"So what's this proposition of yours?"
Harry had managed to slip away from his boarding school for their clandestine meeting, and now the two teenagers sat across from each other in a corner booth of a small diner. Harry took a tentative sip of his milkshake, then immediately made a face of pure disgust.
"What is this stuff? It tastes like sweetened chalk!"
"I'm not particularly fond of it either," Ben replied, though he continued drinking his own shake with mechanical determination.
It was his first time trying this particular establishment's product, and the experience was proving educational in all the wrong ways. Still, waste not, want not—he'd ordered it, so he'd finish it.
"Enough about the drink," Harry said, pushing his glass away with obvious distaste. "What's this proposition you mentioned?"
Harry had confirmed Peter's absence the moment he'd walked into the diner. The three of them had been friends since childhood—Harry and Peter especially, their bond predating Peter's placement with the Parker family. After Peter had been sent to live with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, Harry had been a frequent visitor, which was how Ben had gotten to know him properly.
Due to Ben's more mature mindset, he'd often assumed an older brother role in their childhood dynamics, offering advice and guidance that the other two had generally accepted without question. Harry still trusted Ben's judgment implicitly, which was why he'd responded so quickly to the cryptic phone call.
Besides, as Ben had correctly identified, Harry was desperate for any opportunity to earn his father's approval. Norman Osborn was a demanding parent whose standards seemed perpetually out of reach. Harry excelled academically, demonstrated financial responsibility unusual for someone his age, and avoided the typical rich-kid pitfalls of drugs and reckless behavior. Yet none of these achievements seemed to register with Norman, who treated his son with a mixture of indifference and barely concealed disappointment.
What Harry didn't understand was that his father's coldness stemmed from grief as much as disappointment. Harry's birth had resulted in complications that ultimately claimed his mother's life, a loss that Norman had never truly processed. In Norman's twisted logic, every interaction with Harry served as a reminder of what he'd lost.
"I want to start a company," Ben said simply.
"Start a company?"
Harry couldn't quite hide his disappointment. When Ben had called with promises of a plan to impress Norman Osborn, Harry had been hoping for something more... substantial. Starting a company sounded impressive in theory, but the reality was far more mundane.
Even if Harry liquidated all his available assets—trust fund distributions, savings, gifts from various relatives—the capital wouldn't be sufficient for anything that might catch Norman's attention. A small startup might provide modest returns, but Norman Osborn didn't notice modest anything. He was a man who operated on a scale that dwarfed most Fortune 500 companies, and his scientific achievements had redefined entire fields of research.
"I'll certainly support you if that's what you want to do," Harry said, quickly mastering his disappointment.
Based on his understanding of Ben's character, there had to be more to this proposal than met the eye. Ben wasn't the type to take risks without careful calculation, so if he was suggesting this course of action, he must have identified a viable path to profitability.
It just wouldn't be enough to impress Norman Osborn.
Still, if this venture could help improve the Parker family's financial situation, Harry was happy to contribute. The Parkers had always treated him like family, and he'd noticed the subtle signs of economic strain during his visits—the careful meal planning, the mended clothing, the way certain conversations stopped when he entered the room.
"Can you give me more details about what you have in mind?" Harry asked.
Ben could practically read Harry's thoughts from his expression—polite interest masking skeptical disappointment. Anyone would react similarly to a teenager announcing plans to start a company and build an empire. But Ben's next words transformed Harry's expression entirely.
"Nanotechnology."
Harry blinked several times, then began to laugh. "Okay, you got me. Very funny. But seriously, what's the actual business plan?"
When Ben didn't join in the laughter, Harry's amusement faded rapidly.
"Wait, are you actually serious?"
"Why would I ask you to travel all this way for a joke?" Ben replied calmly.
Harry's mind raced through the implications. Nanotechnology wasn't just science fiction anymore—the field existed, with legitimate research being conducted by major universities and corporations. But the technology was still in its infancy, protected by extensive patent portfolios, and required massive capital investment just to achieve basic functionality.
"Ben, even Oscorp would need to think twice before entering the nanotechnology market," Harry said, shaking his head. "My allowance isn't going to fund that kind of research and development."
He studied Ben's confident expression with growing confusion. This wasn't the cautious, pragmatic person he remembered from childhood. Had years of separation changed Ben so dramatically? Had he become the kind of person who confused ambition with delusion?
Harry felt a pang of loss for the steady, reliable friend he'd known. Still, their shared history prevented him from simply walking away.
Which turned out to be fortunate, because Ben reached into his backpack and withdrew a thick folder.
"You might think I'm delusional," Ben said, placing the documents on the table between them, "but I've already achieved some preliminary results."
The folder contained work Ben had completed during his Grey Matter transformations. While he couldn't study the Omnitrix itself in that form—Azmuth had been too clever for such obvious workarounds—the inherited Galvan knowledge was more than sufficient for current Earth-based technology challenges.
The gap between civilizations was almost comical. Ben 10's universe operated under Level 2 technology restrictions for Earth, while Galvan science had achieved Level 20 status. What counted as elementary knowledge for a Galvan child would be revolutionary breakthrough science for human researchers.
Harry opened the folder with obvious skepticism, then began reading with increasing bewilderment.
Ben had chosen nanotechnology specifically because of this knowledge gap. While the field existed on Earth, current achievements barely scratched the surface of what was possible. The concepts Ben was presenting—based on technologies that wouldn't emerge for another decade in the natural timeline—represented quantum leaps beyond anything currently available.
Of course, the documents contained only theoretical frameworks. Actual implementation would require significant time and resources, even with Galvan-level understanding. It was like a modern engineer being transported to ancient Rome—all the knowledge in the world wouldn't help without appropriate materials and manufacturing capabilities.
Tony Stark had managed to build the Mark I only because his captors had provided him with weapons-grade materials. Without that foundation, even his genius would have been useless.
But Ben was confident that the theoretical work alone would be sufficient to convince Harry of the project's viability.
He watched Harry's expression cycle through confusion, concentration, and something approaching alarm.
"Any questions?" Ben asked when Harry finally closed the folder.
"Questions? Ben, I don't understand any of this," Harry said, his voice strained. "The level of complexity here... it's like trying to teach quantum physics to elementary school students."
Harry's engineering background was solid for his age, but these documents assumed knowledge that simply didn't exist yet. The proposals weren't just about nanotechnology—they described self-replicating systems, programmable matter, molecular-scale manufacturing processes that sounded more like magic than science.
"If I showed this to my father, he'd probably lecture me about wasting time on science fiction instead of focusing on real business opportunities," Harry said, sliding the folder back across the table. "This is too far ahead of anything currently possible, Ben. I want to support you, but you can't build a company around concepts from comic books."
Ben's first reaction was surprise, followed quickly by self-recrimination as he identified his error.
"I forgot that Grey Matter's cognitive patterns influence my thinking while transformed," he realized. "What seems straightforward from a Galvan perspective might be incomprehensible to human scientists."
The fundamental problem was one of intellectual scale. Even the least intelligent Galvans were considered universal-class scientists, capable of working alongside beings like Azmuth himself. Earth's most brilliant minds were operating with cognitive limitations that made advanced Galvan concepts literally unthinkable.
Ben had made the classic mistake of being too far ahead of his time. His proposals weren't wrong—they were simply beyond current human understanding.
He needed to recalibrate his approach, starting with technologies that Earth's scientific community could actually comprehend and implement.