Royal General Kregg's POV:
I stand atop Mount Everest, gazing down at the world that has changed so dramatically in the past seven months.
The Castle of Viltrum rises behind me, its architecture a perfect blend of our traditional designs and Earth's aesthetic sensibilities - another example of the Emperor's vision for true integration.
The wind whips around me, though I barely notice it. My thoughts are focused on the reports I'll need to deliver when the Emperor returns.
The breeding program has exceeded all projections - over three thousand successful pregnancies, each carefully monitored and supported with the finest medical care both worlds can provide.
It's strange, really. After millennia of conquest, of seeing worlds as nothing but resources to be harvested, this new approach still takes adjustment.
The humans aren't just breeding stock - they're partners in the Empire's future.
Their volunteers are treated with respect, given status and privileges that would have been unthinkable in the old days. Don't get me wrong, we did treat conquered races with care, but never to this extent.
"Penny for your thoughts, General?"
I turn to find Cecil Stedman approaching, his ever-present sunglasses reflecting the mountain sunset.
"Director Stedman," I acknowledge with a slight nod. "I didn't expect you until our evening meeting."
"Well, when you've got a teleporter that isn't as expensive to use now thanks to our Viltrumite overlords, scheduling becomes a bit more flexible."
His tone carries that familiar dry humor that I've come to understand isn't disrespect, but rather his way of processing our new reality.
I gesture for him to join me at the observation point. We've developed something of a routine over these months - regular meetings to discuss Earth's integration into the Empire, which often evolve into more... personal conversations.
"The latest medical reports are promising," I inform him, though I know he's already aware. "The human-Viltrumite hybrids are developing at an accelerated rate, yet showing none of the complications we initially feared."
"And the mothers?" Cecil asks, his tone carefully neutral.
"Healthy. Happy, even." I can't keep a note of surprise from my voice. "They speak of feeling... valued. Protected. Many have formed genuine bonds with their Viltrumite partners."
Cecil's lips twitch in what might be a smile. "Amazing what treating people with respect can accomplish, isn't it?"
I grunt in acknowledgment, remembering my own initial skepticism about the Emperor's methods, to treat Earth with so much more care compared to other worlds. "It is... not how we would have done things in the past. Not to this extent."
"No kidding. I've read the histories you shared. Your usual approach was more 'conquer first, ask questions never.'" Cecil adjusts his sunglasses.
"Speaking of changes in approach - how's the ego holding up, now that you're not the Emperor's personal barber anymore?"
The question catches me off guard.
For millennia, I had indeed been the only one trusted to maintain the Emperor's appearance - a privilege that spoke to the deep trust between us.
"Roberta has proven... adequate in the task," I reply, trying to maintain my dignity. "Her molecular manipulation abilities allow for greater precision than traditional methods."
"Uh-huh." Cecil's tone suggests he's not buying my attempted nonchalance. "And the fact that she practically glows every time she gets to run her fingers through his hair has nothing to do with it?"
"The Emperor's personal matters are not for discussion," I state, still feeling a bit uncomfortable imagining the Emperor in any way... dare I say in my private thoughts, soft.
"Of course not," Cecil agrees, though his smirk suggests otherwise. After a moment, his expression grows more serious. "You miss him, don't you?"
The question hangs in the air between us. In all my millennia of service, I've never been separated from Thragg for this long.
Even during the darkest days after the plague, he was always there, leading us, guiding us.
"He is the Emperor," I say finally. "His presence or absence does not affect my duty."
"That's not what I asked, Kregg." Cecil's use of my name without title - something he's begun doing in our private conversations - carries a weight of understanding.
"You've been by his side for what, thousands of years? Been his advisor, his confidant... his friend, even if neither of you would use that word."
I remain silent, but Cecil continues, his voice carrying unexpected gentleness. "It's okay to admit you miss someone you care about, you know. Even terrifying Viltrumite generals are allowed to have feelings."
