"What exactly did he say to you?" Tony's voice had gone dangerously quiet, the kind of calm that preceded volcanic eruptions. "About being your best friend? About always standing by you?"
His eyes locked onto Steve's face with laser focus, searching for any hint of deception or misunderstanding. The genius billionaire's expression cycled rapidly through disbelief, hurt, and a building sense of betrayal that made his chest feel like someone had wrapped steel bands around his ribcage and was steadily tightening them.
Tony could accept being betrayed by business partners. He'd weathered corporate espionage, hostile takeovers, and board members selling him out to competitors. He could even handle romantic betrayal after years of superficial relationships with people who cared more about his money than his person.
But this? This cut deeper than any of those predictable disappointments.
His mind dragged him backward through time, rewinding to several years ago when everything had been falling apart.
Tony Stark had spent most of his adult life being called selfish, self-centered, an arrogant bastard who cared about nothing beyond his own ego and bank account. He'd developed thick skin against those accusations, learned to wear them like armor. In his darker moments, he'd even taken pride in his reputation.
Those critics were vulgar, mediocre, fundamentally stupid people who couldn't comprehend genius even when it was saving their ungrateful lives. Of course they didn't understand him. Their inability to see his vision was a feature, not a bug.
But at least Ben understood. At least Ben had stayed by his side when everyone else was choosing teams and drawing battle lines.
Tony had known, even at the time, that his desire to kill Bucky stemmed more from wounded pride than genuine grief. His parents' deaths had happened decades ago, and while Howard Stark had been a terrible father, Tony had long since made peace with that complicated relationship. The murder itself wasn't the issue.
The issue was that Steve had known and hidden it. The issue was the principle of the thing, the betrayal of trust.
And through all of that mess, all that anger and righteousness and barely contained violence, Ben had supported Tony without hesitation or judgment.
'I'm not one of those self-righteous, morally superior types who'll lecture you about forgiveness and moving on,' Ben had said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. 'We're the same kind of people, you and me. We understand that sometimes principles matter more than feelings. I like you more than I like most people, Tony. That's why I'm on your side.'
Those words had burned themselves into Tony's memory with the permanence of a brand. Not support based on some abstract concept of justice or heroic ideals, but support rooted in genuine personal connection. Ben had chosen Tony simply because Tony was Tony, flaws and anger and pettiness included.
That companionship had given Tony something precious and rare: a sense of warmth, of being understood, of not having to justify his existence to someone who already accepted him completely.
That's how Tony had eventually found the strength to move past his hatred. That's how he'd developed the emotional space to rationally examine the past and acknowledge that Bucky had been a victim too, a weapon rather than a murderer.
But now...
"Damn it, Ben!" Tony's fist slammed down on the control console with enough force to dent the reinforced metal. Sparks flew from stressed circuits as warning lights flickered across multiple displays.
His voice cracked slightly on the name, fury and hurt mixing into something that made his throat tight. "I don't believe you! I can't believe I fell for that!"
He wanted to punch something else, preferably Ben's smug face when he finally confronted him about this betrayal.
"I knew that kid was full of shit," Tony continued, though his tone suggested he very much had not known until approximately thirty seconds ago. "I knew he was playing games. I should have seen this coming!"
"Sir," Friday's calm British accent cut through his tirade with perfect timing, "you never once doubted Mr. Parker's sincerity until exactly one minute ago. Your psychological profile shows complete trust in his stated positions regarding your friendship."
The AI's diplomatic way of calling him a liar would have been amusing under different circumstances.
"Shut up!" Tony's command came out as a snarl. "Just shut down! I don't want to hear it!"
He manually killed Friday's vocal systems, silencing the too-observant AI before it could offer more inconvenient truths.
Steve's confusion was written clearly across his face, his earlier moral certainty replaced by dawning comprehension as puzzle pieces began falling into place. "What do you mean, Tony? What are you talking about?"
Tony's laugh was sharp and bitter, stripped of any genuine humor. He met Steve's eyes with an expression that mixed contempt and reluctant camaraderie in equal measure.
"What do I mean?" Tony's voice dripped sarcasm like acid. "I mean that Ben Parker, that manipulative little bastard, said the exact same fucking thing to both of us! Word for word! The same speech about understanding us, the same claims about liking us more than other people, the same promises of unconditional support!"
