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Two days later
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The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the concrete. The streets were quiet, with only a few people out. But the peaceful night was shattered by the sound of gunfire echoing through the alleyways.
“Get in!” The getaway driver shouted, his voice a harsh command cutting through the chaos. He fired back at the guards, his aim deadly accurate as they fell to the ground, their bodies crumpling like discarded rag dolls. Three masked robbers, their faces obscured by dark hoods, scrambled into the black car, clutching bags stuffed with cash.
“Hurry up!” The driver urged. But one of the robbers, blood seeping from a wound on his arm, hesitated. He approached one of the fallen guards, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
“Serves you right!” He raised his gun. But before he could pull the trigger, a sudden green electric spark crackled around them, not enough to harm but enough to distract.
“What the—” He started, but the wail of approaching sirens cut him off. Both robbers dove into the car, and the driver slammed his foot on the gas, the vehicle screeching away.
As they sped through the deserted streets, one of the robbers rifled through the money, inexplicably rubbing the bills against his masked face as if savoring the feel of them. “And to think they say this kind of crime is outdated.”
“Oh, it’s because it’s the case, my dear, simple-minded friend.” The driver giggled, “Don’t you know? Money these days is like a chatty little tattletale! Each bill has its own special story to tell, complete with a unique ID. Use one of these blabbermouths to buy your morning milk, and whoosh! The store deposits it in the bank, and bam! They track it back to you faster than you can go home and say ‘I got milk’ to your children. That’s why laundered money is so valuable.”
The bill-rubbing robber paused, a frown creasing his brow behind his mask. “But what was the point then?”
“Ha, ha, ha! Questions, questions, questions! You know what they say about curiosity and the cat.” The driver tutted, wagging his finger playfully.
He continued, “We’re merely players in this grand game, my friend, and we’re being handsomely rewarded for our roles. So, let’s sit back and enjoy the ride, shall we?” His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of menace that discouraged further conversation.
As they sped away, the car’s dashboard lights flickered ominously. The vehicle began to slow, the battery indicator showing it was nearly drained.
“Are you stupid enough not to have checked this earlier?” One of the robbers yelled, panic edging his voice.
“It was nearly full when we started.” The driver replied, his tone nonchalant with a hint of amusement.
Suddenly, a spherical green spark enveloped the car, and all three robbers were electrocuted into unconsciousness. A green bolt of lightning shot out from the vehicle, racing towards an electric line with unmatched speed.
The sirens grew louder, closing in.
One of the robbers, the driver, stirred awake. He sat up, dazed, and muttered to himself, “Was it this Ben Tennyson? It seemed strange and green enough to be him. All these crimes no-stop across the country, finally paying off. HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!”
He gripped his mask, pulling it off to reveal a white visage beneath and green hair. “Since his reaction time was fast, I assume he lives nearby. The question is how to contact him without tipping off his cousin. Should I kill her? No, an abracadabra, and poof I’m immobilized. My lovely gas? Another abracadabra and poof! It’s inefficient.”
He glanced at the unconscious robbers in the back seats, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ‘Not like good old Batsy, this one. Perhaps I should orchestrate a grand symphony of chaos! Or… maybe I’ll just wait for the other players in this universe to make some noise then contact him. Decisions, decisions!’
He playfully scratched his head.
‘I have to hurry to contact Ben before they stop me… The unfunny future needs to change.’ For the first time, since he became the Joker, fear filled his mind instead of laughter, but it was only a brief instant.
HA! HA! HA!
“Oh, why so serious?!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together like an excited child. “I want to play NOW!”
His eyes darted to the unconscious robbers, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He reached into his pocket, fishing out his gas spray with a smiley sticker on it.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” He sang over and over, pointing the spray at each of the robbers in turn. “Who will be my first volunteer? That will be you!”
“Uh, what happened?” One of the robbers woke up, rubbing his head groggily. “That is your face?! You look ugly, pal.”
"...you’ve won a prize, my friend!” The Joker cackled, pointing his spray towards him and unleashing a cloud of green gas.
The robber’s confused expression quickly morphed into uncontrollable laughter. One by one, the others succumbed to the same fate, their skin paling, lips reddening, and teeth yellowing as they howled with manic glee.
HA! HA! HA! HA!
He opened the car door and strutted out, then bowed theatrically. The approaching sirens provided the perfect soundtrack for his impromptu performance.
