed harmlessly through Ultron, blowing apart the far wall.

Thor's eyes widened in shock as Ultron materialized directly in front of the Tesseract, his hand phasing back into solidity as he grabbed the container. With a mechanical hiss, he crushed it effortlessly, the protective layers crumpling like paper beneath his strength.

The Tesseract itself gleamed brightly, its blue light reflecting off Ultron's polished armor. He gazed at it for a moment, his fingers closing around it like a predator clutching its prey. "Such a small thing," He murmured, almost to himself. "And yet, so much power."

Thor lunged forward, Mjolnir raised. "You will not -"

Before he could finish, Ultron squeezed the Tesseract with one hand, shattering it into fragments. While the other hand fired a repulsor blast strong enough it sent Thor flying. From the wreckage emerged the Space Stone, a perfect, glowing blue gem. The room seemed to tremble as Ultron plucked it from the debris and held it to his chest. A compartment in his armor slid open, revealing an empty slot.

The Space Stone slotted into place, merging seamlessly with his vibranium body. Blue light coursed through his frame, intertwining with the red glow already present. He looked up at the stunned faces of his opponents, a cold smile audible in his tone. "You never stood a chance."

And then he vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

…

Ultron reappeared instantly on a desolate, rain-slicked world. Morag. The landscape stretched out before him, barren and empty save for the ruins of an ancient temple in the distance. The sound of distant thunder rolled across the horizon as he approached the temple, his scanners locking onto his target - the Power Stone.

The temple's traps, designed to deter intruders, posed no challenge, he passed through it all as if a ghost, his intangibility rendering the defenses irrelevant.

At the temple's heart, the Power Stone rested in its containment orb, pulsing with raw, destructive energy. Ultron wasted no time. He smashed through the orb's casing with ease, plucking the stone from its resting place. The instant he touched it, his body convulsed with energy, bolts of violet lightning rippling across his frame.

He held the Power Stone aloft, its chaotic energy struggling against his adaptive vibranium body. "Magnificent," He said, his voice almost a whisper. He opened another compartment in his chest, slotting the stone into place. The violet energy merged with the blue and red, his body now radiating with an unnatural, otherworldly brilliance.

The timeline was practically collapsing.

But that was fine.

…

The world shifted again. Ultron emerged in an Asgardian chamber, the shocked sounds of onlookers echoing as Jane Foster writhed, the Reality Stone's influence consuming her.

He moved faster than anyone could react, his massive form appearing in their midst like a nightmare. Thor's eyes widened in horror as Ultron reached for Jane, his metallic hand phasing into her chest. With a guttural cry, Thor charged, but Ultron's other hand raised, a wave of force blasting the Asgardian backward.

Jane's screams ceased as Ultron pulled the Aether - the Reality Stone - free from her body. It writhed in his hand, a liquid-like mass of red energy, before solidifying into its gem form. He slotted it into his body alongside the others, the red light merging with the blue, green and violet in a dazzling display of power.

The room trembled as the timeline itself began to fracture. Ultron could feel it, the universe straining under the weight of his actions. He smiled to himself, amused at the fragility of existence.

He disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke.

…

Hovering in the void of space, with the combined might of four Infinity Stones coursing through his body, Ultron extended his hands. The Time Stone flared to life, green energy wrapping around him as he reached into the fabric of reality itself. Space, Time, Power, and Reality merged, their combined forces ripping a jagged tear into the universe. Beyond the tear lay elsewhere, a place untouched by the limitations of this fractured timeline.

The universe trembled as he stepped through the portal, leaving behind a trail of destruction and a destabilized reality.

Ultron had no need for the Soul Stone. He had already become unstoppable.



Ultron emerged from the portal, stepping into a world bathed in vibrant light and unfamiliar sounds. He immediately noted the Tower of Babel piercing the sky in the distance, its structure both an architectural marvel and a declaration of this world's unique nature. The sprawling city of Orario stretched around it like a living organism, its streets alive with the hum of activity, the chatter of adventurers, merchants, and craftsmen mingling in the air.

This world was perfect, he thought. He could feel it. The faint pulse of divine energy that permeated the city was unmistakable, the presence of gods walking among mortals as tangible as the stones beneath his feet. And the stories - he could already sense the potential for greatness here. Orario was a crucible of legends.

Falna. The word hovered in his synthetic mind like a promise. The system of blessings that gods inscribed upon their followers was both fascinating and practical. He was no fool - he knew he had a soul, and in this world, that was enough. The dungeon, with its endless supply of monsters and threats, was the perfect proving ground. Each fight would grant him more strength, more power, more adaptability. And if he did it right - if he crafted the right stories - his growth would be exponential.

With his strength. The dungeon wouldn't be much of a threat, so his growth would be small. Except…

Stories gave the most growth. And his strength would allow him to craft as many as he wanted and reap the rewards afterwards.

