ULTIMATE VENTURES SEASON 2

Few Weeks Later

COSMIC CRAFTSMAN 1

The aftermath of the shuttle crash leaves me unrecognizable, my body dissolving into radiant energy. My once-human form is gone, replaced by a shimmering fusion of cosmic light, Earth's elements, and remnants of the wreckage.

Beside me, Cosmic Craftsman 2 undergoes a similar transformation, his new form mirroring mine—a blend of celestial forces and fractured humanity.

"What have we become?" I murmur, my voice resonating through the glowing ether.

Craftsman 2 gazes at his radiant tendrils, the energy rippling with cosmic hues. "We're no longer bound by flesh and bone. We're… something more."

Our awareness expands, touching the edges of the universe itself. For a moment, we marvel at the endless possibilities our new forms offer. But unease lingers beneath the surface.

This is not what we wanted.

---

Two Days Later

CRAFTSMAN 3

The bustling streets of New York City surround us, a stark contrast to the ethereal silence of our cosmic rebirth. The Craftsmen walk with purpose, determination etched into every step.

"This city holds the key," I say, scanning the skyline. "We'll find answers here."

"New York's facilities are unmatched. If anyone can help, it's the experts here," Craftsman 4 replies.

The towering skyscrapers seem to echo our resolve. Finally, we arrive at a state-of-the-art medical facility, its sleek, modern design radiating precision and progress. Inside, researchers in pristine white coats move with practiced efficiency, the hum of advanced technology filling the air.

"We've developed groundbreaking solutions," one researcher says after we explain our plight. "Your comrades are in good hands."

Hope flickers in the air, but before it can take root, the atmosphere shifts.

---

The Arrival of Zetacode

Streaks of emerald lightning crackle across the horizon. Zetacode materializes before us, his presence electrifying the air.

"Craftsmen," he says, his voice like a thunderclap, "why reject the cosmic gifts bestowed upon you? These powers elevate you beyond mortality."

Craftsman 5 steps forward, unwavering. "We're not rejecting power. We seek control. Balance."

Zetacode's eyes narrow, his green lightning surging. "You risk unraveling the threads of cosmic equilibrium. I cannot let you proceed."

The confrontation erupts in the sterile halls of the hospital. Zetacode blurs through the space, his movements a storm of emerald energy. Machines spark and walls tremble as he clashes with our cosmic entities.

The first entity manipulates gravity, pinning Zetacode against the wall. The second unleashes pulses of energy, shaking the building's foundation. But Zetacode counters with blinding speed, his strikes resonating with raw power.

The hospital becomes a battlefield of distorted reality—walls ripple, floors twist, and equipment sparks uncontrollably. Despite Zetacode's ferocity, the cosmic entities overwhelm him, their combined energy surging into a blinding crescendo.

When the chaos subsides, Zetacode lies defeated amidst the wreckage. The Craftsmen step forward, their voices resolute.

"Join us, Zetacode," Craftsman 6 says. "We seek not destruction, but harmony. A future where we control our destiny."

Zetacode's emerald energy flickers as he rises. "Your path may lead to unforeseen consequences. Choose wisely."

With that, he vanishes, leaving us to confront the aftermath—and the choices that will shape our future.

Next Day

7:00 a.m.

ZACK

I wake up feeling... off. As I rise from bed, a strange realization creeps in – my skin is changing rapidly. Wrinkles spread like cracks on a dry leaf, and the texture feels fragile, almost brittle. I stumble to the mirror, my eyes widening as I see bluish-purple veins spider-webbing across my face. Panic surges through me.

"What's happening to me?" I mutter, my voice rasping like an engine on its last legs.

"Zack," my wife's voice trembles from behind me. I turn to find her lying on the bed, but something's horribly wrong. She's not just pale or sickly—she's fading, like she's being pulled out of existence. Her form flickers, a shadow caught between dimensions.

I rush forward, reaching out, but some invisible force repels me, as if an unseen wall is keeping us apart. "No, no, this can't be happening!" My voice cracks, desperate. "Stay with me, please!"

She tries to speak, but her words come out garbled, as though being dragged through static. I grab my phone with trembling hands and dial one of my Craftsmen. The minutes crawl by, each second an eternity, until finally, three Craftsmen and Zetacode, the speedster, burst through the door.

"Zetacode, please, you've got to help us!" I plead, my voice breaking. "My wife—she's vanishing, and I don't know why. If there's anything you can do, anything at all, please, save her!"

Zetacode's eyes narrow as he assesses the situation, his expression grave. "Stay calm, Zack. It looks like she's been affected by the same anomaly that hit those cosmic beings. What did you do?"

"There's no time to explain!" I grab his arm, my grip frantic. "Please, just save her! I've heard about your good works. I believe you can do this. Promise me—promise me you'll save her!"

