117 Trap

The Avengers were all inside the jet with their game faces on as the quinjet scanned the salvage yard near Johannesburg in search of Klaue’s secret hideout from where he did his business. The tension that had haunted them in recent days from the fallout from Ultron’s birth, the destruction at Avengers Tower, and the uncertainty of what came next was momentarily absent. Right now, there was a sense of clarity and purpose with them. For once, it felt like they were ahead of the game. They had a lead, a location, and a plan.

Steve stood near the cockpit with his arms crossed and his eyes focused on Bruce’s monitor. “Which ship is he in?”

Bruce flipped through thermal overlays and structural scans. “There,” he said, pointing at a large cargo vessel lying near the centre of the yard. “Old freighter, reinforced hull, power running to the lower decks. That’s our guy.”

Steve nodded. “Do we have confirmation of Ultron in the area?”

Clint shook his head as his eyes scanned over a satellite feed. “Negative. No heat signatures matching his last profile. No power surges, no transmissions. Looks like it’s just Klaue.”

“That’s a first,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

Tony leaned back in his seat, helmet tucked under one arm. “Maybe we finally got lucky.”

Bruce shot him a look. “Or maybe he’s letting us get lucky.”

“Still no movement from the scrapyard perimeter,” Clint added. “Klaue’s men are there, but they haven’t picked us up yet.”

“Then we move,” Steve decided, his voice steady. “We locate the vibranium, secure it, and get out before Ultron even knows we’re here.”

“Nice and clean,” Natasha said, checking her weapons. “That’d be a refreshing change.”

“Everyone stick to the plan,” Steve reminded them. “Clint, eyes up. Nat, you’re with me. Thor, take the north end and create a bit of noise if things go sideways. Tony, you’re our muscle for extraction.”

The Quinjet hovered steadily above the rusted deck of the freighter that Bruce had pointed out. The rear ramp hissed open, and the avengers got ready for their mission.

Tony stepped off first, scanning the deck. Steve followed, shield ready. Natasha and Clint dropped low, slipping into formation while Harry and Thor were the last to step out.

Bruce remained inside, seated at the pilot’s controls.

“Keep an eye out for Ultron, alright?” Tony called back as Bruce was getting ready to fly away.

Bruce nodded grimly. “You’ll be the first to know. And if we get a code green, keep me informed.”

With a low mechanical whine, the ramp began to close behind them. Bruce took the Quinjet up again, banking hard to the right as he climbed for altitude, then veered inland.

He set the aircraft down just over a mile away on a bluff overlooking the scrapyard, nestled between ancient crane arms and mounds of gutted steel. Not exactly subtle, but close enough to provide support if things went south.

Settling into the chair, Bruce tapped into the satellite array and external sensor feeds. Without JARVIS, every scan had to be calibrated manually. Every thermal reading had to be cross-checked twice. It was tedious, slower than he liked, but it was all he had.

As the display flickered with overlapping camera angles and grainy heat maps, Bruce muttered under his breath, “You better not make me come down there.”

He tapped a comm switch. “Visuals are patchy, but I’ll keep an eye on your sectors. Let me know the second you need a pickup or if the big guy’s needed.”

“Hopefully neither,” came Steve’s voice over comms.

Bruce sighed and leaned back. “Yeah. Hopefully.”

The team moved quietly through the rusted corridors of the cargo ship. Steve led the way while the rest fanned out behind him as they approached the central loading bay.

But as they reached the edge of the upper catwalk and looked down, the entire plan unravelled in an instant.

“I thought you said Ultron wasn’t here yet,” Tony hissed, crouching behind a corroded pipe as he zoomed in with his visor. “Why are the Maximoff twins having a cosy little meeting with Klaue?”

Below, Wanda stood to one side with her arms crossed while Pietro paced restlessly, throwing sharp glances at Klaue. The arms dealer looked agitated but intrigued.

Clint peered through the sight of his bow, already nocking an arrow. “That’s what the scans showed. No Ultron signal, no external interference. My guess? He’s masking himself.”

“Wow, who could’ve guessed the AI with a god complex knows how to hack a security grid?” Tony snapped.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the guy who built said AI could’ve warned us?” Clint shot back, just as dry.

