"Who were they?" Loki asked the moment the crowd of Ben variants disappeared around the corner. His voice was carefully controlled, but urgency bled through. "And what's this about a blocked timeline?"
The blocked timeline sounded exactly like the universe he'd come from.
After all, once he and Thor had departed with Professor Paradox, they'd been unable to return. Unable to even make contact. The barrier that protected Ben Parker's reality from external threats had sealed it off completely.
"A somewhat special timeline," Mobius replied with a casual shrug. "Can't be observed. Can't be edited. Can't be interfered with. Can't even be accessed, as far as we can tell."
He gestured vaguely in the direction the variants had gone.
"Lord Maltruant made an exception and brought together all those variants from across the multiverse to investigate and deal with that particular universe. It's a collaborative effort."
Loki's mind raced, piecing together implications.
Mobius must have noticed his expression, because he reached out and patted Loki on the head—a condescending gesture that made the God of Mischief's eye twitch.
"Don't overthink it," Mobius said. "That's not something people at our clearance level can handle. A universe that special? There must be extremely powerful beings inside. The kind that could reduce you to ash with a thought."
If only you knew, Loki thought darkly.
"Just do your job," Mobius continued. "Catch the other Loki. Change your destiny. That's what matters."
"Right," Loki agreed smoothly. "Of course."
He followed Mobius down the corridor, but kept glancing back over his shoulder every few steps, as though performing some strange dance. His thoughts churned with the information he'd gathered.
Multiple evil Ben variants. Working together under Maltruant's command. Trying to break into his timeline.
This was worse than he'd imagined.
In another section of the Time Variance Authority, within a circular conference hall, hundreds of Ben Tennyson variants had gathered.
Most wore identical purple combat uniforms, their faces blank and eyes cold. Wooden. Lifeless.
These were the Bens that Eon had defeated and turned into puppets—extensions of his will. Most of their Omnitrixes had been damaged or consumed, absorbed into Eon's patchwork of stolen power. Only a few puppets still wore functional watches.
But those watches were useless to Eon. The genetic locks bound them to their original wearers. Even as puppets, the devices wouldn't respond to his commands.
Beyond Eon's puppet army, the other factions had assembled as well.
Mad Ben—Warlord, with his aggressive punk aesthetic and barely-restrained violence.
Bad Ben—Benjamin, wearing his white and green hoodie, a sneer permanently etched across his face.
Albedo, the red-jacketed Galvan who wore his resentment like armor.
Nega Ben—Pale Prince, whose presence seemed to drain energy from the room itself, his expression one of permanent apathy.
And Zs'Skayr Ben—purple-black coat flowing around him, dark markings covering his face, his left eye replaced with something ghostly and wrong.
The sheer number of Ben Tennyson variants gathered in one place created a surreal atmosphere. Like some twisted version of Avengers: Endgame. The Ben Dynasty, as it were.
"Excellent," Maltruant's mechanical voice resonated through the chamber as he surveyed the assembled variants. "All pieces are in position."
The Chronosapien stood at the center of the meeting hall, his fully restored form radiating temporal power. The enhancements provided by the Time Variance Authority's technology had elevated him to something far beyond his original capabilities.
Beside him stood Vilgax—not the defeated from Ben Parker's universe, but a variant from another timeline. This Vilgax radiated the same crushing authority, the same overwhelming presence.
"Before we begin," Maltruant continued, "I want to make something perfectly clear. We are not here to conquer the multiverse. We are not interested in establishing some grand empire across infinite realities."
His glowing eyes swept across the room.
"We have a singular objective: breach the sealed universe and eliminate our enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."
"And conveniently," Maltruant added, his deep voice rumbling, "dealing with that mutated timeline serves the Time Variance Authority's interests as well. It's a troublesome anomaly that threatens the stability of the Sacred Timeline."
Maltruant's expression—as much as his mechanical face could convey—suggested satisfaction.
After overthrowing the previous administration and claiming control of the TVA, he'd initially worried about managing the organization's vast bureaucracy. But the Ben variants had proven surprisingly easy to coordinate, despite their individual quirks and conflicts.
