"I want the real Steve Rogers back, and the imposters to disappear!"
Nothing happened.
The laboratory sat in oppressive silence, save for the faint hum of equipment and the Highbreed's shallow breathing. Natasha kept her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened slightly around the modified armor containing the fragments.
"It seems we still need to collect all the pieces," she said, her voice carefully controlled. Every word had to be perfect—one wrong move and the infiltrator might bolt or attack.
The Highbreed's rigid posture softened, his borrowed human features showing visible relief. At the same time, he abandoned whatever violent impulse had been building in his mind. The temptation to kill Black Widow and claim all the fragments for himself evaporated like morning mist.
If all the fragments must be assembled for the Cube to unleash its true power, then patience was required. Premature action would only sabotage everything.
There was still one final fragment to obtain. Revealing himself too early would be catastrophically foolish.
"However," Natasha continued, her tone casual as she adjusted her grip on the armor, "we can use the energy from these fragments to create an illusion."
She allowed herself a small, knowing smile.
"I believe our friends will be pleasantly surprised."
The words were Ben's, spoken hours ago during their planning session. The boy seemed to know everything—the impostor's purpose, his motivations, even the exact choices he would make under pressure. It was almost unsettling how thoroughly Ben had predicted this moment.
Trust the plan, she reminded herself. It will be all right.
The Highbreed barely registered her words anymore. His mind had contracted to a singular obsession, every thought consumed by the Cubic fragments and the genetic salvation they promised his dying species.
"Wait!" he said suddenly, his hand shooting out to press against Natasha's wrist with desperate urgency.
She let him stop her, watching as he studied the fragments with hungry eyes.
Following Ben's instructions precisely, Natasha channeled the Cube's energy to create a fake, incomplete replica. The illusion glowed with borrowed power as she carefully placed it inside the modified armor's containment chamber.
"Now let me keep it safe," the Highbreed said, his voice tight with barely controlled anticipation.
He reached out to claim the Cubic fragment. The moment his fingers made contact, reality twisted around him like warped glass. His body contorted impossibly, then seemed to collapse inward, sucked into the fragment as if it were a singularity.
In an instant, he was gone.
"Phew!"
Natasha released the breath she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging slightly. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her hands remained steady as she secured the real fragments.
"The plan is going smoothly."
The fake Steve had disappeared into whatever pocket dimension the trap had created.
At that same moment, thousands of miles away in a dense, primordial jungle, an old man struggled forward through the underbrush.
His back was bent, his joints ached, and every step required conscious effort. He didn't know why he was there. He had no idea where he should go, or even who he was.
It was as if he were a person forgotten by the world itself, condemned to wander aimlessly through this green wilderness until time itself ran out.
But today was different.
Today, he met others.
A thin child, no more than twelve years old, emerged from the foliage ahead. And behind him came something else—something that made the old man's breath catch in his throat.
It was a creature with a white, almost skeletal body. Its skin was covered with fine, downy hair like moth's wings. When the old man first glimpsed it through the leaves, his immediate thought was that the monster intended to devour the fragile child.
His aged lungs burned hot and rapid. Without hesitation, the old man lunged from his hiding spot in the bushes. His staggering body couldn't stop his righteous heart from demanding action.
But the monster was far too powerful.
A casual flick of its body sent the old man sprawling. Before he could hit the ground, a black, claw-like hand caught his collar and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
"Don't even think about hurting that child!" the old man shouted, his voice hoarse but defiant. "If you're going to eat someone, eat me!"
"I think you've misunderstood," the Highbreed said slowly, studying the old man's face for a long moment before gently lowering him back to solid ground.
The thin boy approached, coughing violently even as he tried to speak. "Thank you, sir," he managed between spasms that turned his face bright red, "but he wasn't hurting me."
The coughing fit intensified, his entire frame shaking with each ragged breath. It sounded as if he were trying to expel his lungs entirely.
The white creature quickly stepped backward, putting several feet of distance between them. "I want to help him," he explained, his alien voice tinged with something almost like concern. "But the dust particles from my body irritate his respiratory system."
As he spoke, the Highbreed found himself contemplating these two fragile beings. They seemed so similar—surely they were the same species.
How pathetic, he thought. Frail and aged, as if they would shatter at the slightest touch.
"I have asthma," the boy explained once the coughing subsided.