“Now this is more like it!” The Joker twirled, drinking in the chaos. “An Omniverse where anything can happen on a whim! How delightful!”
He began to sprint away, his long legs propelling him down the street like a deranged gazelle. Suddenly, he skidded to a halt, pivoted on his heel, and pranced back to the car with exaggerated steps.
“Oh, silly me!” He cackled, snatching up one of the money bags. “Can’t forget my ill-gotten gains!”
He hugged the bag to his chest, twirling in a mock waltz. “Oh, you naughty, traceable bills! Aren’t you just begging to be spent? It would be absolutely crazy to use you!”
With that, he took off again, his laughter bouncing off the buildings like a demented pinball as he zigzagged between parked cars, the stolen money clutched tightly in his arms.
Suddenly, he halted, almost toppling over in his haste.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” He slapped his forehead theatrically. “What’s a show without a grand finale?”
The Joker began rummaging through his many pockets, pulling out an assortment of oddities — a rubber chicken, a bouquet of fake flowers, a set of chattering teeth — before finally producing a small remote control.
“Aha! There you are, my little friend.” He caressed the device lovingly.
With a dramatic pause, he raised the remote high above his head, his finger hovering over the big red button in its center. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the grand finale!”
He pressed the button… but nothing happened. The Joker’s face fell comically.
He shook the remote vigorously and began pressing the button repeatedly, each press more frantic than the last.
Just as the first police car arrived, a deafening explosion rocked the street. The getaway car erupted into a fireball, killing the 3 robbers inside, the force of the blast shattering nearby windows and setting off car alarms throughout the neighborhood.
With a final theatrical bow to his “audience”, the Joker turned on his heel and sprinted into the night, leaving behind a scene of utter chaos and destruction.
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[Omniversal index — DC Multiverse]
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[Section: Joker — Symbolism]
The Joker’s origin story was never truly relevant. The “joke” always revolves around one concept: a single, really bad day can transform the sanest person into the most insane. The ease of this transformation raises the question: aren’t we all inherently insane?
So why pretend otherwise? Why so serious?
Why not just laugh out loud?
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[Section: Joker — Character (Abridged)]
The Clown Prince of Crime of Gotham City. Batman’s archenemy, most iterations of him aim to break Batman’s “no-killing” rule to prove he can’t control himself and is insane.
Mentally insane.
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[Back]
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[Omniversal index — Omniversal wars – Outcome – Time travel]
Regardless of which side wins, this war would be pointless if it were possible to change the final outcome. Since the war’s organization, all the rules for time travel across the Omniverse have been standardized into a single set.
It is impossible to change the past due to the Time Pointer marking that will be set the moment a winner is decided. Additionally, time travel in the past became i̷̺̺̹̅̆m̴̢̮̿p̶̰͛o̷͕̍͜ṥ̴̢̧̜s̵̭͕̟̊i̷̝̠̻̚b̴̳̫͇̈́͐l̶̡̖͖̈́͑͗e̷̞͛͌̄.̷̮̥̈́͒̊
[̴̣̮̠̈́̇͠Ȇ̴̖̭͋̌͛͋͠R̴͈̙̲̫̀̽͌̆̚R̷̘̫̮̻͖̆̈́͜O̶͍͖̗̼̤̮̔́Ŗ̶͍͍̯͒̂]̸̛̄̋̇̅̂͜
A̷̩̞͌̈ ̸̬͋͜l̴̮̒i̸̡̇̚ṯ̴̟̏̚t̸͓̜͐l̵̖̾̽e̷̱̦͂́ ̸̯͓̓͂s̴̮͘͝h̶̭̖̊ȉ̷̖̇ţ̵̬͗ ̶̼̐͠h̵̢̛̖̀à̵͙̟̚s̶͍͛̍…̸͉̙̿ ̷͉̀Ȩ̷͎̑r̷̠̅.̷̩̽̈́ ̵͓̇͜͠Ȉ̸̮̤̎ ̸̡̃̕m̴̦͎͗ẽ̸̒͜a̶̛̠̳̅n̴̩͉͠:̷̠͖̿͒
[Omniversal inconsistency detected!]
[Rewriting…]
Update: Time travel is extremely difficult; however, regardless of any changes, the Time Pointer created by the Higher Celestial Beings will redirect all outcomes to the final one.
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[A new section is being written…]
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[Omniversal index — Handling the Joker problem]
Despite fate no longer over-favoring him and his lack of superpower, the Joker remains extremely dangerous. It is recommended that the first attempt to neutralize him also be the last.
