Had to break up this chapter and the next, since I feel it's gonna be veeery plot heavy. Enjoy!

Julie wakes up to lungs filled with liquid.

It takes a panic-filled second, but she determines she's not drowning, somehow - it's a strange, light blue liquid that she can breathe, like perfectly normal air. It freaks her out, even more than the obviously missing limb on her right side, or the fact that she's naked, suspended in a clear, cylindrical tank filled with the stuff, in a clinical-looking circular room, and with an audience to boot.

She tries - and mostly fails, thanks to her severed arm - to cover herself up as Hala the Accuser walks up to her tank. To her credit, the Kree - who's wearing what Julie might describe as the 'weekend casual' version of her armor - doesn't really look at her, merely glances as she brings up a holographic display that appears to showcase her vital signs. Hala looks absolutely miserable with guilt as she surveys the data, even through the obvious alienness of her visage.

"Get me out of here!" -she yells at her, angry. Julie half expects the words to come out garbled, but she speaks normally.

"In a moment." -Hala says, apologetic. "Your friend, Gwen, is fetching an outfit for you."

Well, at least it's good to know she's not wherever she is by herself. The violet flash she registered just before passing out must've been Gwen, charging in as the cavalry. "Why am I even naked in the first place?"

"Ah. I...apologize for removing your clothing, but the substance you are suspended in is corrosive for most synthetic materials. If it makes you feel any better, Miss Tennyson volunteered for the task of disrobing you."

Julie grunts. It's a very small comfort. She's close with Gwen, but not that close. Frankly, she'd have been a lot more comfortable if, y'know, Ben had done it. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

"Cryogenic fluid. A common stabilizing medium for injured warriors." -Hala answers, collapsing the hologram. She looks her in the eye. "You went into shock, following your injury. Since you couldn't exactly be taken to a Terran hospital, you were brought aboard my flagship, the Azure Lance, for treatment."

Julie frowns, but her outrage ebbs a little. "Isn't cryogenic tech supposed to be, like, an interstellar travel thing?"

"Not since warp gates and the corresponding drives were invented." -she explains. "We've long since outgrown the need to preserve organics during decade-long FTL trips. Still, the fluid was designed to support life for extended periods of time, and so it remains useful to this day."

"And Ben? Is he ok?" -she asks, fear coloring her voice.

Hala hesitates. "...in good health, yes. Despite the deadly wound he received."

Julie sighs in relief. So, her assumption is true; the damage he endures as an alien doesn't translate to his base human body. She thought that might've been the case, since the Omnitrix seems to source whatever matter and energy each transformation requires, but having the confirmation is good. Still, something in Hala's expression troubles her. "I have a feeling there's a 'but' in there."

"I fear there is." -Hala says gravely. "The Omnitrix's bearer is not in a suitable state of mind. He blames himself for your...injury."

Julie sighs to herself. Of course he would, even though there's absolutely nothing he could've done to prevent her mutilation. Not with the giant drone, and not with this fucking bounty hunter. Ben is a kind soul, and his drive to help people is genuine - and probably the thing she loves most about him - but, on the flip side, he tends to blame himself for things outside his control. It was a flaw when the worst he'd blame himself for was a busted blender at work, or missing one of her games because his dad had snatched him away overnight for a photo op with Congresswoman Tennyson, but now that he bears such a terribly massive responsibility, she fears that this flaw may prove fatal.

Gwen chooses that moment to barge into the room, interrupting her musing. She's carrying a bundle of clothes and a towel. She hands them off to the Accuser and...leaves?

"What? ...why did she leave?" -Julie asks, befuddled.

Hala commands the pod to flush the liquid, making Julie feel a little woozy as the weightlessness wears off. "I can't claim to understand the...power behind it, but your friend can generate duplicates of herself at will."

Ah. That sounds about right. Julie's only surprised such a versatile spell actually works for the redhead. It must be how she and Ben staved off the hunters for so long - she didn't really ask, too busy with the actual police investigation she was forced to provoke as a result of Hala's little home invasion. "Where's the real Gwen?" -she asks, stepping off the now open tank and awkwardly towelling herself off. She ends up way more damp than she's used to, or comfortable with - which she expected - but the cryo fluid seems to evaporate fairly quickly on its own, at least.

The Accuser winces. "She is...busy. Not to be disturbed, I'm told."

Julie frowns as she dresses, slowly, trying her best to get used to the extra effort of using only one arm to do so. Fortunately, the clothes - likely Gwen's - are quite loose, and easy to slip into. The redhead is both taller and much more statuesque than she is. In any case, constantly having to pull up some baggy jeans is way better than talking to an alien warlady in the nude. "Doing what?"

"Should you not be more concerned with your current predicament?" -Hala nods at her, obviously trying to change the subject.

