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Chimeran Hammer (Name of Vilgax spaceship orbiting around Earth)
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‘The notice was informative… but I need to take into account new information I know nothing about…’
A green, octopus-like visage reflected in Ascalon’s gleaming surface. The legendary sword, crafted by Azmuth long before the Omnitrix, captured Vilgax’s gaze. He studied the silver weapon, his voice a low growl of frustration.
“Ascalon is interesting… Yet, I can barely harness a fraction of its true potential!” He turned to the figure before him, pointing the sword menacingly. “So, let me reiterate, Sir George. If you wish to keep your head, enlighten me on how to wield this sword properly.”
Vilgax’s imposing form dominated the chamber’s center. He stood 2.3 meters tall, his body a fusion of alien biology and cutting-edge cybernetics. New enhancements replaced his damaged parts, their sleek surfaces gleaming in the dim light.
In addition, the octopus-like alien pulsed with otherworldly energy. His skin took on an unsettling pale green translucence. Waves of boundless power emanated from him, testifying to Dimension 666’s influence—Dagon’s realm.
Before Vilgax floated Sir George, the venerable founder of the Forever Knights. Stripped of limbs and dignity, he appeared as an old man with a long white beard and bald head. Despite his frail looks, Sir George’s resolve to protect humanity remained unwavering. An energy field held him aloft, created by the room’s devices.
Sir George’s silence spoke volumes. Not a single scream had escaped his lips since his abduction. His steely gaze bored into Vilgax, carrying an unspoken promise of retribution.
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Vilgax’s quest for power led him to make a pact with Dagon. He became the eldritch being’s herald, though he had no intention of honoring the agreement. The galactic warlord grasped Ascalon, the sword that sealed Dagon’s heart. Its raw power coursed through him.
In that moment, Vilgax now understood why Dagon’s Esoterica slaves never attempted to remove it. A normal human would have perished instantly from its touch. Yet, despite his strength, Vilgax couldn’t master the sword’s secrets.
After, he waited inside the temple, certain Sir George would soon arrive to reclaim his rightful weapon. That is, if he was indeed a participant in this cosmic game.
Indeed he was.
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After his creative interrogation, the old man remained silent. If time wasn’t limited, Vilgax would have relished unraveling this stubborn enigma. He had no doubt he would make the esteemed knight talk, given enough time.
‘I was too hasty… With Dagon’s heart unsealed, his invasion is imminent.’ The warlord pondered. ‘I can try my Prime version’s method, but I won’t rely on it. What if it fails? I need to step back, observe, and plan…’
Suddenly, all his worries vanished as he formulated a plan and several backups. He began to laugh, surprising Psyphon and raising Sir George’s eyebrow. In truth, George eyed his beloved sword from the corner of his view.
‘That’s it, foul creature. Draw my Ascalon ever nearer. My bond with it shall soon be rekindled.’ Sir George’s countenance remained impassive. ‘Your doom approaches, Vilgax!’
George’s anger stemmed not only from his current state but also from Vilgax’s actions. The knight had planned to remove the sword, but only after leaving seals at Dagon’s heart. These would need weekly replenishment—not ideal, but a good compromise. Yet the accursed alien Vilgax had fully freed the eldritch Dagon’s energy source!
'...But how shall I vanquish the Dagon menace? This foul creature underestimated me once. It shan’t make the same error.’
His thoughts suddenly drifted. ‘A grand conflict between Earth and the world of dragons? Maybe…’
He suppressed his anger, maintaining a stoic facade. Having watched all Ben10 episodes featuring the Forever Knights, he realized a disturbing possibility. The organization he founded centuries ago might have foolishly instigated this war. They had, for some incomprehensible reason, deemed dragons the ultimate evil. Could it be due to the similarity between the words Dagon and Dragon? Surely not. Such a level of idiocy seemed unfathomable.
Regardless, once George regained control of Ascalon, blood would spill to quell his anger. For the first time since his capture, a flicker of rage crossed his stoic features, a change that did not escape Vilgax’s notice.
“You know, you just need to tell me how to control this sword.” Vilgax said with disdain as he pointed the sword toward him, again.
“Do your worst, you pathetic excuse for a conqueror. You’re nothing but a cowardly, tentacled freak too scared to face a mere teenager. Is that why you’re hiding up here like a snivelling worm? Afraid Ben 10 might hand you your ass but in real life? Go on, prove you’re more than just an incompetent imbecile masquerading as a mastermind.” The words were far from chivalrous, but Sir George spat them out with venomous contempt.
"...Then die by your own sword!”
In less than a second, Ascalon’s blade made contact with Sir George’s neck, its first touch in hundreds of years. A blinding white light exploded through the room, momentarily obscuring all sight.
As the radiance faded, Vilgax felt a searing pain across his throat. The wound, though deep, sealed itself instantly, leaving no trace of blood. He whirled around to face a transformed Sir George—now a young, armor-clad warrior with flowing blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard.
