Ben 10 - Ultimate Series

The sound of footsteps echoed off the damp sewer walls, mixed with the constant dripping of dirty water. A sphere of light floated a few meters ahead, illuminating the path full of slime and frightened rats that scurried away in a hurry.

"When you said 'let's chase alien criminals,' I thought it would be like... lasers, explosions, spaceship chases..." commented Gwen, wrinkling her nose, looking at a suspicious piece floating in the murky water. "Not... this."

Max took a deep breath, adjusting the weapon on his shoulder. "Ah, yes. Glamour, adventure, and... horrible ventilation." He kicked a floating sewer lid. "Welcome to the part the movies never show."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Grandpa. What we're doing here feels more like a rat chase."

"The problem," Max replied, giving a wry smile as he passed under a dripping pipe, "is that some criminals like to hide in places that smell as bad as they do."

Suddenly, a green glow appeared further ahead, and a bipedal creature, with shiny skin and metallic scales, raised its head. Its eyes gleamed, and it took off, running through the tunnels.

"That's him!" Max pointed. "Move your legs, Gwen!"

"Great..." She sighed, quickly closing her grimoire. "Of course, he runs."

Max raised his weapon and fired bursts of plasma. The explosions hit the walls and floor, sending pieces of concrete flying, but the alien dodged with surprising agility.

"Stay still, you walking slime!" Max growled.

Gwen, running right behind, gestured with her hands. "Ligatio!" A net of purple light shot towards the criminal, but he did a somersault, escaping at the last second.

"He's fast!" Gwen complained, jumping over a broken grate.

"Then let's hit him with something less... polite," Max grunted, aiming again.

The alien climbed a pipe, ran along the wall, and jumped into a side tunnel, knocking over rusty barrels in his path.

"Grandpa, left!" Gwen shouted.

Max turned, firing, but the criminal dived, dodging again. "Damn, this one is slippery as soap!"

Suddenly, a shimmering shadow appeared on the ceiling.

SHLORP! SHLORP!

Something moved almost imperceptibly. Before the criminal realized it, a translucent, nearly invisible figure dropped from above.

Out of nowhere, ChamAlien materialized. His slender, greenish, and semi-translucent body shimmered like liquid glass. Without a sound, he extended the stinger on his tail, which glowed an amber hue.

"TSSST!"

The stinger plunged into the alien's shoulder, who immediately froze in place, its eyes widening. Its legs buckled, and it collapsed, completely paralyzed.

"Heh. Another one... for Ben Tennyson," said ChamAlien, with that confident and slightly mocking tone. He glided smoothly to Max and Gwen, as his body slowly became opaque again.

Max crossed his arms, smiling. "That was the last one. Good job."

ChamAlien tapped his chest with the tip of his tail. "Seriously? It's over already? What a waste of talent."

He turned, his mouth opening into a wide, mischievous grin. "So, who's next?"

Max holstered his weapon. "Nobody. That was the last one, kid."

"Tch. A pity..." ChamAlien replied, wagging his tail.

Before he could continue boasting, Gwen marched up to him with her hands on her hips.

"You've had enough fun." She raised her hand and slapped the Omnitrix dial on ChamAlien's chest.

"PLOC!"

"Hey, wait...!" he protested, but was interrupted by the green flash, which immediately brought him back to human form.

Ben crossed his arms, looking at Gwen with indignation. "Seriously?! I was in the middle of a catchphrase!"

"Yes. And it was terrible." Gwen replied, smirking. "You're welcome."

"Oh, and by the way..." Ben pointed with his thumb at the unconscious criminal. "That was pretty easy. Just saying."

Gwen huffed, crossing her arms. "Sure. Easy. After we did all the dirty work running through sewers."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Ben, raising his hands. "Chasing is tiring. But finishing... that's for professionals."

While the two argued, Max pulled a storage egg from his belt, a small oval-shaped metal device with bright yellow lines running across its surface. He pressed a button on top and threw the egg at the criminal. The egg opened, emitting a bluish light that quickly scanned the paralyzed criminal.

"ZUUUP!"

In a flash of light, the alien's body was sucked inside, the egg closing with a magnetic click, followed by a beep confirming containment.

Max shook his head, holding back a laugh. "Alright, team. Mission accomplished. Now, let's get out of here before I start smelling like this place for the rest of the month."

They walked to a side exit, climbing a rusty metal ladder. As soon as they pushed the cover, they emerged onto the sidewalk of a busy avenue.

Max dusted off his clothes, clapped his hands, and gestured with his chin to a store on the corner.

"Look there." He pointed to the window, where a TV was displaying the local news headlines. "The Bellwood Cannons have made it to the Little League World Series finals!"

"No way!" Ben exclaimed, pumping his fists, excited. "I should have been on that team... if it weren't for this 'intergalactic vacation'!"

Gwen arched an eyebrow, laughing. "Seriously? You? On the team? Sure, if you knew... like... how to play baseball."

Ben looked offended. "I know how to play!"

"If by 'play' you mean running in the wrong direction and shouting 'catch, catch,' then yes," Gwen replied, crossing her arms.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Grandpa, can we go see the game, right? Please!"

Max crossed his arms, pretending to think. "Well... I guess after everything... we deserve a little fun."

"Williamsport, PA," Max said as the Rust Bucket approached the Little League Sports Complex. "The birthplace of Little League baseball. The place where dreams of greatness begin, along with valuable lessons about fair play."

"You're exaggerating a bit, aren't you, Grandpa?" Gwen commented, raising an eyebrow.

The Rust Bucket slowed as it neared the gates, where security was surprisingly tight. Police officers circled the vehicle, using mirrors to check underneath and sniffer dogs to track anything suspicious.

"Why so much security?" Gwen asked, looking out the window as the officers worked.

"The president likes baseball," Max explained. "He comes here to support the young players."

"Great, that means we'll have less fun and more bureaucracy," Ben grumbled, looking at the group of police officers outside.

After getting the all-clear, Max found a parking spot near the practice fields. As soon as they got out of the Rust Bucket, Ben immediately noticed a team in sky-blue uniforms practicing on the field.

"Look, the Cannons! I'm gonna go say hi!" Ben exclaimed, excited.

He ran towards the field, but before he could get there, he felt a sudden pull on his pants and let out a yelp as he was lifted into the air and hung on a fence.

"JT and Cash... Of course, it was you," Ben grumbled, turning to see his old nemeses laughing.

"Look who's back for more, Wedgie Tennyson!" Cash taunted, laughing loudly. "Still hanging around, shrimp?"

"Yeah, we thought you'd hide until school started," JT teased, crossing his arms.

Ben got down from the fence, adjusting his pants and frowning. "And I thought only the Cannons' uniforms were ugly. You guys are worse."

"Hey, how's the eye, Cash?" Ben provoked, laughing as he pointed to where he remembered hitting Cash before.

Cash turned red, but before he could answer, Gwen interrupted. "Are you two still around? I thought you would have given up after being humiliated in the last game."

"Humiliated? We're here because we have talent!" Cash replied, trying to regain his composure.

"Oh, and because half the team got chickenpox," JT muttered, getting an elbow from Cash.

Suddenly, a ball whizzing through the air interrupted the conversation. The Tennysons barely had time to dodge before it was caught by an opposing player in a crimson uniform.

