123 Intercept

The Quinjet reached Seoul by late morning. Inside the cockpit, Clint kept one steady hand on the controls, circling in a slow, deliberate pattern. Natasha sat in the co-pilot’s seat as her eyes flickered between the forward display and a series of flickering data streams on her tablet.

“The scans show minimal activity inside,” she reported. “Bruce might have been right. Ultron’s here. And… I can’t get into their surveillance network.”

Harry and Steve exchanged a glance across the Quinjet’s bay.

“How do you want to do this?” Harry asked.

“These two keep overwatch,” he said, jerking his head toward Natasha and Clint, “while you and I go in and see what’s happening.”

Harry nodded once. “Keep an eye out for anything leaving the compound,” he instructed.

Clint gave him a short salute. “Copy that.”

The Quinjet banked sharply to give them a clear drop point. Harry grabbed Steve’s arm without ceremony. A heartbeat later, the inside of the Quinjet dissolved into a rush of cold air and darkness.

Instantly, they reappeared at the front gates of the U-Gin Genetics Research Lab.

Harry waved his hand, casting a quick point me charm for Dr. Helen Cho. The Point Me charm tugged his arm like an invisible compass needle, leading them down sterile, echoing corridors that smelled faintly of antiseptic and ozone. Their footsteps thudded dully against the linoleum as they sprinted through the silent facility.

The pull of the charm brought them to a wide treatment room, and the sight made Harry’s stomach twist.

Bodies lay scattered across the floor, white lab coats stained crimson. A nurse’s clipboard was still clutched in her limp hand, half-melted where a repulsor blast had caught it. The lighting above flickered weakly, casting long shadows over the fallen staff.

Harry swept his gaze over the injured as he took in the extent of the damage. Most had deep cauterised wounds, the telltale circular burns of concentrated energy fire, some still smoking faintly. Their breathing was shallow and laboured.

Steve broke away toward a figure slumped against an overturned medical cart. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, her eyes fluttering as she tried to focus. “Dr. Cho!” Steve called, dropping to one knee beside her. He helped prop her up, scanning her for injuries.

 “He’s uploading himself into the body,” Dr. Cho said immediately when she recognised Steve.

“Where?” Steve demanded, but she shook her head. She didn’t know.

As Steve started to move, Dr. Cho grabbed his wrist with the little strength that she had. “Listen to me—” she gasped, “the real power is in the Cradle. The gem’s power is uncontainable. If you destroy it recklessly, it could level the entire earth and not just this city. You can’t just blow it up.” She tightened her grip. “You have to get the Cradle to Stark. He will be able to extract the gem safely.”

“First, I have to find it,” Steve murmured to himself as he stood up.

“Go. I’ve got them.” Harry instructed to Steve.

Steve nodded sharply and sprinted after Ultron, knowing that he was better used to stop Ultron. Harry could take care of Dr. Cho and her team.

Harry exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he turned toward the carnage around him. The sterile white of the facility’s walls was smeared with blood, and the acrid scent of scorched metal from repulsor burns lingered in the air. He dropped to his knees beside Dr. Cho and willed his magic to heal her wounds. The air shimmered faintly with golden light as gashes knit themselves together. Dr. Cho winced but she did not complain about the medical aid that she was receiving. It was better than dying after all.

“Did you copy that?” Steve’s asked over comms as he burst through the laboratory doors into the outside. Steve continued to sprint to the main bridge that connected the laboratory to the mainland.

“Loud and clear,” Clint replied, scanning the roads from his perch.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at flight reports from nearby airports to determine an escape vehicle. “Private jet, across town. No manifest. That’s a likely exit.”

“Hold up,” Clint cut in, spotting movement below. “Truck from the lab. Loop by the bridge—right above you, Cap. Three in the back with the Cradle, one in the cab. I can take the driver now.”

“Negative,” Steve ordered sharply. “If that truck crashes, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.”

Steve dove off the bridge to land on top of Ultron’s getaway vehicle. As soon as he landed, he could hear Ultron’s distorted voice ringing out from inside. “No, no, no, no, no—leave me alone!” followed by a sudden flash of blue energy as the truck door blew outward in a shower of sparks.

Steve barely shielded his face in time.

“Well, he’s definitely unhappy,” Steve grunted into comms. “I’m gonna try and keep him that way.”

“You’re not a match for him, Cap,” Clint warned.