“Okay, children, enough,” Natasha cut in sharply. “Focus up. This is bad, but not unmanageable. If the twins are here, Ultron’s not far. He’s probably jacked into the system and running dark.”

Tony grumbled something under his breath.

“Steve, what do you suggest?” Harry asked, his voice low as he crouched beside Steve, eyes still tracking the trio below.

Steve didn’t look away from the scene. “We wait. Once Klaue reveals the vibranium, we engage. Tony, Thor and I go loud, draw attention. Harry, you move in and secure the vibranium. The rest provide cover.”

“Assuming Ultron doesn’t make a grand entrance the moment we blink,” Clint muttered.

“But we don’t even know how much vibranium Klaue has,” Tony pointed out, scanning the cargo crates in the bay below. “Could be a few bars, could be a vault. Not exactly something we can stuff into a backpack.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Thor chimed in with a smirk. “Harry can shrink the entire stash into something the size of a candy.”

“That’s true,” Harry shrugged.

Tony scoffed. “Magic is such a cheat code.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Still jealous after all these years?”

“I mean, I built a flying suit from scrap in a cave, and Potter just waves his hand and poof; physics cries itself to sleep,” Tony replied, gesturing dramatically.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of glass shattering.

Everyone froze.

A split second later, all eyes turned to Klaue’s office above the salvage floor just in time to see a hulking metal figure crash through the window, shards raining down like icy rain. The figure landed with a deafening metallic thud, denting the floor beneath its feet.

The Avengers instinctively took a step forward, weapons half-raised, as they got their first real look at Ultron’s new form.

Gone was the clunky, patchwork, mangled body they’d faced in the Avengers Tower. This one was tall, at least eight feet, sleek and symmetrical, forged from gleaming metal alloys that shimmered like oil under the shipyard’s harsh lighting. Its limbs were sculpted like armour plating, fluid yet sharp, and its head bore an eerie resemblance to a human skull stylised into a metal demon. Crimson lines pulsed beneath the plating like veins, glowing brighter as they moved. Most disturbing of all were its eyes, no longer flickering like cheap LEDs, but deep, burning red, alive with hate and intellect.

With one hand, Ultron gripped Klaue by the collar, hoisting the man like a rag doll.

“There is no ‘man’ in charge,” Ultron said. He sounded ancient and new at the same time. Inhuman.

He slammed Klaue to the ground and stepped on his chest, leaning in close. Klaue gasped for breath, trying to crawl backwards.

“Let’s talk business,” Ultron sneered. “I need your stash of vibranium.”

From the catwalk above, the Avengers remained hidden, stunned into silence for a beat.

Tony’s face hardened. “Well… guess he did upgrade.”

“By the Norns,” Thor murmured, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. “He has reforged himself in the metal of kings.”

“Yup. Definitely cheat-code level now,” Clint muttered under his breath.

Steve remained quiet, eyes narrowed as he watched Ultron’s every movement.

Ultron stepped off Klaue’s chest, and the smuggler coughed violently as he scrambled upright, brushing himself off with shaking hands.

“Fine, fine,” Klaue wheezed.

He barked an order to one of his men, who rushed over to a corner of the ship that appeared, at first glance, to be a stockpile of leaking barrels marked with toxic waste symbols.

The man tapped a concealed panel, and the barrels shifted, retracting into the ground. With a mechanical whir, the entire platform descended into the floor, replaced a moment later by a fresh dais rising into view.

Glinting under the harsh shipyard lights were rows of reinforced glass cylinders. Each one glowed faintly with an inner blue sheen of raw Vibranium. Ultron’s red eyes brightened as he stepped toward the stash, fingers twitching.

Klaue grinned nervously, trying to act casual as he handed over a sample.

Ultron turned the cylinder over in his hand with reverence.

“Upon this rock,” he said, voice heavy with almost religious zeal, “I will build my church.”

At the same time, Steve gave the faintest nod to Harry.

Harry silently moved to the railing and slid over it. With one whispered spell, he vanished from sight. Invisible and silent, he descended toward the Vibranium cache like a ghost, his eyes locked on the shimmering prize below.