"These guys don't just play, they perform magic," Ben commented, watching the players throw the ball with impossible precision.

More players appeared on the field, synchronized like soldiers, under the stern gaze of a coach. "Good luck, Cannons," he said coldly. "You're going to need it."

As he left with his players, a frustrated Cash threw a ball towards the last one in line. With superhuman reflexes, the player caught the ball without even looking back.

Max walked with firm steps through the corridors, his shoes echoing against the concrete. The security agents hesitated for a moment, but none dared to stop him. Upon reaching the imposing door of the presidential office, one of the guards opened it, allowing the Plumber to enter unannounced.

Inside, the president, in his impeccably tailored suit, was sitting in his leather chair, flipping through papers with a bored expression that vanished as soon as he looked up and saw Max enter. He immediately let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, well, Maxwell Tennyson," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What an absolutely charming surprise. What is it this time? Have you come to update me on the latest 'alien dangers' you Plumbers insist on throwing at me?"

Max remained impassive, crossing his arms. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. President."

"Oh, of course, it is." The president leaned back in his chair and forced a smile. "You know, I can't wait to give a speech about the disaster in Rapid City. Nothing like explaining to the American public how the capital of the Black Hills region turned into scrap. I should have pamphlets printed, you know."

Max didn't answer, just stood there, patient.

Suddenly, the president slammed his hand on the desk. "Now tell me, Max: what the hell happened there? A major tourist city, full of vacationing families, completely devastated! What the hell was that thing that destroyed everything?"

Max took a deep breath and answered calmly, "The Earth was invaded by a space pirate. He was looking for a highly dangerous weapon. We did what was necessary to stop him from finding it."

The president raised his eyebrows, incredulous. "A space pirate? A highly dangerous weapon? Do you really expect me to tell the public that? How do you suggest I explain this without sounding like I've gone insane?"

"Explain it however you want, sir," Max said, his tone unchanged. "But the fact is, we dealt with the threat before it became global. If we hadn't acted, Rapid City would have been just the beginning."

"Is that your 'job,' Max?" The president stood up from his chair, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Turning entire cities into fields of destruction and then throwing the responsibility at me?"

Max remained impassive. "With all due respect, sir, our job is to protect the planet. We don't choose when threats appear. We just deal with them."

For a moment, the president stared at Max, his anger evident in every line of his face. Finally, he huffed and pointed to the door. "Enough. I've heard enough. Get out of my office before I do something I'll regret."

Max adjusted his hat and shrugged. "As you wish, Mr. President. Always a pleasure."

With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

In the ensuing silence, the president exploded, slamming his hand on the desk. "Why, WHY do we keep accepting this nonsense? These Plumbers do what they want, when they want, and I'm left with the pieces!"

His assistant, who was standing in the corner of the room, took a cautious step forward. "Sir, with all due respect... The Plumbers are essential. They eliminate threats the public never even knows about. They help the government more than you can imagine."

"Help?" the president shouted. "And what about the disaster they cause? They do the dirty work and then disappear, leaving the mess in my hands!"

"Sir," the assistant continued, trying to stay calm, "remember the warnings they give us. How many disasters have they prevented before they even reached this point? They do a job no other agency could."

The president sank back into his chair, running a hand over his face. "Why do we need them? It seems like we're entrusting national security to a bunch of civilians with alien toys. I bet even a handful of Arabs couldn't cause this much damage."

The assistant hesitated, visibly uncomfortable, but remained quiet. The president huffed once more, picked up the papers on the table, and threw them back down, disdainfully.

"Ridiculous... all of this is just ridiculous."

Ben walked across the practice field, still holding his backpack on one shoulder. He spotted Coach Denverson checking a clipboard near the dugout.

"Hi, Mr. Denverson!" Ben waved, approaching with a smile on his face.

The coach looked up, frowning for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise. "Ben Tennyson? I thought you were on vacation with your grandpa! Didn't you say you were going on a big trip?"

"Exactly, sir," Ben replied, stopping in front of him and dropping his backpack to the ground. "But, luckily, we're passing through town today. And since I'm here... I thought maybe I could give the team a hand. You know, do a little gig."

Denverson laughed, shaking his head. "You always have a good excuse, kid. But look, even though you're a good player, you're not on the team this year. It would be unfair to the others who have trained hard all season."

Ben put his hands in his pockets, feigning casualness. "I know that, sir. But most of the team is out with that chickenpox outbreak, remember? You don't even have reserves."

Denverson sighed. "I can't deny we're in a tough spot."

With a victorious smile, Ben pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the coach. "And here's my permission slip. Straight from my grandpa. He even filled out the official team authorization form."

Denverson took the paper and read it quickly, letting out a low laugh. "You've always been persuasive. Alright, kid, you can help out. But no showboating. You'll start on the bench, got it?"

Ben smiled broadly and took a step back, already getting ready to run. "I won't let you down, sir!"

Before Denverson could reply, Ben dashed towards the rest of the team, who were warming up near home base.

"Hey, guys!" Ben shouted, raising his hand.

The players looked at him and a few waved back. "Look who showed up!" one of them said.

"Ben 10 is back!" Ben declared confidently, pointing to himself and laughing.

"Ben 10? I thought it was Ben 0 after that last game!" another player teased, making the others laugh.

"Oh, yeah? Coming from the guy who tripped over his own base in the last practice!" Ben retorted, laughing along with them.

Soon, the conversation turned into a lighthearted exchange of taunts and laughter, as only kids could do.

Gwen approached Max, who was leaning against a hallway wall, looking at his watch. "Hey, Grandpa, have you seen Ben?" she asked.

Max gave a slight smile before answering: "He's with the team, isn't he?"

"Yes," Gwen confirmed. "He managed to convince the coach. I think he's really excited about it."

"Good. He needs to have some fun after all these adventures," Max said as he adjusted his hat. "Come on, the game is starting."

The two of them headed to the stadium, the sound of the crowd growing as they got closer. When they entered, the atmosphere was electric. In the center of the field, the president stood in front of a microphone. He seemed to have recovered from his encounter with Max, but his speech carried the gravity of the recent situation.

"My fellow countrymen," he began, his voice echoing through the packed stadium. "Today we gather not just to support our athletes, but to honor the resilience of the American people. Rapid City has suffered a devastating blow—a natural disaster that reminds us of our vulnerability and our strength. I ask you all for a moment of silence for the victims and their families."

The stadium fell into absolute silence, the muffled sound of the wind being the only interruption. After the solemn moment, the president raised his tone.

"But, as always, we rise from the ashes. We are a nation that does not falter, that finds strength in adversity. And what better way to show our determination than with a good game of baseball? Let the game begin!"

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as the players took the field.

Ben was sitting on the bench, arms crossed and a look of pure discontent on his face. On the field, the Bellwood Cannons were being humiliated. The Squires not only dominated the game, but they did so with an irritating ease, as if they knew exactly what their opponents would do before it even happened. Every pitch was a perfect strike, every hit a calculated home run, and every attempt by the Cannons to get back in the game ended in disaster.

