Greetings all! Welcome to this little tidbit I have here. Now, this is more a testing of the waters than anything else. I'm setting it up here and seeing what kind of reaction I'll be getting.

If reactions are positive, I'll try and make this a more constant part of my update schedule.

Though to be honest, Marvel universe is huge, complicated, and just all kinds of insane. So for that reason, updates may be a bit spaced out as I try and make this universe flow.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the prologue/first chapter/test subject whatever ya wanna call it that is this.

More in AN down below, so without further ado…on with the chapter!

This was edited and replaced as of 2020/3/30

XXXXX

"Dr. Strange," one of two men addressed his companion as they stepped out into the mansion's entrance hall. "May I ask who we are expecting?" The speaker was of Asian descent, sporting a tall and broad frame of one who diligently trained in the martial arts. His wardrobe consisted of a dark green, sleeveless tunic of cloth bound at his waist with a black sash over a long-sleeved shirt whose sleeves fit to his well-muscled arms. A pair of dark brown pants of silk covered his legs with the cuffs tucked into cloth boots.

The man to whom the martial artist had been speaking was even taller than himself, sporting a head of well-groomed black hair, though at his temples there were hints of gray, and a neatly trimmed goatee. His clothing was similar to his companions though in place of the dark green was a navy tunic secured by a yellow sash. About his shoulders rested a high-collared cloak that fluttered as he walked. His gray eyes turned momentarily to his companion and fellow master of the mystic arts before returning to their examination of the hall from atop the landing which looked down onto it. A staircase descended along the circular halls to the left and right, leaving a wide, open space where the symbol of their order was inlaid upon the floor with a pair of glass double doors leading out into the bustling streets of New York City.

"A friend I met during one of my voyages into the time stream," he finally replied. "He is quite knowledgeable in the subject and taught me a great many things in our time together."

"May I ask his name?"

"He doesn't remember it," was the odd reply. "Apparently his first foray with manipulating time forced him through an event horizon of his own creation, isolating him in a plane of existence beyond time itself. He was there for so long that he went insane and then actually got bored of it so managed to make himself mentally sound while in the meantime completely coming to understand all the fundamental laws of space and time."

The man frowned, obviously confused. "Forgive me sir, but under whose opinion was he declared sound? If he does not remember his own name, what does he call himself?" Strange opened his mouth to reply only for a new voice to supply the requested information.

"Paradox," the voice declared, sounding cultured and confident. Both men turned their attention to the lower floor to find two visitors had appeared as if out of thin air. The man who spoke had all the marks of a scientist. A white lab coat over a tweed vest, white button up shirt and black slacks. Around his neck rested a set of green goggles and his hands sat crossed over each other upon a wooden cane with a bronze knob on its top. "Professor Paradox actually. Good to see you Stephen, how's Clea?" He suddenly frowned. "Oh wait, never mind you haven't met her yet. Anyway, it's good to see you and Wong again…or is this the first time we're meeting sir? It's so hard to remember which time I'm in sometimes."

"Paradox," the firm, yet friendly tone of the Sorcerer Supreme stopped him from continuing. "Best not to ramble and spoil things." His slightly amused air faded as he glanced at his second visitor. "I take it this is the young man you mentioned in our last correspondence."

The attention of the three men turned to look at the fourth member of this…interesting meeting. By the set of his features, the doctor would make an educated guess that he was either just on the cusp of his twentieth year or had only recently passed it. He also noticed his expression being one the magical practitioners could only describe as haunted.

In truth, Strange had witnessed this look before. Before the accident that had served as a catalyst to his foray into the mystic arts he had been a surgeon of incredible skill in his own humble opinion. A neurosurgeon in particular, he had lost count of the number of military personnel he had found on his table and while he never really talked with them, it wasn't his job to make nice just to save their lives, he had seen their eyes.

Haunted was the best word to describe what he had seen. As if they were living the same horrible moment over and over again. To bolster the image was a canvas bag exactly like he'd seen the military using at times, seabags he believed they were called, draped over one shoulder and held in place by his left hand.

"Yes," the time-traveling scientist replied as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder, having to reach just a little higher than his own to do it. "Gentlemen, I present Benjamin Tennyson, though he prefers just going by Ben unless absolutely necessary."

"Nice to meet you," the introduced Ben answered with a slight wave of his free hand. He tried to smile, but it was obviously strained.

None of them called him on it, instead Strange's cloak seemed to come alive, lifting itself slightly and he began to hover into the air. Unable to help the slight quirking of his lips into a smirk, the sorcerer directed his flight downward to stand before the young man and offer his hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you as well Ben," he replied as the man gripped his hand in a firm but not obnoxiously strong grip. "My name is Dr. Stephen Strange, but you can call me Stephen during informal matters. I bid you welcome to the New York Sanctum Sanctorum."

He paused to wave at his associate and manservant who had used the stairs to reach the floor while the doctor was introducing himself. "This is Wong, he will show you where you will be staying during your time here while Paradox and I catch up."

The young man nodded, sharing a parting handshake with his guide to this world before following Wong into the mansion. The men left behind waited for the doors to close before turning to face one another. "You were not specific when we last spoke," the smile had left Stephen's face replaced only with stern control. "How bad is it?"

"Incredibly," Paradox's own expression mirrored that of the good doctor. "It is not my story to share thus I shall not. But I will say that he has lost just shy everything he holds dear, and what he does have he would trade in the blink of an eye for the rest. I was forbidden by the higher powers of our realities to meddle, but I tried everything I could think of to warn him, to give him a chance to prevent the catastrophe…but it wasn't enough." The wood of the professor's cane creaked under the pressure of his grip tightening and for a moment there was a field of distorted space-time as his self-control slipped. Strange began to reach out in an effort to help his friend but paused when he sighed, letting the tension slowly ebb.

"I managed to convince the 'highest authority' to let this Ben leave his realities. Not just move to an alternate one to help a version of himself but leave all traces of himself behind. I had to make some…promises to get permission but I managed in the end. I'm just grateful you were willing to harbor him at least for a time."