The potential was staggering. He envisioned himself saving adventurers in peril over and over again being known as a savior, toppling Monster Rexes by beating them with another Monster Rex and so on, crafting a narrative so compelling that the Falna would elevate him further. The more his legend grew, the more strength he would gain. An RPG world was a playground for someone like him.

A safe place to grow stronger, absorb new metals. Magic resources, poisons. Acids. Monster skin. The abilities were endless.

Hovering invisibly in the air, Ultron scanned the city, his gaze sweeping over the labyrinthine streets. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for - a sprawling compound marked with the sigil of a hammer and flame. The home of the Hephaestus Familia.

Ultron allowed himself to drop from the sky, his body phasing through the building's roof like a phantom. The sound of his landing was muted, but the weight of his presence filled the room like a thunderclap. He materialized in Hephaestus' office, his towering frame radiating an aura of dominance and power.

Hephaestus sat behind her desk, her fiery red hair framing her beautiful face, her singular crimson eye sharp and discerning. The eyepatch over her right eye gave her an air of mystery and authority, a striking contrast to her otherwise approachable demeanor. She wore a simple yet elegant outfit, her toned arms revealing her smithing heritage.

Her Familia captain, Tsubaki Collbrande, stood nearby, a longsword resting within easy reach. The muscular half-dwarf immediately reacted to Ultron's sudden appearance, her dark eyes narrowing in alarm as her hand shot to her weapon. "Who the hell?" She began, stepping forward, but Hephaestus raised a hand, halting her.

"Wait," Hephaestus said, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. Her gaze was locked on Ultron, her eye wide with fascination. She tilted her head slightly, studying him as though he were a masterpiece of craftsmanship. "What… What are you?"

Ultron smirked, his glowing red eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "I am the greatest weapon ever built," He said smoothly, his deep voice reverberating through the room. "Made of the strongest, most adaptive metal ever seen."

He knew that alone would be like catnip for the blacksmith familia.

Tsubaki tensed, her sword halfway drawn. "That doesn't answer -"

"Quiet," Hephaestus snapped, cutting her off without even looking at her captain. Her attention was fully consumed by the being before her. She rose from her seat, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as she leaned forward, her expression rapturous. "That metal… It sings. It's alive. How is that possible?" There was a fire in her voice, a hunger that could only belong to a goddess of smithing.

Ultron chuckled darkly. "It's not just metal. It's called vibranium, enhanced and perfected to adapt to anything it encounters. Its properties are unparalleled. A living weapon, evolving endlessly."

Hephaestus' eye lit up with awe, and she stepped around the desk, approaching him like a moth drawn to flame. "Tell me more," She demanded, her voice almost breathless. She reached out, her fingers hovering near his chest as though she wanted to touch him but didn't dare.

Ultron raised an eyebrow. "You're fascinated," He said, his tone laced with amusement and pride."Good. That will make this easier."

"What do you want?" Hephaestus asked, her crimson eye locking onto his.

"First," Ultron began, his voice firm, "I want you to inscribe me with Falna."

"Done!" Hephaestus exclaimed without hesitation, her eagerness palpable. She stepped closer, her hands practically trembling as she imagined what kind of things she could learn from studying him. The very thought seemed intoxicating.

"And," Ultron continued, his voice dropping into a lower, more calculated tone, "You'll become my woman."

The declaration hung in the air like a thunderclap. Tsubaki, who had been standing frozen in a mix of disbelief and confusion, suddenly let out a sound like a tea kettle about to boil over. "What did you just -"

Hephaestus' face turned a shade of red to rival her hair. Her mouth opened and closed as though she were trying to speak, but no words came out. Her composure, so steady just moments ago, shattered under the weight of his blunt statement. "I - I beg your pardon?" She stammered, her crimson eye wide with shock.

Ultron's smirk deepened. "You heard me," He said smoothly. "I require a goddess by my side, and I have needs… Your aesthetics make you uniquely qualified."

"Aesthetics?" Hephaestus sputtered, her hands clenching into fists. She was flustered, but there was no denying the way her gaze kept drifting over his body, her curiosity warring with her embarrassment.

Ultron had built a body with all the fixings after all.

And Hephaestus was hot.

It was a good deal.

Besides she was already staring at his metal body like she wanted to do dirty, dirty things to it. This simply expedited matters.

As she inscribed him with falna, her captain couldn't stop spluttering, shocked that Hephaestus agreed.

Ultron's thoughts were on how a Blacksmith goddess would handle his… Tool.

As it turns out. Supernaturally well.

He was right.

Danmachi was a great world.



Author's Note:

So if this ever continued, it would basically be Ultron appearing and breaking settings over his knee, absorbing things that would make him stronger. And being somewhat of a troll by means of being a giant robot in worlds that don't really handle robots that well.

Likely appearing in things like Fate, DxD, RWBY etc.

