"Long time no see, Captain," came a familiar voice as the various warring factions agreed to participate in the Galactic Conference, causing the widespread space conflict to gradually wind down into an uneasy ceasefire.
The superheroes stationed on battlefields across multiple sectors finally received their first opportunity to catch their breath after weeks of relentless combat.
Steve Rogers had evolved considerably since joining the Plumbers organization. He had become a legendary figure whose reputation extended throughout known space. Multiple generations of Super Soldier Serum refinements had enhanced his physical capabilities to levels approaching the Hulk's baseline strength. Combined with his unmatched tactical expertise and iconic vibranium shield, he represented a formidable force on any battlefield.
"Long time no see, Ben," Steve replied with genuine warmth, extending his hand with a crisp ten-dollar bill between his fingers.
The gesture triggered memories of their shared history, fighting side by side against Hydra's infiltration, supporting each other during the Winter Soldier crisis, and building the foundation of trust that had made their partnership so effective.
If it weren't for Ben's intervention and tactical brilliance, Steve's closest friend Bucky Barnes might not have survived his ordeal as the Winter Soldier.
"Should we be calling you Chief now, Mr. Parker?" Steve asked with good-natured humor, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease his space-level friend.
Ben's expression shifted to something slightly peculiar, as if he genuinely enjoyed hearing that particular title. He accepted the ten-dollar bill with obvious curiosity. "What's this for? Some kind of bribery attempt?"
"Are you trying to test my moral integrity with cold, hard cash?" he continued with mock indignation.
"What kind of upstanding officer could possibly resist such overwhelming temptation?!" Ben declared dramatically as he stuffed the money into his pocket with exaggerated greed.
"No, this is about that bet we made before," Steve clarified with obvious amusement. "I wagered ten dollars that nothing you did would surprise me anymore, remember?"
"There was such a bet?" Ben asked, his expression growing even more confused as if he had absolutely no recollection of this agreement.
Steve assumed his friend was simply experiencing the natural forgetfulness that came with managing massive responsibilities. The Plumbers organization handled so many critical situations across multiple galaxies and dimensions, it would be perfectly normal for someone in Ben's position to forget a trivial ten-dollar wager.
He kept his voice conspiratorial as he continued: "Guess who I encountered during combat operations a few days ago? Red Skull"
Ben nearly jumped out of his skin, his surprise so extreme it resembled someone witnessing pigs spontaneously organizing themselves into formation and leaping into a river.
"Isn't he supposed to be dead? Didn't you eliminate him during World War II?"
"I was equally shocked by the encounter," Steve admitted with obvious bewilderment.
Then he witnessed something that surprised him even more than discovering his old enemy was still alive.
The "Ben" standing before him reached up and literally peeled off his face like removing a mask, revealing completely different features underneath.
"Peter?!" Steve stammered, his mind struggling to process this unexpected revelation.
"How could it possibly be you?!"
"Ben asked me to impersonate him temporarily," Peter explained with a casual shrug, as if shapeshifting deception was an everyday occurrence. "He said he needed to gather intelligence about the Incursean Empire and requested that I cover for him during his absence. Please don't mention this to anyone, it's supposed to be classified. But let's continue discussing Red Skull. That man represents a genuine threat to galactic security!"
Peter reapplied his disguise, which turned out to be an advanced nano-mask of Ben's own invention. Once positioned on the wearer's face, the nanotechnology would simulate another person's appearance according to pre-programmed specifications. The device was so sophisticated that it didn't merely replicate facial features, the nano-molecules would actually cover the entire body, adjusting height, build, and other physical characteristics.
This technological marvel explained why Steve hadn't noticed any inconsistencies, despite Peter being noticeably shorter than Ben.
Steve produced another ten-dollar bill with the resignation of someone who had learned to expect the impossible from his space friends.
There's always something unprecedented happening around Ben Parker.
"Is your Omnitrix also a fake?" Steve asked with practical concern. "What happens if we encounter genuine combat situations?"
"It's not a genuine one, but Ben creation," Peter replied, glancing down at the device with casual dismissal. "Of course, I have to commit fully to the performance."
He was indeed wearing a watch-like device, but it contained only ten alien, a fraction of the original Omnitrix's vast database.
"If a real fight breaks out, won't we still have you to handle the situation? Besides, Captain, that new uniform of yours looks absolutely incredible."
Steve nodded with obvious satisfaction and professional pride. "It really is remarkable! With this suit's enhancements, I could confidently engage any powerful enemy for an entire day without fatigue!"
Peter thought privately: I remember you saying the exact same thing before you had any enhancements at all.
He kept this observation to himself, though he had to admit the Kryptonian-tech armor was genuinely impressive. Unfortunately, even with the combined manufacturing capabilities of the Plumbers and advanced Nidavellir dwarven technology, mass production of Kryptonian armor remained extremely challenging.
Technical limitations represented one significant obstacle, but material science posed an even greater problem.
The fundamental physics and materials engineering principles in the DC universe were apparently not entirely compatible with Marvel's dimensional laws.
Steve continued his account of the Red Skull encounter: "The incident occurred while I was engaged in combat operations against the Spartoi Empire. The king of that civilization had apparently defected to serve the Incursean Empire..."
Before he could complete his explanation, Peter suddenly bolted away from their conversation.
"Hey, that's Harry over there! Sorry Captain, I need to go mess with him!"
He had almost forgotten that during their first meeting in this timeline, he had made some rather inappropriate comments about Natasha Romanoff resembling a street worker and suggesting Nick Fury looked like a gangster boss.
Remote Sectors of the Universe
Incursean Empire fleets had spread their influence across virtually every corner of known space, establishing forward operating bases and supply lines that stretched across multiple galactic sectors.