They were powerful, yes. But also immature. Easily distracted. More interested in petty rivalries than grand schemes.
Perfect tools for his purposes.
"We've already conducted extensive research on how to breach that universe," Maltruant announced, gesturing toward Albedo.
The Red Ben stepped forward with obvious reluctance.
He'd been leading the investigation into the barrier, and the arrogance radiating from him was palpable. His expression twisted with disgust as he surveyed the hundreds of identical faces below him.
So many stupid variants, he thought. Looking at them makes me want to vomit.
But he maintained his composure and spoke clearly.
"The seal on that universe is extraordinarily powerful. I speculate it's the work of the Celestialsapiens—entities that exist beyond conventional reality. Breaking through would require equivalent power."
As he spoke, his eyes flicked toward one specific figure in the crowd.
Nega Ben.
He was one of only two individuals present who possessed a Celestialsapien transformation. The other was Albedo himself.
But Albedo couldn't become Alien X. The consciousness within his Celestialsapien DNA actively rejected him, viewing the Galvan with contempt and refusing to cooperate.
Nega Ben was different.
The Alien X consciousness in his Omnitrix was just like him—utterly apathetic. It didn't care enough to argue. It simply allowed Nega Ben to do whatever he wanted, exerting unilateral control.
In theory, this made Nega Ben's Alien X even more powerful than the one in Ben Parker's Omnitrix.
Among Celestialsapiens, all individuals possessed equal raw power. The only factor determining victory was the speed of decision-making. And Nega Ben could act instantly, without needing to negotiate with two argumentative cosmic entities.
But therein lay the problem.
Nega Ben couldn't muster enthusiasm for anything. He was completely unwilling to use his Alien X transformation to break through the barrier protecting Ben Parker's universe.
Which meant Albedo had to find alternative methods.
"Previously," Albedo continued, "Lord Maltruant demonstrated that bringing two universes into proximity creates a collision crisis. This proves that some higher-level force—or at least an equivalent power—is driving these collisions."
He was mid-sentence when his entire body suddenly began twitching.
Uncontrollable spasms rippled through his frame, as though ants were crawling beneath his skin. His face contorted with discomfort.
Bad Ben's grin widened to predatory proportions.
"Someone get several buckets of chili fries for Lord Albedo!" he called out gleefully. "Pour them all over him! He's craving chili fries!"
"Shut up!" Albedo snarled, struggling against the genetic compulsion. "Who wants to eat that disgusting garbage?!"
His voice rose to a shout.
"Even if I, Albedo, starve to death! Even if I die outside! Even if I jump off a cliff! I would never eat a single chili fry!"
CRASH!
Several massive buckets of chili-covered fries appeared via temporal manipulation—courtesy of Maltruant's casual display of power—and dumped their contents over Albedo's head, completely burying the Galvan in a mountain of fast food.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, from beneath the pile, came a sound of pure, involuntary bliss.
"It smells so good!"
Bad Ben nearly collapsed with laughter, doubling over and clutching his sides.
Even Nega Ben shook his head in sympathy, a ghost of expression crossing his usually blank face. The poor bastard had inherited the genetic predisposition that made certain Ben variants obsessed with chili fries.
"Compared to smoothies and kale-flavored fries, chili fries taste like garbage," Bad Ben managed between laughs. "I genuinely don't understand why you idiots are so obsessed with food. To me, it's all equally pointless."
He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.
Mad Ben's voice cut through the laughter like a knife.
"Only idiots love chili fries."
His tone suggested he viewed the entire situation as beneath him.
After a brief moment of culinary ecstasy, Albedo regained his senses and emerged from the pile.
The smell of chili fries clinging to his clothes and hair drove him into a near-frenzy of disgust. He looked ready to tear his own skin off to escape the scent.
Maltruant, unable to tolerate the spectacle any longer, waved his hand.
Time reversed around Albedo's body, removing every trace of the fries and restoring him to his previous clean state.
"Continue," the Chronosapien ordered, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Albedo straightened his jacket with as much dignity as he could muster.