Julie snorts. Calling it a 'predicament' is the understatement of the year - a year that's seen alien invasions, an actual norse god joining the fray, and superheroes popping up just about everywhere. She peels back the empty sleeve of the cat-themed t-shirt she's wearing, surprised to find a discrete black plate covering the stump, just after her shoulder ends. There's really nothing left of her arm; the bastard cut it off at the joint.

"The bounty hunter's plasma blade cut across your shoulder joint, destroying any chance of surgically re-attaching your severed limb before the nerve endings were permanently damaged. Perhaps, with some time, we might've been able to clone a new one for you, but our facilities are not designed for Terran use - our infamous legacy of genetically tampering with the genomes of other sapient species has led to strict protocols that destroy foreign genetic material processed in such machines, along with the machines themselves." -she says. "As it stands, we were forced to synthetically reconstruct your entire shoulder and clavicle, reinforcing the rest of your skeleton with a graphene nano-lattice to bring its durability up to the same standards as the synthetic replacements."

She says this like she's describing the weather, and not a surgically invasive procedure that fundamentally altered her entire skeleton. "Jesus, Hala, don't you think I needed to, oh, I don't know, consent to this procedure, maybe!?"

Hala seemed puzzled. "I...it was necessary."

"You don't say."

"If your shoulder were to withstand a force strong enough to shatter Terran bone, but not your implants, the rest of your skeleton would suffer catastrophic consequences."

Julie scoffs. "If I'm getting hit that hard in the first place, an unbreakable shoulder would be the least of my problems."

"You are partner to the Omnitrix's bearer." -Hala gently reminds her. "I apologize for disregarding your bodily autonomy, but you are inherently and permanently at risk of grievous injury."

Julie glances at her empty sleeve. "...yeah, alright. I guess it's a good thing, just...ask next time, alright? Even if it's a painless procedure, it's still my decision to make."

Hala nods as a sigh escapes her. "Over a decade above C-53, and I'm still unused to these Terran ideals of freedom and choice. I'll keep it in mind."

Hala gestures for her to follow. Pseudo-Gwen didn't bring any shoes, so Julie gets to walk the frigid corridors of the Kree warship barefoot. Yay. Hala leads the way through a series of narrow hallways, filled to the brim with Kree warriors and crew, the majority of whom pointedly stare at her for way longer than her mother would consider polite. It's not so much xenophobia - she gets the impression that Hala would stamp that out pretty quick, given her apparent predilection for humanity - but rather fear of being discovered by their superiors as hosting a human. From what she could gather through her rather clipped, first conversation with the Accuser, Kree leadership has a real issue with her species.

"As you can see," -Hala notes, nodding at the various warriors they pass, "Kree warriors are no strangers to the loss of a limb."

It's true; Julie guesses that some 70% of the Kree they pass are cyborgs of some kind. Legs, eyes, and of course, arms, replaced both partially and completely by incredibly advanced, lifelike prosthetics. "We are a long-lived species, and us warriors are especially expected to give our all for the collective wellbeing of our species. 'For the good of all Kree'. Each and every one of us has seen much combat, not all of it victorious." -she says, knocking on her thigh. It makes a muted metallic sound, betraying its own synthetic nature.

"Why tell me this?" -she asks, suspicious.

"Because you were right." -Hala says, glancing at Julie. "When you accused me of inaction - of failing to stop the drone from reaching you, of failing to intervene and save precious lives from the Chitauri incursion. And now, of preventing your current suffering by letting the bounty hunters 'legally' pursue Tennyson at their leisure."

Julie frowns. "You said it yourself, though. 'Legally'. You couldn't do anything without breaking the rules."

"To borrow one of your charming Terran expressions: fuck the rules." -she spits out the words. "I traded my own comfort for the blood of innocent people. It is utterly unbefitting of someone who fancies herself a protector of Terra. All I can do now is atone - starting by pledging my full support of you."

"Earth." -Julie finds herself saying. "I know galactic civilization calls it Terra, or whatever, but we humans call our homeworld Earth. If you're really this committed, you might as well start by getting the name right."

Hala raises an eyebrow. "You...don't object?"

Julie shrugs. It's not an easy gesture, but it's not because of the missing limb - it's because she still doesn't quite trust Hala, but...she is willing to give her a chance. "We all fuck up, right? I highly doubt it's just a human trait. You were doing what you were supposed to do, but that wasn't the right thing to do. I can relate."

"Even though I am to blame for your lost limb?"

She snorts. "You didn't do this to me. Maybe you could've stopped the guy who swung the energy sword, maybe not. I think it's useless to think about 'what ifs' right now." -Julie says, then sighs. "I don't know how in the world I'm gonna explain this to my parents, but...don't worry, I won't even mention you."

Hala hums. "Perhaps there is no need to explain."

"I'm pretty sure my parents are gonna want an explanation for why their only daughter is suddenly missing an arm."

"Of course." -she says, then smirks in a manner too mischievous for the no-nonsense warlady Julie's known so far. It almost reminds her of Abigail Brand, instead. "That is, if there's a missing arm to notice."

