Muscle memory made being dwarfed by alien environments nostalgic. He thought he would have forgotten what it was like to be cradled by the vast universe, forced to learn how to navigate the world on long gangly limbs after being removed from his body for so long. Albedo's shape had been twisted, stretched, and deformed, but his soul still remembered its container. The familiarity of such great heights was one consolation for his newest body-prison. Bellwood's infrastructure was titanic to his human-child form but not nearly as grand as it would have been in his rightful body.
His rightful form never ached.
Not in this way.
In order to maintain homeostasis, the human body had a number of alarms to alert their species of internal and external problems. Albedo itched, burned, and sweltered in the June's summer heat. He had discarded the jacket that accompanied the body in favor of a lightweight black T-Shirt, but the intolerability of his existence could not be eased by a change of fabrics. He was taking refuge from the sun beneath a purple umbrella at one of the restaurant's outdoor tables. On his plate was a chunk of beef and vegetables sandwiched between two sesame spotted rye buns.
Every bite stopped the hunger pains stabbing him from the inside, but the slow slide of the cow meat down his throat was horrific. The experience was nightmarish or some sort of ugly joke told by a crude lower life form. It made him squirm with revulsion, but his physical reactions betrayed him. His body's cravings were pleased, his mouth involuntarily salivating when the taste hit his tongue.
When Azmuth had warped him into the shape of an eleven year old Ben Tennyson, he wanted to cause him the utmost agony that could be inflicted on a being: the horror of being robbed of your own self. Unfortunately that torture took place primarily within the confines of his mind, so the only way to conquer his sentence was to adjust his own way of thinking. Mind over matter. Shoving his half-eaten meal away from himself, he folded his arms on the table and rested his chin against them. Already, he could feel the sadness swelling in his chest.
He had to get control of himself.
Sitting upright, he blinked profusely to keep from crying. When he reached up to wipe his eye on his arm, something snagged him by the forearm. Above him, a wormhole had been torn into the open space, hauling him through. Albedo did not have time to so much as scream, thrown into a metallic wall of a foreign spaceship.
Except that it wasn't foreign.
He had seen the craftsmanship before, but his ability to speedily retrieve information had been slowed by the clutter clouding his prepubescent brain. When he racked his head, trying to recall which of his enemies piloted this type of aircraft, he couldn't sift through pointless memories fast enough. He was overwhelmed with loud colors and annoying sounds he hadn't been consciously trying to remember but stored away regardless. Reality blurred with fictional memories of fantastical advertisements played on television, designed to be firmly embedded into the minds of children. It worked all too well. His hyperactive brain, together with the human-pain flaring up along his spine, made it impossible to process what was happening to him.
Why did this body have to be so useless?
Glaring, he pushed himself up on his knees, baring his teeth. "What is the meaning of–"
He blanched, the anger in his voice dying with a pitiful squeak. Albedo scrambled to flee but backed himself up into the wall and began trembling. Disgustingly, he was hyper-aware of the smell of his own fear, the first hints of his own acrid sweat beginning at his temples and underarms.
He realized why the spacecraft had been somewhat recognizable. It was a Chimeran Hammer, a battle cruiser created by the Chimera Sui Generi race. The pilot, Vilgax, towered over his weak body, and Albedo's childish eyes created a distortion more terrifying than reality. Whereas before, he and Vilgax had been on somewhat equal footing when they joined forces to kill Ben Tennyson, Albedo now found himself at disadvantage. In the enclosed space of the ship's hall, Vilgax seemed to grow even larger to his eyes, a nightmare of grotesque tentacles and predatory red eyes.
"What do you want?" Albedo snapped, scowling menacingly at his former ally, but the effect was ruined when he flinched at Vilgax's slightest movement. He hadn't forgotten the insult Vilgax had delivered him, double-crossing him in the fight against their mutual enemy.
Vilgax sneered back at him, leaning slightly forward. Albedo's pupils dilated with fright, smashing himself closer to the wall but there was nowhere left to go. His jittery nervousness caused the other alien to laugh raspily.
"The disrespect would be more amusing if you were not cowering, pathetic weakling." Vilgax drawled quietly. Dangerously. "Mind the way you speak if you don't possess the strength to defend your words, Tennyson."
What?
Had the idiot forgotten who he was?
"I'm not–"
"I want nothing to do with you specifically. You are a mere replica of an enemy I need destroyed." Vilgax continued, stepping out of the way, allowing Albedo to somewhat relax when his personal space was given back to him.
"I'm not a–" Albedo tried again.