Cash and JT, who always bragged about their athletic skills, now seemed completely out of shape. Cash, who normally exuded confidence, stumbled while trying to catch a simple ball, allowing the Squires to score another run. JT, on the other hand, seemed more concerned with adjusting his glasses than paying attention to the game. It was a complete disaster.

Ben shook his head, incredulous. "This is a joke... Who loses like this? They should at least try to look like they know what they're doing." He kicked an empty bottle next to the bench, frustrated.

On the field, the situation was getting worse. JT tried to bat, but the ball went straight past him, hitting him in the face with a loud thud that made the entire stand gasp. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain, as his glasses flew off. The game was paused for a few minutes while the coach ran to help him.

Ben, frustrated with the humiliation the Bellwood team was suffering, got up from the bench and discreetly headed towards the locker room, taking advantage of a gap while everyone was distracted by the game. He went in quickly, closing the door behind him and letting out a sigh.

"Okay, time to even the odds," he said, activating the Omnitrix on his wrist. The device glowed brightly, filling the small space with its characteristic green light.

Seconds later, the locker room door opened, and Ben walked out... as "himself." A confident smile was on his face, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as if he were ready for a show.

"Now we're talking. Let's level this game," he muttered, with the tone of someone who knew he was about to become the center of attention. Without hesitation, Ben walked back towards the...

Ben ran onto the field with renewed confidence, a gleam in his eye that showed something was different. Passing by JT, who was still rubbing his face where the ball had hit him, Ben patted him on the shoulder and said casually, "Leave it to me. Time to shine."

JT looked at him, confused, but before he could say anything, Ben was already walking towards the bat. The tension in the stadium was palpable, with the Cannons facing a humiliating deficit. But Ben seemed oblivious to it as he adjusted his stance at the plate, staring down the opposing pitcher.

The pitcher, a tall, muscular guy, threw the ball with deadly precision. Ben, however, reacted with impeccable reflexes, hitting the ball with such force that the sound of the impact echoed through the stadium. The ball flew high and far, disappearing beyond the bleachers.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, while the game's announcer nearly choked in surprise: "It's... it's a home run! An absolute home run! The Cannons finally score, thanks to Ben 10!"

After impressing at bat with a home run, he took his position as pitcher. The Squires, known for their almost superhuman precision, seemed relaxed, confident they would crush the Cannons despite the team's slight improvement in performance.

Ben held the ball, took a quick look around, and, without anyone noticing, spat on it. He spun the ball in his fingers, creating a thin, shiny layer. "Let's see how you handle this," he muttered, before throwing.

The ball left his hand with a completely erratic movement. At first, it seemed to go straight, but then it made an improbable curve, dropping sharply at the last second. The opposing batter swung the bat in the air, with no chance of hitting it. The umpire shouted, "STRIKE!"

The crowd was confused for a moment, but soon erupted in applause and laughter.

"Did you see that?" the announcer shouted, incredulous. "His ball is... dancing in the air! What an incredible play!"

On the second pitch, Ben repeated the feat, and this time the ball seemed almost alive, zig-zagging in the air before landing right in the corner of the strike zone. Another point for the Cannons. The opposing batter looked at Ben, stunned, as if trying to understand what had just happened.

As the minutes passed, the Cannons' morale began to shift. Cash, who had been discouraged until then, started to show signs of life on the field, catching balls he would have previously let pass. Riley, still a bit insecure, managed to steal a base after a silly mistake by the Squires, drawing laughter and applause from the crowd.

Ben continued to lead with improbable plays. In one, he threw the ball with such force that it bounced off the opposing batter's glove directly into the hands of the Cannons' catcher, securing an unexpected out.

"This is crazy!" the announcer exclaimed, his excitement infecting the audience. "The Cannons are getting back in the game!"

Despite the comeback, the Cannons were still behind on the scoreboard. The break was approaching, and Ben knew they needed more to turn the game around. When the umpire blew the whistle to mark the end of that half of the inning, he walked to the bench with a confident smile, looking at his teammates.

"Listen," the coach said, getting everyone's attention. "They may be good, but we're better. We just need to keep it up. Believe me, we can turn this around."

When the break began, the Bellwood team was celebrating euphorically on the bench. The coach called Ben over to get some water.

"You need to drink some water, kid. You're outdoing yourself out there," he said.

Ben shook his head. "I need to go to the bathroom first. I'll be right back."

He ran to the stadium bathroom, locking himself in a stall. As soon as he checked that he was alone, he felt a strange sensation in his feet, as if the floor was sticky. He looked down and saw urine spread across the floor. Before he could react, his body began to react bizarrely. He stepped in the urine and, in doing so, felt something begin to corrode his flesh, slowly dissolving his human form.

With a cry of horror, he saw his shoe, skin, and muscles melt, turning into a viscous, gelatinous mass. His organs floated grotesquely within the gel that was taking over his body. His body, once solid, became a gooey mass, revealing his true form: SwineJelly.

"Oh, gross," he grumbled, looking at the urine spread around his dissolving body. "This is absolutely disgusting."

That's when the Omnitrix began to glow an intense red, forcing him to revert to his human form. "Just in time," Ben said as the red glow enveloped him.

Back in his human form, Ben left the bathroom, adjusting his shirt as he started down the stairs towards the exit.

Suddenly, a player from the opposing team appeared in front of him, blocking his path. It was a tall boy, with broad shoulders and a serious, almost threatening expression.

"You're going the wrong way, Tennyson," the boy said, crossing his arms.

Ben arched an eyebrow, a cocky smile forming on his face. "Funny, because that's exactly what I was going to say to you guys in the game. We're going to turn the score around, and you're going to have to eat it."

Before the boy could answer, more members of the opposing team began to appear, one by one, coming down the steps and surrounding Ben. He looked around, pretending to be impressed.

"Wow, is this a welcoming committee? If I'd known it was going to be so special, I would have brought my fan club."

One of the players stepped forward to intimidate him, but before he could say anything, Ben punched him squarely in the face. To his surprise – and pain – his wrist bent at a strange angle with the impact.

"Argh! Ow! What the... This is... This isn't normal," Ben said, clutching his sore wrist. He took a step back, looking at the player who should have been down but was still standing, unscathed.

"You're not human," Ben stated, narrowing his eyes.

Without warning, the players advanced. Ben jumped off the stairs in an agile move, landing on the next flight of steps. He looked at the bottom of the stairs, where a thick beam crossed the path.

"Okay, Omnitrix, time to shine," he muttered, spinning the dial on the watch and taking it out of disguise mode. The green symbol glowed, but then flickered red. It was still recharging.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ben grumbled, looking at the watch.

The players started to descend quickly behind him. With no time to think, Ben grabbed the beam with his injured hand. A subtle green glow ran through his fingers, and he realized the pain in his wrist was gone.

"Oh, at least something's working," he muttered, pulling himself up onto the beam with agility. He jumped again, landing on a lower platform, and started running.

However, he didn't get far. He turned a corner and found himself surrounded again, this time not just by players, but also by adults who looked like coaches or supervisors. Their postures were as rigid as the players'.

"Oh, seriously? You brought the teachers to give me a lesson?" Ben teased, trying to keep his tone light, even though he knew he was at a disadvantage.

They advanced in sync. Ben made an unpredictable move, spinning quickly and managing to hit one of them on the side. The impact revealed an exposed section of glowing circuits, confirming his suspicions: they were robots.