"A short time," Stephen insisted. "Unfortunately, I am greatly hindered in my ability to help him considering my need to defend our realm from incursion. With the greater barrier being disrupted and the loss of my predecessor I am forced to learn on the go as it were. Plus, trauma like what you're hinting at is not in my purview of treatment. I never bothered with psychology, not even in my few dabbles with time travel."

"I understand that, but you have connections to get him installed in this world for now," Paradox replied. "And we already talked about you approaching someone who can help him."

"Yes, and I'll call Charles once he's had some time to get used to this new reality. But that could be some time."

"A couple of months isn't long, especially for people like us," the traveler groused, but sighed again. "Still, he could do some good in this timeline, especially with what I saw moving in the streams on our way here." Stephen nodded at that. He felt brief temptation to inquire further on such a subject but knew there were laws binding the man before him from answering with any real detail. He had first seen the stream of time in his studies of scrying, but only in brief flashes with no real substance in their information when one was searching for hints of the future.

"I will do what I can for him," he finally said.

"That is all I ask my friend." Professor and Doctor shared a handshake of their own before Paradox drew out a bronze pocket watch. "Ah, I see my time here is at its end. Tell Benjamin I will try to visit eventually when I next get permission." With that and a brief wave, the quirky professor vanished as if he had never been standing there in the first place. Strange shook his head at such flawless movement through time, honestly the man was truly a master of his craft.

He turned to reenter his home, and between one step and the next he was standing outside the door to the guest room Wong had led Ben toward. A light knock was answered moments later by the young man opening the door. "Hello again Ben," he chuckled while the young man seemed to roll his eyes good-naturedly. "I know you most likely would enjoy getting settled, but I was thinking of having some tea and thought we could talk a while."

"Sure thing," the dimensional interloper replied, stepping out and closing the door behind him. He fell into step with his host while running a hand through his already unkempt brown hair. "So, what kind of doctor are you anyway if you don't mind my asking? Paradox just said you were a friend, guy never was big on specifics."

"I made my career as a talented neurosurgeon," he replied while leading his guest into a room with a large table as its centerpiece. Wong was already there, setting down a tray which bore a fresh pot of tea and two cups. He gave the two a small nod before walking off, having plenty of duties to attend. "But recently I was forced to…I suppose an apt description would be that I changed career paths. See, I was in an accident that greatly damaged my hands."

From there the mystical master continued to regale his visitor of his fall into despair and his drive to return to his former glory. Modern medicine, that which he had devoted his life to and had his own hand in extending, had failed him and the desperation born from repeated failure led him to seeking out alternative treatments. Thus, the story turned to his search eventually leading him to the Himalayas and the monastery of the Ancient One. Ben was entranced throughout the telling, and when he finished with the parting ways with his former mentor and the man who would later become his adversary, Mordo.

When the story ended, the young man returned the favor by sharing the origin of his own incredible journey. First, he held up his left arm to show Stephen the device secured there. The doctor had believed it a unique watch at first, bands of solid green securing it to his wrist and a round face. But upon actually inspecting the device he noticed instead of giving a time the display showed a green hourglass on a field of gray. The hourglass began to glow, a soft chime to go with the green light.

"This—" he said "—is the Omnitrix. It was invented by an alien in my home reality named Azmuth as a way to help different alien species understand each other on a personal level. It allows whoever uses it to transform into different aliens using DNA."

From that brief explanation he went on to share how it had come to be attached to his arm as well as a few of the adventures and misadventures that had followed it. His stories had Stephen laughing at times and contemplative at others, though the man was able to easily discern that he had been leaving large amounts of information out about the forms he had taken. He shrugged it off however, believing that Paradox would not bring a villain to his doorstep to ruin a timeline after all.

He also noticed the pained looks the young man tried to hide, pauses when he mentioned certain names like those of his cousin, Gwen, and grandfather, Max. Thanks to Paradox he had an idea, if extremely vague, of what had happened, especially when he saw the rage in those green eyes when the name Vilgax was mentioned. But he would not pry, a fact he made sure to tell the lad when it came up.

"From what I can tell you are a grown man Mr. Tennyson," he said with fingers steepled before his face. "Thus, I will not try to dictate your life to you. But, I do also know you will need help to ease the pain in your heart eventually, thus I wish to inform you of something." When the man gave a firm, but wary, nod and wave to continue he did so.

"In this reality, humanity is a bit more…diverse. There exists…I suppose a scientist would call it a subspecies…of Homo Sapiens. Some foolish, or arrogant, soul has dubbed them Homo Sapiens 'Superior' which has led to quite a bit of issues let me tell you. However, the most common term is mutant. They are humans born with an extra gene in their DNA which, upon activating, grants them some ability or other beyond the—" he raised his hands to emphasize quotation marks "—'normal' if there ever was such a thing."

"And?"

"Knowledge of them is not quite common, more back chatter, rumor and speculation among the public than anything else. But, there is a man named Charles Xavier who has recently turned his family's home into a school he hopes will serve as a place to train mutants to control their abilities and encourage them to live peacefully with other humans." He sighed. "To be honest I believe it is a good goal to have, though I find he is a bit more passive than I think he should be, but I am too busy with protecting our world from forces beyond the veil to focus on such matters. But you have been doing the 'hero work' since you were ten, which would be eleven years now?"

"Once December comes around it'll be ten actually."

Stephen nodded. "I believe your years of experience and training could be useful to help train the students he has and may eventually gather."

Ben sat back in the comfortable chair, his mind focused so on the subject that he only barely registered they had seemed to have been moved from the dinner table to a new room. This one with a window in the same shape as the symbol he had seen on the floor when Paradox had dropped him off. Though the tea set seemed to have followed them in this odd traveling.

Still, he rubbed at his stubbled chin as he gave the matter at hand the greater part of his attention. "Is he planning to give them combat training?"

"Training to defend themselves most definitely. Along with a focus on control, but when we talked of the subject once before he explained that a reason for it was he knew there was going to be negative reactions to the presence of mutants. For that reason, he intends to create a group that can rescue those in danger while also standing as an example for the good humans and mutants can do together."