Behind Vilgax was a smaller, rotting man in purple battle armor. His skin was ashen gray, his cheeks sunken like a near-corpse. His eyes shimmered violet, reminding Albedo of an anodite, but not one he had ever seen. They had never been acquainted. The man's presence was less physically imposing than Vilgax, but he was threatening all the same.
"I am assembling an army of my alternate counterparts," The skeletal man stated, the revelation implying that he was an alternate version of Tennyson himself. "There are infinite versions of you I could have hand-selected, so consider yourself fortunate to have been chosen. Of course, that also makes you… disposable. It is in your best interest to make yourself useful to my cause."
There was only one problem: Albedo was not an alternate version of Ben. The physical expression of his genetic traits had simply been altered. And he was human now, but what remained of his Galvan mind knew his predicament was not the same as being a Tennyson from a different universe. An individual's timeline was unique and specific to them; alternate counterparts were created by being split or fractured off of someone's main timeline.
But Albedo's timeline was not created by Ben's existence. They were two entirely different people. Anyone with sufficient knowledge of the space-time continuum would understand why that would be impossible. Albedo was over one-hundred years old; his existence preceded Ben's birth entirely!
It made sense for the armored man to be an alternate Tennyson. Who was so stupid enough to trust Vilgax? Someone who was also moronic enough to confuse alternate timelines with genetic clones. Displaying human humiliation, Albedo's pudgy cheeks flushed hot with blood, realizing that he had been one of those stupid few who trusted Vilgax, too, but at least he learned from his mistakes.
He grew even redder in anger at being mistaken for Tennyson.
"You've allied yourself with a literal warlord?" Albedo snapped at the alternate-Ben. "Are you really so gullible? He is going to betray you just like he did me. I should not be surprised you are a Tennyson. Fool!"
The alternate-Ben grabbed him by the throat too quickly for him to react, squeezing his windpipe. He shook him in the air with a single hand, hardly needing to exert any force at all. Albedo made a noise that was strangled by the man's punishing grip. His little legs kicked futilely in the air, desperately trying to shake himself loose.
"I am no Tennyson!" The man roared, shaking him harder, causing his vision to swim with stars and flashes of red and purple. He had been more terrified of Vilgax but he had obviously been so wrong. Albedo's eyes watered from the lack of oxygen, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't even begin to make sense of the furious cry in the assault.
He was but also wasn't an alternate Tennyson?
"You will address me as Eon!" He proclaimed, throwing him back against the metal wall. Wheezing, Albedo sucked in the precious air, putting a hand to his throat, unable to register the pain of being hurled into metal for the second time. "It is not your place to question me. Your new purpose is simply to follow orders. My allegiance is no concern of yours."
Albedo nodded his head in frantic agreement, cowering under Eon, his eyes flitting around the ship to everything except this psychopathic version of Ben Tennyson with an obvious personality disorder. It wasn't fair. Out of the both of them, Albedo had more of a right to be angry at being misnamed. He truly, really, really was not a Tennyson, but he was wiser than to raise this point with Eon again.
"Very well…" Albedo wheezed, holding his throat. "Let's say I help you achieve this goal of yours. What happens to me afterward?"
"Serve your purpose and you will be spared."
With Azmuth, following commands came easy. Even now, as much as he hated his former mentor, he could admit his genius was unparalleled. He was logical and worth listening to whether they agreed on a topic or not. When Albedo heeded his warnings, he tended to gain something — a meaningful experience or new skill — for his troubles. When he didn't listen, it always backfired. That was how he ended up trapped in the form of Tennyson to begin with.
That was the most despicable aspect about his former employer: he was unfortunately usually right.
There was no rhyme or reason to some of Eon's demands. Albedo began to understand why this alternate-Ben didn't like being questioned; it had little to do with respect to his authority. He just wasn't very intelligent, a fact that became apparent the more he listened to him. The most damning piece of evidence of Eon's ineptitude was when he brought him along to recruit more members for his army.
"What are we doing here?" Albedo hissed, annoyed that they were hiding, like cowards, in such a vapid, plastic environment. He could feel himself losing what was left of his brain cells.
They took cover backstage on the set of a television production Albedo recognized as the team that recorded The Ben 10 Show, a stupid extranet program that was broadcast across the galaxy. It was the most mind numbing piece of media that existed. The person they were doing reconnaissance on was the lead actor, Deefus Veeblepister. Veeblepister was casted as Ben Tennyson due to his Lenopan shapeshifting abilities, but even when he was playing the part, he didn't resemble the scrawny human.