"Knew there was something wrong with you," Ben muttered, but before he could do more, the others overpowered him. He tried to break free, but their combined strength was overwhelming.

"Hey! Let go!" he shouted, kicking and struggling, but it was no use. He was immobilized and carried away, as the robots took him to an unknown destination.

In the Rust Bucket, Gwen was sitting at the table with her laptop open, watching the footage she had recorded during the game. She rewound and zoomed in on specific moments, trying to find something that would explain Ben's and the teams' suspicious performance.

"It doesn't make sense," Gwen muttered, frustrated, as she paused the video at another point. "I've watched this in slow motion, in super zoom, backwards, and I still can't see anything different!"

Max, who was putting some things away in the overhead compartment, heard his granddaughter's comment and approached. He looked at the screen for a few seconds before crossing his arms and saying, "Ben probably used SwineJelly."

Gwen blinked a few times. "Okay... that would explain how Ben made those absurd moves in the game, but it doesn't explain the Squires' inexplicable mistakes or the Cannons' incredible performance."

"Although the Limax are easily eliminated, they have some annoying abilities," Max explained. "They can separate parts of their bodies and make them act independently, like a hive mind controlling multiple bodies. That's how they managed to take over a retirement village with thousands of residents using only a few dozen of them. They can use their separate parts to influence environments in various ways at the same time, he probably spat on the ball and started controlling it. I wouldn't be surprised if they were manipulating the entire game."

Gwen huffed, crossing her arms. "Ben is an idiot. He used the Omnitrix to win a stupid game! What if he got caught! Doesn't he think about that?!"

Max shrugged. "He probably is, but... so far it's been advantageous for us."

Before Gwen could respond, a holographic screen emerged from the table next to them. Gwen looked up in surprise. "What is that?"

"Squires' files," Max said, studying the projected data.

Gwen narrowed her eyes at the screen. "Is there something wrong with it? Besides their supernatural performance?"

Max pointed to the listed information. "All the team members have perfect records: birth certificates, medical records, school report cards... all impeccable. But it's all fake."

"Fake?" Gwen asked, surprised.

At that moment, a hologram of Phil appeared next to the screen. "After investigating a few things, I discovered that a few weeks ago, the government's system was hacked, and this false information was planted."

Gwen's eyes widened. "Who could do something like that?"

Max pursed his lips, clearly pondering. "Many would have that capability in space. But I have a good idea of who they are."

He took out his Plumber's badge and pinned it to his chest. Immediately, his armor began to form around his body, covering him completely. Then, he pressed a button, activating a camouflage device that made it look like he was still wearing his normal clothes.

"We'll need to go after Ben," Max said with determination.

Gwen shook her head, sighing. "He always gets into trouble..."

Ben was dragged by two of the robots into a hidden underground building, through a dimly lit tunnel. The place had reinforced metal walls and a faint electronic hum in the air. He tried to struggle, but the robots' superhuman strength kept him still.

As they reached a large room, lit only by cold fluorescent lights, the opposing team's coach appeared, crossing his arms as he watched Ben with a calculating gaze.

"Scan the boy," the coach ordered, his voice cold.

Ben looked around, trying to record as many details as possible. "Don't you want to at least offer me a drink before the scary part of the operation? It's the least you could do, huh."

The coach ignored the comment, while one of the beetle drones approached Ben, activating a bright blue light that began to scan him from head to toe. Ben turned his face to the side, annoyed, but maintained a provocative tone. "Oh, great, my X-ray moment. I hope you got my best angle."

Before the scan could finish, the sound of metallic footsteps echoed down the hall. The machines, the soldiers, and even the coach stopped immediately, as if in respect or fear. An imposing figure emerged from the gloom: a tall man, wearing black medieval armor with gleaming gold details. His face was hidden behind an ornate golden mask, which shone under the artificial lights.

"Enough!" he ordered, his deep, authoritative voice echoing throughout the room. The robots immediately ceased the scan, moving away from Ben, who watched the man with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"What... You're a Forever Knight!" Ben exclaimed, his eyes widening.

The man slowly turned his head to face Ben, his eyes glowing from behind the mask. He took a step forward, examining the boy with a dark curiosity. "Well, what a pleasant surprise," he said with a satisfied tone. "Getting my hands on a Tennyson is a rare opportunity. Especially one who carries such powerful technology on his wrist."

Ben raised the arm where the Omnitrix was attached and responded sarcastically, "What? This thing? It's just a Transcolosasafis matter transmutator. No big deal."

The Knight let out a short, deep, and cold laugh. "You're witty. I like that," he said. "I am Enoch. And you, boy, carry a very curious watch."

Ben crossed his arms, trying to seem calm despite the tension. "Cool, so you're an expert in alien technology and a medieval cosplayer at the same time. Impressive."

Enoch shook his head, clearly amused. "Is it always like this with the Tennysons? Sharp tongues and unbridled arrogance?" He then turned to the Squires. "Administer a sedative to him and take him to the main base. We can't risk letting him escape."

"But... what about the game?" the coach asked hesitantly.

Enoch gave a cold look. "Without him, the Cannons have no chance. They are just a distraction for something bigger. Now, reinforce security. The Plumbers will surely be after us."

With that, Enoch turned and began to leave the building, while the Squire robots started advancing towards Ben, their footsteps echoing across the abandoned field. Their metallic armors glinted under the artificial light, and one of the robots was already preparing a syringe with a bright blue liquid. Ben tried to move, but the restraints held him still.

A sharp hiss cut through the heavy air of the warehouse. Before any robot could process the new threat, a beam of sky-blue plasma tore through the gloom, slicing through the front line of the machines. The shot not only split them in half but vaporized their joints, causing their torsos and legs to fall in opposite directions with a deafening metallic thud. Sparks rained down on the floor, and the warehouse lighting flickered violently with the overload.

From the ceiling, an armored figure descended in a controlled jet of propulsion. Max landed with an impact that made the concrete under his feet crack, the sound reverberating like a contained thunderclap. He didn't pose. The instant his feet touched the ground, his energy blade activated with a vibrant hum, and he advanced, moving with the fluidity of a veteran.

"Ah, what a warm welcome," Max's voice sounded calm through his helmet's communicator, a direct contrast to the chaos he was about to cause. "I hope no one minds if I crash the party."

The remaining robots turned in unison, their optical sensors glowing red. Energy beams cut through the air in his direction, but Max was already in motion. Using small jets from his ankle thrusters, he slid across the floor, the armor deflecting the shots that grazed past him. He spun, his energy blade cutting a robot at the waist, then reversed the movement and decapitated another that was approaching from behind.

A larger robot, with thicker armor plates, tried to crush him with massive fists. Max slid under the attack, placing an open hand on the machine's chest. A pulse of kinetic energy shot from his gauntlet, throwing the robot backward and causing it to collide with two others, knocking them down like bowling pins.

Meanwhile, from his containment platform, Ben watched impatiently. "Hey, not to rush the dramatic rescue, but these cables are starting to give me cramps!"

"It's not like you're going anywhere," Max retorted, without taking his eyes off the fight, and plunged his blade into the core of a robot trying to get back up.