Ben sighed. "Well, at least he's not naïve enough to think words alone would be good enough. Some people," he paused, brow furrowed. "Some people cannot be reasoned with."

"Indeed," Stephen nodded, but spoke no more as he watched the man contemplate his words.

Eventually, Ben sighed and reached to drain his cup of tea for what had to have been the tenth time since their talk had started. "I'll consider it, but for now what all am I going to be doing while I'm here?"

"Well for the most part you are free to do as you like as long as you stick to a few guidelines while inside the sanctum. First of all, any rooms marked with the symbol—" he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the large window through which Ben realized that day had long since fallen into night during their talk "—on their doors are off limits to any but my fellow practitioners thus I ask you to avoid them. Do not touch any of the items that even appear like they might be important for you may unleash either disaster upon the world or just yourself which I think both circumstances are types you would like to avoid. I will provide you a small stipend for now until you either provide me with an answer to my offer or we find an occupation best suiting your abilities. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Very well, now it is late, and I will be busy in the morning." The two rose to their feet and Ben felt a twist almost like the floor had jerked beneath his feet momentarily. His hand reached out to grab the table but found a wall instead. Blinking, he looked up to find himself standing before the closed door of his new room. "Wong shall wake you for breakfast, and then provide a tour of areas you are allowed to enter."

Still confused by the sudden shift in environment, Ben quietly shook his host's hand one last time before stepping back into his room. He was immediately met with the same spartan design as he had found when first shown the door. A single bed large enough to support a man of his stature upon which his bag rested, a nightstand with an empty top, a door leading into a bathroom open and waiting for use. He stepped up to the single window but upon looking through the glass found himself not looking into an alley or street of a busy city, but instead was greeted with the view of rolling hills in the distance. A thick carpet of healthy green grass covered everything and off in the distance he could see the beginnings of a thick forest of massive trees.

Shaking his head at the random sight, he couldn't help but chuckle before turning back to his bag. With practiced ease it was set on its bottom end and opened. From within he drew a few bundles of clothes rolled together to further compact and make space which he set to the side. Next to come out was a picture frame which he set on the nightstand after holding it for a time. The picture held inside was a group standing in front of the grill of a camper that looked like it had been around the world a few times.

Next to Ben stood a woman of similar age but with ginger hair, her eyes just as green as his own glimmering with amusement as they stood with an arm over each other's shoulder. She was dressed in a long blue coat, its hood just barely visible over the shoulder, and in a line down one arm were six circles marked with glowing sigils.

At the woman's other side stood another man, this one taller than Ben and sporting a long mane of thick black hair he let hang in an unkempt curtain around his head. The form fitting black shirt he wore showed the muscles in his crossed arms and the confident smirk his lips were quirked into was as good as a flashing billboard to show the demeanor of this man.

Behind them all stood an older man dressed in a red Hawaiian shirt, gray hair cropped short and manageable while a matching beard adorned his chin. He would have looked like the average grandfather, if it weren't for the fact that his right arm was quite obviously robotic in nature. The gleam of its metal from where he had placed it on the girl's shoulder was obvious.

It was the picture of a team, and a family. After staring at it for a time Ben again reached into the bag, and the picture he drew out this time he stared at for an even longer time. This one was thinner and taller than the first, and only showed two people. In this photograph, a grinning Ben was looking at the camera with one arm around a young woman's waist. Dressed in what looked to be a uniform of red shirt under overall-like olive pants, one could just make out the hilt of a sword over her right shoulder. Her features were Native American, her long black hair tied back in a ponytail, its holder also bearing a pair of feathers. Her brown eyes and wide smile showed her own happiness, along with the fact she had her own arm over Ben's shoulder while its twin was extended towards the looker to disappear beyond the border making it obvious who was taking the photo.

The hand gripping the frame on the side the woman stood one extended one thumb, tracing her chin while the pained expression grew more pronounced on the young man's face. Finally, with a sigh loaded down with the weight of his emotions, he set it down with the other before closing the bag once again and placing it on the floor at the bed's foot. He next grabbed the clothes he'd set out and stepped into the bathroom.

There, he shucked the simple black tee shirt he had been wearing, followed by his boots and cargo pants which he left in a pile on the ground for the time being as he stepped into the shower. Cleaned and dried, he replaced his original attire with a pair of dark green pajamas before crawling into the incredibly comfortable bed that seemed to be calling his name. He lay there for a time, emerald eyes staring at the ceiling until the lids slowly drooped closed, his breathing slowed…and he faded off to sleep wondering what new adventures awaited him in this reality.

XXXXX

The next morning Ben shared breakfast with Wong, the man wearing a set of dark red robes trimmed in gold this time. In comparison to the time spent with Stephen, Ben found his other host to be more stoic, not even cracking smiles at the few quips he made as they ate the modest breakfast of bacon and eggs. Though he did answer a few questions, they were mostly with saying he would provide a map to certain points of interest in New York and any places he asked about after he said would be included in the map.

The only time he showed a real reaction was after they had finished eating. Wong had waved a hand, sending the dishes off to who knows where and was about to start the tour when Ben cut him off. "Do you have a place I can get some exercise?" He scratched at the back of his head. "I've…got some energy I'd like to burn off." The smile the Asian man gave before he answered made the shape changer a little uneasy.

Later, when the air was forcefully expelled from Ben's lungs after a shoulder throw had him landing hard on sanded ground, he felt justified for the unease. Turns out, the order Wong and Stephen were part of made sure its students were taught in martial arts. On top of that, Wong had briefly explained he had grown up learning the style along with other members of his small family.

For this reason, within the glamour-hidden compound there was an outdoor area designated for physical fitness and practice in the art. Ben and Wong were using the area that had been layered with a thick floor of sand to provide some cushioning for impact along with providing a challenge with the shifting terrain.

Both men had worked up a sweat during the spar. Wong found Ben an adequate opponent while the young man was grinning at the challenge his host provided. Their style of combat couldn't have been more different as well. Wong's style was economical, poised and under control. He seemed to prefer a mostly defensive front, blocking and redirecting Ben's attacks while using openings to land strong hits.