"We do not..." I begin, then stop, reconsidering. These months on Earth have taught me much about the value of honesty, particularly with oneself.
"Yes. I miss his presence. The Empire functions as commanded, but it is... different without him here."
Cecil nods, understanding in his expression. "Well, if it helps, I'm pretty sure he misses having you around too.
Can't imagine anyone else to be nearly as good at taking orders or trimming that magnificent mustache."
Despite myself, I feel my lips curve in what might be a smile. "The Emperor's mustache is a matter of galactic security, Director. I trust you'll treat that observation with appropriate discretion."
"Oh, absolutely," Cecil agrees, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Wouldn't want any rival empires learning the secret of proper Viltrumite grooming techniques. Could destabilize the entire cosmic balance."
We stand in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun set. It's still strange to me, this easy companionship with a human.
Yet in Cecil, I've found someone who understands the weight of responsibility, the complexity of serving a greater purpose while maintaining one's own principles.
That's why something needs to be addressed as I... I really don't want to have to kill him.
I turn to face Cecil directly, my expression growing serious. "You need to stop making contingency plans against usf."
The words hang in the air between us. Cecil doesn't flinch, doesn't deny it - another thing I've come to respect about him. Instead, he removes his sunglasses, revealing the scarred skin around his eyes.
"You knew?" he asks simply.
"Of course I knew. Just as you knew I knew." I gesture toward the world below us. "Your artificial skin requires daily chemical baths - baths we now provide.
Did you think we wouldn't analyze their composition? Notice the trace elements that could only come from weapons development?"
Cecil is quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing the scar on his face - the only part of his original skin that survived that long-ago encounter. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Though I'll admit, most of those plans have been gathering dust lately."
"But not all of them," I press, keeping my voice gentle despite the seriousness of the topic. "You still maintain some. Update them. Refine them."
"Can you blame me?" Cecil's voice carries no hostility, just weary pragmatism. "I lost most of my skin trying to save people from a nerve gas attack. Had to watch Donald die thirty times doing his duty. Seen too many 'protectors' turn out to be threats."
I move to the reinforced bench we had installed for our meetings, gesturing for him to join me. "Tell me something, Cecil. In these seven months, how many global conflicts have occurred?"
"None," he admits, sitting beside me.
"And disease rates?"
"Down 78% globally. Cancer's practically eradicated in developed nations, making rapid progress elsewhere."
"Poverty?"
"Reduced by 65% and falling." Cecil sighs. "I know what you're doing, Kregg."
"Do you?" I turn to face him fully. "Because I don't think you do. You're still operating from old patterns - preparing for betrayal, planning for the worst. But you're not seeing what's actually happening."
"I see plenty," Cecil counters. "I see incredible progress, yes. But I also see power concentrated in the hands of beings who could destroy our world on a whim."
"No," I correct him. "You see power concentrated in the hands of beings who could have destroyed your world on a whim, but chose not to. Who instead chose the harder path - true integration, true elevation."
I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "You know why the Emperor appointed me to oversee Earth while he's away? Not just because I'm his most trusted general.
But because in all my millennia of service, I've learned to see beyond mere conquest. To understand that true strength isn't just about power - it's about how you use it."
"Like how you're using it now?" Cecil asks, a hint of his usual sardonic humor returning. "To lecture your friend about trust issues?"
The word 'friend' catches me off guard, though I try not to show it. "Yes," I reply simply. "Because I would rather have this conversation than ever have to implement the contingencies I have planned if you act on yours."
That gets his attention. His eyes widen slightly. "You have contingencies against my contingencies?"
"Of course. I've been doing this for millennia, Cecil." I allow a small smile. "Though I'll admit, yours are impressively creative. The distablizer hidden in the coffee machine in case of unexpected situations was particularly inspired."
"You found that one?" Cecil actually looks disappointed. "I thought I'd masked the energy signature perfectly."
"You did. But you always prepare your own coffee except when we meet. It wasn't hard to deduce."
