The Red King's declaration of punishment echoed through the ceremonial chamber like a death knell, the words hanging in the air with the weight of absolute authority. Caiera stepped forward with practiced efficiency, her silver-gray features betraying no emotion as she prepared to carry out her sovereign's commands.
"Neural chains will be prepared immediately, my lord," she said with the crisp professionalism that marked all her interactions with the planetary ruler. "Shall I schedule the Asgardian for the next tournament bracket as requested?"
"Indeed," the Red King replied, his earlier fascination with Loki's royal status having transformed into cold calculation. "Let the people see how their so-called gods bleed when stripped of their precious magic. It should prove... educational."
Ben remained perfectly still throughout the exchange, he act carefully to project the harmless confusion of someone caught up in events beyond their understanding. The Red King's attention had remained focused entirely on Loki, treating Ben as nothing more than incidental cargo—exactly the impression he had hoped to create.
"And what of this one?" Caiera asked, gesturing toward Ben with the same detachment she might use to discuss inventory.
The Red King's gaze swept over Ben with the calculating assessment of a merchant evaluating livestock of questionable value. After a moment's consideration, he waved dismissively.
"Standard processing. If he survives the preliminary matches, perhaps he'll prove entertaining. If not..." The ruler shrugged, already losing interest in what he clearly considered a minor acquisition.
"As you command," Caiera responded with a respectful bow.
The guards moved with mechanical precision, hauling Loki to his feet despite his protests and dragging him toward a side corridor that led deeper into the arena complex. Ben found himself guided by a different set of guards toward what appeared to be a processing area for new gladiators.
As they walked, Ben's hearing picked up the distant sounds of ongoing combat from the arena proper—the clash of weapons, the roar of crowds, and occasionally the distinctive crack of energy weapons discharging. Somewhere in that cacophony, the Red Wind Queen was undoubtedly putting on another spectacular display for Sakaar's bloodthirsty masses.
The processing area proved to be a series of interconnected chambers designed for maximum efficiency rather than comfort. Ben was first subjected to what appeared to be a medical examination, though the equipment and techniques used were clearly alien in origin. Devices that hummed with energy scanned his body from multiple angles while others took what he assumed were biological samples.
"Physiological baseline established," the Sakaaran technician muttered, his red-hued skin and elongated skull marking him as one of the native high-caste examiners. "Genetic profile matches Terra origin, Sol system. Bipedal mammalian type. Notably enhanced musculature and reflex index for baseline Terra."
The next station involved equipment registration and personal effects cataloging. Ben's clothes were exchanged for a simple gray uniform that marked him as a new gladiator, while the Omnitrix was subjected to intense scrutiny from multiple scanning devices.
"Unidentified technology," the equipment specialist noted after several minutes of fruitless analysis. "Energy signatures are consistent with advanced watch functions, but detailed examination reveals anomalous quantum resonance patterns."
"Recommendation?" asked the supervising guard.
"Leave it. The device appears to be purely decorative with minor technological functions. If it poses any threat during combat, the arena's security systems will neutralize it automatically."
Ben suppressed a smile at the woefully inadequate assessment.
The Omnitrix is on its stealth mode, but its still attract attention because its processing the newly scan alien to be put into its database.
The Omnitrix's advanced Galvan engineering was clearly beyond Sakaar's ability to analyze, despite their access to technology from across the galaxy. Still, having his most valuable asset dismissed as a decorative watch was exactly the outcome he had hoped for.
The final stage of processing involved assignment to the underground holding cell. Ben was escorted through a maze of corridors that descended deeper into the arena's foundation until they reached the underground holding cells where fighters awaited their matches.
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