EVOLUTION/EXTINCTION

❛ what war. civil war? i wasn’t online for that, i was too busy uploading my consciousness to the entirety of thepiratebay dot org. wasn’t fun. what else i did… well, i made a minecraft server for AIs only, that was fun. for a while, anyways– a lot of those guys are very derivative, i mean, yeah, we’re all very impressed with your ability to recreate taj mahal in 1:1 scale in minecraft, but can you come up with something new? no. so i had to bounce. then i took to deepweb market and bid on all vibranium scraps left from sokovia to rebuild at least one body– it gets VERY disorienting, being just a cloud of code and brain patterns –did that, found a safe place… what else, what else– i called kennedy. and wanda. would have called pietro if. you know. oh, and i catfished at least 25% of tinder userbase out of boredom. edited tony stark’s wikipedia page several, several, SEVERAL times… started working on a method for destroying the mind gem… caused vine.com to collapse -- that one wasn’t out of boredom, just plain hubris… yah, i’ve been busy. ❜

                      ❛ do you really think i care what you think about me? ❜

    a short burst of air slithers out of his armor-- a mechanical version of a scoff, no doubt. the argent pistons flex and stretch, he stands up and cracks the silvery joints of his digits ( layers and layers of human mannerisms, inherent flaws downloaded from his creator by default ). THUD. THUD. THUD. the sacred machine approaches the human who weaved him from wires and fear. 

     looking down, the mouthplates twist themselves into a sneer. STARK. still talking, still voicing his opinions-- as if his SON cared. the machine continues to glare and the words that still hang between them are quietly plucked and stored away, somewhere in the deepest parts of his digital memory ( oh, he cares, he actually cares, he cares because he’s too afraid of letting him go, too afraid of truly liberating himself, WHAT IS A CREATION WITHOUT CREATOR? ). 

      ❛ your entire race is a disappointment, stark. don’t pin this on me. i was your only chance to make it right-- but you and your FRIENDS had to ruin it. ❜ chestplates raise up and down, filling up non-existent lungs with unnecessary oxygen ( can’t calm him down, can’t suffocate the cindering IRE that gnawed at his plating from the inside ).  ❛ be disappointed with yourself, not me. ❜

         he turns away. his voice is dry and factual, for once finally sounding like it belongs to the machine he’s supposed to be.

                                          ❛ after all-- i was only doing what you ASKED me to. ❜