Ben returned to his apartment after an evening jog, drenched in sweat. He quickly showered before heading to a room secured with a keypad lock.
Inside, the space was dimly lit by the glow of multiple computer screens, three of which were mounted on the wall. The setup was cluttered yet functional, with custom-built computer rigs flashing red and blue indicators. A faint hum of machinery filled the air as Ben entered, still wrapped in a towel.
"Olivia," he called out.
"Yes, Master Tennyson. Did you enjoy your run this evening?" replied a female robotic voice with a smooth Southern accent.
"More or less," Ben replied, moving toward the corner of the room. "How's the new suit? Is it ready for field testing?"
To his right stood the suit—a striking blend of vibrant green and black, featuring a sleek, tactical design. It included gauntlets, greaves, and a dark green helmet resting nearby. The right gauntlet and helmet were connected to a tangle of cables running to the main computer.
" Yes, Master Tennyson everything is prime and ready for tonight field test."
Ben began putting on the suit, a fusion of cutting-edge technology and classic vigilante aesthetics, reminiscent of Batman and Red Hood. Most of it was crafted from reinforced Kevlar, providing heat resistance and protection against bullets and blades.
The helmet and gauntlets were made from a lightweight yet durable alloy that Ben had developed with Brainstorm's assistance. Although not on par with Vibranium or Adamantium, this alloy was significantly stronger than the materials used in Iron Man's current suit. Which Ben was confident about.
Ben had originally hoped to replicate Vibranium's kinetic energy absorption properties, but with his current resources, that wasn't feasible. However, he theorized that Jury Rigg could someday engineer a mechanism to imbue metals with unique properties.
Fully suited, Ben secured the gauntlets, boots, elbow guards, and knee guards, all made from the same alloy. Despite their durability, the materials added minimal weight. Finally, he fastened a dark green utility belt equipped with hourglass-shaped throwing stars, smoke pellets, trackers,flash grenades and more.
The finishing touch was the helmet—a sleek, full-face design reminiscent of Red Hood's but in a deep green. His jet-black jacket bore the Omnitrix symbol emblazoned across the back.
Standing in front of a mirror, Ben couldn't help but smirk. Feeling like an absolute badass at this moment. Tonight, he planned to patrol the streets of New York City. After two and a half years, Ben felt confident enough in his own ability now to handle the cooldown period when the Omnitrix entered recharge mode.
"Olivia, you there?" he asked, adjusting his helmet.
"Yes, Master Tennyson," Olivia replied through the suit's integrated comms. "My systems are fully synced with the helmet, and I'm currently monitoring your vital sign."
"Good," Ben said, satisfied. He grabbed a pair of Escrima sticks—his favorite melee weapons—and walked toward the balcony.
"All surveillance systems within a three-mile radius have been placed in a feedback loop," Olivia informed him.
"Excellent work, Olivia. Let's get started." Ben smiled, activating the Omnitrix on his wrist and slamming his palm down on it.
"Jetray!" he shouted, transforming into the red, aerodynamic alien. Wings unfurled, and in a streak of crimson energy, he soared into the night sky, ready to take on whatever awaited him in the city below.
---
10 p.m., New York City, Hell's Kitchen
In an underground chamber beneath a martial arts dojo, a group of figures clad in red, ninja-style outfits knelt before a towering man. Dressed in an all-black leather suit, he radiated authority.
Flying high above the city as Jetray, Ben marveled at the glistening lights of New York below. His transformation featured a sleek black and white flight suit.
The sensation of flying never got old, and Ben took a moment to enjoy it. As he sped toward Hell's Kitchen, he reflected on its reputation. To him, Hell's Kitchen felt like a miniature Gotham—a hub of crime where gangs conducted illegal business, held meetings, and fought over territory.
From what he remembered of this world's history, Wilson Fisk—known as the Kingpin—controlled much of the criminal underworld in New York. Ben quickly found a rooftop landing softly on an old apartment building, the wind whipping around him. Tapping the Omnitrix symbol on his chest, he transformed back into his human form.