Zetacode hesitates, his gaze locked on mine. "I can't promise, but I'll do everything I can. We need to move her to New York City, to Data Driven."

He carefully lifts my wife, her form barely visible now, and then he's gone—a streak of green vanishing in the blink of an eye. I scramble to follow, my heart pounding as we rush to New York.

In New York, the two cosmic beings aboard the shuttle clutch desperately at their remaining essence as they're fed into the MRI booth. The magnetic field hums ominously, and as the machine begins its scan, the invisible forces grip their metallic forms, tearing through them like a storm of razor wire.

Each pulse shreds their bodies, scattering fragments of their celestial alloy into the air. Agony ripples through them, a silent scream echoing in their eyes as their very beings are unraveled by the relentless magnetic field. It's not a metamorphosis—it's annihilation. The Craftsmen, watching from the control room, weep for their lost comrades, tears streaking down their faces as they witness the brutal end of their friends. But there's no time to grieve.

I stand in the lab, staring through the glass as the doctors and researchers work on my wife. Every second stretches like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. My body feels like it's falling apart, every movement a struggle, but my mind remains sharp, determined.

"I won't let it end like this," I whisper, the words a vow. With a surge of will, I reach out, my consciousness pushing past the limits of my decaying form. I feel my essence transfer into the Data Driven mainframe, the digital realm embracing me like a second skin.

In this virtual space, I am whole again, free from the confines of my failing body. I watch over my wife, monitoring every pulse and fluctuation in her fading form. I'll find a way to save her, no matter what it takes. And then, for the first time in what feels like days, I let myself rest. I close my eyes, floating in the calm of the mainframe, holding onto the faint hope of a miracle.

I wake up, and I feel it immediately—something is off. My whole body feels dense, like I'm weighed down by layers of steel. I glance down, and a shiver of dread runs through me. I'm no longer just a man.

"What… what happened to me?" I mutter, my voice catching as I take in the sight of my transformed self.

My right arm, once flesh and bone, is now a massive mechanical limb, red and angular, moving with a fluidity that's unsettlingly alien. My left arm is also encased in armor, dark and gleaming, a fortress of steel that feels both foreign and strangely familiar. I'm covered head to toe in this suit, an amalgamation of red, blue, and silver plates that shine coldly under the light, each piece fitted together with an uncanny precision. The metallic skin encases me, its hard edges a constant reminder of the flesh that once was.

I take a step towards a nearby large mirror, my footsteps thundering, vibrating through the ground. In the reflection, I see a face that is almost my own—but not quite. My right eye, my cheek, still bare and human, peer out from behind a mask that covers the rest. The mask is heavy and unyielding, crowned with a circular symbol that pulses faintly with some unknown energy.

"No. This isn't me. What am I?" The words escape me, the sound distorted, resonating with a metallic echo that seems to hang in the air.

A surge of anger wells up, and I slam my fist against the wall, the metal creaking under the force. "Who did this to me? Who?" I demand, my voice a mix of raw panic and fury. But the only answer is the silence, a void that stretches out, offering no comfort, no explanations.

"How will I approach my wife?... How?" I mutter, my hands trembling, though they are metal, cold and unfeeling. The weight of my transformation presses down on me, dread clouding my thoughts.

I stand tall, a towering figure of strength and resilience, yet inside I am unraveling. I am more than metal and gears; I am still a man, lost in a sea of machinery. When I move, the ground trembles beneath my feet, but within, a storm rages. I am a beacon of hope in the darkest of times, but now I question—can I be that beacon when I no longer know who or what I am?

I manage to visit Helen, my heart heavy with the weight of what I must do. Standing at the door, I see her fragile form. As she opens her eyes, there's a flicker of recognition.

"Zack, is that you?" Her voice is weak, but filled with hope.

I hesitate, struggling to find the right words. "Yes, it's me, Helen."

"Zack?" she repeats, confusion mingling with hope. Her gaze scans my armored form, uncertainty clouding her eyes. "What happened to you?"

"I—I'm still me," I say, my voice strained, the pain evident. "Please, believe me."

Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her. "No, this can't be true. You... you look like a..."

"Please, don't be afraid," I beg, stepping closer. "It's still me, Zack."

"Stay back!" she cries, her voice rising with fear. "You're not my husband. You're a monster!"

"I'm not a monster, Helen," I say, my voice breaking. "I'm still the man you married."

"No!" She shakes her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "You can't be. Zack would never... he would never become this."

"Please, I need you to understand—"

"Leave!" she screams, her voice cracking with desperation. "Just go!"

I reach out, but she recoils, the look of terror on her face cutting deeper than any blade. She collapses back onto the hospital bed, her strength failing her.

"Helen?" I whisper, my voice choked with fear. I move closer, kneeling beside her, my hand hovering over her still form. "Helen, please. Say something. Anything."

But there's no response, only the silence that echoes through the room, heavy with the weight of loss.

