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While his senses were known to be a bit off, it was a little weird to wake up feeling as though he were already standing. Or maybe the weird part was the ache lacing through both shoulders. …Or the fact that everything was an oddly harsh shade of magenta. Was Gwen practicing a spell nearby?
Blinking spots from his eyes, he tried to look away from the light and found that he couldn’t. Or at least, his head couldn’t; his eyes still had free range. When he tried to move his head, he found there to be a tightness against his forehead, wrapping around his temples. Whatever was beneath him was hard and cold. The things around his arms and wrists even moreso.
As his senses ebbed into focus, an uncomfortably sharp scent filtered through his hazy awareness. It had stabbed from sinus to brain to get through, but once he was aware of it he could not shrug it off. If he could shrug at all, which he couldn’t, but that was besides the point.
Had Gwen strapped him down? Did someone hack his brain, such that he needed to be restrained, or was this all just a construct of his half aware mind? He much preferred those to be kept to auditory or visual nonsense, exclusive of position, olfaction, or anything especially noxious.
Oh, there were sounds too. Cool.
“I see you’re awake.” His own voice said, the inflections off somehow. It was almost monotone, even a little robotic. But what caught his attention was that it was external . As in, not from his own head.
Ben forced his burning eyes into focus to peer through where the light softened. Everything was cast in pink, but he was pretty sure he recognized the person dressed up in makeshift surgical gear as Albedo.
‘Mornin’.” Ben said lamely, voice low and grungy from unuse. He’d been out for at least an hour then.
“While I am familiar with the informal greeting, I would advise against abject disregard or false bravado.”
“Hm,” Ben shifted experimentally, taking note of the thick strap constricting his breath. It was too early to do much talking, anyhow.
He’d try and get Albedo to monologue to stall for Gwen to do whatever it was she was planning but, Albedo being Albedo, it wasn’t necessary. Already the egotist was spewing out plans of grandeur. Conceited ventures turning malevolent as he flitted glinting tools along Ben's peripheral.
Apparently, it was too early to pay attention, too.
When a lull in the one sided enthusiasm came, Ben cracked open chapped lips, “Nice toys.” He’d have to come up with a better rebuttal later.
Albedo's face twisted, so maybe the lackluster comeback was good enough after all. “None too surprisingly, it has been difficult to obtain the proper equipment on this primitive, unkindly mass you call a planet.” He looked down at something flat and shiny, a sneer marring every word, “What's more, few of your species are willing to employ or sell to an individual of your developmental stage in a way that would make achievable my goals.”
Ben clacked his tongue in idle judgment, “That’s never stopped you before, you getting lazy or something?”
“Of course,” Albedo ignored him, “With enough time and the application of physical or infrastructural injury, setbacks as intensive as these can be bypassed.”
“Didja learn that from being an arms dealer, or did it come after moving to Earth?”
“Spare me your insolence. It is bad enough that a figure of such mediocrity came to possess such a powerful tool as the Omnitrix. What is worse is that your impropriety has proved infectious, both to myself and the device you so foolishly refer to as ‘the watch’.”
“You’re banging a drum to a concern years after it ended.” He closed his eyes to spare his retinas, fully aware that attention wasn’t being paid to his features. “It’s not like it came with a manual.”
“You should have recognized it and its creator the moment it became viewable.”
“Really.” Ben rolled his eyes on reflex, “I, an earthling, from a closed network planet , should have recognized it.”
It was at this point that he remembered the light, the last bit clicking into wakefulness. If Gwen was in the process of casting a spell, Albedo would have noticed. If there were anyone else in the room besides them, they would have said something by now, vocalised in reaction to this or that thing, or at the very least he would have heard them breathing.
Everything around them was… mostly still. Every so often there would come the scuttling of tiny feet against concrete or cardboard. Albedo really liked warehouses… Huh.
“Why am I here, again? And why do you keep strapping me down? Is this a thing for you? You know I’m still a minor, right?” He paused to let his constricted lunges absorb the air he was pushing towards it.
Albedo squawked, it was an oddly Ben-like reaction, “I assure you, Ben Tennyson, a Galvan such as myself is not so lowly as to derive such simplistic pleasures of the flesh.”
“Coulda fooled me with how much junk food you scarf down.” Ben flexed both hands slowly, tiny cracks sounding from the awkward angle. “Either way, aren’t you middle aged? Maybe older? Don’t you have better things to do with your ‘amazing’ intellect than to harass some human juvenile?”