More machines began to surround him, forming a deadly circle. Max retracted his blade and, in a swift motion, clapped his fists together. A concussive shockwave emanated from his armor, destabilizing the robots and giving them a split second of malfunction. It was the time he needed to advance towards Ben.

At the back of the warehouse, from the shadows, the Coach watched with calculated contempt. He raised a compact laser pistol, the barrel aimed directly at the reactor on the back of Max's armor. "So reckless..." he muttered, his finger curling on the trigger.

A red beam shot out.

But before it could hit its target, a clear, firm voice echoed through the place.

"Raios Tradux!"

A flash of golden mana, crackling with arcane power, materialized in the air and intercepted the shot. The laser's energy was absorbed and redirected at a sharp angle, exploding harmlessly against the ceiling. The same golden blast, now more intense, ricocheted and hit the Coach squarely, enveloping him in a crackling aura before throwing him against a metal pillar. He fell to the floor with a dull thud, unconscious, his pistol sliding away.

Gwen emerged from behind a pile of crates, her grimoire floating beside her, the runes on its cover glowing with a soft light. She lowered her hand, the residual mana energy dissipating from her fingers.

Max chuckled. "You know how to make an entrance." He turned and, with a single precise cut of his blade, destroyed the control panel for Ben's restraints. The restraints opened with a hissing snap.

Ben fell to the floor but jumped up, massaging his wrists. "About time," he commented, a mischievous smile forming.

Max deactivated his helmet, which retracted into the armor. "We need to get out of here before more reinforcements arrive. The party's over."

Ben, however, stopped, his gaze fixed on the robot parts. He kicked a decapitated head to the side. "Right, but first: what's the deal with the Forever Knights and these robots and this whole replacing people thing?"

Gwen approached, her grimoire closing with a soft click. "If they're building duplicates, the target must be someone important. Someone whose absence would be noticed and cause panic."

Ben tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Obviously, the best target here is me." He pointed to the glowing Omnitrix on his wrist.

Gwen's eyes widened, exasperated. "You're a target, yes, but not the best target. The president is here, Ben. He's the biggest symbol of power in this stadium."

Max nodded, his expression turning grim. "Murray has always been a big baseball fan. This would be the perfect bait for an ambush. If the Knights are here, then this was all set up with his presence in mind."

Ben's gaze returned to the wreckage, and he saw a piece of metal with a robot mask that vaguely resembled his own face. He laughed. "Well, it looks like I was at least plan B."

"Ben, this is no time to be showing off!" Gwen scolded, but he was already dialing the Omnitrix.

"If they think they can use my face around here, they're in for a surprise." Ben raised his wrist, the watch's core glowing with a confident green light. "It's time to turn the tables."

With those words, he slammed the Omnitrix, and a green glow filled the place.

After the end of the game and the Cannons' defeat, the president withdrew from the field with a calm demeanor, surrounded by his security guards. An announcement was made to the public, informing them that he would meet privately with the Squires' players and their families to congratulate them on their excellent season.

Underneath the stadium, the group was taken to a hidden room, accessible only through a narrow corridor. The environment was spacious but austere, illuminated by white lights that cast a clinical glow on the minimalist furniture.

The Squires' players were lined up, still in their impeccable uniforms, while their parents watched from the back of the room, expressing pride. The president entered with a calculated smile and extended his hand to one of the players, shaking it firmly.

"Excellent job, boys," he said in a friendly tone. "You really put on a show out there."

As he turned to greet the parents, one of them—a sturdy, ordinary-looking man—stepped forward, bowing his head in reverence. "Mr. President, it is an honor to finally meet you."

The president stopped, analyzing the man for a moment. A thin smile appeared on his lips. "I can't say the same," he replied coldly. He narrowed his eyes, as if something had caught his attention, and then muttered, "Enoch."

Without warning, the president delivered a direct punch to the man's face, the force of the impact knocking him to the ground. The mask of light covering his face dissipated, revealing the iconic golden mask of the Forever Knights' leader.

"Arrest them!" the president ordered firmly, raising his hand.

Enoch backed away, rubbing his jaw as he laughed coldly. "Impressive. But you are at a disadvantage, Mr. President."

At his command, the team members began to transform into robots, their metallic forms gleaming in the artificial light of the stadium. Meanwhile, the "parents" present around them tore off their holographic masks, revealing themselves as Forever Knights.

The "president" let out a guttural laugh. "They're good boys, don't you think?"

Before Enoch could respond, the robots, which previously seemed to be under the control of the Forever Knights, suddenly turned against them, attacking without mercy. At the same time, the Secret Service agents revealed themselves to be advanced robots, surrounding the Knights.

Enoch narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what was happening. "This is impossible..."

In the midst of the confusion, the president advanced directly on Enoch, hitting him with a series of quick, precise punches. Each blow seemed to carry superhuman strength. Enoch tried to resist, but the president was relentless, his posture rigid and his movements calculated.

"You're not as smart as you think, Enoch," the 'president' growled as he delivered another blow.

Enoch, with a swift move, pulled an energy grenade from his belt. He activated it and threw it at the president, who tried to dodge but was hit squarely. The explosion lit up the place, and when the dust settled, the figure of the president was partially destroyed. Half of his metallic face gleamed under the lights, and a small screen emerged from his chest, displaying the face of Greymatter.

"Surprise!" the little alien said, his voice echoing through the room.

Enoch took a step back, incredulous. "Tennyson...!"

Greymatter crossed his arms, a smug smile on his face. "We turned the tables. The real president is safe, far from here. Now it's just me, you, and your little troupe."

With a cry of rage, Enoch turned on his heel and began to flee, his two closest Knights running after him to protect him.

As Enoch tried to escape, Max and Gwen appeared at one of the exits, blocking his path.

"You're not going anywhere, Enoch," Max said, activating his armor as Gwen began to chant a spell, with runes floating around her.

Enoch drew his laser sword, advancing furiously towards Max. The two engaged in a fierce fight, sparks flying as the energy blades clashed.

Meanwhile, one of the Knights charged at the robot president, who dodged and counter-attacked with surprisingly agile movements for his sturdy form.

The last Knight, in turn, found himself trapped by additional robots that Greymatter had prepared. "Looks like you won't be able to help your boss," Greymatter taunted as he watched through the cameras, remotely manipulating the robots to corner the enemy.

The metallic sound of the blades echoed through the narrow corridor. Max and Enoch exchanged swift and precise blows, their energy swords emitting an intense glow as they clashed. Max's strength and experience were evident in every move, but Enoch compensated with flawless technique and ruthless coldness.

Max managed to dodge one of Enoch's blows and swung his blade forcefully, hitting the leader of the Forever Knight's right arm. Enoch's sword fell from his hand, and he retreated, holding his immobilized arm.

"Impressive for an old man," Enoch taunted, his tone full of sarcasm, even as he felt the pain.

Before Max could respond, another knight emerged from the shadows, brandishing a similar energy sword. Without hesitation, he advanced on Max, who now had to defend himself against two adversaries.

The fight intensified, with Max showing impressive skill and endurance. He blocked and dodged blows with mastery, but the weight of facing two knights simultaneously began to take its toll.

Suddenly, a firm voice echoed down the hall:

"Grandpa, get out of the way!" Gwen was at the back, her expression determined as she held her open spellbook.