Suggestions based on efficiency:
1. In order to swiftly eliminate the Joker, send:
1. Sakazuki (alias Akainu) (One Piece Multiverse — Universe 3)
2. Jotaro Kujo (alias Jojo) (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Multiverse — Universe 29)
3. Eon (Ben 10 Multiverse — Universe None)
4. Izuku Midoriya (alias Deku) (My Hero Academia Multiverse — Universe 2)
5. Bruce Wayne (alias Batman Who Laughs) (DC Comics Multiverse — Universe 74)
6. All of them.
2. Bring forward the date for collecting participation slots for this universe and offer one to the first participant to kill him.
3. Since he can’t change anything, leaving him be won’t be harmful, regardless of how he interacts with the past.
[Pondering…]
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The impossible has somehow occurred with the Joker being in the past. He can’t be allowed to live longer, so the 3rd suggestion is off the table. The method he used with the help of the Life Equation and the Anti-Life Equation is already unusable, but the problem remains.
If the time travel rules are disabled to use the 1st suggestion, there’s a chance someone will take advantage.
[2nd suggestion chosen]
2. Bring forward the date for collecting participation slots for this universe and offer one to the first participant to kill him.
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[Exit]
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A crackling bolt of green lightning shot out from an electric line, arcing through the night sky. It zigzagged with purpose, leaping from one conductive surface to another. The emerald energy darted towards a parked car, its metal frame serving as a temporary conduit. In a flash, it jumped to another vehicle, the electricity dancing across its metallic surface.
The living lightning continued its frantic journey, weaving between the smartphones of startled passersby. Their devices flickered and buzzed with unexpected life as the green spark passed through. Several nearby public security cameras turned abruptly, their lens briefly glowing green as the energy coursed through their circuitry.
Finally, the electric entity found its target: a lone phone booth standing on the corner. As the green bolt entered, the booth’s metal door slowly swung shut. A brilliant flash of emerald light erupted from within, momentarily turning night into day. When the glow faded, the door opened, and a teenager stepped out, looking slightly disoriented.
Ben Tennyson shook his head, his hair disheveled due to the residual electricity.
‘Buzzshock might be simultaneously the most useful and the most vulnerable of my alien forms.’ He flexed his fingers as the last traces of electricity dissipated. ‘Without a container and an energy source, my life could quickly fade away. Yet I feel an uncontrollable urge to spend all my energy no matter what.’
The sound of a distant bank alarm had caught his attention earlier, prompting his transformation. While Ben had no intention of becoming a full-time crime fighter, he recognized the need to master his abilities. Stopping crimes served as excellent training.
As he walked through the quiet streets, he couldn’t help but reflect on the irony of the situation. This latest incident was the first and only crime he had thwarted. If any city was plagued by rampant criminal activity, they would become ghost towns by now, and of course, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, nor hear about everything in time to act before it was too late.
Ben’s emerald eyes scanned the area, observing the tranquility of the neighborhood.
‘No crimes, no deserted areas nearby, and the forest is crawling with cops.’ He thought with a hint of amusement, ‘Good luck finding clues to track down the famous non-existent Fire Circle eco-terrorist group, morons.’
As he continued his stroll, Ben’s mind wandered to other potential training methods. ‘I should focus on the non-destructive aspects of my transformations back in the hotel room.’
The hotel where Ben, his cousin Gwen, and his grandfather Max were staying soon came into view. Ben’s eyes were drawn to the parking lot, expecting to see the familiar sight of the damaged Rust Bucket, their trusty RV. Instead, his gaze landed on an ice cream truck parked in the Rust Bucket’s usual spot. Ben blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The ice cream truck was still there, its white paint gleaming under the streetlights.
Curiosity piqued, Ben jogged over to the truck. A panel on the window declared “Closed” in bold letters. Below it, the opening hours were listed: 24h00 to 28h64. Ben nodded absently, his mind already moving on to other thoughts.
‘I guess Grandpa managed to move the van to repair it out of sight of the police nearby.’ He mused as he turned towards the hotel. ‘I’ll ask him about it later.’
He had taken several steps when his brain finally processed what he’d seen. Ben froze mid-stride, his eyes widening comically. Slowly, he pivoted on his heel and stared at the panel again.
‘24h00 to 28h64?!’ His mind screamed. ‘What kind of hours are those?!’
