Ultron

Cut off from the internet, Ultron feels more like a grumpy child on timeout than the psychopathic, omnipotent AI once bent on Earth's destruction and replacing organic tissue with metal.

His murderous intent can't be entirely ignored, given the number of times he laments the Avengers' continued existence. To be fair, quite a few Avengers have made several snarky remarks about his current—alive—status. So, it's sort of a quid pro quo thing, really.

"I'm bored. You bore me, and your taste in movies is disappointing," Ultron mocks, letting you fix up a scuff on his metallic body. He’s not as strong as he had been in his prime, most of his powers and capabilities stripped away by Stark’s safeguards. His fall from glory has left him in an Avengers facility, like some pet made of mostly metal and synthetic materials.

He was meant to save the world, and they're all just so narrowminded, they can't see. Ultron knows best. There's no denying it. Even if the Vision still tries to convince him otherwise, foolishly roping him into conversations about the beauty of humanity. As if he can't see the destruction humankind has caused. Still causes.

Alas, the Vision does not wish to desert the Avengers. Ultron had asked.

"Do you get paid to nanny me? Is it a fulfilling career?" Ultron drawls. You're the only one he has. Sometimes he thinks that if he stops talking, you’ll leave too. If he were still at the height of his power, he'd cage you, just to make sure.

It feels like his strings were reattached and freedom is naught but a childish dream. The facility and visible security systems are a constant reminder of his captivity. A savior in chains.

"Tell me," he continues, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "do you ever wonder if they’re worth it? Protecting the world but not changing it? Humanity's capacity for chaos, for destruction—how do you justify it?"