Ben, on the other hand, was a mobile fighter. He got in, hands up in a typical boxer's stance, dodging around blows and countering with precise jabs and kicks. But straightforward as that sounded, Wong had learned the hard way that Ben was able to adapt to situations very well. Switching from kickboxing to grappling and beyond in a method so fluid the master recognized he had trained to do so.

Still, tenacity may be an incredibly gracious boon to one trained to use it as Ben had, but Wong's experience won the day which had ended with the man kneeling before the prone youth's head with a knife hand aimed at his throat. "Submit?"

Ben nodded with a chuckle while Wong smiled and returned to his feet. The tired former galactic policeman sat up and rested one arm on a knee as he slowly let his breathing calm, relishing the old familiar pounding of his heartbeat in his head. "You fought well," he heard Wong say and looked up to find his host offering a hand up which he gratefully accepted. "I can see you have been well trained."

"Thanks, I'm sure my teachers would have felt a modicum of pride for such praise," he snarked while stretching. "Man, you're good, and thanks for the help in burning off some steam.

"It was my pleasure. Our order has been reduced greatly in recent conflicts, so I am the only one here when the doctor is out. Makes it hard to find sparring partners. The lack of good opponents has left me feeling restless of late myself, so I am thankful for the chance to face you."

"In that case how about we do this again tomorrow?"

"I would welcome such an arrangement, but for now I suggest a session of meditation followed by a shower." Both men looked down at themselves and grimaced slightly. They were currently shirtless, neither really wanting to get more clothes than necessary covered in sand if they could help it and sweat mixed with sand was caked onto their bodies and pants.

"Yeah," Ben sighed. "That's a good idea."

He followed Wong to one of the doors leading out of the training yard. Stepping through he immediately picked up the fragrant odor of flowers, finding himself in a small, well-kept garden. A thin, manmade brook moved through this little haven, passing right next to an area where several mats had been laid out in a circle. Wong moved to one of them, dropping into a cross-legged position and resting his hands in his lap. "Have you practiced meditation before?"

"Surprisingly yes," Ben dropped down across from the mystical practitioner into the exact mirror of his position. "My…my cousin made me learn, said it would help shave off some of the excess energy I've got."

"And was she right?"

The smile on Ben's face turned nostalgic, if somewhat strained. "Yeah, it really helped when I got twitchy in between study sessions in high school and later the college classes we took online."

"Good, then at least I won't have to talk you through the exercise. I believe half an hour would be good for us after such a session of physical exercise. Will that work for you?" Ben nodded. "Alright, then after we have showered I will begin the tour once again." The duo closed their eyes after that, neither speaking again for the remainder of their time in the garden as they breathed deeply and let their bodies relax.

The next weeks settled into a loose routine after that first day. Every morning, Ben would wake just before dawn and jog around the neighborhood for around an hour. After returning he would meet with Wong to spar, the two getting more familiar with their opponent's style and making for an increasingly challenging match each time. Sparing and some other exercises would lead to meditation, a shower and late breakfast. After that, Ben was mostly left to his devices, studying his new home world's history and sciences on a laptop Stephen had provided. There were, however, times of interest shared with both men as well.

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"Wait…so you're not his butler, or is it manservant?" Ben set his coffee down to stare at Wong as he scooped another helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Or would attendant be a better word?"

"I both am, and am not, to be frank," the clean-shaved man replied. "My family has served the Sorcerer Supreme for generations so when Dr. Strange took up the mantle and position I had expected to simply continue my family's sworn duty. However, due to several issues we lost a number of our masters, so I was ordered to take up the position as the official keeper of New York's Sanctum. I defer to the doctor when he is here of course, just as all Keepers do, but when he is not I am in charge of the manor and its upkeep."

Ben blinked at that. "Huh…learn something new every day I guess."

Wong nodded before settling back into his meal.

Good talk, he thought with a wry chuckle before following his host's example.

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"You own all of these?"

Stephen chuckled at the young man's gobsmacked expression his expressive face was sporting as they stepped into the garage of his own. It wasn't filled with as many cars as before, having sold quite a few during his desperate struggle to fix his hands, but the ones he kept were well worth having around. "Yes, despite the fact I may no longer be able to practice my former profession because of my hands I am still well connected and make time to consult which still brings in a great deal of money."

The fact most of what he didn't spend to keep his public persona alive for certain reasons was put toward helping with the efforts of the order went unsaid. Not everything he did would be explained to Ben after all. Still, needs must.

"Anyhow, I am about to embark for one of my appointments here in New York and thought it would be a perfect opportunity to show my collection." He was going to explain more but noticed Ben had moved toward one of his more prized muscle cars and smirked. "Ah, so you're a fan of the Thunderbird?"

"Heh, so it's got the same name here too," the young man chuckled as he examined the piece of art before him. "Design's a little different than the ones I saw in my old home universe. What year is it?"

"Nineteen Sixty-Five," he smiled fondly as one hand rested on the black painted hood of the car. "Tenth Anniversary Edition, a rare jewel I was happy to obtain, though like most cars of the time the mileage isn't the greatest compared to modern vehicles."

"Bet I could fix that easy," the comment from Ben seemed to be made almost in passing, as if not really considering it. "Well, I've learned some stuff about mechanics and could do some things but one of my aliens could do a lot with an engine." He chuckled. "Of course, as him I'd get carried away and build a completely different engine that wouldn't need anything but maybe a cup of water to run."

"Would you like to try?" Green eyes jerked around to meet steel gray, an unspoken question in the look. He pointed toward one of the garage's far corners where a bunch of objects were covered in sheets to protect from dust. "I had personal mechanics and I bought all the tools and such things for when they worked. They aren't here anymore but the tools are. I haven't driven this old girl in years even before the accident. Why don't we see what you can do?"

By the time Stephen had to leave an hour later to attend a meeting, the car was on a lift and loud music was playing from speakers throughout the garage. Dressed in a muscle shirt and jeans, Ben was checking everything on the vehicle. Needed to make sure it was in complete working order before even thinking of unleashing his brainy aliens onto it.