"Olivia, tap into any nearby frequencies and flag anything suspicious," Ben said, scanning his surroundings.
Hell's Kitchen was far from quiet. The glow of city lights illuminated most of the area, though some alleys remained cloaked in shadow. Static crackled in his helmet's headset as Olivia complied.
Ben's helmet was simple—no flashy HUD like Iron Man's. Since he wasn't wearing a full armor suit, he didn't need constant operational readouts. Besides, he found visual clutter distracting during fights. For now, its most important function was infrared heat detection, a feature he hoped would give him an edge during patrols. The Omnitrix itself remained something of a mystery. It had an internal computer and AI system that Ben hadn't fully unlocked yet, though he'd managed to access a few features with Brainstorm's help:
- Stealth Mode: Rendering the Omnitrix invisible.
- Cosmetic Mode: Allowing him to change the Omnitrix's physical appearance.
- Adapter Cable: Letting Ben connect the Omnitrix to external technology for programming and control.
Other functions remained untouched, Ben was cautious about tinkering too much. "Maybe I should ask permission before doing something rash," he muttered, recalling the many times Ben Tennyson—or someone else—had foolishly tampered with the Omnitrix.
---
Dojo Underground Chamber
Back in the dojo, tension hung thick in the air. The leader of the red-clad ninjas—a man with a full-face black mask adorned with an upside-down white spider—addressed his followers. His imposing frame towered at an impressive 2.13 meters.
His suit was meticulously designed, featuring two collars framing his neck: the first rising high while the second rested slightly below it, both accented by white straps that formed the shape of spider legs. His deep South American accent cut through the silence.
"How many men are they sending?" he demanded.
"About fifty, heavily armed," replied one of the ninjas, his red face mask revealing only his sharp black eyes. "We suspect they were hired by Richard Fisk."
The leader chuckled darkly. "So, Kingpin's little boy thinks he can stop the Hand from taking root? Let them come. Allow the men to enter the dojo and lead them down here. They will make excellent sacrifices for the Beast."
The ninjas bowed their heads in unison, silently preparing for the violent clash ahead.
---
Hell's Kitchen – Rooftops
Ben's figure sprinted across the rooftops, the cool night air brushing against his Helmet. It was the perfect opportunity to practice his parkour and acrobatic skills. Leaping from one rooftop to the next, he executed a front somersault, seamlessly transitioning into two front flips before landing in a barrel roll.
The landing, while flashy, wasn't perfect. A slight ache in his back reminded him that parkour skills still need more experience—just over a year of practice wasn't enough to nail every move. But he could feel himself getting closer to his goal.
As he stood, brushing off the pain, Olivia's voice came through his helmet's communicator.
"Sir, there's chatter on a particular frequency. A lot of it is in code," she reported.
Ben's interest piqued. If coded communication was being used, something big might be unfolding tonight—especially this early.
"What's the topic of discussion?" he asked, adjusting his helmet.
"It appears to be a planned raid on a specific group. I've pinpointed the location and the time of the attack."
Ben's tone turned serious. "When's it happening?"
"In approximately one to two hours. Multiple groups are converging on the location."
"Could it be law enforcement?"
"No," Olivia replied, her tone sharp and certain. "From what I've analyzed, these are hired mercenaries. Their objective seems to be to leave no one alive."
Ben frowned, contemplating his next move. His principles as a hero revolved around preserving life, but the situation presented a dilemma. He could either intercept the groups in route to the location or wait until the attack started and take action then.
Intercepting would mean risking a head-on confrontation with mercenaries, while waiting might allow for greater clarity—but at the cost of potentially higher casualties.
"If I intervene early, I might prevent bloodshed," Ben thought, wrestling with the decision. "But waiting could give me better insight into who's behind this." The Marvel Universe operated differently. Some heroes, like Spider-Man and Daredevil, followed strict no-kill rules. While many others, like the Punisher, weren't as concerned with moral lines. Ben was still figuring out where he stood.