“Unfortunately for both of us, your status of underdevelopment has propagated processes that Azmuth, myself, and all other contributors to the Omnitrix’s creation had rendered improbable in an adult person.” He held up a tool Ben couldn’t see. It had a dark, rectangular body with a taper at one end and some sort of metal prods on the other. “It is this dissimilarity between us that has likely been the cause for such irregularity in your defective Omnitrix and my crafted recreation. But it is this defect that has proven yours unfortunately, unexpectedly superior.”
“I’m also a lot more practiced, but go off I guess.”
“ In any case , it is my hypothesis that the original model intercepted by you was more reliant on biomatter than subsequent models. It then stands to reason that a method of obtaining a truly fortified variant would be to reverse engineer the wayward coding through a sample of its materials.”
Albedo gestured to something bright overhead, and Ben bit back the impulse to look up. “I have spent a considerable amount of resources for the creation of a device which would cause said biomaterials to become illuminated. I would comment on your lack of observational abilities if not for your status as a less cognitent species.”
“Oh, I noticed.” How could he not? “That’s basically a blacklight, then? Is that what you’re saying?”
“As crude an understanding that is, I am relieved that there is some semblance of comprehension within you.”
Albedo was over him then, a silhouette against the harsh light.
“See anything you like?” Ben jibed with false ease.
“I see that I am nearing proof of my hypothesis.” Returned the doppleganger, studious as he raised up a dual-pronged blade.
“Cool, cool…” Ben eyed the blade warily, its glint painful, “Sooo, I see you have yourself a neat little gadget there, what all else do you-” His speech began to quicken as he tried and failed to redirect or distract his captor. He bit his tongue as the metal pressed to his cheek, uncertain of what possible goal Albedo could be going for- it didn’t seem like a scare tactic. He was too calm, too unbothered for it to be a show of force. There was something meticulous in the way Albedo was angling himself, the strangely shaped tool pressing into his skin in an almost experimental manner.
“It is my strong suggestion that you remain still, as movement will both result in a needless degree of pain and a likely skewing of the results.”
Ben wasn’t sure how to respond to that, surely speaking would cause the blade’s edge to pierce but he didn’t have any good alternatives.
As it turned out, not speaking didn’t offer much protection.
Ben bit back a flinch as a cut, surprisingly shallow, split open his skin. He forced his breath calm, looking from blade to captor to the warehouse beyond.
Another move, this time positioning one of the tips into the wound, wedging it open further. The jerking flinch came without his consent, hissing in pain as the motion left him with a new, deeper slice.
“I did warn you.” Albedo chided, looking hard at Ben’s cheek as if it were some grand discovery. He was far, far to keen on whatever he saw, moving to his work station and uncapping… something. Ben couldn’t see.
“So what now? Just gonna dice me up some more? I’ve got to say, this is weird, even for you.” Ben said with a confidence he did not feel.
“Next I will begin a detailed investigation of the materials, as well as collect samples. However, in line with standard procedure, certain preparations must come first.”
He held something else. Something that Ben vaguely recognized, even from this angle. His pulse quickened.
“Now- Hey- Wait a sec-” He needed to calm down. He needed to think some way out . “I’m a different species, who knows how your drugs will affect me- and mess up your results! Wouldn’t you rather something perfect? You only have one test subject and-”
Albedo was coming over again.
Ben’s pace quickened, panic beyond reason as he tried reflexively to twist away. “C’mon, what happens after the first bit of prep? What’re you going to do? Don’t you want someone to tell all your amazing findings to?”
“You would rather remain conscious during vivisection?” Albedo asked in amusement.
Ben bit his cheek until it bled. No, no he didn’t, his brain- the parts of him that thought and understood were trying for reason.
Conscious versus lack thereof; he couldn’t charm his way out if he was out cold. He had a reason. A real reason.
But something primal and wild snarled inside him and he wanted to get away. Needed to put distance between himself and- and–
“You gave very little reaction to my previous tool. This one is from earth, it is an item you are no doubt familiar with.”
Yeah no shit.
Pause.
Albedo laughed , “The great Ben Tennyson is fearful of injections?” he howled. Ben’s laugh, that was how he sounded when something was too ironically, tremendously amusing.
Ben stuffed down any response, wrestling with himself over the mix of impulses. Reason was failing, he couldn’t think, the fear was louder .
Pressure near him, a hand on his arm. He squeaked and tried again to escape but the restraints refused to give. There was a slight snapping, crunching as tendons and muscle fibers strained against metal or– whatever the cuffs were. A cold touch, wet against skin.
He knew what came next. He knew- knew-
“Honestly, Tennyson, I had no idea you were so prone to base reactions. I would think that this step would be the least of your concerns, all else considered.”