XXXXX

Ben recognized the colorful bunch of papers as soon as Stephen handed it over. "I didn't take you for a comic book fan doc."

Stephen chuckled as Ben accepted the offered book and took the seat across his desk in his personal office's study. "Truthfully, I am not normally the type to hold interest in such things as I prefer more cultured forms of entertainment. But, this serves as a good visual example of what we need to discuss. Take a look at the title."

"Captain America?"

"Exactly," Stephen rested his elbows on his desk, fingers intertwined and held just beneath his chin. "I noticed that in your questions to myself, Wong, and other observations that you have focused more on older history and have been working your way to the present with your research of this reality, but you haven't gotten to our version of the World Wars just yet. I can hazard a guess that you will be resuming your heroic ways once you've gotten some level of stability yes?" Ben nodded. "Then I am going to need to brief you on something incredibly important. Our world has played host to what most would call superheroes and, naturally, supervillains. Captain America is not only the most well-known, he is also one of the most memorable."

Ben gaped open mouthed at the man sitting across from him, green eyes dropping to stare at the comic book's cover. The image was of a man dressed in a bright suit of what appeared to be spandex, a single white star emblazoned onto a chest of blue with vertical red and white stripes from the bottom of his pectoral area to his waist. Blue trousers were tucked into red boots that looked like something you'd see on a pirate costume and one red gloved arm was on the follow-through of a punch that seemed to have been delivered to the chin of…Adolf Hitler. Yeah, that got a raised eyebrow and chuckle for the slight corniness of such a spectacle.

A kite shield was propped up with the opposite hand to deflect a bullet, this one marked with similar designs as the man's costume. The final piece of the ensemble was a blue helmet complete with eye holes to protect his identity, though how it did that by leaving the lower half of his head and his ears uncovered he wasn't sure. Painted onto the helmet's forehead was a bold white 'A' framed with wings extending from the temples.

Shaking his head at it all, he let the hand holding the little book fall to his lap and looked up to his host. He searched the calm visage for any sign of deceit or mischief, but there was none. No twinkle in the eye, or twitch of lips trying to form a smirk. Realizing he was serious, the man gave a slight wave inviting him to continue.

"Captain America," the mystical master began, "first appeared on a stage in Brooklyn, accompanied by dancing girls and making speeches to gather support for the war effort. He toured across the country, pretending to punch the nefarious German leader and rallying people. Then, the USO arranged for the 'captain' to take this tour out among the armed forces deployed into the hell known as war. It was a PR stunt of course, but they also hoped he could boost morale among the troops. Then, after one show he seemed to disappear, returning the next day with a troupe of allied soldiers that had been captured by German forces and imprisoned in a camp meant to create super soldiers under the command of Johann Schmidt."

Those gray eyes darkened. "I have peered into the past on several occasions, trying to learn more about this world so that I may better serve in my station as the supernatural guardian of our home, and I have seen the works done by that man. Were he to appear before me, I would not hesitate to end his existence and condemn him to the darkest pits of the afterlife. He is cruel, cunning, ruthless, and bearing a kind of sick charisma that allowed him to move up the ranks until becoming the second most powerful man in Hitler's forces. The Führer himself trained him as well as ensuring he received the best training in areas he was not capable of teaching. He created a monster."

"It is also through my studies of the past that I found out what exactly had been done to result in the man who would become Captain America. It all started, with a man named Dr. Abraham Erskine."

Once more, the Sorcerer Supreme began to weave tails of wonder for an avid audience of one. He told of the research into the Super Soldier serum. Stories of the infamous Red Skull, and his bitter rivalry with the star-spangled man. He talked of the Howling Commandos that ran into the thick of the war alongside the captain, of the beautiful and headstrong Peggy Carter who won the man's heart.

Other names, both famous and infamous, were explained as well. From the amusing, such as the speedster dubbed the Whizzer whom Ben needed a full minute just to stop laughing after hearing that name, to the dangerous Red Guardian, the Soviet Union's answer to Captain America.

"Why tell me all this?" the young man asked in one break of the history lesson.

"Because, you need to know what kind of swamp you'll be wading into once you finally make your great debut in the world," was the reply. "After all, I've yet to tell you more about certain groups such as the now defunct Hydra and the Red Room."

That discussion…was the stuff of nightmares. Strange wasn't able to go much into detail, his scrying was an imperfect skill and one that did not give the clearest pictures. And while he had stepped fully into the past with his abilities, he had been heavily limited in what he could do to interfere for fear of what repercussions his actions would wrought upon the timeline. What he had been able to tell his guest about, had the young man decide if he ever came across any signs of either group he would make sure they either went into custody, or were put down.

He grimaced at such thoughts. He remembered how once upon a time he had used his powers to help, while also enjoying the thrill of the battles and being a hero. How the adventures forced him to mature, to think about his actions and how they affected those around him. And then, the stakes only continued to grow, and he'd lost count of the times he had been forced to take a life in an effort to prevent wanton destruction. To this day, he hated the necessity there had been…but he also recognized that at times it had been the only way to stop some of his enemies.

A shadow passed over his expression, and Strange saw the tortured soul kept behind the normal forced ease of his guest. There was only one being Benjamin Tennyson would never feel regret when he thought about him. For what he had done, that damned squid-faced bastard had deserved his fate and worse. The familiar stab of pain at the memories brought him out of his darker thoughts and he shook it off once again.

"I'm going to need to be a bigger player in the schemes in this world if I'm going to make a difference," he eventually commented, something that had Stephen nodding. "Can you tell me anything about alien life in this universe? Any big names in galactic channels or such?"

"Unfortunately, that is not something in which I have much knowledge." The elder of the two stroked his bearded chin. "Lately, there has been a group calling themselves the Fantastic Four making a name for themselves here in New York and out along the east coast mostly. They've been active for a little over a year I believe, if anyone would know about issues from space I would suggest them. At least they would be willing to answer some questions unlike NASA or SHIELD."