Max leaped backward, creating distance between himself and the knights.

"Tempestus Gratus!" Gwen shouted, and a bolt of electricity shot from her hands towards the knights and the robots.

The corridor and the room were illuminated by an explosion of light and sparks. The robots were instantly destroyed, their metallic carcasses falling to the ground in smoking pieces. However, as the smoke began to clear, Enoch and the other knight remained standing, unscathed.

Gwen staggered, nearly falling to the ground from exhaustion. "How...?" she gasped, perplexed. "That worked last time!"

Enoch stepped forward, adjusting his golden mask. "You're right, brat. It worked last time. But now, we are prepared. I studied the footage of your last feat. It's always good to know the enemy before facing them."

He raised his sword, pointing it at Max and Gwen. "Advance."

The knights began to march towards them, their armor glowing with an energy that seemed impenetrable.

Max wasted no time. He ran to Gwen, who was still struggling to stay on her feet, and scooped her up into his arms. "We're getting out of here. Now!"

With speed and determination, Max ran down the corridor, dodging blows and lunges from the knights. Despite his strength and skill, he knew that continuing the fight would be suicide.

The communicator on his helmet buzzed, followed by the high-pitched, nervous voice of Grey Matter.

"Grandpa, did it work? Did Gwen fry them?"

The scene shifted to the interior of the RustBucket, which was parked outside the stadium. Grey Matter was sitting in a makeshift chair, a video game controller in his hands. In front of him, a huge holographic screen displayed intermittent static as several smaller computers around it flashed frantically with data.

"Grandpa? Hello? I need a confirmation!" Grey Matter repeated, his bulging eyes fixed on the screen.

Back in the corridor, Max narrowly dodged an energy blast from the Forever Knights, who were still in pursuit. He shouted into the communicator as he adjusted Gwen's position in his arms.

"It didn't work! They put insulators in the armor!"

"Great!" Grey Matter exclaimed with evident sarcasm. "That just makes everything worse! There's no way to hack what doesn't receive signals!"

Before Max could respond, the sound of a different alarm took over. The Omnitrix on Greymatter's back began to flash red, emitting a characteristic sound.

"You don't fail, do you!" Greymatter muttered. In an instant, a red light enveloped him, and he returned to his human form.

Ben grumbled as he stood up. "Great timing, Omnitrix! As always, impeccable." He raised his voice, pressing the communicator. "Take care of yourselves out there."

Ben hurried out of the vehicle, his face tired but determined. The RustBucket was surrounded by several black Secret Service vans.

In the distance, President Murray was inside one of the vans, visibly terrified, peering out the window. He saw Ben and gestured frantically. "Get in here! Quick!"

Ben sighed, running towards the van. He knocked on the side as the door opened. "The plan failed," he said bluntly as he got in and settled into one of the seats.

Murray, who was sweating and seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, turned to the agents. "Let's get out of here! Now!"

Without waiting, the vans began to move, speeding out of the stadium parking lot in a tight formation. The sound of the engines echoed as they sped away.

Ben looked at Murray, who was clutching the headrest as if his life depended on it. "You're safe, at least. That's a start."

Murray swallowed hard, casting a worried glance at Ben. "Safe? For how long, Tennyson? These guys aren't going to give up that easily."

Ben shrugged, with a slight sarcastic smile. "Welcome to my world."

Ben leaned against the wall of the armored van, his gaze vaguely distant as he reflected on what Murray had just said. The van shook slightly, but it was stable enough for the conversation to continue.

Murray was still gripping the headrest tightly, as if it were his last connection to sanity. He looked at Ben, his expression a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Seriously, Tennyson... this isn't normal. It's insane for a kid like you to get used to things like this. Gunshots, chases, aliens… it's surreal."

Ben arched an eyebrow, his sarcastic smile returning in full force. "Insane? Maybe. But you get used to it. I mean, who needs a normal life when you can live like a video game character 24/7?"

Murray shook his head, incredulous. "I don't know if that's impressive or if you're just covering up the trauma."

Ben laughed. "I honestly don't know, probably both?" He shrugged, looking at Murray with a slight glint in his eyes. "You know what's funny? I've never heard anything like that before. And I didn't imagine it would be from someone who's being hunted by medieval assassins with futuristic weapons. Welcome to the club, Murray."

Murray sighed, leaning back in his seat and trying to relax, although his nervousness was palpable. He looked at Ben again, this time with a more serious expression. "You're a good kid, you know that? Even with all the jokes and sarcasm, you can tell you care. More than you want to admit."

Ben gave him a strange look before raising an eyebrow. "Okay, stop it."

Murray blinked. "Stop what?"

"All this sucking up." Ben rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm going to support your political career, you can forget it."

Murray frowned. "Political career? Where did you get that idea?"

Ben shrugged. "My parents always told me not to trust politicians. They're either useless jerks or shit sandwiches." Ben continued, gesturing with his hand. "In about twenty, maybe thirty years, Earth will start to really integrate into the galactic community. And when that happens, the name 'Ben 10' as the greatest hero in the universe practically guarantees any election." He leaned forward with a smug smile. "So, you can go ahead and warm up that seat for me."

Murray stared at him for a moment before tilting his head. "You don't feel anything being with the president?"

"The magic wore off after a few seconds." Ben huffed. "It's actually disappointing. Especially after Grandpa said you hated the Plumbers. I just wanted to win the game to be on TV."

Murray's mouth dropped open at Ben's audacity before he burst out laughing.

Ben frowned. "What are you laughing at?"

Before Murray could answer, the van's radio crackled with static.

"Alert: we have company. They're following us."

Murray stood up quickly, walking over to the monitor screen built into the vehicle's wall. He typed a few quick commands, and the images from the external security cameras appeared. At first, the vehicles looked ordinary—black SUVs, like any standard convoy. But as Murray adjusted the camera angles, things began to change.

The vehicles began to transform, as if metal plates were sliding and gears were activating. They revealed a super-technological design: gleaming armor, weapons built into the sides, and the menacing symbols of the Forever Knights stamped on them.

Ben let out a dry laugh, crossing his arms. "Medieval cosplayers? These guys are getting modern. Do they even have Wi-Fi in those tanks on wheels?"

Before Murray could answer, the sound of gunshots echoed from outside. The Secret Service convoy responded vigorously, the metallic sound of ricocheting bullets filling the air. The driver shouted over the turmoil: "We're under attack! Take cover!"

Murray held the headrest even tighter. "Ben, please tell me you have a trick up your sleeve!"

Ben looked at Murray with a confident smile as the Omnitrix on his wrist began to glow green. He raised his arm, displaying the alien watch as if it were a secret weapon.

"A trick? I have 16."

He pressed the Omnitrix hard, and, with a flash of green light, his body began to transform, the environment filling with the characteristic sound of the device activating.

The transformation ended with a bright flash, revealing Ben as Four Arms, his massive body taking up most of the space inside the van. His muscles pulsed, and he began to crack the knuckles of each of his four hands, the sound echoing in the armored vehicle like thunder.