A moment of silence passes between us, then Cecil starts laughing - a genuine, unguarded sound I've rarely heard from him. After a moment, I join in, the absurdity of our situation hitting home.
"Look at us," Cecil says finally, wiping his eyes. "Two old paranoid bastards, plotting each other's downfall over coffee meetings we both actually enjoy."
"Indeed." I regard him seriously. "Which is why I'm asking you, as someone I've come to... respect, to let go of the contingencies. Not because I fear them, but because you don't need them anymore."
Cecil studies me for a long moment. "You really care, don't you? Not just about the Empire's success, but about... this." He gestures between us. "Whatever this friendship is."
"Viltrumites do not traditionally form such bonds," I admit. "But perhaps that is one of many traditions worth reconsidering."
Cecil is quiet for a long time, looking out over the darkening landscape. Finally, he says, "The destabilizer isn't the only thing in that coffee machine, you know."
"Oh?"
"There's also a very expensive coffee bean grinder. Because somehow, the mighty General Kregg has developed a taste for freshly ground Ethiopian beans."
I feel my face heat slightly. "That information remains classified."
"Of course." Cecil stands, stretching. "I suppose I should start dismantling some of those contingencies. Though I'm keeping the coffee machine."
"The grinder only," I specify. "The destabilizer goes."
"Deal." He turns to step away a bit before teleporting away, then pauses. "Kregg? Thank you. For caring enough to have this conversation instead of just eliminating the threat I might pose."
"Yes, well," I reply gruffly, "it would be inconvenient to train another human to properly appreciate good coffee."
Cecil's laughter echoes back, and I allow myself a small smile.
Though before Cecil can take more than a few steps, both our communicators activate simultaneously. The distinctive chime of an imperial priority message fills the air.
I raise my wrist, activating the holographic display. Cecil does the same with his GDA device - technology we'd shared during the integration.
The Emperor's message is characteristically brief and direct:
"Assemble the Guardians of the Globe, Teen Team, Lucan, Anissa, and yourselves in the throne room immediately. Changes approach that require witness."
Cecil and I exchange glances. There's something in the Emperor's tone - a subtle difference that only those who know him well might notice.
"Well," Cecil says, adjusting his sunglasses, "guess dismantling those contingencies will have to wait."
"Indeed." I pause, then add, "Though perhaps you should leave the coffee machine behind for this meeting."
"Spoilsport." Cecil's lips twitch in a slight smile. "Shall we gather the children?"
I raise an eyebrow at his characterization of Earth's mightiest heroes as 'children', though I can't entirely disagree. After millennia of existence, most beings do seem young in comparison.
"You contact your teams," I decide. "I'll inform Lucan and Anissa."
As we turn to our respective tasks, Cecil glances back at me. "Kregg? Whatever's coming... we're good, right?"
The question carries more weight than its casual delivery suggests. After our previous conversation about trust and contingencies, this is him offering something - perhaps not quite surrender of his plans, but a step toward it.
"Yes, Cecil," I reply, allowing some warmth to enter my tone. "We're 'good', as you humans say. Now hurry - the Emperor does not appreciate delays."
"Sure thing, old friend," Cecil says, already activating his communications array. "Though I'm keeping that coffee grinder."
"The grinder only," I remind him, my own lips curving slightly as I reach out to contact my fellow Viltrumites.
Whatever changes the Emperor brings, at least I know I won't have to kill my friend today. Though I might have to confiscate that coffee machine eventually.
Just to be safe.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found Kregg and Cecil's friendship? I find it fitting personally.
Both seem to have near the same function in some sense, and Cecil though pragmatic and paranoid, hasn't experienced the killing of the Guardians in this world, and is too smart to not eventually be convinced away from rebelling.
Though make no mistake, he's gonna always be making contingencies, its just who he is.
Also, Thragg calling the Guardians and the Teen Team as well for what you should all know to be multiverse thing - just remember Thragg can see souls i.e. also someones loyalty.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)