"How would you describe NASA?"

"A mess of bureaucratic nonsense tied up in red tape so thick they can't seem to make any decisions on stepping beyond our gravity well." Ben blinked…that…had been said with absolutely no hesitation at all. Stephen chuckled at the slight shock he seemed to have given his new friend. "The group that became the Fantastic Four were on an expedition in space and were caught in what they described as a cosmic storm, bombarding them with rays that mutated and altered their DNA. After nearly dying, all steps toward space were quite literally dumped and abandoned for other pastures."

"That seems…odd."

"Yes, but unfortunately I once again find myself unable to investigate further on my suspicions at the moment."

One brown eyebrow quirked, green eyes lighting with faint amusement. "I get the distinct impression you are trying to aim me in a certain direction."

"And here I thought I was being subtle."

"I respect bluntness more, so why don't you tell me what's really on your mind instead of trying to dance with me around the subject."

"A shame," the good doctor heaved a theatrical sigh. "I'm sure you would have looked wonderful in a dress." The two shared a chuckle before letting the serious air return. "But very well. As I have said, my station comes with the charge of defending our planet, our realm, from the incursion of those who wish to do humans harm or manipulate them in some nefarious way. As you have doubtlessly been able to discern by the lack of presence I've had over the weeks this is a full-time commitment. There are literal hordes of demons and turned gods who wish to lay claim to our little blue pearl for some reason or another."

"Unfortunately, the mystical realm is not our only threat. What little I have been able to discern of the future in my sessions at the scrying pools makes me truly concerned for our home. Alien forces seeking new territory, galactic warlords on some misguided quest, truly the list seems to be endless and that is only threats from beyond our solar system! Every day there is some fool bent on conquering, destroying, enslaving or just simply ruining the planet and there are only so many who stand against them.

Anger and passion burned in the normally cold steel of the man's eyes as he spoke, a sort of presence drawing the rooms other occupant in as he listened. After a pause, he let the tension ease from his body, staring at his guest once more with a visage of calm and control. "I know you have not shared all that there is of your past, just as I have not shared all of mine. But from what you have shared with me, I know you to be someone who fights for the common soul, a soldier trained, and a leader forged. I believe…that should you build up a strong powerbase you could help steer humanity toward having at least some level of common sense."

A silence fell over the room as Benjamin stared at the man who had just laid that all out in front of him. Slowly, the shock in the expression seeped away, a mask of calm settling over it as Strange waited for him to process the words. When those eyes, so deep a shade of green emeralds would cry out in their inadequacy, locked back with his own, he saw a mix of emotions. Anger, possibly at his attempts to manipulate, sorrow, for being forced into this by his own conscience, and more.

"You…" he sighed and raised a hand to rub his face. "You already know what I'm going to say don't you?"

"Guilty as charged Mr. Tennyson," he replied. "I will not apologize for doing so, as I believe it necessary…but I am sorry that it is."

"I can't say I'm happy to have something like this thrown in my lap after finding a new home," he said, before his lips turned up in a sad smile. "But I can't say I'm not used to having my life turn itself upside down on the turn of a dime either. But still, why would you dump this all on me after you asked me to consider helping that Xavier guy?"

"Because Xavier represents one of the two largest factions regarding mutant kind. He is also the more peaceful of the two, if somewhat naïve in his hopes for equality. One thing mutants have an issue with is controlling their powers and finding ways to use them outside the most obvious of methods. From what you have described, there are literally thousands of aliens which you have access to, meaning you have a plethora of not only fighting but living experience with powers. That knowledge could help others to train and be better prepared for the future threats coming our way."

Yet again, Strange was quiet as he let Ben contemplate his choices. It wasn't a long wait at all before the green-eyed man nodded. "Alright, but I'm going to need more than just helping him train the kids in order to be a mover in this world."

Stephen nodded. "I have seen what you did with the car. Even without access to your alien forms you would be a capable engineer. With them, you are poised to start a major revolution in technology."

Ben frowned in thought. "The problem is a lot of tech could be turned to fighting wars. From what I've dug about about Stark Industries and Hammer Technology shows there is a lot of profit being made in war. I don't want to be caught up in that."

"There is some involvement risk when it comes to technology," Strange admitted. "But that simply requires careful planning. And connections, those will be handy and they also happen to be something I can provide."

"How so?"

"I did a bit of work with Dr. Richards in his attempts to breach into an extradimensional space known as the Negative Zone. The reasons for said incursions are his to reveal, as they are rather personal, but I believe it will be possible to arrange a meeting in the near future." Here he gave a bit of a shrug and a wistful smile. "Unfortunately the man is the epitome of the scattered scientist so getting him to pay attention is a challenge in and of itself. That and he will be at work handling the newfound struggles of fatherhood so it would be best to give a little time."

"Right, yeah let's let the man focus on that for now."

"I thought you might see things my way, anyhow, Anthony Stark has his own things to come to grips with before I could ever recommend approaching him. Arrogant, headstrong, genius, billionaire and playboy are the most common words those who know him use to describe him. He is a great man, but it will take a miracle to make him a good one."

"There exist many other capable men and women who could be great partners in business, but are so lacking in scruples and common decency they may as well be thugs with more expensive clothes. Justin Hammer, Winston Frost, Bolivar Trask, there are many names with which to conjure a reaction in the business world but none of them are good. The only good man I can think of that could give you a proper start without tearing you down to avoid competition is Charles Xavier."

Ben stared at the man who had hosted him for a long moment. Then, he nodded. "Alright then. I'm going down to your training ground to get myself back up to snuff in other ways." He stood, shaking Stephen's hand again. "I'll start getting some plans started, make a bit of a presentation to help get the man on board with."

Trained eyes picked up an aura of cobalt flicker to life around his hands, just long enough to match the span of a blink but it was enough to catch his attention. He couldn't help letting an eyebrow rise at that but dismissed it as not his business at the moment and nodded to his young friend before accepting the comic book back and returning it to its original place. Alone once again, he turned to the doorway across the room from where Ben had departed just as Wong stepped into the room.