“You noticed.” A familiar voice inside chuckled. “At least you’re paying more attention to your surroundings. Come in.”
The truck’s door swung open with a creak. At first glance, the interior seemed empty, but as Ben cautiously stepped forward, the entire inside transformed before his eyes.
Max, his grandfather, was seating at the small table near the door, happily munching on a skewer of grilled insects and more skewers waited on his plate. From the front of the vehicle came the sound of two bickering voices and occasional sparks.
Ben’s eyes lit up with excitement, he barely contained his enthusiasm. “Was that a hologram? How it works?”
Max nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, it was. And for me, higher technology, just work. As long as I know what they do and if they are dangerous, I won’t bother to know more.”
“Too cool!” Ben smiled, then furrowed his brow. “But why is the sign wrong?”
His grandfather shrugged, a look of fond exasperation crossing his face. “I’ve been asking about that for years. They just say I can’t understand their genius. But honestly, it’s more likely they couldn’t be bothered to check human hours and made the panel in a hurry. In the end, it doesn’t matter. The camouflage is efficient enough.” He paused, then added with a chuckle, “Don’t ask me why they got the truck right, though.”
Ben navigated the narrow confines of the Rust Bucket, making his way towards the front of the vehicle. As he approached the dashboard, he noticed the open panel to the right of the steering wheel, its cover discarded on the floor. Intrigued, he leaned in for a closer look inside.
“I told you, you have to insert this wire here, maggot head!” A high-pitched voice emanated from the open panel, followed by the sudden, frantic activation of the windshield wipers at top speed.
“Maggots? Where? I’m a little hungry.” A second voice responded, slightly deeper but no less odd. “And don’t touch that! It could electrocute you… I think.”
“As if it—” The first voice began, but was cut off by a loud zap, and a small thud was heard soon after.
“Told you.” He inserted another wire and this time the vehicle’s front lights lit up to maximum. “...What are we supposed to do again?”
Hearing that Max palmed his forehead as Ben leaned over to look at the hole, then he said. “I don’t know if your Saga has shown them, but in any case, Ben, this is Blukic and Driba, we’ve known each other for over 40 years.”
“I see…” Ben finally spotted two small gray humanoid beings in the machinery. One was slightly charred, wisps of smoke still rising from his body. The other gazed at the RV’s ceiling, as if pondering the mysteries of the universe.
“Er… Hello. When are you going to finish?”
The standing alien — Blukic — turned his vacant stare from the ceiling to Ben. “An Earth hour at most… I think?” He answered, his tone suggesting he was as likely to sprout wings and fly as he was to actually complete the repairs in that timeframe.
Ben exchanged a look with his grandfather, both of them silently acknowledging the long night ahead. The Rust Bucket’s interior lights flickered ominously, as if in agreement.
‘Should I scan them?’ Ben pondered, but quickly dismissed the idea. ‘No matter how smart an alien is, I won’t gain any knowledge. Plus, there’s a thirty-minute time limit and cooldown, and Brainstorm is probably sufficient enough, considering he’s the same species as Dr. Psychobos.’
Additionally, he wanted to avoid an awkward day where he would need to turn the dial dozens of times just to select the right alien for the job.
He sat down opposite his grandfather and picked up a skewer of grilled insects.
“You want to try this?” Max asked, genuinely surprised. All his children, grandchildren, nephews and grandnephews, usually looked at his choice of food in disgust without even trying it.
Ben shrugged, “It’s only been a few days since the start of the holidays, and I’ve already had a lot of unforgettable experiences. Now that I know my life can end at any time by any other participant or the potential outcome of the war if restriction win, I don’t see why I should deprive myself of experiences. That’s freedom… I guess.”
He squinted his eyes and took his first bite, then opened his eyes wide.
“So?” Max asked.
“Not my favorite food, but it’s actually kinda good. I like how it’s crispy and meaty.” Ben took another bite. “Sorry about the refusals… well, I still think that snails are inedible, so don’t try to make me eat those.”
“Haha! You need to try them, Ben. They are delicious!”
“As if!” Ben shook his skewer to point at his grandpa in annoyance. By accident, one of the roasted insects flew off the skewer, but Blukic, who was standing nearby on the ground, intercepted it with his stretched tongue, pulling it right into his mouth.
"...What are you doing here?” Ben asked, taken aback.
The alien scratched his head as he munched. “…I think I got lost.”
"...How?” Ben’s mouth hung open in disbelief.