Then, slowly, it dawned on Albedo what was happening. His head snapped toward Eon incredulously.
"That's not an alternate—"
"Silence." Eon warned him, glowering down at him. "Be ready for our next target. There."
The director, a four-armed humanoid alien, called a "cut" to the scene they were filming, putting it to a halt. The actors' bodies visibly loosened at the command, walking off the set in different directions. Deefus made his way to his dressing room at the same time Eon tore a portal open with his claws, closing the distance between them. When they invaded his dressing room, Deefus backed up against the makeup vanity, shattering the mirror.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" He shouted, straightening up to make himself even larger than he already was.
Albedo slapped his watch, transforming himself into a Florauna to restrain Deefus in a tangle of green vines when he threw the first punch. Deefus strained within his bounds, growling as they tightened around him in response.
"Ben Tennyson, your options are very simple: join me or die!" Eon raised his hands, mana crackling between his fingers. Albedo couldn't correct him, unable to deny that his own fear rose at the violet energy pouring from his body, scorching the floor beneath his boots.
At once, Deefus began losing his shape, becoming a mass of sludge that was harder to hold onto. Albedo's grip on him slipped, allowing Deefus to drown them in a torrent of mud. Gasping, Albedo flailed his green tendrils, pushed to the wall, attempting to rise to the surface. Eon didn't so much as move, hands burning brighter, hardening the gooey substance around him. He smashed his way through the solidified mud until he reached Deefus' core, grabbing a hold of him and petrifying him, too. When he was reduced to hardened stone, Eon began shattering him, stomping on his fragments, unyielding after Deefus' death.
"You were warned!"
Albedo's watch timed out, leaving him breathless on the floor. He wiped the remaining mud off of his face, dazedly staring at the armored maniac brutalizing the stone corpse. He tried to find some semblance of Ben Tennyson in the man. After all, by his own admission, he was a version of him from a parallel universe. Annoyingly, Albedo could pinpoint the traits he himself had inherited from Tennyson through genetic reconfiguration.
But in Eon, there was nothing there. No kindness. No mercy. No fear.
It gave Albedo hope. In spite of actually being a version of Tennyson, Eon seemingly defied his own mold, becoming this— this—
Monster.
Perhaps a person was more than their own genetic makeup.
The little hope he felt was undercut, of course, by a foolishness that could only come from someone who was as incompetent and as worthless as Ben.
Eon and Vilgax could not so much as properly coordinate, unable to stop trying to assert their dominance over each other. Their plans were disorganized, each of them possessing their own ideas about which direction to move in. The longer he remained in their presence, the more Albedo began to fear them for new reasons. There was nothing more dangerous than idiots with too much power.
Back on the ship, where he was kept in a prison cell until his services were needed again, Albedo was treated to front row viewing of their explosive disagreements.
"How long should I expect your plan to come to fruition?" Vilgax demanded.
Immediately, Albedo was able to understand the disconnect between the two. Perspective was everything. Vilgax, despite having a lengthy lifespan of his own, would perceive time differently than someone without a perception of time. Given Eon's immortality, he could likely spend an eternity on his mission without noticing. That also meant Albedo's prospects of freedom were grim. He clutched the bars of his cage, squeezing tightly as he watched them in despair.
Already, they had spent several months amassing a collection of various "Bens." What Eon had said about their disposability held true. The interdimensional monster was careless with his rage, sending wayward blasts of mana ricocheting toward their holding cells. As a result, he was never going to complete his army, accidentally killing off five of them at a time. He was a self-made Sisyphus. No more than a handful of Tennysons ever remained, and Albedo was alive only because he was familiar enough with the routine to anticipate when to shield himself.
"Do you believe creating and training a competent army can be done in a day?" Eon asked rhetorically. "We are already at a severe disadvantage. Professor Paradox has many millennia of battle experience!"
"Who?"
Albedo watched Eon's face — the way his mildly annoyed expression flared into fury. "The conceited Time Walker who feigns godhood and thinks himself guardian of space-time! He self-appointed himself as the authority on business that is not his own. How could you be so ignorant of such a cosmic nuisance!?"
"Our goal is to eliminate Ben Tennyson. I care not for your side projects…"
"It is likely Paradox who prevents you from destroying Tennyson to begin with!"
Outside of the jail cell, the violent clanging of weapons rang out, accompanied by the sound of lasers. A fight between the two killers had begun again. Sensing imminent danger, Albedo stepped behind the body of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ben Tennyson just as a blast of mana was fired toward their cage. The shot incinerated the body he had used for cover, and Albedo lived to see another day.
He sighed.