A small squad of Incursean soldiers wearing black tactical uniforms and carrying advanced laser weaponry moved through the space void with military precision, their amphibian features hidden behind environmental suits designed for extended space operations.
"Move faster, you pathetic slugs!" Princess Attea commanded from her elevated position, her legs crossed with regal arrogance as she glared at subordinates who weren't meeting her expectations. She raised her hand threateningly, prepared to deliver physical punishment.
"If you delay our schedule, I'll rip your heads off and organize an interstellar football tournament with them as the game balls!"
"Yes, Princess Attea!" the soldiers responded with automatic obedience.
"You must address me by my full title: Future Heir to the Throne of the Incursean Empire, Most Beautiful Woman in the Galaxy, Emperor Milleous II, Princess Attea!" she corrected with the petulant authority of someone accustomed to absolute deference.
The disciplined Incursean warrior showed no resentment despite the physical abuse. Members of this species had been conditioned to accept tyrannical treatment as the natural order of things. Attea was actually demonstrating considerable restraint, if Emperor Milleous were present, he wouldn't hesitate to execute the soldier immediately, potentially eliminating everyone on the ship for good measure.
"Report!" Another soldier approached at a run, snapping to attention with military precision.
"Future Heir to the Throne of the Incursean Empire, Most Beautiful Woman in the Galaxy, Emperor Milleous II, Princess Attea, we have detected an urgent situation ahead!"
"There appears to be a stranded Sakaar messenger vessel. Preliminary scans suggest they encountered a space storm that caused critical spacecraft malfunctions. Should we destroy it according to standard protocols?"
"A Sakaar messenger?" Attea asked, her expression shifting to one of calculating interest.
In preparation for the upcoming Galactic Conference, Attea had spent recent days systematically withdrawing Incursean fleets from various active battlefronts, a massive logistical undertaking that required precise coordination.
Additionally, she had been assisting Emperor Milleous in locating suitable bodyguards for the diplomatic mission.
After all, this would involve face-to-face meetings with representatives from three major galactic empires, and Milleous was understandably concerned about potential assassination attempts. Without powerful protection, he would rather avoid the conference entirely.
This absolutely cannot happen!
In order to deliver the devastating surprise she had planned for her biological father, using the most powerful Death Ray Cannon to annihilate him along with representatives from multiple star systems, Attea had been gathering intelligence through various sources and had recently heard some particularly intriguing rumors.
Specifically, the notorious Vreedle family had apparently been spotted operating near this stellar region.
"Why would a Sakaar messenger appear in such a remote location?" she wondered aloud.
Her first instinct was to order the immediate destruction of the suspicious vessel.
At that moment, the entire ship began trembling violently, and an enormous shadow emerged from the deeper sections of their vessel.
"Little frog!" boomed a voice that could have shattered planets. "When are you taking me to a world covered entirely in water? I can't wait to bring my precious little pretty boys to conquer the universe!"
Ma Vreedle resembled a gigantic zombie matriarch, her cyan-colored skin decorated with heavy, garish makeup that somehow made her appearance even more terrifying. She carried a small handbag that seemed absurdly delicate compared to her massive frame.
The "pretty boys" she referenced were her biological offspring, and as long as she had access to sufficient water, she could produce biological weapons in virtually unlimited quantities.
Following behind her were her not-particularly-intelligent sons, the Vreedle brothers Octagon and Rhomboid, along with their perpetually depressed father Pa Vreedle and their only daughter Isosceles.
"Mom doesn't love us at all," complained Octagon, the slightly more cognitively limited brother, speaking to his sibling Rhomboid with obvious emotional distress. "She only cares about those potential little pretty boys."
Rhomboid lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper: "Although you're incredibly stupid, I have to admit you're absolutely right this time!"
"Once Mom locates a planet with adequate water supplies, she'll be able to produce three hundred billion little pretty boys in a single spawning cycle. I refuse to spend the rest of my existence changing diapers for those creatures!"
"What should we do about this situation?"
"Obviously, we sneak away and establish our own independent operation!" Rhomboid declared as if this were the most logical solution imaginable.
Pa Vreedle was such a complete failure that he had difficulty successfully stealing candy from children. Ma Vreedle maintained absolute authority within their family structure, meaning the brothers had no future if they remained under her control.
Rhomboid had already formulated a plan and whispered urgently, "Let's steal an escape pod and escape while she's distracted!"
None of the adults noticed their plotting, as Ma Vreedle's attention had become completely focused on the mysterious spacecraft floating in the distance.
"That ship appears to have exceptionally advanced propulsion technology," she observed with the keen eye of someone who had spent centuries acquiring and repurposing stolen equipment. "If we could install those engines on your ship, the speed improvement would be absolutely dramatic!"
Ma Vreedle's analysis penetrated the messenger ship's hull as if it were transparent, revealing the sophisticated technology hidden within.
Her comments strongly suggested she was planning to capture the ship and its occupants for interrogation and technology acquisition.
Attea naturally didn't dare oppose this decision.
Attea's comparatively small frame wouldn't survive a single punch from the matriarch.
I'll probably end up eliminating you along with everyone else! Attea thought with bitter resentment.
Despite her internal fury, she obediently commanded her soldiers to tow the mysterious spacecraft into their cargo bay for detailed examination.
Aboard the Captured Vessel
CRACK!
Ben's enhanced leg connected with the isolated Incursean soldier standing guard, sending the amphibian warrior flying backward like a biological cannonball. The soldier struck the spacecraft's bulkhead with enough force to create a body-shaped depression in the reinforced metal.
Ben seized the unconscious guard's arm and pressed it against the Omnitrix's scanner interface. Within sixty seconds, the device had completely analyzed and catalogued the Incursean genetic template.
"phase one completed successfully!" Ben announced to himself with quiet satisfaction.