"Olivia, keep monitoring the chatter. We can't move without fully understanding the situation."
"Sure thing, boss!" Olivia replied with an upbeat tone, surprising Ben. Her developing personality brought a small smile to his face, a rare moment of levity in an otherwise tense night.
---
Elsewhere in Hell's Kitchen – In Route to the Raid
In a sleek black Range Rover, a well-built man with a fade haircut reviewed details with his subordinate. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, emphasizing his authority. Behind him, a convoy of vehicles followed in formation.
"Rose and the other crime lords aren't happy about this new group in town," he remarked, his voice carrying a slight Caribbean accent. "What do we have on them?"
The woman beside him, dressed in a tight black-and-white leather outfit and wearing a copper-gold mask, replied, "They call themselves the Hand. They're well-established in Japan and have been making moves here with Kingpin's backing. In the past six months, they've taken over several territories, disrupting our operations."
The man, known as Bushmaster, leader of the Maggia's European faction, frowned. The Maggia, an ancient and influential criminal syndicate, typically operated independently. But the Hand's rapid expansion, coupled with Kingpin's betrayal of their previous agreements, was unacceptable.
"Territory disputes are bad for business," Bushmaster said firmly. "How long until the raid begins?"
"Thirty minutes," Madam Masque replied, her voice steady. "Most of the other crime lords' forces are already in position."
Bushmaster leaned back in his seat, a calculated smile crossing his face. "This isn't about wiping them out. It's about intimidation—sending a message that we're not to be trifled with. If Fisk thinks he can let the Hand run wild, he'll soon learn otherwise."
Madam Masque chuckled. "Negotiation through force. Subtle."
"Subtlety is overrated," Bushmaster said before turning off the monitor in front of him.
The driver glanced back. "We're approaching the target."
"Good. Signal the other groups—we move in 20 minutes," Madam Masque commanded.
---
Rooftop
Across from where the Range Rover parked, Ben crouched on a rooftop, kneeling over three unconscious men he'd just subdued. He observed the activity below, piecing together the puzzle.
"Olivia, look up any records on someone named Madam Masque," Ben ordered.
"On it, sir," Olivia replied promptly.
Based on the intercepted conversation, Ben deduced that the attack was aimed at the Hand. The criminal group's involvement complicated matters—they were skilled assassins and experts in stealth. Any confrontation with them would be brutal.
Ben muttered to himself, "Most syndicates in this world have powered individuals or advanced tech. This won't be a straightforward fight."
The Omnitrix, still in recharge mode, meant he'd have to rely on his human form for now. Fighting without his alien transformations would be challenging, especially against highly trained ninjas.
"Do I contact law enforcement?" Ben wondered. "No point. If this is as big as it seems, most of them are probably paid off."
For now, all he could do was wait. As the tension built, Ben resolved to act decisively when the time came, determined to prevent unnecessary loss of life.
Ben crouched at the edge of the rooftop, scanning the premises below. A storm was brewing. From his vantage point, he could see vehicles piling up near what appeared to be a humble dojo. He knew better. This wasn't just a safe house—it was a stronghold for the Hand. Tonight, a coalition of hired guns and rival crime syndicates had assembled to launch an attack.
It was doomed to fail.
The Hand wasn't just a group of criminals; they were an elite force of assassins. Real-life ninjas who thrived in shadows and moved like ghosts. Ben was no stranger to a fight—he'd earned long synced earned fourth-degree black belt in karate back in his universe— he had also amp up his training regimen greatly over the past two and a half years. However if he went toe-to-toe with one of them as a human, he wasn't entirely clear how his skills would match up. Especially, when going up against individual with vastly more combat experience than him.
But then again, he didn't have to fight as a human did he now. From the corner of his eye, Ben caught movement. Activating detective mode built-in into his helmet, the world transformed into a spectrum of grays, blues, and reds. Heat signatures glowed like embers against the cold urban backdrop. Three figures loomed in the shadows, their focus locked on him. He smirked. They weren't hiding as well as they thought.