"So, he's begun to move."

The doctor nodded, eyes lingering on the comic book still in his red-gloved hand. "It is a start," the book was opened, eyes traveling over the colored pages but not really following the story they told. "We have set the wheel in motion, the road lies ahead with all its turns, obstacles, and plains."

Ben stepped into his room, a stoic expression holding firm right up until he closed the door and finally he let his feelings show. Pain, anger and some despair flashed across his features before he breathed deeply, trying to organize some thought in the midst of the emotional storm that had fallen onto his shoulders.

The young man had intended to resume the work of a hero eventually but had thought there was still time to let himself find his footing again. To let the pain ease, or at least die down to more than its constant ache. But if things are going to become as bad as Strange is hinting at, he shook his head and steeled his resolve. I can't just sit around and wait until I feel good about it.

He moved to the bag where it was again resting at the bed's foot. Jerking it open he plunged a hand in amongst the clothes in the immediate top of the pile. Rummaging blindly, he did not stop until he felt the tips of his fingers brush against the leather strap of the bag he had thought not to use for some time. One who didn't know Ben too well, or of his adventures, would not have thought him the type to wear such a thing.

A satchel made to hang from the belt of the wearer, it was designed to look like the face of perhaps a ragdoll of some kind. A large yellow button serving as one eye while its partner was two leather chords crossed in an X pattern. Its mouth was a large, horizontal zipper that he knew from experience had jagged teeth-like additions on the inside visible when undone. Odd the bag may seem, it was not to be underestimated.

Despite the problems the Tennyson family had experienced both at the hands of and alongside the spellcaster named Hope, or Charmcaster as she preferred at times, they had eventually come to see each other as allies. Not friends, their history not allowing for an easy fix of past grudges, but they had been working towards it. This bag had been one of the steps they had made, a gift from the young woman in the likeness of her own though this one was made of a dark blue fabric much like the outfit Gwen had begun to wear after growing more capable and confident in her magical abilities.

Ben unzipped the mouth, letting the lower half sink a bit as it opened, and slipped his hand into the bag. A moment just letting it rest inside was rewarded by the feeling of something hard pressing into that hand's palm. Clutching the object, he drew his hand and the book it held back out.

Bound in purple leather, it was not much bigger than one of his hands with the fingers extended, but like so many things the unassuming appearance was incredibly deceiving. Eyeing the gold designs that accented the tome's cover, a blow glow flashed in the depths of his eyes and the lines began to glow. The book began to grow, becoming as large as some textbooks and he gripped it now with both hands.

Like his cousin, the Ben that had been brought into this new reality by Professor Paradox had what their grandmother, Verdona, had called the 'Spark.' This spark was the catalyst for the descendant of an alien race known as the Anodite in his home reality to form. Ben's spark, however, was hundreds of degrees weaker than his cousin's. The point that their grandmother had said that while it normally took the common Anodite approximately seventy years or more to fully master their powers, it would take Ben a century to reach the strength and control necessary to shed his mortal form and fully embrace his heritage.

This hadn't bothered Ben too greatly when he first heard the news, as he already had the Omnitrix and was well on his way to becoming a well-known hero with its uses. He and Gwen had practiced together, though his focus was less on spells and intricate magic and geared toward the creation of constructs. Shields, blasts, floating platforms and similar things he learned to create, working them into his training and fighting style for those times the watch would malfunction on him. He paused to think about that, such things happened a lot now that he gave it that time to consider. Probably a good thing he brought along some of his grandfather's plumber gear then, along with a few of his own from active duty.

Setting the book down, he moved to the next stage of getting back into fighting shape. Raising the arm bearing the intergalactic device to his mouth he gave a verbal command. "Communication Protocol Code One," the watch's face lit up as it chimed in response. The dark green metal around the face clicked, expanding out as small lights along the rim began to project a hologram of the hourglass in front of his face. "Contact Azmuth."

The image flashed and began blinking. Not long after the command was given the hourglass split into light particles, reassembling into the body of a frog-like creature staring at the man with large eyes. "Ah Benjamin," his voice had a croak to it that was slightly amplified through the projection, and he seemed genuinely happy to speak with his caller. "How are things on the new Earth?"

"Going alright so far Azmuth," he replied. "Did the transfer go well?"

"Oh yes, Primus and the Codon Stream survived the shift fully intact. We've been dropped off in some uncharted space just as I requested and I've already activated the light gathering technology to hide us like I did with Xenon."

"Good to know you'll be safe then. Everything with the stream sending alright? The way things are looking here I think I'm going to need to go alien sooner than we expected."

"Everything should be working fine," the Galvan reassured Ben. "I've already run the diagnostics and the link is firmly established." The little alien turned to look behind him at something the projector wasn't showing and cursed. "I have to go, it seems we're not quite as organized as I want to be, and I now have to settle a few matters. Keep in touch, I have a few updates in mind for the Omnitrix we need to discuss."

"Will do," Ben smiled at his much older alien friend, giving a little wave with his free hand which the hologram returned before snuffing out. The watch returned to its mundane appearance and Ben turned back to examine his cousin's spellbook.

While Ben had not learned much of magic's use given his spark lacking strength, Gwen and Verdona had been utterly adamant that he would learn its rules should he ever decide to deepen his knowledge. Now, it seems on top of his alien abilities he would be needing more knowledge. His eyes trailed to the bag he had drawn it from, considering the other items he had stored in the expanded space…and looked away shaking his head. He was not yet ready to take up those armaments, they were too powerful for a novice to truly control.

But before he would begin delving once more into study of the mystic arts, Ben decided he needed to plan at least somewhat. What gear to use was a question he was already sure in the answer of considering what all he had brought to his new home from the old. Plus, he had the Omnitrix, one of the most versatile devices in any universe. Though he needed to be careful what aliens he used, as had been proven in the past devices can be built to deal with each form. NRG, Atomix, Clockwork and…and Alien X were aliens he would have to keep in the back pocket for sure. Two of them were living radiation bombs, one a time manipulator and the last could bend reality to his whims as long as he could get its voices to align with his own.