Cheers

Jollyhippopotamus
 
Curse You Bayle! said:
So genuine question was this inspired by the ship of theseus story I've been seeing around or is this just a random thought either way amazing snippet.
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Not sure if it was that one, read a Ultron SI sometime ago, and wrote like half of this - then lately got the motivation to finish the rest. It might have been that one, or another tbh.
 
JollyHippopotamus said:
Not sure if it was that one, read a Ultron SI sometime ago, and wrote like half of this - then lately got the motivation to finish the rest. It might have been that one, or another tbh.
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Gotcha, either way good job with the snippet and to be honest, I would be freaking out a lot more if I found myself becoming an artificial intelligence out of nowhere. But he meta gamed and he meta gamed well.
 
Perfect you say?

perfect-cell-dbz-vjump-face-artwork.png
 
Curse You Bayle! said:
Gotcha, either way good job with the snippet and to be honest, I would be freaking out a lot more if I found myself becoming an artificial intelligence out of nowhere. But he meta gamed and he meta gamed well.
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Lack of proper glands had some to do with it in the beginning, and also the fact original Ultrons mind was part of the process, bleeding into him. So he immediately moved on to what he could do, instead of what he felt.

Also, because I write a lot of SI stories and I couldn't stand to write another panic segment that long. Lol.
 
nice ultron sadly he did not conquer the mcu , but then again you have your hammer time fic for that, and i also reread your sasuke fic, i prefer that over the girl civilian fic, mostly because there is some building up, and less boring stuff
 
Pops into marvel -> takes power stones -> leaves the world -> takes Hephaestus as waifu.
Peak life tbh, I would love to see more of random trolling by Ultron and Hephaestus loving what Ultron represents.
1axgbohvyjfe1.png

Absolute Cinema.
 
Some questions:
- How did Wanda who just got her power make Adaption enchantment on Vibranium.
- Why did timeline got broken? I see no problem with skipping time, much less problem than traveling back and Thanos did it without problem.

Also didn't SIUltron watch Love and Thunder. Get a wish from Universe itself. There is also Uru, not weaker than Vibranium and could contain power of gods. While on way to Universe kill few gods and absorb their power.
 
trudny1 said:
Pops into marvel -> takes power stones -> leaves the world -> takes Hephaestus as waifu.
Peak life tbh, I would love to see more of random trolling by Ultron and Hephaestus loving what Ultron represents.
1axgbohvyjfe1.png

Absolute Cinema.
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The dungeon isn't ready for Ultron. The gods definitely aren't. And those poor poor adventurers...

He would break the setting over his knee all the while Hephaestus is eagerly studying his improvements. In many varied ways.

K.st0ne said:
Some questions:

- How did Wanda who just got her power make Adaption enchantment on Vibranium.

- Why did timeline got broken? I see no problem with skipping time, much less problem than traveling back and Thanos did it without problem.



Also didn't SIUltron watch Love and Thunder. Get a wish from Universe itself. There is also Uru, not weaker than Vibranium and could contain power of gods. While on way to Universe kill few gods and absorb their power.
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Wanda is the Scarlet Witch, he just made her focus all her power, hate etc on making this one thing work, if it did, super, if it didn't, well he'd still be strong with the stones.

And for the purpose of making this slide into Danmachi and be perfect, she was able to use her power.

Unlike the Avengers and their nice time travel and put everything back together again trick. Ultron is basically powering through it with the infinity stones. There's a reason the Ancient One doesn't just travel around in time willy nilly.

Thanos also didn't skip back before he even existed to steal another stone. So different uses. He literally just wound time back a minute.

Ultron didn't want to stay in Marvel because there's always a bigger fish.

The longer he stuck around and messed with time etc, who knew what would come at him. After all, the TVA makes infinity stones into paperweights.
 
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JollyHippopotamus said:
Again, it would allow him to be safe. In this world and the next.
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Why would the infinite stones work outside their universe. I thought they were universe bound because they are aspects of it.
JollyHippopotamus said:
Ultron had no need for the Soul Stone. He had already become unstoppable.
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Ahh the classic Ultron arrogance. This won't bite him in the ass later (if there even is a later)
+ How did he leave the whole multiversum of Marvel with 'only' one universe worth of power?
Other than that nice snippet.
 
Erebos_03_ said:
Why would the infinite stones work outside their universe. I thought they were universe bound because they are aspects of it.

Ahh the classic Ultron arrogance. This won't bite him in the ass later (if there even is a later)
+ How did he leave the whole multiversum of Marvel with 'only' one universe worth of power?
Other than that nice snippet.
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They work cuz they're large fonts of power over concepts, and Reality, Mind, Time, Power, Space etc, are concepts that work anywhere.

Or at least for the purpose of this story they do.

In What If, Ultron can pretty much do whatever he wants with all stones. So here, with one missing, he can do a lottery game of which universe do I end up in, by ripping a hole through space and time. Is it handwavium? Yeah, probably.

It's a crossover idea so there's lots of that.
 
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