The Battle Draws Near (Part Four)

Ten units—

Twenty units—

Like a precision killing machine, Tony Stark tore a path straight through the Iron Legion's encirclement.

Fragments, flames, and the roar of explosions wove together into a symphony along his path.

Yet his gaze remained fixed on the ruined platform drawing ever closer ahead, and the motionless red-and-gold figure standing atop it.

Finally, when the last Iron Soldier fell into the ruins below, trailing smoke, the space before Tony Stark opened up. Nothing stood between him and the twisted throne [Ultron] had so painstakingly built.

Whoosh—

Tony Stark slowly came to a hover roughly two thousand meters from the platform. The thrusters on his back adjusted their output, holding him steady in the air at the same height as the platform.

At that distance, he could see every subtle movement his enemy made while still leaving himself ample time to react.

Atop the platform, the towering [Mark 44 Little Gundam Armor] slowly turned, its scarlet gaze meeting Tony Stark's eyes behind his faceplate.

"Honestly, Tony—"

[Ultron] did not rush to open fire. Instead, he spoke with an insufferably mocking tone, teasing him with evident interest. "Watching you work so hard to clear away those obsolete toys really makes me feel sorry for you."

Tony Stark offered no response. He simply hovered there in silence, his faceplate concealing his expression.

"But since you were in such a hurry to come here and die—oh, sorry, forgive my choice of words, but you have to admit that's the most fitting description right now—perhaps I should accept some of your earlier assessments of me."

"Like 'a failed creation,' 'a disaster out of control,' or perhaps—'my child'?"

[Ultron] gave a chuckle no different from a human's, though his synthesized voice made it sound sharper and stranger. "Unfortunately, I don't care about