“So, you were actually foolish enough to make a pact with Dagon… nevermind.” His sword Ascalon lit white, overflowing with energy.
Psyphon yelled, “Stop! We’re orbiting Earth! If you damage this spaceship, we’ll crash, possibly killing hundreds of thousands! Maybe millions!” Vilgax shot his servant a glare, but remained silent, focusing on Sir George.
Sir George stood motionless, centuries of dedication to protecting humanity weighing on his conscience. ‘Vilgax can’t be eliminated here without risking countless innocent lives…’
Sir George raised Ascalon, its blade glowing with ethereal light. With a swift, precise motion, he sliced through the air itself. The space before him split open, revealing a brilliant white void. Without hesitation, Sir George stepped through this tear in reality, the edges of the portal sealing shut behind him, leaving no trace of his passage.
‘I can’t wield Ascalon, but I can manipulate Sir George and the other participants.’ Vilgax mused, his plan to relinquish the sword now in motion.
Of course, if it didn’t work, he wouldn’t mind having cut the knight’s head off. Sir George’s taunt may have actually angered him.
He turned to Psyphon, his voice laden with ominous intent. “Don’t be alarmed by what’s about to unfold. I’ll be… indisposed for a time. In my absence, you must…”
Vilgax rapidly outlined his instructions, leaving Psyphon nodding in bewildered compliance, pondering the cryptic nature of his master’s impending indisposition.
The answer manifested with startling swiftness. A blinding portal erupted beneath Vilgax’s feet, plunging him into a dizzying free fall over a vast, sun-scorched desert.
High above, Sir George’s voice thundered with righteous fury. “DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK I WOULD LET YOU ESCAPE JUDGMENT?!” The knight maintained a stable position in his descent, Ascalon aimed directly at the falling warlord.
‘Oblivion’s Embrace!’
Ascalon unleashed a blinding beam of pure energy, an unstoppable torrent of cosmic power engulfing Vilgax. The cosmic force ripped through the alien conqueror, tearing him apart atom by atom.
Unimpeded, the devastating beam surged onward, slamming into the desert floor with apocalyptic might. The impact triggered colossal sandstorms, their fury exploding outward in all directions. As the tempest raged, it sculpted the landscape anew, stripping away layers of sand to expose the bedrock beneath.
When the chaos subsided, a transformed landscape stretched to the horizon, the desert’s bare bedrock now exposed under the scorching sun.
Sir George observed the aftermath.
‘Vilgax is no more.’ It was an irrefutable fact, witnessed by his own eyes. With a gesture, he opened another portal in mid-air and vanished, leaving behind a changed landscape.
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Psyphon breathed with difficulty. The meaning behind Vilgax’s cryptic indisposition now crystallized in his mind with chilling clarity.
He turned his gaze to the screen on his gauntlet. With several taps, he accessed a high-definition video feed. The sight that greeted him was one he had hoped never to see again since two decades ago. A shiver ran down his spine.
Psyphon left the prison room, his steps echoing through the metallic corridors. As he walked, he passed numerous androids and drones, all programmed to move aside for him and his master. The ship’s automated inhabitants silently parted ways, creating a clear path for him.
He entered a chamber pulsing with otherworldly energy. Suspended in a massive tank were countless cells. They danced in a macabre ballet of creation. Each one shimmered with an eerie, translucent glow. It was a testament to the unholy pact that bound them to the eldritch entity known as Dagon.
Psyphon’s eyes narrowed. Another chill ran down his spine. “So…” He mused, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even death cannot sever the path to that cosmic abomination.”
Yet, beneath the dread that threatened to consume him, a spark of hope flickered. Time and again, Vilgax had faced annihilation. Each time, he rose from the ashes, more terrible than before. This, Psyphon knew, would be no different.
In the oppressive silence of the chamber, Psyphon sank to his knees. His voice, though soft, carried the weight of unshakeable devotion. “Great Vilgax…” he intoned, liters of tears flowing from his eyes. “May your rebirth herald a new era of conquest and terror across the cosmos.”
The cells in the tank pulsed in response. Their ethereal glow intensified. Was it a coincidence? Psyphon chose to believe otherwise. In this room… in the universe… his master Vilgax was his only light.
He stood up. “I will follow your instructions… May your greatness watch over me!”
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[Omniversal index — Ben 10 Multiverse]
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[Section: Ascalon — Basic information (Abridged) — Prime and current universe]
Ascalon is a reality-altering sword created by Azmuth. Its power adapts to the user, limited only by their imagination up to a universal scale. Despite tapping into universal forces, its power isn’t truly universal.
The sword was allegedly stolen by the Incurseans. This theft resulted in the destruction of their planet after the sword was used in a war.