Something small, tiny, sharp touched him and he gasped, whimpering and hissing, noises feral and in other scenarios likely embarrassing, leaping out unbidden and it was poking it was going it was in him it-
“You may desist your comedic reactions now, Ben Tennyson,” said a voice like his own, and it was pleased . “This is not a rest you will wake from, so I will grant you the small mercy of waiting until you are unresponsive before making any further punctures.”
He wanted to curl away, run, do… something! His head was as far turned as the binding would allow but the panic was still in him and the needle had been too he just-
Now wasn’t a good time to be lightheaded. He knew for a fact that he’d taken his iron, or at least he thought he did, but the suddenness was enough to jog him from the spiral.
Oh,
Oh, right. ‘Preparation’. He’d nearly forgo-
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It wasn’t too unusual for Ben to die. He didn’t do it very often and was very resilient, in fact he normally left his fights in the same body he’d started with– transformed or no.
If he couldn’t fight, Gwen would save him. She and whoever else would swoop in and thrive where he had failed. When they were kids, even before she had learned of her skill with casting, she would learn of his distress and do who-knew-what to help him.
But- wait- she moved. He had a partner now. Did that happen yet? How old was he, again? It was hard to-
He was near certain that Kevin had stepped up to help him out a good few times, too. The guy was always pretty iffy with Ben, which made sense given that he was basically a walking, talking temptation for the burlier teen’s historical habits, but that didn’t mean Kevin would just leave him helpless.
Normally, respawning was prompted by either threats too gargantuan to be succeeded the first few times around or by awkward little whoospies. This wasn’t either of those, which made the while thing a little confusing.
Was he alive yet? Had the download completed? He could never tell in the moments betwee-
He came to.
–
He woke with a flash of green light then complete darkness, which was a comfort given just how frazzled he felt. Why, exactly?
Albedo, a warehouse, the colour pink…
When was this? What was dream and what was real? And what was from his life rather than one of some other Omnitrix wearer?
The air still smelt of old boxes and salty packaging– Albedo, then.
He strained his ears.
…
He raised a hand, tentative, and traced his face. His eyes were adjusting, leaving everything to be fuzzy, vague shapes with a singular line of coloured light beneath what had to be a door. An exhale, as loud as he dared, and the sounds bounced off of a surprisingly disjointed and cluttered space. The ground was cement, that much he could tell through touch, but the ceiling and walls were softer. There were areas sounding as if they were upraised and unevenly covered. It sounded like a small room with desks or tables, drywall, and a fair amount of looseleaf paper. Did warehouses have offices?
One thing he did know was that he was alone. That was a good thing; he needed time to recuperate. Respawns always left him feeling ready to pounce on the nearest moving threat, which made him wonder if the watch was paying with his adrenaline or if it was just a natural response to circumstances.
Okay, he was… calmer. Calm enough, anyhow. He went to the line of light, trying not to grind his teeth as he prepared mentally for whatever was on the other side.
He should run to regroup. Tonight was a loss, he had lost. He could get Gwen or Kevin or whoever it was that this Him had in his life and plan from there.
But he hated leaving behind his bodies. Ruined or not, it had been his, they had been him; he couldn’t just abandon that which had housed him for so long. His last respawn was- what- months ago? Maybe a year? All that time and all the life he’d lived during it, how could he just leave himself behind like that?
The door was wood and covered in a rubbery paint, the kind that would tear off if he scraped what little length of nail he had. The handle was cold to the touch. That was bad; hinges were louder in the cold.
It gave an offensive creak as he edged it open, peering into the space- the warehouse- as it echoed ever so slightly. He strained again.
Breathing.
A gasping sort of sputter in a voice he recognized.
Ben never came back before he finished dying…
Walking on silent feet, he noticed something else about him, several actually. Things which he had already, painstakingly, had attended with his previous body. Did that mean transfers came back each time? He’d need to make some calls, set the arrangements, but those were for later and the wheezing figure curled on the floor in shining puddles was the problem of the moment.
Ben stopped a meter or two away, trying to parse through what he was seeing. He knew he had died, that much was obvious, so why was a version of himself- Wait, Albedo, the sneaky old man cosplaying in his skin.
The previous Him was still propped on the table, though this was the first time Ben was able to get a good view. It was metal, obviously, but what was less obvious was that it was in uneven panels. The light was still pink but the air was tinged green with an odd sort of vapor, thin and ethereal.
The Him was hollow in more sense than one, all three panels dripping and smeared. Shouldn’t it have been horizontal? Did they do dissections or surgeries differently on Galvan Prime or was Albedo just winging it? The work was surprisingly crude, double doors of skin ragged around bone and lopsided in placing. The arms were set weird, too, but that was something Ben should have noticed before going under. They were pinned at an unnatural, almost froglike angle. It absolutely would have complicated the excavation, chest compressed inwards rather than forced to a constant expansion.
