(Attendance please…)
….
"This is getting really annoying," Gojo thought, a genuine flicker of irritation finally breaking through his usual nonchalance.
He figured this was at least the fifteenth missile they had fired at him. He didn't want to kill any of these pilots; he understood they were just soldiers acting on orders, fed misinformation by Ultron.
But his patience was wearing thin. This constant barrage was a pointless, tedious distraction.
Below, the evacuation was in full swing. Just as promised, a massive S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier had arrived, a behemoth hanging in the sky, dispatching flying life-pods to the airborne city.
Civilians were flooding into them, a desperate, chaotic exodus orchestrated by Nick Fury's surprisingly well-equipped "unemployed" agents.
In another part of the sky, the Stark family drama was playing out. Iron Man and Jarvis (now in his Vision body) were engaged in a fierce aerial battle with Ultron.
They flew, they fired repulsor beams, they traded super-powered punches. Anyone watching could tell they were, in a twisted way, family: Tony, the well-intentioned but flawed father; Jarvis, the loyal, obedient son; and Ultron, the rebellious child who had spent too much time on the dark corners of the internet and had decided that the only solution was the complete annihilation of humanity.
Another missile streaked towards Gojo and exploded harmlessly against his Infinity. That was it.
He'd had enough. He decided it was time to pay a personal visit to the commander, the general, or whoever was in charge of this relentless, pointless assault. Locating their base of operations was laughably easy for his Six Eyes.
Outside the city, hidden in a dense section of forest, was a makeshift military camp, heavily guarded with tanks and personnel carriers.
With a thought, Gojo warped.
He appeared instantly, right in the center of the military camp.
There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by a few startled yelps and a chorus of "Intruder alert!" In the next five seconds, he was completely surrounded, dozens of soldiers aiming their rifles directly at him.
Gojo sighed, a sound of profound disappointment. "You guys really think those little bullets will work on me," he stated, not even as a question, "when I've been taking direct hits from fighter jet missiles? Seriously?" No one answered. Their guns remained steady, their faces grim.
One soldier, likely an officer, stepped forward, his rifle still aimed squarely at Gojo's chest. "Surrender yourself immediately, you bastard!" he commanded, his voice tight.
"If you do that, there won't be any unnecessary brutality, and I will personally see to it that you are not harmed. Now, get on your knees, hands behind your head, and get on the ground! Quietly!"
Gojo just stared at him with a look of genuine bewilderment. "Are you… retarded?" he asked, the question delivered with sincere curiosity.
"Do not move!" the soldier barked again, ignoring the insult. "I repeat, do not move! We will open fire!"
Gojo, having had more than enough of this treatment, decided to end the standoff. He dashed forward.
The encirclement was wide, and as he moved, the commanding officer yelled, "Open fire!" Every soldier squeezed their trigger, unleashing a deafening roar of gunfire.
But Gojo wasn't there anymore. Not intending to stretch this out, he had simply warped. He reappeared instantly, not behind the speaking soldier this time, but slightly to the side, allowing the chaos to unfold.
The hail of bullets, aimed at where he had been, flew across the open space and slammed into the soldiers on the opposite side of the circle.
Cries of pain and shock erupted as soldiers were hit by their own comrades' fire, some in the legs, some in the arms, a few taking more serious hits to the chest.
Before the speaking officer could fully process the disastrous result of his order, Gojo warped again, appearing directly in front of him.
A single, sharp punch to the gut, and the officer folded, collapsing to his own knees with a choked gasp, the air driven from his lungs.
Gojo looked down at the wheezing man. "Who is the leader here?" he asked calmly.
The officer, struggling to breathe, didn't answer. Gojo grabbed him by his combat vest, lifted him slightly, and punched him again, in the exact same spot. This time, the officer had visible trouble even trying to breathe.
Gojo leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Who… is… the… leader… here?"
Of course, Gojo already knew where the one who was in charge; his Six Eyes had pinpointed General Ross the moment he'd warped into the camp.
He was just… going through the motions, for his own amusement. He began to walk calmly towards the main command tent, ignoring the wheezing officer he'd left on the ground.
The soldiers in his path reacted predictably. They yelled warnings, they shouted commands, but Gojo didn't listen. He just walked, his pace unhurried, as if he were strolling through a park.