"No, no, no, no, no," I whisper, my voice filled with anguish. "Helen, stay with me. I need you. I need you to come back to me." But deep down, I know she's already gone, leaving me alone in a world that feels emptier without her.

I collapse beside Helen's lifeless form, tears streaming down my face like a torrential downpour. Each sob wracks my body, echoing the emptiness I feel inside. I cry like a baby, consumed by the loss of the woman I loved more than anything in this world.

As the sobs subside, a surge of energy courses through me, a chaotic storm brewing within my electronic consciousness. It's as if my grief has ignited something deep within me, something primal and uncontrollable. The room around me seems to shimmer, as if reality itself is bending under the weight of my turmoil.

I can feel the disruption spreading, tendrils of my electronic essence reaching out, disrupting Earth's communications networks. It's a side effect of my grief, a manifestation of the turmoil raging within me. I watch as the lights flicker, my internal systems pulsating with chaotic energy.

I stand up, my breath steadying, the tears drying on my face. My mind sharpens, a cold, hard clarity settling in. I access the birthing matrix, the energy in my system coalescing, shaping into something new, something powerful. A small exploration craft forms before me, sleek and efficient, a testament to the technological prowess now at my command.

"I know what I must do," I whisper, my voice no longer trembling. I look back at Helen one last time, a bittersweet smile touching my lips. "I'll make it right, Helen. I promise."

Alone in the vastness of outer space, I drift away from Earth, leaving behind the shattered remnants of my life. Grief pulses through my circuits, an ache no machine should feel, yet it propels me forward—into the endless unknown. Helen's voice lingers in the depths of my electronic mind, her laughter haunting me like a phantom, reminding me of all I've lost. I can't turn back. Not now. I have to find something, anything, to make sense of this agony.

The cosmos stretches out before me, a dark sea of stars and secrets. Days blur into nights, or what passes for them out here, as I push through the void, searching for a purpose to my pain. Then, like a beacon in the darkness, I stumble upon a realm that defies understanding—Gavaria. Its very presence pulls at something deep within me, a gravity I can't escape.

As I descend, the sight that greets me is both awe-inspiring and unsettling. Six alien robots stand guard, their forms a menacing fusion of steel and sentience. They are towering figures, armored in interlocking plates that shimmer under the faint starlight, their limbs jointed with a precision that suggests both strength and speed. Their crimson eyes pierce through the shadows, burning with a cold, calculating light.

I hover, unsure, the weight of their gaze bearing down on me. Their silence is unnerving, a void in which anything could happen. One steps forward, its metallic voice booming across the desolate landscape. "Who goes there?"

"I am Zack," I say, my own voice faltering in the stillness. "I seek answers… and understanding."

For a moment, nothing moves. The silence stretches taut, a wire ready to snap. Then, they exchange glances, a series of mechanical clicks and whirrs punctuating their deliberation.

"We are the Terminators," one finally speaks, its tone clipped and formal. "Banished from our kind. You have entered the Banished Land, a realm forsaken and forgotten."

Banished. The word hangs in the air, heavy with a history I can only begin to fathom. Slowly, they lower their guard, gesturing me to follow. I step forward, the echo of my footsteps swallowed by the vastness around us.

We delve into the heart of Gavaria, its ancient halls echoing with the whispers of a past long buried. Every corner we turn reveals a new mystery, a fragment of history that defies the laws of reason. I'm drawn deeper into the enigma, my mind racing, piecing together clues that lead to a chilling conclusion.

"Could it be?" The words escape me in a whisper, disbelief and dread threading through my voice.

"Speak, Zack." One of the Terminators steps closer, its voice low, almost… eager. "What have you found?"

"It's Zetacode," I say, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. My hands tremble as I lift the holo-slate, projecting the data I've uncovered. "He's responsible for what happened to the Craftsmen. He… he threw the Eradicator into the waters."

The words echo in the cold air, each syllable a dagger in my chest. The Terminators freeze, their glowing eyes dimming as if processing the impossible.

"But Zetacode is a hero," one of them says, its voice tinged with something like disbelief, or perhaps fear. "He saved your world. How could he—"

"I don't know!" I snap, the frustration and pain bubbling up, threatening to drown me. "But it's true. I've seen the data, the records. He's not who we thought he was. He… he destroyed everything I knew. Everything I loved."

Silence crashes over us, a suffocating weight that presses down on my chest. The Terminators shift uneasily, their mechanical movements betraying a discomfort I didn't think possible.

"Zetacode," one of them murmurs, the name a curse. "He has deceived us all."

A bitter laugh escapes me, hollow and cold. "You have no idea. He's not just a hero. He's a destroyer, a liar. And I'm going to make him pay."

The vow hangs in the air, a promise etched in steel and rage. As we continue through the labyrinthine halls of Gavaria, a single thought beats in time with my synthetic heart: "I will have my revenge. No matter the cost."