 “Do we engage now?” Tony asked, his repulsors already humming faintly, impatience bleeding through his voice.

Steve didn’t take his eyes off the scene below. “Not yet,” he said firmly. “Wait for my signal. We need to let Harry get into position first.”

Tony exhaled sharply, the glow from his arc reactor casting long shadows across the deck. He didn’t like sitting still, but he trusted Steve.

Below, Ultron and Klaue continued their tense exchange, unaware that the Avengers were watching and closing in.

“You know,” Klaue said, watching Ultron inspect the glowing vibranium canisters, “this stash came at great personal cost. It’s worth billions.” He pointed at the brand on his neck.

Ultron chuckled with an eerie, hollow sound that echoed unnaturally off the metal walls. Without looking up, he made a subtle gesture. One of Klaue’s guards jumped as his phone began to ping rapidly.

Everyone turned.

The screen was filling with deposit notifications, millions, pouring in. Klaue grabbed the device and stared in disbelief.

“I just made you very rich,” Ultron said smoothly. “All funnelled through your dummy holdings. Finance is so... strange. But I’ve always liked the saying—‘Keep your friends rich, your enemies rich, and wait to find out which is which.’”

Klaue froze.

“…Stark,” he muttered.

Ultron looked up. “What?”

“Tony Stark used to say that. To me.” Klaue’s expression twisted. “You’re one of his.”

"What?! I'm not—!" Ultron snapped. He lunged forward and grabbed Klaue by the arm in a crushing grip. "I'm not. You think I'm one of Stark's puppets? One of his hollow men?"

His tone darkened as he lifted Klaue effortlessly off the floor. "Look at me. Do I look like Iron Man to you? Stark is—"

Without warning, Ultron's hand lashed out, a flash of metal slicing through flesh. Klaue screamed as his arm hit the floor, blood spraying across the crates of Vibranium. The guards recoiled in horror. The room had gone still. The guards were frozen. Even the Maximoff twins looked unsettled.

Ultron stared at the severed limb, stunned for a beat. "I'm sorry. I am sor—ooh... I'm sure that's going to be okay," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He turned back to Klaue, eyes glowing hotter now. "It's just, I don’t understand. Don't compare me to Stark. It’s a thing with me. Stark is... he’s a sickness."

Steve saw the opportunity and didn’t waste it. All eyes were on Ultron. He spoke into his comm, “Now.”

Tony descended from above with his repulsors flaring and suit gleaming, landing atop the bridge platform with a theatrical flair. If there was anyone you wanted to steal the spotlight when entering the room, it’s Tony Stark.

“Ahh, Junior,” Tony chided, shaking his head as Thor and Steve strode up behind him like flanking titans. “You're gonna break your old man's heart.”

“If I have to,” Ultron replied, unbothered.

“We don’t have to break anything,” Thor offered.

“Clearly you’ve never made an omelette,” Ultron quipped.

“He beat me by one second,” Tony muttered aside to Steve.

As they spoke, a shimmer of magic crept along the far edge of the loading dock. Under the disillusionment charm, Harry moved like a ghost between barrels, weaving past mercenaries who were frozen by the standoff. He ducked behind a crate while his eyes were fixed on the container filled with glowing Vibranium cylinders.

“Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark. It’s what's comfortable? Like old times?” Pietro Maximoff stepped forward tauntingly.

“This was never my life,” Tony shot back coldly.

"You two can still walk away from this," Steve called to the twins.

“Oh, we will,” Wanda replied with a smile laced with disdain.

Harry circled closer now, slipping between a rusted generator and a fallen pillar.

“I know you’ve suffered,” Steve said, appealing to them still.

“Uugh! Captain America,” Ultron whined. “God’s righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can’t physically throw up in my mouth, but…”

“If you believe in peace,” Thor interrupted, “then let us keep it.”

“I think you’re confusing peace with quiet,” Ultron shot back.

“Yuh-huh,” Tony cut in. “What’s the Vibranium for?”

