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Harem Adventures of The Chaquetrix in Marvel Chapter 28
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 13:17:31 +0000 UTCA few days drifted by, marked by endless stretches of highway and questionable roadside attractions. The Rustbucket rumbled onward, a metal snail carrying its peculiar cargo. Max gripped the wheel, humming a tune that might have been country or maybe just static, it was hard to tell. Gwen tapped away at her laptop, lost in a world of digital research and social media updates. Laura, ever the picture of stillness, was currently catching some Z's in her bunk, a book about forensic pathology resting on her chest.
Ben, however, was wide awake and fixated on the small flame dancing in his palm. Fire manipulation. It still felt unreal. He’d been at it for hours, shaping the miniature inferno into different forms—a dancing imp, a tiny dragon, even a miniature replica of the Rustbucket itself. Each flicker and spark was a source of both fascination and confusion. Where had this come from?
The battle with Attuma had been wild, chaotic, but afterward, this power had just…bloomed. One minute he was getting throttled by an angry fish-man, the next he was channeling his inner fire bender. Ben thought this was pretty rad, but it was not something he knew he could do.
His mind kept circling back to the Omnitrix. The device was the source of all this madness, wasn’t it? But the original Omnitrix he knew about in the Ben 10 show transformed the user, altered their very DNA to become the alien. His version only summoned the aliens as female versions. Could it be doing something else, too? Was it somehow rewriting his genetic code, granting him slivers of their abilities? It was a crazy thought, but it was the only one that made even a lick of sense.
He looks over to the back of the Rustbucket at Greymatter. With her small size and quiet demeanor, she’s been his go-to summon for these long stretches on the road. She fits right in, unnoticed and unassuming. Now, with this fire thing, he needed her brains more than ever.
"Hey, Greymatter?" Ben asks.
Greymatter doesn’t look up from her workbench, a chaotic mess of wires, circuit boards, and tools he couldn’t even name. "Human, I am currently occupied. State your purpose with brevity."
"It's about this…" He gestures to his hand, the small flame still flickering. "And, well, everything. I think something is happening to me."
Without a word, Greymatter grabs a device that Ben doesn’t recognize, a needle attached to a box with flashing lights and wires. "Human, provide a sample of your blood."
"Uh, now?" Ben asks.
"Yes, now. If you wish to resolve your concerns, present your finger."
Ben winces, but holds out his hand. Greymatter takes his finger, then uses the device. [PRICK]
"Ow! What was that for?!"
Greymatter ignores him, inserting the sample into a larger machine. Lights blink, whirs spin, and holographic diagrams appear. Finally, Greymatter speaks. "Fascinating."
"Fascinating? What is it? What's going on?"
"Your genetic composition, Human, has undergone minor alterations."
"Alterations? Like what?"
"You now possess trace amounts of Vulpimancer and Pyronite genetic markers. It is, in simple terms, why you are now doing what you are doing."
"Wait, what? How did that happen?" Ben asks.
"My analysis indicates that this is, in fact, a function of the Omnitrix. A…side effect, if you will." Greymatter pauses, a faint grimace crossing her face. "My databases also indicate that this change is likely due to…" She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. "Intimate congress with the specimens Wildgirl and Heartblast."
Ben's face flushes. He stammers, "Wait, you knew about that?"
Greymatter nods, unfazed by Ben's reaction. "The Omnitrix maintains a shared network for communication."
His mind races. Does this mean what he thinks it means? If he gets down and dirty with his summons, he gains their powers? Was it even limited to aliens? What about other people?
"Furthermore," Greymatter continues, her gaze glued to the holographic readout, "your pheromone production has increased by a factor of twelve. It is, shall we say, significant."
Ben's eyes widen. That explains a lot. Could this be the reason Wildgirl jumped him in the shower? It hadn't seemed like her usual protective behavior. Was she acting on some primal instinct triggered by his amped-up scent?
"Wait," Ben says, the realization dawning. "So, these pheromones… they can, like, affect people?"
"Affirmative," Greymatter confirms. "Though their effectiveness varies by species. Human females are, statistically, most susceptible."
Ben's gaze flickers towards the front of the Rustbucket. Gwen, with her fiery red hair and sharp wit. Laura, with her haunting beauty and quiet strength. Both amazing, strong, and capable women, he thinks to himself. But he should really use his pheromones like that. Or else it would turn into those unsavory tags in doujins.
He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. That's a dangerous path, turning his relationships into some kind of power-up scheme. No. He wouldn't go there. He wants something real, something genuine.
The puzzle pieces were falling into place. His heightened senses? Courtesy of Wildgirl's Vulpimancer DNA mixing with his. The fire manipulation? A gift from Heartblast, a spark ignited by their shared passion.
It was clear what this meant. If he got more intimate with his other summons, he could potentially gain aspects of their abilities, too. Ben doesn't mind becoming more intimate with his summons, except for Ghost Lady, for obvious reasons. He has a decent relationship with them and he knows if he spends more time with them, their feelings for him will deepen, but Ben takes it slow. He wants a healthy relationship, not just because he wants to gain their abilities.
Ben's desire for this went beyond just wanting new abilities. It was about connecting, about understanding these incredible beings who were now a part of his life.
A thought occurs to Ben. "Hey, what about the Omni-Exo?"
Greymatter sighs. "That… Earthling Combat Exosuit v1.0 – Modified with Substandard Materials. You wish to know its status?"