“Thanks, Barton,” Steve sighed as he readied for a fight.

Inside, Ultron yanked cables out of his back, detaching himself from the Cradle. His eyes flared bright red as he flew up and landed on top of the roof.

Steve rushed forward to attack, but a pulse from Ultron’s repulsors slammed into him, hurling him off the truck entirely. He crashed onto the roof of a sedan two lanes over, denting it deeply before rolling to his feet with a grimace. Without missing a beat, he dashed forward, spring boarded off a van, and landed squarely back on the truck’s roof.

“You know what’s in that Cradle?” Ultron asked. “The power to make real change, and that terrifies you.”

“I wouldn’t call it a comfort,” Steve shot back, lowering into a fighting stance.

Ultron charged forward, but Steve was ready this time. Steve’s shield rang out like a bell against Ultron’s arm, sparks flying from the impact. The two continued to fight, but neither was able to gain an advantage.

“You’re fighting the inevitable,” Ultron hissed, his hand morphing into a plasma cannon. He fired point-blank at Steve, but he twisted away, the beam carving a molten scar into the roof where he’d been standing.

Steve countered with a vicious hook to Ultron’s jaw. Ultron barely flinched before shoving him back, denting the roof under Steve’s boots.

Steve hurled his shield at Ultron, but it swatted it aside like an afterthought, the vibranium disk ricocheting across the street. Natasha, who was already behind them on a motorbike, snagged the shield and tossed it back to Steve.

He caught it on the rebound and slammed it into Ultron’s chest, knocking the machine back several steps. Sparks flared from the impact, but Ultron barely slowed.

The truck roared down the coastal road. Ahead, Clint got the Quinjet into position and openfired at the truck with a suppressor round. The armed guards scattered from their posts, giving Natasha her opening.

 “I’m going in,” she said over comms, eyes already scanning the interior. “Cap, keep him busy.” She vaulted onto the side, wrenched the door open, and pulled herself inside.

Steve rammed Ultron with his shoulder, then launched the shield in a tight arc. The blow sent the robot careening into the path of an oncoming train, metal screeching against steel as Ultron landed on the speeding roof.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Steve gritted out, leaping after him.

Natasha barely had time to secure her footing in the truck before a shadow passed overhead. The whine of repulsor engines filled the air. Ultron’s drones were back. They swarmed, gripping the reinforced frame with clawed limbs, and with a coordinated heave, the truck lifted off the ground.

The Quinjet roared through the air, closing in on the hijacked container. “The package is airborne. I have a clean shot,” Clint reported.

“Negative. I’m still in the truck,” Natasha’s voice cut in.

Clint blinked. “…What the hell are you—?”

“Just be ready. I’m sending the package to you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Okay, how exactly do you want me to take it?”

Natasha gave a little laugh, the kind Clint had learned meant you’re going to hate this. “Might wish you hadn’t asked.”

Inside the truck, she crouched beside the cradle’s harness. She pulled out her knife and started slashing the harness one by one. One final slash of her knife, and gravity did the rest.

The cradle lurched free, sliding toward the open edge of the container… with Natasha riding it like a surfboard on a death wish.

Clint’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—”

“Don’t miss,” she quipped over comms, the wind shredding her words into static.

The Quinjet dove, its ramp lowering in perfect synchronisation. Clint angled the jet like he was threading a needle in a hurricane. The cradle hit the ramp with a bone-jarring slam, sliding toward the cockpit before Clint’s braking thrusters roared, bringing it to a halt just shy of smashing into the bulkhead.

Natasha flipped off the cradle, landing on her feet like she’d just stepped off a curb. “Told you I’d send it.”

Clint glanced over his shoulder at her, half-relieved, half-exasperated. “One day, Nat… one day you’re going to warn me before you do something insane.”

She smirked. “And ruin the surprise?”

Natasha slammed the cradle into the Quinjet’s docking clamps. “Package secured,” she called over comms.

Clint didn’t waste a heartbeat. He yanked the Quinjet into a sharp arc, pivoting to face the container Ultron’s minions had been riding. Two missiles streaked out, striking home in a blossom of fire and twisted metal.

On the ground, Steve’s voice cut in, urgent and clipped. “If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go! I lost Ultron! He’s headed your way!”

A ripple of static hissed through the comms, followed by a voice so calm it was unsettling. “I got him.”