With practiced efficiency, Ben pulled smoke pellets from his utility belt and launched them toward his pursuers. The rooftops erupted with plumes of choking gray as Ben leaped into the night.
The air soon screamed with projectiles. He twisted mid-fall, narrowly avoiding the sharp whistle of shurikens slicing through the air. As he plummeted past the first story, he shot out his right arm, deploying a thin, near-invisible line from his gauntlet. It latched onto the wall with a quiet thwip, an adhesive compound made—thanks to Goop's chemistry—holding firm.
His descent snapped into a controlled swing. Ben braced his feet against the wall, crouching beneath an air conditioning unit just wide enough to shield him. He hung there, a shadow in the night, heart pounding like a war drum. The line held his weight as he reached for the tranquilizer darts in his belt. His detective mode revealed the red-clad figures moving.
'There you are.'
Two of the ninjas broke cover, launching themselves into the air. One aimed for the ground, using the AC units as makeshift stepping stones. The other vaulted toward an adjacent rooftop. Ben didn't hesitate. As the two figures arced through the air, he swung into action.
His arm snapped forward, releasing three tranquilizer darts. The projectiles hissed through the air toward the ninja descending toward him. The Hand operative reacted with inhuman speed, unsheathing a katana in a blur of motion. Two darts clattered harmlessly against the blade, sparks flying as steel met steel. But the third found its mark, burying itself in the assassin's thigh.
The ninja staggered mid-air, his trajectory faltering as his leg went numb. As he crashed onto the AC unit with a metallic clang, the impact reverberating through the building.
Not done.
Ben twisting his body, he fired another line, this time at the ninja heading for the opposite rooftop. The line latched onto the assassin's back just as he landed, yanking him off balance. With a guttural cry, the ninja was ripped backward, slamming into the rooftop parapet.
Ben, on the other end of the line, misjudged his momentum. He slammed into the side of the building with a bone-rattling thud. The impact drove the air from his lungs, but he gritted his teeth and hit the activation button on his gauntlet.
A surge of electricity crackled through the line.
The ninja on the rooftop spasmed violently, his body locking up as the current coursed through him. Seconds later, he collapsed, unmoving. Meanwhile, the first ninja, still staggering from the tranquilizer, attempted a final attack. Drawing a handful of shurikens, hurling them with deadly precision.
Ben, dangling from his line, saw the projectiles just in time releasing the tether, dropping several meters in a free fall just as the shurikens embedded themselves into the wall where he'd been moments before. He landed in a crouch, his knees absorbing the impact.
Above him, the tranquilized ninja toppled. His body struck the AC units on the way down, landing with a sickening crunch. Ben winced. Close call. Thankfully, the dart's numbing agent had taken full effect before the fall.
Turning back to the rooftop, Ben scanned for the third ninja. The figure hadn't moved, still concealed in the shadows. Smart. They'd stayed back to observe, but it wouldn't be long before reinforcements arrived.
Ben couldn't afford to linger. He sprinted toward the dojo, his detective mode illuminating the path. Shurikens whizzed past him, one grazing his shoulder as he dove behind a dumpster. Gunfire erupted in the distance.
"The party's started," Ben muttered, catching his breath. His fingers brushed the Omnitrix. His heart raced, but his resolve was steady.
"Well, as a young kid once said, it's hero time."
---
DNA Sample Database Logo
JETRAY
Species:
Aerophibian
Appreance:
Jetray is a manta ray-like alien. His body is predominantly white with bold red and black patterns that create a visually appealing contrast. The large, wing-like fins extend gracefully from the sides, emphasizing his ability to soar through the skies.
HOME WORLD
Aeropela
BODY
Humanoid Manta Ray
ABILITIES:
Faster-Than-Light Speed
Enhanced Agility
Enhanced Version
High-Speed Flight
Neuroshock Blasts
Underwater and Space Survivability
Hyperspace Entrance
Enhanced Strength