Ben 10/MCU: Under Going Editing

INT. TOKO JAPAN– UNKNOWN LOCATION.

The air was thick with the scent of aged candles, their flickering flames casting long, wavering shadows across the walls of an ancient corridor. The hallway stretched endlessly, adorned with murals depicting battles fought long ago, warriors clashing with mythical beasts, and cryptic symbols etched deep into the stone. Every inch of the space whispered tales of forgotten times, of power and sacrifice, of death and rebirth.

A cloaked figure moved with purpose through the corridor, her crimson robes trailing soundlessly against the cold, polished floor. The flickering candlelight revealed fleeting glimpses of her form—slim yet commanding, her movements precise and deliberate. Her footsteps echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

At the end of the hallway, two black-clad Hand ninjas stood sentinel before a pair of heavy, iron-bound doors. Their faces were obscured by masks, but their eyes burned with a quiet menace. The aura they exuded was palpable, the lethal energy of seasoned warriors who had spilled more blood than most could fathom. As the cloaked figure approached, they straightened but did not move, their hands resting on the hilts of their blades.

With a subtle nod from the figure, the ninjas stepped aside in perfect synchronization, pushing open the heavy doors with a deep groan of aged hinges.

Inside, the chamber was dimly lit, resembling a twisted version of a hospital ward. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and incense, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. In the center of the room, a man lay on a low, padded bed. His massive frame, surpassing two meters in height, was battered and broken. His right arm bore the worst of his injuries, grotesquely swollen and wrapped in bloodstained bandages.

Two figures, shrouded in dark cloaks similar to the one the woman wore, hovered over the man. They worked with quiet precision, their hands moving with unnatural skill as they inserted thin, gleaming needles into his body at precise intervals. Strange symbols, glowing faintly in an eerie green light, were etched onto the needles, pulsing rhythmically in time with the man's shallow breathing.

The cloaked woman raised a hand, and the two attendants immediately halted their work. Without a word, they withdrew, bowing deeply before disappearing into the shadows.

Now alone with the injured man, the woman removed her hood, revealing a haunting visage that commanded both fear and fascination. Her crimson hood framed a face that seemed carved from the very essence of conflict. Her skin bore the marks of countless battles—thin, pale scars crisscrossed her cheeks, a testament to her resilience. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, burned with an unsettling intensity, as though they could pierce through lies and unearth the truth buried within a soul.

Her lips, curved in a faint, sardonic smile, held an air of cruel amusement, as if she relished the power she held over others. Her dark hair was slicked back, gleaming faintly in the low light, and her sharp features were accentuated by the shadows that played across her face.

She stepped closer to the man, her movements as silent as a predator stalking its prey. Lowering herself beside the bed, she extended two fingers and pressed them lightly against the man's forehead.

A jolt of energy surged through his body, visible in the sudden tensing of his muscles. His eyes snapped open, wild and panicked, darting around the room before settling on the woman. Recognition dawned in his gaze, quickly followed by fear.

"Miss Archpriestess…" he rasped, his voice hoarse and filled with trepidation.

The woman's sardonic smile deepened, though her eyes remained cold and calculating. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Black Tarantula." Her voice was smooth, yet it carried an undercurrent of menace, like the slow hiss of a blade being drawn from its sheath. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

INT. BROOKLYN GYM – NIGHT

The dimly lit gym was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of fists pounding into a heavy bag. Steve Rogers, a man out of time—Captain America—delivered each punch with a ferocity that spoke of years of repressed memories. The bag swayed violently under the assault, its seams straining to hold together.

In his mind, the gym faded away, replaced by the chaos of a battlefield.

He was running through a forest, dodging mortars, gunfire, and the searing blasts of HYDRA's Tesseract-powered weapons. The memory burned as vividly as the day it happened.

"There's not enough time! I gotta put her in the water!"

The words echoed in his head like a bell tolling, fueling the anger in every swing. His breathing grew heavier, his punches faster, until the bag finally gave way. The chain snapped, and sand spilled onto the floor as the bag crumpled under his strength.

Steve stood still, fists clenched, chest heaving. After a long moment, he exhaled and reached for another bag from a pile nearby. Without hesitation, he hooked it onto the chain and began punching again.