Murray looked at him, jaw-dropped. "You can't be serious…"

Four Arms smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He leaned slightly towards the President, who was hunched over in the back seat, trying to process everything that was happening. "Mr. President, with all due respect, I suggest you get down and let the cavalry handle this." He winked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Before anyone could say anything, Four Arms extended one of his massive arms, turned the handle, and opened the back door of the van with a single fluid motion. The wind and the sound of gunfire rushed in with full force. He got out and climbed onto the roof of the van in an agile leap, closing the door behind him with a dry impact.

Up there, with the convoy at high speed on the highway, Four Arms paused for a moment, planting his feet firmly on the metal. The armored SUVs of the Forever Knights, true fortresses on wheels, surrounded the presidential van, moving in a hunting formation. He cracked his four knuckles. "Showtime."

With a powerful leap that made the van's roof sink slightly, Four Arms flew through the air and landed with the force of a meteor on the hood of the nearest enemy vehicle. The metal twisted like paper, the engine was crushed against the asphalt, and the entire car was flattened into a mass of smoking wreckage.

He looked at the stunned Knights inside the destroyed cabin. "First lesson of the day: you shouldn't park under a Tetramand. The fine is heavy."

Without giving them time to respond, he jumped again, aiming for another SUV. This time, however, the Knights were prepared. The driver swerved sharply, and as Four Arms landed on the asphalt with a thud that cracked the ground, the side doors of the vehicle opened. Two Knights, secured by safety cables, leaned out, brandishing long spears that hummed with purple energy.

"Hey, where are you guys going? The party's over here!" shouted Four Arms, running towards them.

One of the Knights attacked. Four Arms, expecting the weapon to be just another toy, raised a forearm to block the blow with disdain. It was a mistake. The tip of the spear hissed and pierced his skin, sending a wave of sharp pain through his arm. He grunted, more in surprise than pain, and took a step back.

"Oops. That one had a point," he muttered, flexing his injured arm.

The other Knight took advantage of the opening and threw the tip of his spear, which shot out a crackling energy net. The net wrapped around two of his arms, contracting and sending painful shocks through his muscles. "Oh, come on! That's cheating!" he growled, struggling against the trap. While he was busy, the first Knight advanced for a second strike.

Four Arms used his two free arms to grab the net and, with a roar of effort, tore it apart. The dissipated energy hit him squarely, making him stagger. He recovered in time to grab the spear coming towards him, using two arms to hold the shaft and the other two to punch the Knight in the chest, sending him flying back against the vehicle with a metallic clang.

"Okay, now I get it. You guys aren't the 'cheese board' knights. You came to play for real."

The other vehicles began to surround him, forming a deadly circle on the highway. The weapons on their roofs swiveled and locked onto him. From one of the SUVs, a more imposing Knight, with ornate armor and a helmet with black plumes, emerged. He held a heavy energy maul.

Four Arms whistled. "Look at that, the level boss. Let me guess, your name is 'Sir Hurts-a-lot'?"

The Paladin did not answer. He simply pointed at Four Arms, and all the weapons fired simultaneously. Beams of energy converged on his position, exploding on the asphalt around him and raising clouds of smoke and debris. Four Arms crossed his four arms in front of his body, the skin absorbing most of the impact, but each hit pushed him back, the combined force being almost overwhelming.

"My turn!" he shouted over the noise. He grabbed a piece of the wreckage from the first car he destroyed, using it as a makeshift shield, and charged forward.

The Paladin jumped from his vehicle, landing with surprising grace. He spun his maul and slammed it on the ground. A shockwave ran through the asphalt, unbalancing Four Arms and making him drop his shield.

"Okay, that was a good trick," admitted Four Arms, regaining his balance. "But I've got one too."

He clapped his four hands together in front of his chest. The result was thunder. A devastating sonic wave exploded outwards, so powerful that it shattered the windows of the nearest SUVs and made the Knights stagger, disoriented by the deafening sound.

That was the opening he needed.

He charged forward, no longer playing around. He grabbed the bumper of an SUV and, with a grunt of effort, flipped it upside down, dragging it along the asphalt in a shower of sparks before throwing it against another vehicle. The collision was cataclysmic, resulting in a fireball that lit up the night.

"Two birds with one..." he panted, feeling the strain.

The Paladin, already recovered, ran towards him, the energy maul raised. Four Arms braced for impact. The maul came down, and he blocked it with his two lower arms, while his two upper arms delivered a double punch to the Knight's helmet. The metal of the helmet dented, and the Paladin was thrown backward, landing heavily on the ground.

The remaining Knights, seeing their leader fall, hesitated. It was all Four Arms needed. He moved like a four-armed hurricane, tearing off doors, crushing engines, and throwing Knights away as if they were dolls. The controlled fury of a cornered fighter replaced his easy sarcasm.

In the end, with all the vehicles destroyed and the Forever Knights incapacitated, Four Arms stood in the middle of the chaos. He was breathing heavily, his body covered in soot and with several burn marks and a visible cut on his arm. The road looked like a war zone. He looked at the presidential van, which had stopped at a safe distance. President Murray's face was pressed against the window, his expression a mixture of terror and admiration.

Four Arms forced a tired smile and gave a thumbs-up with one of his four hands. "See? Told you the cavalry had this under control!"

He walked back to the van, limping slightly. Murray opened the door, shaking his head slowly. "You... are absolutely insane, Tennyson.."

Four Arms shrugged, flexing his sore muscles. "Ah, it comes with the territory. They just needed a little encouragement to understand who's in charge. Now let's go, before they call in a real dragon."

A discreet black car, parked at a safe distance, almost invisible in the darkness of the night. Inside, Enoch watched with narrowed, angry eyes as Four Arms bent down to get into the president's van. The armored vehicle quickly departed, protected by a reduced, but still functional, convoy.

Enoch kept his gaze fixed, his jaw tense and his fists clenched. "A Tetramand..." He muttered to himself, almost in disbelief. "I have nothing in our arsenal that can combat something like that."

He looked away from the scene and reached for the car's dashboard, where there was a device with a series of buttons and flashing red lights. Without hesitation, he pressed a large button in the center, his voice firm and full of frustration.

"All remaining units, retreat immediately. I repeat: retreat now!"

From the other side of the device, voices began to confirm the order, while the sound of accelerating engines and retreating vehicles could be heard in the distance. The operation was officially over—and with a bitter taste of defeat.

Enoch pressed the button again, turning off the device, before leaning back in the driver's seat, taking a deep breath. But his attempt to maintain composure was short-lived. With an abrupt movement, he slammed his fist hard on the seat next to him, the impact breaking the built-in cup holder and scattering plastic pieces on the car floor.

"These... these bastards!" He growled through his teeth, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the van had disappeared. "They're going to pay for this. All of them."

Enoch took another deep breath, but anger boiled inside him. He ran a hand over his hood, trying to compose himself. "This was just a setback. Nothing more. The Forever Knights always find a way to prevail." He paused, a dark smile beginning to form. "...Eternally."

The scene shifted to the cozy interior of the Rustbucket. The distant hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the vehicle created a familiar atmosphere for Ben, Gwen, and Max. On the TV mounted on the wall, the president appeared in an official address, capturing everyone's attention.

"...and, after a long investigation, it was confirmed that the parents and coach of the Squires were administering illegal substances to the children to enhance their performance. These actions are absolutely unacceptable, and we assure you that those responsible will not go unpunished."