He gestured wildly, his body language screaming frustration and indignation. "Christ, Steve! Even when I'm paying to sleep with supermodels and actresses, I don't recycle the same lines! I at least have the decency to vary my approach! But apparently Ben just has one standard friendship script that he deploys whenever someone needs emotional manipulation!"
Steve stood frozen, his super-soldier brain working overtime to process this information. Slowly, methodically, he began reviewing his own interactions with Ben, comparing notes with what Tony had just revealed.
The timelines matched. The phrasing matched. Even the emotional beats and delivery matched.
"Son of a bitch," Steve breathed, his wholesome 1940s vocabulary struggling to adequately express modern betrayal. The curse sounded foreign coming from Captain America's mouth, which somehow made it hit harder.
His face flushed with mingled embarrassment and anger.
"How could I have trusted him so completely?!" Steve's voice rose with indignation that would have been comedic if it wasn't so genuine. "I believed every word! I thought we had something special!"
Eunice couldn't remain silent any longer, her loyalty to Ben overriding her tactical awareness that this probably wasn't the moment to defend him. "Ben just didn't want to hurt either of you," she said, her synthesized voice carrying notes of genuine concern.
The Mind Stone in her forehead pulsed softly, responding to the emotional turmoil filling the command deck. "He cares about both of you. He wanted to give everyone a sense of belonging and support. What's so wrong about that?"
Her tone suggested she genuinely didn't understand why they were upset. From her perspective, Ben had simply been kind to multiple people simultaneously. Wasn't that what good people did?
"Not bad, Captain," Wanda chimed in, her accent thickening slightly with barely suppressed amusement. "There are only two of you who got the 'best friend' speech. Think about the rest of us. I can't even count how many people Ben has probably said similar things to."
She made an exaggerated gesture, as if trying to encompass a crowd too large to visualize. "Pietro, Harry, Peter, Felicia, Looma, MJ, Thor, Loki, probably half the Plumbers by now. The man's friendship speech has more performances than a Broadway musical."
Tony and Steve exchanged a look that transcended their earlier conflict. In that moment, they were united by the shared experience of being absolutely played by someone they'd trusted.
"That's..." Steve searched for an appropriate word, "...that's actually kind of heartbreaking when you phrase it that way."
His righteous anger deflated slightly, replaced by something more complicated. Sympathy for all the other people Ben had sweet-talked? Embarrassment at falling for such obvious manipulation? Or perhaps grudging admiration for the sheer audacity of maintaining that many simultaneous "special" friendships?
"I'm fine with it, honestly," Wanda said, though her expression suggested the situation was more nuanced than simple acceptance.
Her feelings for Ben ran deeper than simple friendship, complicated by gratitude for pulling her from despair and genuine affection that had grown over months of working together. And then there was her connection to Eunice, that strange bond facilitated by the Mind Stone that neither of them fully understood yet.
Romance, friendship, family, something else entirely? The lines blurred in ways that defied easy categorization.
"Ben went too far this time," Steve said, shaking his head slowly as accumulated memories took on new context. "I trusted him completely. From the moment SHIELD thawed me out and I was drowning in a world I didn't recognize, he was there. He helped me adjust to the twenty-first century, explained things patiently when I was confused, always managed to turn desperate situations around..."
His voice grew quieter, more reflective. "I thought that meant something. I thought I was special to him."
"The truth is simpler than that," Tony said after a long moment of consideration, his analytical mind cutting through emotional fog to reach an uncomfortable conclusion. "He's nice to everyone. That's his whole deal. He makes everyone feel special and important because he genuinely doesn't want people to feel alone or unsupported."
Somewhere else in the galaxy, Nick Fury, monitoring this conversation through backup communication channels, thought very loudly: Are you sure about that assessment?
The former SHIELD director could provide extensive testimony about Ben Parker's capacity for ruthlessness, manipulation, and calculated cruelty when dealing with people he didn't like. The man had stolen the Tesseract, blackmailed multiple governments, and established an independent paramilitary organization that answered to no earthly authority.
