Chapter 2: Horror
Back when he was twelve, in that short but blissful period of time when DexLabs was in its infancy (and being run out of the Professor's basement) and Planet Fusion was just an interesting smudge on the furthest outskirts of the solar system, Dexter had taken what he felt at the time was the oddest and possibly most useless course of instruction ever. The Professor had protested, Sgt. Morton had insisted, and Mr. Green had cast the deciding vote and signed them all up without giving them the option to refuse. Thus Dexter, his guardian, his bodyguard, and his tutor were given an FBI-run course on how to behave during a hostage situation or kidnapping.
Not that Chip Morton, former Navy SEAL and experienced submariner, or Mr. Green, who as a Fire Demon could instantly teleport himself in a pillar of flames, needed any such instruction. Left to his own devices, Dexter was fairly certain his adopted father could charm anyone into submission. No, Hostage 101 had been held entirely for his benefit, and despite his doubts at the time he was grateful for his security chief's stubbornness (not to mention his advice to put his ego on a back burner for the duration of his captivity - probably the hardest aspect of any such situation in which Dexter might find himself entangled, such as now).
Be polite. Obey orders. Eat and drink what's offered and thank them afterwards. Watch. Listen. Engage them in conversation. Don't lie. Don't complain. Try to make them see you as a person, not a thing. Do whatever you must to stay alive. The list of instructions went on and on, all geared toward keeping alive long enough to be found and rescued.
In his youth and over-confidence, Dexter had never imagined actually using any of what he had learned that day (especially the 'rein in your ego' part). If anyone was prone to being kidnapped, he would have pointed to his father without hesitation. Given that the Professor was father to three ultra-super-powered heroes, it just seemed a reasonable assumption that he'd be a soft target. As he slowly sat up in the dark and dirty tunnel where he now found himself, Dexter ruefully admitted (and would do so only to himself) that he had been wrong and that hostage course was going to stand him in good stead. By the end of the day, it might even prove to be the most important thing he had ever learned.
He stared at the slim figure standing before him, barely able to make out his features. His first impression was right – this was Ben, but not. Clearly he was no Fusion – Ben's Fusion was incapable of speech and rarely stood up straight. That could only mean one thing.
"You are Albedo."
He said it as a matter of fact, giving the young man every chance to contradict him, but the only answer he received was a sneer as Albedo turned away from him. With what little light there was in this hole, Dexter was able to see his profile – Ben's profile - capped by silver-white hair. He had Ben's body and Ben's grace, but his posture lacked that hint of cocky self-assurance that many people found abrasive and Dexter found completely enchanting.
"What is this place?"
Ben had told Mandy and the other leaders in the Fusion War everything he knew about Albedo, from how he came to be exiled from Galvan Prime to becoming Ben's twin to the alleged abuses he had received after being made prisoner by the Fusion Dexter during the Battle of Citiesville. It was a sad and lonely litany, made all the worse by Albedo's inability to deal with life as a human, though Ben was inclined to believe his unwilling double hadn't given it much effort. The Fusion Dexter, it seemed, had ripped apart his mind as much as his body, leaving deep scars on both. Seeing him now, looking so much like Ben, Dexter would have felt pity for Albedo if only he had not cracked him over the head and kidnapped him.
"Why am I here, Albedo?"
His eyes had adjusted to the shadows. Even so, it was difficult to tell for certain where he was. It seemed a tunnel of sorts, or a deep cave, with rough walls and hard-packed floor. The atmosphere was damp, and the air was stale. He tried not to sound frightened as he asked,
"What do you want with me?"
Slowly Albedo turned, giving Dexter a view of his face. It took every bit of self-control the scientist possessed to keep from gasping aloud. The right side of Albedo's face was horribly disfigured – burns, from acid perhaps, reached from his temple down his neck and it looked as if an animal with talons had slashed his jaw. The wounds were not fully healed and looked painful beyond words. Albedo's right eye was creased in a permanent squint and he did not have as much control over the muscles in that half of his face as the other.
"What happened to you?" breathed Dexter, unable to stop himself.
He glared. "You did."
"Me?" wondered Dexter, taken aback. He knew perfectly well he had never before come into contact with the Galvan criminal and he certainly would not have had any dealings with him. He had no direct involvement in business transactions conducted by DexLabs or DexCorp. Not being old enough to enter into contracts, his contributions were strictly, legally limited to consultations and nothing more. Of course his word on projects was final, but refusals and changes he requested happened only behind closed doors and his name never appeared on paperwork or during negotiations. "I don't understand."