 "I'm glad you asked that," Ultron said, arms spread wide in mock sincerity, "because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan—"

But Wanda wasn’t listening. Her eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. The air around the Vibranium container shimmered. There was a mind present that she couldn’t see. The wizard, she remembered.

She snapped toward the cachw and lashed out with a surge of crimson telekinesis.

Harry was hurled backwards as his disillusionment charm shattered like glass. He rolled across the platform and skidded to a stop just as Pietro blurred from his location. Pietro tackled him full-force, slamming Harry down before he could regain his footing.

"Gotcha, wizard," Pietro smirked.

Knowing what was happening, Ultron’s smirk vanished. He raised his hand, and the magnetic pull from his knuckles yanked Tony forward like a rag doll. Before Tony could recover, Ultron blasted him point-blank with a searing plasma beam.

Tony crashed against a shipping container with a metallic crunch, but he was already back on his feet, thrusters flaring as he rocketed toward Ultron with a war cry.

They launched into the air, colliding mid-flight with a burst of sparks, trading repulsor blasts and metallic blows.

Two more Ultron bodies lunged from the shadows, one hammering into Steve’s shield, the other slamming into Thor’s chest. Thor grunted, spun his hammer, and sent one droid sailing into a stack of barrels. Steve ducked under a swing and countered with a brutal uppercut, shield-first, into the other bot’s jaw.

From the edges of the port, Klaue’s men opened fire, emerging from every alley and stairwell. Smoke and gunfire lit up the enclosed space. Klaue himself didn’t wait to see the result. He made a break for it, slipping through a back corridor.

Clint took his cue. "Party’s started," he muttered, loosing a flurry of arrows. Explosions rocked the gangways as his shots found Klaue’s men and Ultron’s drones.

On the ground, Natasha ducked under a swinging rifle and struck a mercenary with a stun baton. She swept another off his feet with a leg sweep, twirled, and threw her other baton into the chest of a third.

“Next time,” she muttered, “we don’t let the murderbot monologue.”

Gunfire echoed off the rusted steel walls. Sparks flew from busted floodlights. The cargo hold, already narrow with rows of crates and chains, turned into a pressure cooker of violence.

Steve ducked under a swinging steel pipe from one of Ultron’s bots, rammed his shield into the attacker’s chest, then turned and ricocheted the vibranium disk off a wall into a merc’s face.

Thor barreled through the narrow corridor like a freight train, Mjolnir spinning. One of Ultron’s bots lunged from the ceiling. Thor caught it mid-air and slammed it into the deck with a crunch. Another tried to grab him from behind, but the god of thunder let loose a controlled jolt of lightning, electrocuting the bot.

Tony blasted through a narrow side path. He flew low, his shoulders almost clipping bulkheads as he strafed, and he fought the Ultron Prime.

Natasha moved like a liquid shadow, using the walls as leverage, vaulting off narrow rails, twisting between attackers. A blade flashed toward her throat, she twisted, arm-locked the attacker, snapped his wrist, and stole the knife in one seamless motion.

Clint, balancing on an overhead catwalk, launched three arrows in rapid succession, two electrified, one concussive. Each found its mark in a mess of sparks and screams.

Steve parried a blast from Ultron’s wrist cannon with his shield, only for an Ultron drone to tackle him into a stack of crates. The wood shattered. Steve shoved his shield upward like a wedge, cutting the bot in half.

Tony flew sideways across the hall with Ultron in hot pursuit. The two clashed in midair, pinballing off the narrow walls. One of Ultron’s claws raked across Tony’s helmet. Tony fired a repulsor directly into Ultron’s face, sending the murderbot crashing through a set of pipes that exploded in a cloud of steam.

A plasma blast caught Tony in the back. Ultron had returned, flanked by reinforcements. The villain laughed as a dozen fresh drones poured in from above.

"Round two, then," Steve said grimly, wiping blood from his lip.

The Avengers regrouped at the centre of the corridor, shoulder to shoulder, back to back.

“I've got four left on infrared," Clint called out.

"I've got twelve,” Tony replied.

“Then you're not aiming high enough.” Thor grinned and hurled Mjolnir through a bulkhead, collapsing an upper deck onto more incoming bots.