The scene changed to a group of adults being handcuffed by the police, all looking visibly dejected. Soon after, the president continued: "As for the championship, the Cannons are the legitimate winners, demonstrating determination, skill, and sportsmanship!"

On the screen, the winning team appeared celebrating, with Ben in the center, shaking the president's hand and displaying a proud smile. He waved to the cameras with his usual confidence.

"I can't believe it," Gwen murmured, a tired smile appearing on her face as she picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, yawning. "It's been a long day, and honestly, I'm exhausted."

She stood up and headed towards the room she shared with Ben. As she entered, she stopped abruptly. There, lying on the floor with his eyes closed, was... Ben? Only he was also outside. Gwen's eyes widened and she screamed, "BEN!"

Ben and Max came running from the hallway. Ben, with a towel thrown over his shoulder, looked confused. "What's wrong? Why are you screaming?"

Gwen pointed to the floor, where the "other Ben" remained motionless. "What is that?"

Ben followed her finger, saw the body on the floor, and broke into a huge grin. "Oh, that? It's just a robot."

Gwen frowned. "I know it's a robot, but why is it here?"

Ben went to the shelf and picked up something that looked like a video game controller, pressing a button. The "robot-Ben" on the floor began to move, slowly getting up. Its movements were stiff, but soon it began to imitate Ben perfectly, moving its arms and even striking heroic poses.

Ben started to dance exaggeratedly, and the robot followed suit, moving in sync. "Cool, right? He's my souvenir!" Ben said with a proud smile, as he made the robot pose as if preparing for a fight.

Gwen crossed her arms, looking at Max. "Grandpa, are you really going to let him keep this?"

Max scratched his chin, pondering for a moment. "Well... it could be useful. But no using it to go to school in your place, Ben."

Ben's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know I was thinking that?" He quickly tried to cover it up. "I mean... I would never do that!"

Max gave him a serious look, the kind that made anyone rethink their choices. Ben sighed, defeated. "Okay, I promise."

As he spoke, his expression was one of disappointment, something the robot couldn't replicate. Instead, the robot made a strange face, mixing a forced smile and bizarrely raised eyebrows. Gwen burst out laughing, pointing at the robot. "Even your robot thinks you're dramatic, Ben!"

Ben looked at the robot, clearly offended. "Hey! He's just learning!" He patted the robot's metallic shoulder. "We'll work on it."

Max sighed, shaking his head, while Gwen was still laughing. "Alright, Ben. But if this robot causes any trouble, it's scrap metal, understood?"

"Understood," Ben replied, crossing his arms. He looked at the robot and then at Gwen. "And you, less giggling, okay? He's more talented than he looks."

Gwen wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye, still amused by the robot's dramatic pose. "Alright, alright. He's... expressive."

"See? He's a misunderstood artist," Ben declared, his pride wounded. He used the controller to make the robot march stiffly to a corner of the room, where he positioned it with its hands on its hips, in a permanent heroic pose. "He'll stand guard. To make sure no... dust monsters attack during the night."

Gwen rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't leave her face. "Right. A five-foot-tall bodyguard who needs a remote control. I'm feeling much safer." She yawned for real this time, a long, tired yawn that made her jaw pop. "Now, seriously. I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and honestly, I'm exhausted."

Max, who had been watching the whole scene from the doorway, nodded. "Gwen's right. Enough show for today. Lights out in five minutes, Ben." He turned and walked back to the driver's cabin, his own fatigue evident in his steps.

Ben grumbled something about "art critics" and started getting ready for bed, fighting with Gwen for the small bathroom space to brush his teeth. The silly, familiar argument was a comforting sound in the confinement of the Rust Bucket, a return to normalcy after a day of giant robots, chases, and foiled plans to skip school.

Shortly after, the room was plunged into dimness, lit only by the moonlight coming through the window and the constant green glow of the Omnitrix on Ben's wrist. Gwen was already in her bunk, her soft, regular breathing indicating she had fallen asleep almost instantly. In the corner, the silhouette of the "Ben-robot" looked like a peculiar statue.

Ben lay down in his bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling of the van. With a yawn that seemed to last a full minute, he finally closed his eyes, the darkness swallowing him almost instantly.

...

And then, he was no longer in the Rust Bucket.

Ben blinked, finding himself standing in a place that had no beginning and no end. The "floor" and "sky" were the same: an infinite space that glowed with an emerald-green light, the exact color of the Omnitrix. The air was still and silent. Floating everywhere, like inkblots on a digital painting, were black smudges that looked like glitches, corrupting the green perfection of the environment.

"Whoa," Ben said aloud, his voice echoing strangely in the void. "What a weird dream."

He pinched himself. He felt nothing. He jumped and floated for a second longer than he should have before landing softly. A slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I know what this is! I saw it in a movie once," he snapped his fingers. "It's a... a lucid dream! Or something like that. Where you know you're dreaming and you can do whatever you want."

He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating. "Okay, Lucid Dream, I command you to appear... a mega strawberry and chili smoothie!"

He opened his eyes. Nothing. The green and black space remained exactly the same.

"Hmm. Maybe I should start with something easier," he pondered, scratching his chin. "Right. A Sumo Slammers 10 collector's edition console."

He waited. The silence was his only answer. His excitement began to wane, replaced by a pang of frustration.

"What's wrong with this dream? It doesn't follow the rules?" Ben grumbled, kicking the air. "I'm the dreamer here, I should be in control!"

It was then that he heard it. A low sound, like cracking glass, very, very far away.

He looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. The sound came again, a little louder. To his right, about twenty meters away, a thin line appeared in the green fabric of reality. It was a vibrant, sickly purple, and it pulsed with a faint, sinister light.

"What is that now?" Ben asked, taking a cautious step towards the anomaly.

The crack widened, snapping like thin ice under pressure. More purple lines branched out from it, spreading like a spiderweb across the dreamscape. The green glow of the place seemed to falter in the presence of that purple energy. A shiver ran down Ben's spine, a cold that didn't belong in a dream. This didn't feel like something his mind had created.

Then, the voice came.

It wasn't loud. It was a hissing whisper that seemed to come from within the crack itself, an ancient, malicious sound that echoed directly in his mind.

...Let...

Ben stopped, his body tense. "Let... Let who?"

The crack widened a little more, the purple light leaking from it like dark smoke. The whisper returned, clearer, more desperate, more demanding.

...Out...

A primal terror took hold of Ben. The arrogance and fun of the "lucid dream" evaporated, replaced by an icy fear. He knew, instinctively, that whatever was speaking to him was not a friend. It was not a part of him. It was a prisoner rattling the bars of its cage.

...LETS ME OUT!

The final voice was a mental scream that hit him like a physical blow.

Ben screamed and threw himself backward, falling...

He sat up with a start in his bunk in the Rust Bucket, his heart hammering against his ribs, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. The RV was dark and quiet, except for his grandfather's soft snoring in the front. It was night. He was safe.

It was just a nightmare.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His hand trembled as he brought it to his chest. His gaze fell upon the Omnitrix.

The watch glowed with its normal, reassuring green. But for a split second, just a fleeting instant, Ben swore he saw a sickly purple glow flicker in the depths of the dial before it disappeared.