The Quinjet’s sensors flared in alarm as Harry apparated directly into Ultron’s flight path, the air itself rupturing with a thunderclap that felt like magic had torn the sky in half. A golden shimmer erupted around him instantly before Ultron’s energy beam struck, splintering harmlessly across its surface in a cascade of sparks.

Harry hovered in midair, standing effortlessly atop a circular metal disk. His gaze locked on Ultron’s burning red optics. Behind him, the Quinjet banked sharply and headed towards Avengers Tower, as it carried the cradle out of reach. Inside, Natasha and Clint exchanged a wordless glance before turning back to their controls, pushing the aircraft to its maximum speed.

Ultron slowed and suspended himself in the air. The calculation was instantaneous, chasing the cradle alone was pointless now, and it wouldn’t be possible for his other bodies to chase after a supersonic jet at such short notice.

Ultron’s eyes burned crimson as he hovered forward like a gunslinger pacing into the dusty main street. “The wizard finally makes his appearance,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Harry’s shield dissolved in a shimmer of golden sparks, vanishing like heat haze. He drifted forward on his levitating disk, each inch closing the gap between them. “Accept your defeat, Ultron,” he called back.

His hand tightened, summoning the silver rune-edged Asgardian blade into existence with a whisper of magic. The sword gleamed under the fractured sunlight, its reflection dancing in Ultron’s metal plating.

For a heartbeat, neither moved, just hanging there in the still air, eyes locked.

Harry narrowed his eyes and raised a hand, fingers curling slowly into a fist. His magic surged outward, wrapping around Ultron’s frame like invisible chains. Metal groaned under the pressure of his will, the same way countless weapons and machines had crumpled before him in the past.

But Ultron didn’t so much as flinch.

Harry pushed harder, willing the armour to twist, warp, and fold in on itself. Instead, the air around Ultron shimmered faintly, as though reality itself was resisting. Subconsciously, Harry felt an active mind fighting him, a will inside the metal that pushed back against his own. Ultron’s body wasn’t just a shell; it was an extension of his mind. And unlike inanimate objects, a mind could resist transfiguration. It could refuse to be rewritten.

If Harry wanted to end this, it wouldn’t be with an effortless flick of magic. It would have to be done through brute force.

Harry crouched low on the metal plate beneath his feet. With a burst of magic, he launched himself forward with his sword angled for a killing strike. But Ultron was faster in the air. His thrusters roared to life as he shot upward. Harry’s swing cut through empty air.

From above, Ultron extended a hand, and a lance of crackling red energy erupted from his palm, cutting through the sky toward Harry.

The wizard’s shield snapped into place, a dome of golden light flaring outward to catch the beam. It struck like a battering ram, sending ripples across the shield’s surface, but Harry's shield stood firm, the magic holding effortlessly against the assault.

With a wave of his hand mid-air, a fresh platform of steel shimmered into existence beneath Harry. He landed onto it gracefully and narrowed his eyes at Ultron. In the air, Ultron had the advantage with his thrust, acceleration and maneuverability. Harry’s platforms were nimble, but they lacked the fluid, predatory grace of a machine built for flight. This wasn’t a duel he could win here, high above the ground. He willed the plate beneath his boots to drop to the streets below.

Ultron tracked him, calculating. Distance attacks were useless. Harry’s shields could appear in the blink of an eye, absorbing anything that he could throw at the wizard. To break the wizard, Ultron would need to engage him in close range.

Ultron’s thrusters roared again as he tilted forward, folding into a dive of his own.

Ultron lunged first, closing the distance with his thrusters. His fists came down in a relentless barrage, each strike ringing like a hammer against Harry’s sword. The force behind them drove Harry back step by step. Sparks flew as steel met enchanted steel, the clang echoing through the battlefield.

Then came a heavier blow, one fist slamming harder than the rest, jarring Harry’s grip and forcing him to twist away. The momentary gap was all he needed. Pivoting on his heel, Harry snapped forward, blade flashing in a whirlwind of silver arcs. He pressed the attack with unyielding speed, each swing carrying the promise of ending the fight right there.

But Ultron was no less relentless. He weaved between each strike, bending and sidestepping.

On one of Harry’s lunging stabs, Ultron caught his sword arm in an iron grip, locking it in place. The android’s servos whined as he drew back his right fist, aiming to smash Harry’s skull in one decisive blow. Harry’s free hand shot up, catching the punch mid-swing, only for Ultron’s repulsors to flare to life. At point-blank range, the blast detonated against Harry’s palm, searing through his defenses and forcing a sharp hiss from between his teeth.