The steady thud of his fists was interrupted by a voice from across the gym.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Steve didn't stop or look up. "I slept for seventy years. I've had my fill."

Nick Fury, clad in his usual all-black attire, stepped further into the gym, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

"You here with a mission?" Steve asked, his tone direct as he delivered another precise strike to the bag.

"I am."

The response gave Steve pause. He stopped punching, unwrapped his hands, and placed the protective wraps neatly into his duffel bag. Turning to face Fury, he studied the man with an expression that revealed both curiosity and caution.

"Trying to get me back in the world?" Steve asked, his voice quieter now but still tinged with suspicion.

Fury's expression remained unreadable, though his tone carried the weight of something urgent. "We're trying to save it."

He held out a file. Steve took it, flipping it open to reveal a photo of the Tesseract and a series of classified documents detailing HYDRA's secret projects.

Steve's brows furrowed as he scanned the contents. The glowing blue cube in the image stirred something deep within him. "HYDRA's secret weapon," he said, his voice low and steady.

Fury nodded, his gaze unwavering. He didn't need to say anything more; the gravity of the situation was clear.

INT. TENNYSON INDUSTRIES SCENE: IN BEN'S OFFICE

Maria followed Ben into his office, her sharp eyes taking in the space. The room was sleek and minimalist, with glass walls that offered a view of the bustling labs beyond. Tapping the Omnitrix against a statue of an Gold Eagle, room atmosphere change instantly. Holographic displays hovered above a polished desk, showcasing various projects in progress. And the previously see through glass around turned black, not allowing anyone to peep in.

Ben gestured to a seat across from his desk. "Have a seat."

Maria didn't sit right away. Instead, she walked to the window, glancing down at the labs below. "This is an impressive setup. Cutting-edge tech, state-of-the-art facilities—it's no wonder you've made waves in such a short time."

Ben leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. "Flattery's nice and all, but I'm guessing that's not why you're here. Miss Hill."

As Ben leaned back against his desk, arms crossed and watching her with an expectant expression, Maria Hill couldn't help but feel a rare sense of hesitation. This wasn't like recruiting Stark or Romanoff. With them, S.H.I.E.L.D. had decades of confirmed data to work from: verifiable identities, military records, documented operations. Even Banner and Barton, despite their unique circumstances, had traceable pasts.

But Ben Tennyson?

Hill's mind churned as she considered the mystery sitting in front of her. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best analysts had scoured every database they could access—public, private, and classified. And yet, no matter how far back they dug, Ben Tennyson simply didn't exist before two and a half years ago.

Sure, there were digital records: birth certificates, school records, even employment history. All of it appeared legitimate at first glance. But, both physical and digital evidence could have been fabricated by someone with the right skills and equipment.

The man in front of her right certainly had the capability and resources to do so.

It was as if someone had dropped Ben Tennyson into existence one day, fully formed, and hastily cobbled together a backstory to cover the gaps.

Hill forced herself to remain outwardly composed, though the questions continued to gnaw at her. Who—or what—was Ben Tennyson?

However, right now the situation didn't allow her the time to fully try and figure out who Ben Tennyson really is. And what his endgame, especially given all the evidence that pointed him in being an extraterrestrial being.

Suppressing her inner implus. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a sleek USB drive. Whatever doubts she had, the decision wasn't hers alone. Nick Fury had given the directive, and Hill trusted his instincts.

Hill placed the USB drive on Ben's glass table. The moment it connected, the table's embedded holographic projector activated, casting a series of images and video feeds into the air.

The first clip showed Tony Stark in his Iron Man armor, hovering over a desert battlefield and unleashing a barrage of precision missiles.

"Tony Stark. Billionaire, genius, and the man who redefined modern warfare before deciding to retire his weapons division."

The footage shifted to Natasha Romanoff, elegantly dismantling a room full of armed men with her signature mix of acrobatics and lethality.

"Natasha Romanoff. Former KGB operative and one of the most skilled assassins alive. She's been working with us for years."

Next was Clint Barton, perched atop a building with his bow drawn, an arrow aimed at an unseen target.