Wires or tubes lay abandoned on the ground, seemingly away from the shriveled floor person. One was still in the previous Him, slipped beneath skin and leading to some kind of cylindrical bucket. The cynic in Ben almost assumed it was a bucket but he noticed the ringed edges intended for a twist-on lid.
None of the buckets (bins?) were tipped over, meaning there was no conceivable reason for why so much of himself had spilled on the ground. To be entirely honest, it was weirdly wounding, almost exasperating, to see such sloppiness do him in.
“Hey,” Ben dared a few steps near the figure of Probably Albedo, “Hey, you. Are you good?”
Albedo was still making those wet gargles, which begged the question as to why.
“Humans aren’t built to kill eachother,” Ben found himself saying, glancing up at the hollow him’s face. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “If we eat eachother, we die of a sickness. But you’re more me than anyone I know, so maybe the rules are tighter here.”
He waited.
Something about his own musing reminded him of something that seemed important. He slotted it into the same box as everything else he didn’t have time for at the moment. “Course, I’m just spitballing here, it could have been something else,--” No mystery there, not that he would volunteer that information. Not yet, anyhow, he needed to check something first.
“Do you want me to call someone, or…?”
Nothing.
Calling was probably a good idea anyway, so he tried- failed, but tried- to find his phone. “You better not have thrown it out.” He muttered accusingly. Spinning around, he stepped around the mess to peer into a nearby box, inside which several of those cylindrical containers sat snug and sticky. He’d put the pieces back into the previous person, but they smelled of preservatives and harsh chemicals, so he went instead to the body.
It was a shame, really, because the whole ordeal would cost him an outfit and these were the only comfortable shoes he owned at the moment. Then again, why would that be a factor if he was in a different form? There were several that could take care of nearly everything.
The foul smelling containers he would leave untouched, as well as the needles used to sedate or exsanguinate him. Well, not sedate, he was pretty sure that was a different class of drug, buuut sometimes, in order to rhyme, logic had to take a back seat.
He could use Upchuck for the table and tools, Wildmutt for the hollowed, and everything else could be…. Thrown behind the nearest dumpster. An illegal practice, most likely, but it’s not like he could pull out his aggravatingly absent phone and just google biohazard disposal methods.
A disgusted groan drew his attention back to Abledo, proving that the perpetrator was indeed still conscious. He said something, seemingly unaware of the fact the Vulpimancers were a largely nonverbal species soooo-
How did that one song go? ‘Clean up then the ring up’? No, definitely not, so he would just have to consider it an apt cover.
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“Hey,” He should have phrased it better. As it was, the greeting came as a droning sigh.
“Hey yourself, stranger.” The older version responded, cheery as ever.
Ben gave a tired chuckle and twisted around to lean against the wall, offering a better view of the warehouse. “I have a situation down here. A couple, actually– and I really need some advice.”
“Gotcha, gotcha, d’ya want me to come down there, or..?”
“No.” Ben said instantly. “Sorry, no. Just– not yet.”
“Of course,”
“I need to get rid of some stuff that isn't normally, legally gotten rid of.”
“Parts?” Da’e guessed amusedly.
“Unfortunately, yeah, and I can’t Vulp it because they were tossed into poison soup.”
“Hate that for you.”
“Any suggestions?”
The other -en paused, contemplative, “Either bring them to a Port or burn them away from where people will smell it– And be careful about the smell, wherever you go. Most keep to themselves or just don’t recognize this sort of thing, but it’s not something you want to risk.”
“Understood.” He nodded, then realized it couldn’t be seen. “I might swing by tomorrow to…” He cast a sidelong glance to the mutations, stretches of skin discolored and limbs inhuman, “...get something looked at. Is that okay or should I start asking around?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” How should he phrase it? “I’m looking less human again.”
Silence.
“...Da’e?” Ben asked at last.
Dual Haven sighed, “Right, we’ll see what we can do. Try and get some rest if you can, it’s better if it's a choice rather than the body deciding on its own.”
“I know,” He wasn’t sure he’d have the time. “I’ll call you later, tomorrow morning probably, to give you an update from my end?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Da’e agreed.
“‘Kay, thanks again, bye.”
He touched the dial and the call cut off.
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He’d expected Albedo to have slipped away in the three hours it took him to haul away the containers and used medical equipment, so to find the doppelganger in the same tangled heap came across as…well, not surprising. Ben had heard a rumor of something like this before, though he hadn’t wanted to dwell on something without plausible solution.