But nobody on the command deck cared what Nick Fury thought. His opinion on interpersonal relationships ranked somewhere below "irrelevant" and "who asked you?"
Tony's expression hardened with determination as he reached a decision. "This isn't over. When we get back, I'm demanding an explanation from Ben. A real one, not more smooth-talking manipulation."
I strongly suggest you reconsider that plan, Eunice's mental voice carried warning and weary experience. If you publicly embarrass Ben or corner him about his personal relationships, he'll only make things worse for you out of spite.
Her tone suggested she'd witnessed this pattern before. Ben is extraordinarily petty when his pride is wounded. If you offend him, he will find creative ways to make you regret it for years.
Tony's eyes lit up with malicious inspiration, a grin spreading across his face that would have made lesser men flee in terror. "But don't you want to know the answer to the real question, Eunice? Who does Ben actually like most?"
His finger bounced between Wanda and Eunice with theatrical precision. "Is it you? Or you? Or maybe that blonde girl, Felicia? Or perhaps Looma, since she's literally alien royalty and could crush any competition?"
Stop trying to sow discord, Eunice projected with more irritation than her usual calm.
The answer was obvious to anyone paying attention. Ben clearly favored Felicia and Looma, spending more time with them, showing more physical affection, including them in more personal decisions. That was simply factual observation.
But Eunice and the others didn't believe themselves inferior to those relationships. It was merely a matter of timing, of who'd arrived in Ben's life first and established deeper connections before others joined the picture. They'd catch up eventually.
At least, that's what they told themselves.
"You need a serious reality check, Stark," Wanda said irritably, her fingers beginning to glow with faint red energy that suggested her patience was wearing thin. "Maybe Ben should have kept you locked up on Sakaar for a few more years. That might have taught you some humility."
"Don't!" Tony's bravado evaporated instantly, genuine fear flashing across his features.
The memory of his time as a prisoner-gladiator was still fresh enough to hurt. "Let's not discuss that particular possibility. I'd rather we focus on more important things. Like, say, blowing up planets?"
He cleared his throat, desperately trying to redirect the conversation away from his trauma. "Besides, since Earth is getting destroyed anyway, you might as well evacuate the resistance fighters first, Steve. Take whoever you want. I'll set the bomb on a timer."
His original plan had been to eliminate everyone, resistors included, because he'd been worried about information leaks. If the Revengers or other corrupted superhumans discovered the antimatter plot before detonation, they could prevent Earth's destruction and potentially trace the weapon back to its universe of origin.
Better to ensure total annihilation than risk that kind of retaliation.
Steve's eyebrows rose toward his hairline. "You were completely against evacuation sixty seconds ago."
"Circumstances have changed, Captain!" Tony's tone carried forced cheerfulness that didn't quite mask the petty satisfaction beneath. "Now we have a common cause. Team Iron-Cap, united against Ben's emotional manipulation! We should stick together!"
He was clearly being spiteful, and everyone knew it. Tony Stark never claimed to be above petty revenge.
Wanda and Vision exchanged relieved glances, grateful that the conversation had finally circled back to actual mission parameters rather than continuing to spiral into relationship drama.
Vision, seeing an opening, spoke up quickly before another argument could derail things. "If possible, I would like to request your assistance in eliminating the source of the cancer corruption. The worship sites of the Many-Angled Ones are concentrated in specific locations. If we could destroy those nexus points..."
Tony opened his mouth to refuse, his default response to additional complications, but never got the chance to speak.
A new voice cut into their ship's communication channels, the transmission crackling with interference and distortion. The speaker's words came out hoarse and rough, like someone who'd been screaming for hours.
"Sorry, but you won't have that opportunity."
Everyone on the command deck immediately went on high alert, hands moving to weapons, powers beginning to glow as combat readiness surged through the team.
Through the viewport, a massive shape approached from the direction of the cosmic fault. Calling it a "spaceship" required tremendous generosity. It looked more like someone had collected debris from fifty different crashed vessels and welded them together with prayers and desperation.
Mismatched hull sections created a patchwork exterior that wouldn't have passed safety inspection in any civilized star system. Exposed wiring sparked occasionally. Several compartments appeared to be held together purely by force fields. The whole thing looked like a flying junkyard that somehow retained structural integrity through sheer bloody-mindedness.