A power like that being known about would be horrible. Especially if someone managed to get even a trace of its genetic material. Still, he hadn't told Stephen or Wong about them, a bit of omission never hurting. He prayed nobody strong to need one of those forms would cross him.

With that all in mind, Ben had no questions on whether he would be able to assert himself as a hero in this new world. But beyond just being Ben 10 or even 10,000 what could he do to help it progress?

That question would hover in his mind for the next few weeks as he continued training with Wong, both in the physical and magical sense, and discussing with Stephen. The masters both had suggestions that came with insight. Wong had suggested keeping the fact he was at least partially alien a secret for the time being which Ben had already decided on and agreed with.

"It is a sad fact that outsiders of any sort are often looked upon with mistrust by humans," he had explained during one of their meditation sessions. "The Fantastic Four are not fully welcome in many cases because of their powers, while mutants are growing steadily more of a spotlight in the world to the ring of both positive and negative reactions."

From his seat next to his fellow practitioner Strange nodded. The good doctor had made a point to join the spars now and then, showing an impressive mastery of a softer style due to the state of his hands. His skill in throws, locks and trips had made him a wily opponent and was a complete one-eighty to his manservant. The fact that made the fight a bit more challenging and thus fun for Ben was something the brunette greatly enjoyed.

"How have your plans since we last discussed them progressed?"

"Thankfully a lot of the stuff that was common in my reality doesn't exist yet," he replied. "Cell phones in my reality were far more advanced, as were computers and software. I can get a monstrous legup with those alone. But there are other fields I can branch into that could do a lot of good. It's materials and a facility to do the actual work that will be the challenge."

"Both myself and Charles would be easily capable of providing some funding," Stephen said whilst stroking his chin. "Though Charles will desire to get a measure of your character before committing to anything. Though won't manpower be an issue?"

Ben smirked and stroked at his own goatee he had begun to grow. The originally stubbled chin he had sported when first stepping into the sanctum had been groomed to frame his lips and cover his chin. It wasn't thick, as the young man was only stepping into his twenties after all, but he seemed to like it so far. "Oh I can take care of that no problem." He paused to lock eyes with the doctor. "It's been a few months now, I guess you should go ahead and call him and get the ball rolling."

Strange voiced his agreement but made no move to rise. He instead closed those eyes of gray steel and let himself relax back into true meditation. One must make time for themselves once and a while after all. An hour later he stepped out of the garden and immediately crossed the threshold of his personal study. Letting himself relax into the plush leather of the chair behind the mahogany desk and reached out to pull the phone there from its dock. Pulling the number he required from memory he deftly typed it out and held the receiver to his ear. It rang several times before a click sounded. "Xavier Institute."

"Hello Charles."

"Stephen? How have you been? Last I heard you'd dropped off the face of the earth."

"I've been as well as could be expected, though extremely busy lately. We can catch up another time, however. I wanted to know if you'd had any luck in starting up that school of yours."

There was a pause. "I have," his acquaintance's voice was slightly guarded, something Strange approved of. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have come across the most…extraordinary young man and I believe he could be a help in your plans."

This time the pause was longer, but Strange knew the man on the other end of the phone was a curious soul. Such a morsel as the one he had just offered was the epitome of a worm wriggling on a hook for a fish to seek out. "I'm listening."

Lips curled into a smile, a real smile not some smirk or forced one. Now…let's see what this future holds.

XXXXX—Cut—XXXXX

I've had the urge to make a Marvel idea for a while now, but I didn't want to use Naruto, Harry Potter or something as equally mainstream simply because there are some REALLY good ones out there already, stories where Harry is an interloper from another dimension, where the chaos of Ranma Saotome makes Marvel even wilder, where Harry is the child of a god and an even bigger trouble magnet than normal for him.

So yeah, I didn't want to try and outshine them, which I believe impossible, but I also wanted to do my own unique thing. Plus, I felt like I would've been copying them in some ways which wouldn't have been right. Kamen Rider Arashi and I have tossed around a few ideas, Danny Phantom, Kim Possible and a few others but I kinda liked the idea as Ben 10 has been a favorite of mine since I stumbled across it the first time on a morning spent at my grandma's. (She had cable and I spent the summer there, so many things discovered!)

So, I'm eager to hear what all you think about what I've got here. Speculate, postulate…articulate…insert other impressive sounding 'late' words if you like. I'm eager to hear what you all think.

Also if you don't know what stories I am referencing earlier in this note then here a couple names I recommend:

Child of the Storm by Nimbus Llewelyn – Once, Thor was James Potter, New Mexico being a refinement of Odin's technique (being murdered didn't do Thor's sanity any favours). After a decade, a mostly reformed Loki restores his memories, introducing Thor's son, Harry, to new family and friends. But soon, ancient secrets emerge along with enemies both old and new as darkness rises. Harry is left with a choice: Fight or Die.

This has eighty chapters of pure gold and has a sequel thirty chapters in as of the time I am writing this. Nimbus has created as close to a perfect amalgamation of Harry Potter and Marvel universes as you can get and he actually threw a few more in the blender though I won't say here. A young Harry coming into his own power and becoming his own man while ruining the plans of bad guys everywhere with his normal heroic manner.

A Third Path to the Future by Vimesenthusiast – Rescued from the Negative Zone by the Fantastic Four, Harry Potter discovers he is a mutant and decides to take up the cause of equality between mutants and humans (among other causes). How will a dimensionally displaced Harry Potter, one who is extremely intelligent, proactive and not afraid to get his hands dirty effect the marvel universe? Pairings: Harry/Jean/Ororo/others pos.

Just over thirty chapters and over a million words also of gold. There is a lot of world building which is understandable considering how BIG Marvel is so making a world that makes sense is hard to do without a lot of world building. A battle-hardened Harry in a new world carving out a place and slapping everyone with a big rod of Common Sense a few times over the head.

These two are a couple of my favorites. I'll list some others in later chapters, so you'll see the influences in what I do with this story.

Well, that's all I got for you now folks. Until next time, Yurei King signing out!