The deafening roar of automatic gunfire erupted around him once more, a wall of lead directed at his lone figure.
But just like before, every single bullet stopped dead a few inches from his body, clattering harmlessly to the ground, a growing pile of useless metal forming at his feet.
The soldiers, perhaps driven by desperation or a complete inability to comprehend what they were seeing, just kept firing, maybe thinking that eventually, one bullet would get through.
Gojo finally reached the command tent and stepped inside.
There, surrounded by several other high-ranking military officers, was the old man he'd identified, a chest full of medals gleaming on his uniform.
He looked at Gojo not with fear, but with a strange, almost smug grin on his face, as if he'd been expecting this all along.
This was General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross.
"You're not scared?" Gojo asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Why would I be?" Ross retorted, his voice a confident rumble. "You can't kill me. You're intelligent enough to know that if you kill me, you make an enemy of the entire United States government. You'll be hunted down like a little rabbit, and your so-called, self-proclaimed 'hero' friends, the Avengers, won't be able to help you then. So, considering all that, maybe you came here to finally surrender… am I right?"
Gojo chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. He looked directly at Ross. "Are you… the leader of the retarded?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.
"I mean, I don't want to kill you, but you know, in a way, killing is a form of mercy. And I believe that, because I can inflict an unimaginable amount of torture on you, so much so that you'd be wishing to die, but you wouldn't be able to."
His expression hardened. "Though, I'm offering you a chance. Call off all your soldiers. Order every single one of them to retreat. And then, I'll act like this little… misunderstanding… never happened."
"No," Ross said, his grin unwavering. "I won't. We'll leave when you become our prisoner. More reinforcements are coming as we speak, so don't even—"
Ross's words were cut off as Gojo's fist slammed into his gut. The General, a man of advanced age despite his military bearing, buckled, the air driven from his lungs in a painful gasp. The punch, even a 'normal' one from Gojo, was more than enough to cause immense pain.
Gojo grabbed Ross by his uniform, lifting him slightly, and punched him again. If Gojo had been using his Cursed Energy to enhance the blows, Ross would likely be dead.
As it was, he was just in agony.
After a third punch to Ross's gut and stomach, Gojo brought his attention to the General's face. Snot was running from his nose, and quiet, pained groans were all he could manage.
"Order the retreat… now," Gojo demanded, his voice flat.
"No… way…" Ross managed to choke out, defiant to the last.
The next punch landed squarely on Ross's jaw with enough force to knock him out cold, his body slumping to the floor. Gojo looked up at the other terrified officers. "So," he asked calmly, "who's next in charge after this old man?"
They just stared at him, their faces pale, looking at each other, clearly stalling, hoping for the soldiers outside to rush in and save them.
Gojo, knowing exactly what they were thinking, let out a tired sigh. "No soldiers are coming to your rescue," he stated simply.
"What do you mean?" one of them stammered. "There are hundreds of soldiers outside, guarding this area, at every outpost!"
Gojo, speaking as if to a particularly slow chimpanzee, said, "I said, order the retreat." He then focused on the officer who had just spoken.
With a subtle application of Blue, he targeted the man's legs. There were two sickening cracks.
The man screamed, collapsing to the floor, his legs twisted at unnatural angles. He cried out, pleading for help from the man beside him, who was frozen in terror.
In the next second, another one of the officers, his face white with fear, shrieked, "I-I-I'll do it! Please, just don't hurt me!"
"Should have done that at the start," Gojo said, his tone conversational again. "Then no one would have gotten hurt. Mostly." He started to walk towards the tent's exit.
"Well, I'll be leaving now that this matter is resolved. Order a full retreat, and leave this area immediately. Or just be quiet. I do not want to see another fighter jet firing missiles or insults at me. Otherwise, next time, there won't be a chat, not even for a second."
Just then, Steve's voice crackled in his comms. "Satoru, where are you?! We need your help! Civilians are still in danger, and these Ultron drones are coming from everywhere!"
Gojo tapped his ear. "Yeah, be there in a second," he replied. "There were some… cockroaches here that needed dealing with. Though, I have to say, these cockroaches can die pretty easily. Hold out for a few more seconds."
….
A/N: So, How was it? See I didn't stretch the military arc, i ended it before it can even start, now in about 3-4 chapters this ultron arc will be finished.
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