"What is that supposed to be?" Tony's sarcasm was reflexive, his go-to defense mechanism when confronted with things that didn't make sense. "A space scrapyard? Did someone weaponize a garbage dump?"
"No," Vision's voice went flat with recognition and barely contained dread. "That's Lord Mar-Vell's ship."
The synthezoid's sensors had already analyzed the transmission's audio signature, comparing it against his extensive database of enemy combatants. The match was exact.
"He went to another universe to find the Coroner," Vision continued, his mental processes racing through implications at computer speeds. "How could he possibly be back already? The journey alone should have taken..."
"Obviously, it's because we found the Coroner," Mar-Vell's laugh echoed through the communication channel, carrying the peculiar quality of someone who'd already died once and found the experience liberating.
His tone was almost conversational, friendly even, despite the underlying threat. "You'd be amazed how smoothly everything went. Well, aside from encountering those ridiculously overpowered Kryptonians. Those were a problem."
God knew how perfectly their plan had unfolded once they escaped the Null Void. They'd barely crossed back through the cosmic fault when they encountered a recently resurrected Thanos, still disoriented from his return to existence and vulnerable.
Capturing the Mad Titan had been almost embarrassingly easy. The Revengers had simply overwhelmed him with numbers and immortality, wearing him down through attrition until restraints could be applied.
After that, Bad Ben had used Ghostfreak's possession abilities and the reality-warping powers of various aliens to jury-rig the wreckage of dozens of destroyed Cancerverse warships into something vaguely spaceworthy. The resulting vessel was ugly as sin and violated approximately seventeen thousand safety regulations, but it flew.
They'd escaped the Null Void, returned to the fault line, and now stood ready to complete their mission.
"Now all we need to do is travel to the dwelling places of the Many-Angled Ones," Mar-Vell continued, his voice taking on a reverent quality. "We sacrifice Thanos to our gods, perform the ritual of divine murder, and kill Death herself in your universe."
Bad Ben, listening from elsewhere on the patchwork ship, felt anticipation building in his chest like pressure before an explosion. His entire body practically vibrated with excitement.
Soon, very soon, he would absorb the power of the five great abstract entities: Death, Eternity, Infinity, Oblivion, and Annihilation. Once he'd consumed all five, he'd transcend even Celestialsapien power levels, becoming something unprecedented in cosmic history.
The thought made his fingers twitch toward the Omnitrix.
"I didn't expect to encounter you rats so quickly after returning," Mar-Vell said, and now genuine pleasure colored his tone. "How fortunate. We can eliminate loose ends before proceeding with the main event."
"With that piece of junk?" Tony couldn't help himself, the insult automatic. "That ship wouldn't sell for scrap metal even if you paid someone to haul it away. You're going to fight us in a flying trash compactor?"
"Oh, we're not fighting you alone," Mar-Vell's voice carried dark amusement. "We're fighting you with the blessing of every corrupted god in this entire universe."
The moment those words left his mouth, reality began to twist and warp around them.
Space itself distorted like melting wax, the laws of physics bending in ways that made human eyes hurt to perceive. Impossible colors bled into the void, creating visual static that seemed to whisper madness directly into observers' minds.
Then they appeared.
Dozens of Celestials materialized simultaneously, their massive forms dwarfing even the largest warships. But these weren't the majestic cosmic giants that had seeded life across galaxies with careful precision. These Celestials had been corrupted by the cancer that infected everything in this dying universe.
Their once-gleaming armor was covered in tumorous growths and pulsing purple flesh. Where humanoid heads should have been, toilet-bowl-shaped apertures opened and closed like mouths, revealing glimpses of writhing organs within.
Each corrupted god radiated wrongness on a fundamental level, their mere presence causing reality itself to recoil in disgust.
Bad Ben stood at the observation window of the patchwork ship, staring at the assembled Celestial host with eyes that practically glowed with hunger and anticipation.
His hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles went white. A grin spread across his face that was equal parts excitement and madness, the expression of someone about to get everything they'd ever wanted.
"Awesome," he breathed, voice shaking slightly with barely contained eagerness.
His little watch was already itching for action!