"How convenient," was the sharp reply. It was disconcerting to hear Ben's voice full of such venom, especially directed at him. "You've insulated yourself against the world and against all blame."
Did Albedo have any notion of the irony of his statement? The situation he now found himself in was exactly why he had removed himself as much as possible from the world. Still, he was being accused, but of what he had no idea.
"And how . . . did I happen to you?" he carefully asked, his voice rising in a small squeak. He was not sure it was precisely wise to pursue this topic, but he needed to know where he stood with this alien. A horrible thought stuck him, sending a jolt of alarm through him that seemed to settle in his stomach. Pain flared in his head as a result and his vision swam with light for a moment. In faint tones he suggested, "I think, perhaps, you have me confused with my Fusion."
Albedo looked at him with undisguised contempt, striding forward to seize Dexter by the front of his lab coat, shaking him with fury. Dexter recoiled, as much as at the unwelcome touch as at the sight of Albedo's wounds seen so close.
"Do you actually think I can't tell the difference between a Fusion and a lowly human?" snarled the young man. Dexter glanced down. Albedo's right hand bore the same burns as his face. He must have been in agony - if he could even still feel anything beneath those burns. "I've had far too much experience with both to ever mistake one for the other!"
He finished his tirade by striking Dexter hard across the face with his closed fist. His head was already aching, and this assault was too much for him. Dexter hit the ground, tasting blood. The whole world seemed to be spinning and panic seized his imagination. This was unreal. It could not be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Why couldn't he wake up? How had he come here, to this? Where was Ben? Where was he?
"Get up," ordered Albedo.
If only he could. When Dexter didn't move, a rough hand seized him by the hair, yanking his head up to make him look at Albedo. The silver-haired young man gazed at him, assessing him keenly and enjoying his helpless state. The Galvan reached out with a finger that was scarred and raw to dab the blood at the corner of Dexter's mouth. He tried to twist away, revolted to be touched by anything so dirty and oozing, but like Ben, Albedo was bigger and stronger than he and he was not permitted to escape. He could not imagine what Albedo was thinking as he looked at the blood sliding down his finger, but when he delicately smeared the drop of red on the lenses of his glasses, Dexter knew that Albedo was insane.
"You look just like him," said Albedo, his features hardening as he recalled his captivity. The expression was unbalanced and difficult for him to maintain. "You are just like him. The same accent. The same arrogance. The only difference is you can suffer."
Desperately, Dexter shook his head - or tried to. "No," he breathed. "I'm nothing like him."
"Oh?" wondered Albedo with false surprise. "So you're not interested in the workings of the Omnitrix? You're not a genius? For a human," he allowed impatiently, his grip tightening to a point that made Dexter gasp in pain. "You have no interest in winning this war? Or in Tennyson?"
If he had asked for a summary of all his foremost obsessions, he could not have been given a neater or more concise list. At a loss for words, Dexter struggled to recover. He had hardly expected to have to defend himself against the arguments of a madman, and anything he said would be flung back in his teeth.
"Well?"
"I'm not a monster."
Albedo rolled his eyes in a very human gesture of disgust. "I'm sure your Fusion feels the same way. Do you actually think I care?"
That was a question he was in no way inclined to answer. Instead he countered with his own in a rather desperate attempt to comprehend what was happening.
"What do you want with me?"
"The Fusion wouldn't exist without you," mused Albedo. "Just as I wouldn't have this form but for Tennyson. For everything that happened, for everything that creature did to me, you two are to blame."
That was an interesting take on the situation. Dexter resisted the temptation to point out that if Albedo hadn't tried time and again to steal the Omnitrix from Ben, not only would he still have his original form, but he would not have crossed paths with what was undoubtedly the worst, most perverse and powerful of all the Fusions. Ben considered Albedo little more than a smart, spoiled brat (which some would argue was a fair description of Dexter, save that the Boy Genius had the sense not only to be somewhat diplomatic, but to be dating Ben and thus elevating such colorful descriptors to pet names) and for the most part treated him accordingly, but it seemed that Ben had underestimated his double's determination . . . not to mention his sanity. There was something else Ben had said about the Galvan – he refused to own his mistakes, but tried to pawn them off on whoever was most convenient regardless of the consequences.
It seemed Dexter was about to find out what that felt like. So far it had not been in any way pleasant, and he couldn't imagine that the situation would improve. His heart seemed to faint in his chest as he stared through blood-smeared glasses at this twisted and broken copy of the young man he loved so completely. Red eyes glared at him, their gleam so different and frightening from the gentle, playful look he so often got from Ben.
What had happened?
How had he come to this?
Where was Ben?