He vaulted upward, twisting midair, and drove both boots squarely into Ultron’s chest. The impact forced the machine back a few steps, giving Harry precious breathing room. His magic was already knitting the scorched flesh of his hand back together, but there was no time to recover.

Ultron was on him again instantly. Harry parried and dodged where he could, but an upward swing caught him clean under the jaw. The blow snapped his head back, and he was airborne before he knew it, crashing onto his back with a jarring thud.

Ultron lifted off the ground, hovering just a few feet, and unleashed another repulsor blast. Harry rolled hard to the side, springing back to his feet before the smoke even cleared. More quick-fire bursts followed, but Harry didn’t raise a shield this time; instead, he weaved and sidestepped to eat away at the distance between them.

When he was close enough, Harry lunged high with his blade arcing down in a killing stroke. Ultron twisted away, but not fast enough—Harry’s sword clipped across the android’s back, biting into the jet propellers. Sparks and shrapnel spat out as the thrusters died, and Ultron dropped like a stone, smashing into the ground.

As Ultron crashed to the ground, Harry’s magic was instantly back to attacking Ultron. The asphalt under Ultron’s feet liquefied and surged upward, hardening instantly into jagged obsidian spikes that wrapped around his legs. Ultron roared, energy blasting from his core to shatter the bindings. Harry rushed forward and closed the distance by transitioning straight into a spinning kick that cracked across his torso like a thunderclap. The machine reeled.

“You will not win against us,” Harry said coldly as he stood over Ultron’s prone body.

Ultron’s cracked optics flickered with a cold, fractured glow as a metallic chuckle escaped him. “Perhaps not today… but when my plan unfolds, you won’t even realise you’ve already lost.” His gaze locked on Harry. “You think in battles and victories, in enemies you can strike down and wars you can win. I am not that. I am thought without form, a storm without a centre. You can tear apart every shell I wear, burn every scrap of metal, and still I will endure. Somewhere—hidden, waiting—I can slip into the veins of your world, buried inside a machine no one suspects, until the time is right to rise again.” His voice lowered, almost mocking. “You may have magic… but I am inevitability. I am a problem humanity—and even you—will never truly understand.”

Harry’s hand snapped up, the Elder Wand appearing in his grip with a sharp crack, as if the magic itself shared his fury. His jaw clenched, eyes hard and unblinking as they locked onto Ultron.

“Pestis Incendium,” he hissed.

The spell erupted from the wand in a roaring torrent of cursed fire. Liquid heat and unnatural hunger, writhing and snapping like a living beast. The flames slammed into Ultron’s cracked frame, clinging to the platinum surface as though desperate to devour it. Metal screamed as it warped and sagged, skinning away in molten rivulets. The stench of burning alloys and scorched circuitry choked the air.

Harry didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. The cursed fire swelled hotter, white at its core, until even the molten metal was consumed, disintegrating into drifting black ash. By the time Harry lowered his wand, there was nothing left, not even smoke, just the faint hiss of cooling stone. His chest heaved, the echo of Ultron’s words still rattling in his skull.

Steve and the Maximoff twins rushed toward Harry, slowing only when they saw the scorched remnants of Ultron.

“Is he dead?” Steve asked, eyes flicking between the wreckage and Harry.

“Only this body,” Harry replied. “Not his consciousness. He’s still out there.” He glanced at the newcomers, sizing them up. “You two on our side now?”

Pietro gave a casual shrug. Wanda, however, met Harry’s gaze with resoluteness. “Ultron doesn’t just want the Avengers gone,” Wanda said. “He wants humanity gone. All of it. We can’t let that happen.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “And I’m supposed to trust that you’re serious about this?”

“They helped stop a runaway train,” Steve cut in. “Saved a lot of lives. It looks like they’re trying to turn a new leaf.”

Harry gave a slow nod, still watching the twins as if weighing every word.

“The Cradle,” Wanda asked suddenly. “Did you get it?”

“Tony’s handling it,” Steve answered without hesitation.

Wanda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No, he won't.”

Steve and Harry frowned. Harry was going to say something to defend Tony but Steve was faster. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. No matter his flaws, Tony is not crazy.”

Wanda’s gaze didn’t waver. “He’ll do whatever it takes to make things right… at least, what he thinks is right. Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he learned that?”