As Ben stared at Blukic in confusion, Max pondered, ‘…will they be able to remove Ben’s Omnitrix with the tools at Mt. Rushmore?’
From the beginning, he had no intention of letting Ben use the watch, but he wasn’t stupid enough to tell a teenager not to use a device bonded with him. Whatever Ben did today, Max couldn’t care less, as long as he could remove the Omnitrix as soon as possible from Ben.
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[Omniversal index — Ben 10 Multiverse]
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[Section: Galvans — Basics information (Abridged)]
Galvans are a species of small, humanoid, frog-like amphibians. They average 15 cm in length and are agile. They can breathe both on the surface and underwater.
Galvans have large, bulbous eyes with rectangular pupils. They have two eyelids, which close vertically and horizontally, respectively.
Each Galvan possesses an advanced learning capacity for new concepts, making them essentially “geniuses” by human standards.
Azmuth, the creator of the Omnitrix (in this universe and the Prime universe), is a Galvan.
(Human units of length used.)
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[Section: Plumbers — Basics information (Abridged) (Prime universe)]
The history of the Plumbers is unclear and has been rewritten several times over the course of the Prime saga.
But in a nutshell, they are galactic policemen.
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[Section: Max Tennyson — Basics information (abridged) (Prime universe)]
The history of Max Tennyson is unclear and has been rewritten several times over the course of the Prime saga.
But in a nutshell, he is an old retired plumber and a long-time enemy of Vilgax.
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[Section: Plumbers — Basics information (Current universe)]
The universe is a vast and complex place, teeming with countless living beings, each possessing their own unique perspective and moral code. From the moment of their birth, every individual has an equal right to live and die. Usually, the strong can freely end the lives of the weak, and it is not uncommon for even highly developed, intelligent species to be slaughtered and served as mere food for others till their extinction.
Death is not the only injustice faced by the inhabitants of this universe. A person’s entire life can be overturned in a single night, their freedom stripped away as they become the property of a new “master” simply because they lack the strength to resist. The possessions of countless individuals can be stolen with impunity, and innumerable crimes beyond the imagination of most can occur unchecked.
It was these very “injustices” that led to the creation of the Plumbers, an organization dedicated to maintaining order and protecting the rights of all beings. However, over time, the goals of the Plumbers began to shift, slowly tweaked and altered for some reason.
(See “Plumbers — Basics information 2” section for more information)
Nearly five years ago, after two centuries of operation, the Plumbers were abruptly disbanded, leaving the universe in a wholly disconnected set of territories with their own set of laws, each applying their own version of “justice”.
(Human units of time used.)
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[Section: Max Tennyson — Basics information (Current universe)]
At the tender age of 17, Max Tennyson had no idea that his life would soon be filled with the impossible and the extraordinary. It was then that he first met Verdona, a being so incredible that even his wildest dreams couldn’t have conjured her. She would later become the mother of his two children, but her presence in his life was fleeting, as she appeared and disappeared on a whim. Now, in his 60s and more than 30 years since their last encounter, Max can’t help but wonder if Verdona ever truly loved him or if he was merely a passing fancy.
Years after his initial meeting with Verdona, Max found himself serving as a soldier and pilot. It was during this time that he made a fateful decision to spare the lives of two alien beings, despite Earth’s strict policy of exterminating any extraterrestrial life on sight. These aliens were none other than Blukic and Driba, two Galvans who would later play a significant role in Max’s life.
By luck or misfortune, Max found himself increasingly entangled with the surreal. Driven by his strong sense of justice, he accepted an invitation to join the Plumbers as one of its first human members. He left his sons behind, offering a cover story for his absence: he was a literal plumber who, for some reason, needed to travel overseas for work.
(Human units of time used.)
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[Section: Max Tennyson — Member of the Plumbers (Current universe)]
Over time, Max’s reputation grew, and his name became known throughout the galaxies. His crowning achievement was single-handedly putting a stop to the expansion of the Vilgaxia Empire. However, the details surrounding this monumental feat remain shrouded in mystery, with any information related to the event being meticulously tracked and erased, even two decades later.
In the years that followed, no Vilgaxian was publicly seen in the universe, with the exceptions of Vilgax himself and Myaax, who is Azmuth’s assistant. The planet Vilgaxia has been declared strictly off-limits, with any unauthorized entry met with immediate and lethal force.
(Human units of time used.)
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[Exit]
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