The old man felt embarrassment heat his weathered cheeks. "I apologize. I made a terrible mistake." He looked around at the towering trees and hanging vines. "Can you tell me where we are? I don't know why I'm here, or how to leave."
"The same happened to you?" The thin boy's eyes widened with recognition.
"We're all suffering from the same condition," the boy explained. "We've forgotten who we are, where we came from. The only thing any of us remember is that we have to leave here. There are very important things waiting for us out there."
The white creature nodded, his alien features showing what might have been sympathy. "It's surprising how different we are, yet we share this strange similarity. In that case, let's travel together. There are dangerous beasts in this forest—predators that would make quick work of creatures as..." he hesitated, "...as vulnerable as you."
He thought of how insignificant these lives would seem to others of his kind. As weak as insects, barely worth acknowledging.
But I am different, he told himself. I am strong, powerful, agile, capable of protecting them. I can help them through whatever trials await. I have that ability.
"Don't underestimate me," the old man said, drawing himself up to his full height despite the pain in his back. "I can do this all day."
The boy echoed the sentiment with surprising determination: "I can fight all day long too!"
The similarity of their responses made all three of them laugh, the sound unexpected and warm in the oppressive jungle heat.
They traveled together through the days that followed. The old man supported the sick, weak child when his breathing grew labored. The white creature fought their enemies with terrifying efficiency—first wolves, then increasingly well-equipped human adversaries, and finally soldiers led by a terrifying figure with a crimson skull for a head.
The two frail humans never shrank from battle despite their obvious physical limitations. They played crucial roles in every fight, their quick thinking and determination leaving the Highbreed genuinely impressed.
"You may look weak," he admitted one evening, "but you possess more resilience than I ever imagined possible."
For the first time in his life, he felt that such a seemingly pathetic species might actually have merit. Even weak lives could display extraordinary courage.
"But without you, this journey would have been far more difficult," the old man said with genuine warmth. "You've saved us more times than I can count."
The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, you're like a friend I had. Someone who always helped me, gave me confidence." His expression grew melancholic. "Unfortunately, I've forgotten who he was."
The old man's own face turned sad. "I've forgotten friends too. And so many other things."
When it came to their missing memories, all three shared the same frustrated confusion. Yet as they continued moving forward through the jungle, they couldn't shake the feeling that those lost fragments of identity were tantalizingly close—just beyond reach.
Night fell.
The old man used his innate wisdom to build a fire, driving back the cold darkness that descended with surprising intensity.
"I don't like this," the white creature said fearfully, backing away from the flames. "The heat will burn me."
For the first time, he discovered that even someone as powerful as himself had vulnerabilities.
I am not perfect, he realized with genuine surprise.
"Then let's stay close together instead," the child said, getting up to extinguish the flames.
The old man removed what remained of his tattered shirt and wrapped it around the child's thin shoulders. The white monster spread his wings wide, creating a shelter that blocked the cold wind from reaching his companions.
Ben Parker Universe.
Outside the Highbreed climate tower, a terrible cold wind froze moisture from the air. Snow had piled up to waist-deep—not the waist of an ordinary person, but the waist of Dr. Connors in his Lizard form.
The Winter Soldier had been completely buried.
"Aren't you called the Winter Soldier?" Connors rumbled, using his massive claws to hook Bucky's shoulder straps and haul him bodily from the snowdrift. "How are you so useless in actual winter?"
"I have this name," Bucky said through chattering teeth, "because Hydra kept freezing me in cryostasis, not because I can control ice and snow."
"Still no sign of Steve?"
"No," Connors shook his reptilian head. He didn't like the extreme cold either—it was impairing his bodily functions, making him sluggish and irritable. "Agent Venom and Sandman demolished three towers, but they didn't find any trace of Rogers."
His dim, vertical pupils narrowed as he studied the massive structure looming before them. "This is the largest one. Also the coldest. Norman's intelligence suggests its interior might connect directly to the creatures' main nest." He paused, his breath fogging in the frigid air. "If Steve isn't here, then we're in serious trouble."
"Whether it's their hideout or somewhere else," the Winter Soldier said, his voice hardening as he checked his weapon with practiced efficiency, "I have to rescue my friend."
His metal fingers pulled the safety with a decisive click.
"Steve's been getting into trouble since we were kids. He'd probably cry if I didn't come help him."