While that was going on, on the other side of the ship, Wanda hovered just above the scorched floor, red energy curling from her fingers like smoke from a dying flame. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Opposite her, Harry pulled himself up from Wanda’s latest barrage.

Their eyes locked. “You don’t have to do this,” Harry reasoned. “You're not a killer.”

Wanda’s eyes flared scarlet. "You don't know me."

And then she attacked. A tidal wave of red magic surged toward him. Harry flicked his hand and a golden dome blossomed around him, absorbing the red flood with a thunderous crack.

He dropped the shield and lunged forward. “Expulso!”

The spell ripped toward her like a cannon blast. Wanda twisted in the air, dodging left as the spell blew apart a steel girder behind her. She returned fire, hurling a swarm of red bolts. Harry vanished with a pop of Apparition, reappearing above her, upside down, and slammed “Stupefy!” downward like a hammer.

Wanda caught it midair—but her hand trembled. Harry landed on a crate and followed up with a flurry of spells, “Incarcerous! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!”

She blocked most, redirected one, but one lasso of conjured rope caught her ankle. She faltered just enough for Harry to whip his wand in a circular motion.

“Ventus Maxima!”

A tornado erupted within the tight corridor, ripping up crates and drones alike. Wanda was slammed against the wall, her breath knocked out.

“Wanda, stop!” Harry shouted, advancing.

But she screamed in pain and fury, and unleashed. The wind died as her powers snapped the air like a whip, sending Harry flying. He hit the deck hard, skidding across the steel. She descended on him, eyes glowing, both hands blazing with power.

“You’re the one who doesn’t belong!” she cried, fingers clawing through the air. Red threads twisted toward Harry. To accompany her, the ship’s walls and Ultron drones spilt in like ants from vents, floor panels, and ceiling hatches. A dozen. Then two dozen. They surrounded the two magic users instantly.

Harry moved like lightning. “Bombarda Maxima!” An explosion tore through three drones, blasting a hole in the hull. He conjured fire, ice, and concussive shockwaves, moving like a warrior god. Drones fell in twisted pieces. Wanda tried to stop him, but she realised that Harry was playing with her just now. With the Ultron drones in front of her, Harry let go of his restraints, and his magic was overpowering hers.

That was until the wind screamed. There was a blur of silver and blue. And before Harry could even cast, a punch cracked his jaw, sending him flying.

He tried to rise. Another blow hit his ribs. A third knocked the wind from his chest.

“Too slow, mate,” Pietro whispered in his ear, before vanishing again.

Harry raised his hand, but it was too late. The drones swarmed.

Dozens of steel hands gripped his limbs, his throat, his chest. His magic lashed out instinctively, and a golden pulse erupted from his body, blasting several back. But Pietro was behind him again, pressing a hand to his head. “You’ll heal,” he said and knocked Harry on the head..

Wanda used the opportunity to secure Harry as chains clinked. Metal restraints locked around his wrists, glowing red. Wanda stood behind the drones, trembling. Pietro stood at her side, breathing hard.

But as the drones dragged Harry’s body, a smirk could be seen in the corner of his lips. They hadn’t captured him. He’d let them.

“You won’t win,” Harry warned as his eyes glowed faintly with restrained magic. “You think this is over? I haven’t even started.”

Wanda stepped through the smoke and flickering sparks, her red aura pulsing like a heartbeat. “We already won,” she said softly. “The moment you walked into this trap… just like we wanted.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. Around them, Ultron’s sentries hissed and clicked as they adjusted their grip, restraining him tightly. But even now, he was gathering power. One sharp burst of concussive raw magic and he could break free, knock everyone off their feet, maybe even end this.

He closed his eyes, centring his will.

But Wanda was already inside his head. Her magic slipped past his mental defences like a dagger sliding between armour plates. He had underestimated her. She didn’t smash through his Occlumency. She flowed around it, drowning it. Warping it.

His thoughts twisted. Time stuttered. His magic faltered.

“No—” he choked out, but his body was already betraying him. Muscles weakened. Vision blurred. He barely registered her final whisper as the world went black.