"Yeah. Ever since Attuma, I realized it’s kinda lacking. He wasn’t even trying, and he could have turned me into paste. If I ever fight someone like the Hulk, they won't even be able to tell who I was after he is done with me!" Ben exclaims.
"I see your concern. The… structural integrity is not sufficient for high-level engagements. Its capabilities are limited by available resources, specifically the materials used in its construction."
"So, you can upgrade it?"
"Affirmative. I am currently engaged in improving the armor. I can add several functions to deal with a variety of situations. More weaponry, shield capabilities, and mobility enhancements are all within my capabilities."
"But?" Ben asks.
"But a suit that can contend with a being of the Hulk's magnitude is not feasible at this present moment. The available alloys and energy sources on this planet are…suboptimal."
Ben sighs. He had hoped for more, something that could truly make him a match for the big leagues. "Okay, okay. So, just upgrade it as much as you can, then."
"As you command," Greymatter replies. "I will optimize the suit for a wider range of threats, focusing on versatility and tactical advantage. While brute strength may be beyond our grasp, strategic application of available resources may tip the balance in your favour. Just don't ask me to create a portable black hole generator. It's beyond me right now, even with what I know from the Omnitrix."
"Got it," Ben said, feeling a flicker of renewed determination. So, he can't be Hulk-level strong? Fine. He'll be smarter, quicker, more adaptable. He would have to rely on strategy, not raw power. With enough creativity and the right combination of summons, he could take on anyone. Well, almost anyone. Maybe. Hopefully.
…
The air crackles with energy inside Vilgax's warship. Three figures moved with lethal precision, a blur of motion against the relentless waves of Mechadroids. This isn't a battle, but a brutal audition.
EightEight pirouettes through a swarm of the UFO-shaped droids. Her dark purple armor gleamed under the harsh lighting of the ship. The hoop on her helmet bobbed with each twist and spin. Her pink X-shaped eyes glowed as she assessed the closest targets. Dual laser pistols blazed, each shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy. One droid falls apart in a shower of sparks, then another. She somersaults over a lumbering Attack Robot, her jetpack momentarily flaring to adjust her trajectory. As she descends, she draws a power sword, its energy blade slicing through the robot's insectoid legs. It crashed to the floor with a metallic groan.
Across the chamber, Tetrax moved with a seasoned efficiency. His grey armor seemed almost muted in comparison to EightEight's vibrant hue. The retractable black helmet, resembling a pillbug, remained firmly in place, the small green viewport offering a glimpse of his focused gaze. He doesn't bother with his crystallokinetic abilities; this test is about raw skill. He wielded a multipurpose blaster, switching between energy blasts and smoke grenades with practiced ease. A well-aimed shot disabled a Basic Mechadroid's laser arm, while a smoke screen allowed him to evade a volley of attacks from a Laser Drone. He then closed the distance, delivering a series of calculated blows. Each punch and kick targeted weak points in the droids' armor.
Kraab scuttled through the battlefield with menacing grace. His bronze, crab-like body a nightmarish fusion of organic and mechanical parts. Orange stripes glowed along his armored frame, matching the eerie luminescence of his yellow eyes. His left pincer bristled with weaponry: a power blaster and a chemical sprayer. He fired bursts of energy at the flying Laser Drones, then spun on his four scythe-like legs, drilling into the floor and vanishing beneath the surface. Moments later, he erupted from the ground beneath an Attack Robot, using his pincer to tear a hole in its chassis before unleashing a stream of corrosive chemicals. The robot convulsed, then collapses in a heap of smoking metal.
The Mechadroids, despite their numbers, stood little chance against the combined might and skill of the trio. The robots were never intended to win, but to gauge their capabilities.
Tetrax sidesteps a clumsy strike from a remaining Basic Mechadroid. He disarms it with a swift movement, then delivers a final blow to its central processing unit. He spares a glance at EightEight, who is currently using her energy buzz saw to dismantle a Laser Drone. Sparks fly as metal grinds against metal. He then watches as Kraab emerges from the floor, his pincer dripping with the remnants of his latest victim.
"Adequate," Tetrax stated, his voice a low rumble. "But efficiency could be improved."
EightEight scoffs as she wipes non-existent sweat from her brow. "Always the critic, aren't you, rockhead?"
Kraab clicks his pincers. "The test is complete. I await further instructions."
From the shadows of the bridge, Vilgax emerged, his crimson eyes burning with contempt. He surveyed the scene, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage. The battle proved their talent, but they must show results.
"You three have demonstrated... sufficient competence," Vilgax growled, his voice a deep, resonant threat that filled the chamber. "Now, you will prove your worth."
Holographic screens flickered to life, displaying images of Ben and various aliens. Each screen highlighting a different hybrid's unique traits and abilities. Vilgax’s disdain for the young Tennyson dripped from his every word.
"This… child… possesses a device I require. The Chaquetrix. You will retrieve it for me. By any means necessary." Vilgax paused, his gaze locking onto each bounty hunter in turn.
Another screen appeared, showing a close-up of the device itself. Its pink and fuchsia coloration only fueled his revulsion. "The Chaquetrix is to be brought to me intact. You will be compensated handsomely upon its delivery."
His fists clenched. The warriors better not fail him. The humiliation of losing the device again would not be tolerated. Soon, the galaxy will tremble before Vilgax's might. "I will have the Chaquetrix soon."