Hala's little tour deposits them at what Julie can only guess is the flagship's armory, a veritable treasure trove of alien weapons that wouldn't be too out of place at a Star Wars film set - the originals, since the prequels are all blue screens and CGI. There's at least a dozen different kinds of guns, untold amounts of energy-based melee weapons, and green-black armor sets in a variety of styles and body types.

There's also body parts. Mechanical body parts.

"I've consumed very little Terran - er, human media." -Hala says, smug. "But I understand there are 'game shows' where participants are allowed to storm through sets filled with prizes to be looted at their leisure?"

Julie blinks, astounded at the prospect before her. Hala gets the reference kind of wrong. There's usually a time limit to those things. "Uh-huh."

Hala winks. Or tries to, anyway. "Go on, then, Julie Yamamoto. Take your pick."

Human-Bearer-Ben finds himself in an emerald void, stretching infinitely around him. His first instinct is to look at his wrist, which somehow lacks the Omnitrix; instead, a band of blazing green encircles his wrist which - he's pretty sure without really knowing why - seems to be the source for the endless light around him.

"Where am I?" -he asks out loud, his voice soberingly quiet in the immensity of this place.

A sphere forms in front of him, magenta in color - it feels wrong to him, like dropping a barrel of oil in the cleanest beach in the Caribbean. Inside, human-cousin-Gwen struggles to stand upright. "Damn...this is a lot harder than I thought it'd be." -she says.

"What is?" -Ben asks.

"Existing here." -she says. "Inside the Omnitrix."

Ben gasps, as his mind seems to come into focus. "Wait, what!?"

Gwen winces. "Well, no. It's a lot more complicated than that. This isn't so much the Omnitrix, as it is the psycho-genetic bond between you." -she says. "That term doesn't exist, mind you, it's just the closest thing I can come up with to describe...all this."

"Still, holy crap."

"You said it." -Gwen says, slightly amused. "Go on, then, break the bond."

Ben pauses. "I...why would I do that?"

Gwen seems flabbergasted. "What do you mean, why? You asked me to do this, Ben. You chose to get rid of the Omnitrix, remember?"

This sounds both accurate and very, very wrong to Ben. "I don't...it's hard to think in here, for some reason. Like I'm on Earth, and my mind is on the moon, or something."

"You got shot, and Julie lost an arm." -Gwen says bluntly, starting to buckle under the pressure. "You said you regretted ever deciding to bear the Watch."

It all comes rushing back, like a cascade dropping on the back of his head - facing down Krabb, only to miss the other hunter lining up a shot that pierced through his chest. Ben is pretty sure that blast should've killed him, but it didn't even leave a mark on his embarrassingly hairless chest. Meanwhile, Julie's life has been ruined, and it's all his damn fault. If he'd been more vigilant, if he hadn't been so damn proud of his victory, Julie would still have both her arms.

Ben realizes he's crying. How could he have been so careless? So selfish, to drag the people he loves into this dumbass crusade of his? Who the hell is he kidding? He's a fifteen year old working the counter at a rapidly decaying fast-food chain location, in the middle of freakin' nowhere. And he thought, what, that he'd slap on an alien wristwatch and, just like that, become a superhero? That he'd stand beside actual heroes, like the people who risked their lives in defense of New York? Like Iron Man, and Supergirl?

Like his grandfather?

No wonder he asked Gwen to chop the damn Watch off. Everyone's told him, but it took watching his girlfriend be maimed to really get it: he's just a kid, playing hero.

"Ok. Yeah, I've decided. Help me take it off." -he says...to no one. He's alone in the void. Gwen must've failed to maintain a presence, and now he's trapped here. In the psycho-genetic bond, or whatever.

Maybe it's for the best.

For the best, eh? Tell me, Ben Tennyson...how is my all-powerful creation being stuck on the wrist of a comatose human teenager 'for the best'?

Ben blinks, perplexed. The voice he hears is tiny, and comes from right between his feet. He bends down, and starts making out a shape out of the light. It's only a few inches tall, with a wide, frog-like head and a painfully thin body, covered in what appear to be robes. He's not quite sure, since the tiny being is made of the same light that surrounds him, so the details are difficult to make out.

Yes, yes, I'm small. Get all your 'tiny', and "diminutive", and 'minuscule' descriptors out of the way, already. We've got a lot of work to do, if we're to separate you from the Omnitrix.

"What? You can do that?"

The figure crosses his arms. Well, there's the issue of you just-so-happening to be a Ben Tennyson, and thus a somehow perfect match for my Watch, but I'm sure I can figure it out. Maybe even before your body dies...

Ben should be worried about that last statement, but he's too busy suffering a splitting headache, provoked by the alien's revelations. "I...I know you. You're…"

Azmuth, creator of the Omnitrix, last survivor of Galvan Prime. Pleasure to make your acquaintance in this universe, kid.

Eyyy, Azmuth is here! Let's get some lore, people!