It did weird him out how little he actually cared, though. Another person was before him, in pain and discomfort, and yet the only feeling Ben could dredge up is how inconvenient it all was.
More privately, he couldn’t help but feel it all to be deserved. That thought scared him, so he also felt fear?
“You’ve been there for a while now.” Ben commented, keeping a respectful distance as he began to look over his work. The ground still needed to be mopped, thank goodness concrete could be power washed. “It’s like three in the morning, I think.” Did he have school tomorrow? What day was it again?
“You..” A voice not unlike Ben’s snarled, “You are revolting .”
“Glass houses, and I’m a lot cleaner than you right now.” Ben bit back, giving himself a wary lookover. He’d managed to keep almost everything off of himself, having snatched some poor forgotten jacket from the office area to cover over himself when necessarily handling the garish tools.
“Not that,” Albedo wheezed, trying to twist his face to glower from the ground. “You said— Humans can’t kill other humans. You said -“
“I said we weren’t built for it, but, anyways, I didn’t do this to you. You did.”
Albedo made a sound like a strangled scream, “ Not. That. ” He forced a hand upwards to motion to himself, “Not this .”
Ben raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. Whatever energy the Galvan might have stored up had been spent, at least for the moment. Maybe there would be a mop in a supply cabinet, there had to be, right?
Albedo wheezed at him again, but that could be dealt with later.
Finding the closet took longer than he’d like, but that might be partially per the threatening tiredness— which was best ignored lest the attention allow it to further fester.
The cleaner, or at least what he assumed was cleaner, smelled harsher than he’d expected. He probably had a headache, then. While he couldn’t do much about the latter, he fashioned himself a face mask to alleviate the stab to his sinuses.
Coming to the site again, Ben contemplated humming. He could probably come up with something better to listen to that his… companion’s garish gurgles.
“I’m back.” Ben announced as he swiveled the mop and bucket around. Actually, with how Albedo was set, he wouldn’t be able to wash up the affected area in full. “I’m going to have to move you.” Ben realized, looking around for somewhere less in the way. The only surfaces around were cardboard boxes of questionable stability and uncushioned concrete.
“Don’t touch me.” Seemed to be what the double said. It had been too quiet for Ben to be sure.
“Sorry, we can’t exactly leave this place like…” He tried to encompass the whole of it in a gesture, “Like this . We’ve gotta clean up after ourselves.” That was true, but he also knew better than to touch someone after being told not to.
Wait, was he being overly rigid about this? He’d already taken care of the bulk of the mess, leaving only stains and puddles behind. And Albedo had forgone personal space when their roles were switched. Okay, brain, thanks for the tunnel vision; which rule was more pressing?
“Sorry,” Ben said again, crouching down and trying to maneuver the uncooperative mess without jarring. Albedo wasn’t exactly fighting, but his limbs were strangely stiff. He realized after a moment that, despite his best efforts, his clothes would be tarnished after all.
Looking around again, he settled on a spot near a shorter stack of boxes. “There, is that alright?” Ben asked, forcing himself to wait for an answer.
And wait,
And….
Biting back a sigh, Ben held a hand over Albedo’s face to feel for breath. Yep, still alive. The guy had clenched both jaw and eyes shut when Ben approached, the jaw was loose now but the eyes remained closed.
Brushing himself off, Ben went back to mop and set to work. He wished he had headphones.
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“Seriously though, where is my phone? ”
No response.
“I mean, I could probably just go get the team myself, but I’d still like to have it.”
No response.
“Was it on me when I got nabbed? Did you toss it or…?”
Pause.
“…I think I’m just going to look around again.”
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An issue presented itself, one which Ben really should have remembered sooner.
He did not look human. Not fully, anyway. Not enough to make knocking on his aunt’s door a viable option. Sneaking back into his own house was easy enough, it was an endeavor he was well versed in. Mom and Dad were out of town, they always were, but the intangible route was a good habit to foster.
“Still need to go to Da’e’s.” Ben muttered, as if the utterance would draw to mind the cause. The fact that it failed probably meant that the ‘go to bed’ advice was more heedful than he wanted to admit.
He looked back at Albedo and the lingering mess, debating. He had forms capable of hefting loads throughout flight, and the desert was a pretty big place.
“Albedo,” Ben said, grinning, “I’m going to have to move you again, but then I’ll leave you alone.” He walked the space his carcass had once occupied, quietly wondering how much longer Albedo had left before the Omnitrix’s petty biowarfare ran its course. He’d need to spend some time digging, and then there was the back-and-forth necessitated by the various cylinders. Should he fetch some kindling?
He asked a question, not waiting for the answer. “How do you like holes?”