"Clint Barton. Our resident marksman. No one else can make the shots he does."

The holograms cycled through Bruce Banner transforming into the Hulk, Thor wielding Mjolnir in battle, and finally Ben himself.

The footage of Ben began with him in various alien forms—XLR8 darting through city streets, Humungousaur grappling with oversized opponents, and Jetray soaring through the skies. Then it shifted to clips of him in his human form, wearing a tactical red and black suit inspired by the Red Hood, taking down groups of thugs with a mixture of martial arts and high-tech gadgets.

"And you," Hill said, her tone even but her gaze sharp. "Or should I say, the man behind this."

Ben studied the holograms, his expression neutral, though his eyes flickered with curiosity.

Hill stepped closer, gesturing to the collection of footage. "This was the Avengers Initiative. A program designed to identify and recruit extraordinary individuals to protect the world from threats too big for any one person—or organization—to handle."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "The program was shelved after certain…complications. But recent events have made it clear we need to bring it back."

The holograms shifted, displaying a glowing blue cube suspended in mid-air. The Tesseract spun slowly, its surface radiating an eerie light.

"Six hours ago, a man named Loki an Asgardian prince from the myths and legends. He alone infiltrated one of our secure facilities," Hill began, her voice steady but grim. Immediately upon hearing the mention of Loki's name, Ben's face also became extremely serious and grim.

Hill continued, stretching out her hand to change the images displayed. "He killed several of our agents, used some kind of advanced technology—or magic—to control others, and escaped with this." She gestured to the Tesseract.

Ben leaned forward slightly, studying the cube. "What is it?"

Hill's expression didn't waver. "The Tesseract is an energy source of untold potential. We've barely scratched the surface of its capabilities, but what we do know is that it's dangerous in the wrong hands. And right now, it's in the worst hands possible."

Ben straightened, his gaze narrowing. "And you what my help to get it back?" Clearly Hill wasn't telling him the whole truth, but that was to be expected when dealing with a secret organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. Hence, Ben didn't press further on this little detail for now at least.

Hill nodded, while noting Ben's subtly expression. "You've shown capabilities that put you in a league of your own. We don't fully know what Loki's endgame is, but whatever it is, it's big enough to put the entire planet at risk. We need people like you who possess the abilities to counter a threat like him."

Ben was silent for a moment, his eyes flicking between Hill and the holographic display of the Tesseract. "And what if I say no?"

Hill met his gaze, her tone unwavering. "Then you stay here, and the rest of us do what we can. But I think you know as well as I do that you're not the type to sit on the sidelines."

Ben nodded his head in affirmation, he was just asking to see what Shield reaction would be if he refused to join. Would S.H.I.E.L.D try and threatened him to make him comply with them? Well having a uncompliant teammate on a mission such as this was too much of a risk, especially if one didn't have ways to effectively keep him in check.

It wasn't worth it. Getting the answers he wanted Ben didn't want to waste any more time here than necessary. As for his on matters regarding a certain cult nemesis he'd made recently. He would that on the back burner for now.

" Olivia, make the necessary arrangements, to handle things while I'm away. " Ben spoke, to no one in particular, until a female southern-sounding robotic voice sounded in the room.

" Will do Master Tennyson. However, I do suggest you speak to Miss Green before you take your leave. " Hearing the robotic female voice Hill, raised a questioning eyebrow in surprise, as she stared at the monitor screen.

That now showed an Omnitrix symbol that represented Olivia's digital form. Shield didn't have any intel on Ben Tennyson not just possessing holographic technology, but also artificial intelligence. Similar to Starks.

At Hill's questioning gaze, Ben simply gives a cheeky smile, at her question gaze. "We leave in 4 hours be ready, by then."

Hill said as she turned around to leave the secret room. "I'll send you the pickup location, so don't be late." With that Hill perpared to turned to leave Ben's office, but not discreetly stretching out her slider hand placing a tiny bug under the table. As she left Ben alone in his of unaware.

And even if Ben had been aware of Hill's actions he wouldn't pay any attention to it. Confident in his firewall protection he'd personally installed with a little from a certain Crabb like alien.