Centuries later, Azmuth discovered Earth and an immortal human named Sir George. Azmuth gave him the sword to combat Dagon, who had begun invading Earth from his main dimension.
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[Section: Sir George — Basic information (Abridged) — Prime and current universe]
Sir George was unsure of his exact age or the source of his immortality. Before Dagon’s invasion, he lived aimlessly through eras. He couldn’t die of old age but wasn’t immune to being killed. Yet, he never considered suicide. His immortality wasn’t a gift, but calling it a curse would be an exaggeration. Over time, his mind filled with new experiences and knowledge, along with the pain of losing loved ones. He felt his existence had to have meaning.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Dagon’s invasion during medieval times gave George a new purpose. It united humanity against a common foe. Even without Ascalon, George slew hundreds of Dagon’s Lucubra. He was ready to die protecting humanity, seeing no greater purpose.
The battle turned dire when the Lucubra mind-controlled captured knights. Still, George fought on, cutting through every obstacle.
After yet another grueling battle with no hope in sight, George met Azmuth. The alien offered him Ascalon to fight Dagon. Though skeptical of an unknown creature maybe some devil, George accepted, seeing no other option.
With the sword in hand, Sir George founded the Forever Knights, a group dedicated to safeguarding humanity. He engaged in a fierce battle with Dagon and emerged victorious, banishing the being back to its dimension and sealing its heart with Ascalon to prevent future invasions.
Having lost Ascalon and mysteriously aged into an old man while still being immortal (further details in the “Ascalon — Basic information 2” section), Sir George retreated into the shadows. Although he continued his solitary existence, he remained vigilant, ready to reclaim Ascalon whenever humanity needed his protection again.
However, he was sure that the organization he left behind wouldn’t disappoint him.
Note: Most of the Forever Knights in the multiverse (where he had existed and was the founder) will disappoint him.
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[Section: Dagon — Basic information (Abridged) — Prime and current universe]
Dagon is an invasive interdimensional entity with an insatiable desire for domination and control. Its appearance is reminiscent of a colossal octopus, evoking both awe and terror.
While Dagon’s primary focus lies in mental manipulation, it possesses a formidable array of offensive capabilities. This makes it a versatile and dangerous adversary.
Composed entirely of energy, Dagon’s ethereal nature allows it to transcend physical limitations, further enhancing its threat level.
This cosmic horror has successfully invaded and subjugated countless dimensions of the universe, leaving them under its oppressive influence.
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[Exit]
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Across Earth and beyond, numerous beings pondered the same thought. The offer was tantalizing: ten slots for killing a clown, with the added bonus of immunity. It seemed almost too good to be true.
Many questioned the high reward for such a seemingly simple task. Who was this Joker? Why was his elimination so valuable?
Regardless of their doubts, the prospect was alluring. Participation in a war that would decide their fate was significant enough. The promise of invulnerability, even temporary, was irresistible.
For most, the choice was clear. Who wouldn’t want to secure their survival and control their future, whether by freedom or restriction? The answer was obvious: nobody.
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Sir Patrick, one of the currents Forever Kings, addressed the chamber. His voice thundered with conviction. “Humanity’s ingenuity knows no bounds!” He declared, his eyes alight with fervor. “For a millennium, we’ve prepared for this day.”
The thousands of knights stood attentively, their gleaming silver armor reflecting the chamber’s dim light. Electricity crackled along their suits, a testament to their technological mastery. Full metal helmets encased their heads, each featuring a narrow visor that emitted an eerie glow.
Patrick alone revealed his face, the exposed visage marking him unmistakably as their leader. He stood elevated above the crowd, his presence commanding and regal.
His every word captivated the assembled warriors, their hidden gazes fixed upon him with unwavering focus. The chamber, despite its vast size, seemed to shrink under the intensity of their collective attention.
“The dragon who fled our dungeon underestimated us.” Patrick continued, his tone dripping with disdain. “We not only reverse-engineered his spaceship, but left a parting gift inside.”
“Long live the Knights!” The armored crowd roared. Their voices echoed off the ancient brick walls, a cacophony of loyalty and zeal.
Patrick’s fist clenched, his gauntlet creaking under the force. “Our first nuke to Dragon World is merely the beginning.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “We’ll rain fire upon their realm until every last abomination is purged from existence!”
Once again, the chant resounded, “Long live the Knights!” It was a battle cry that shook the very foundations of the castle.
Amidst the fervor, a knight approached hesitantly. His armor, less ornate than the others, marked him as a member of the scientific rank.
“Sir…” He began, his voice barely audible above the shouts. “There’s something you should know.”
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Carl Nesmith, known as Captain Nemesis, or simply Nemesis, gazed out from his hospital bed. His eyes fixed on the imposing Billions Tower, dwarfing his own Nemesis Tower. The sight irked him. It felt like a constant reminder: “You won’t look down on me, my friend.” The shadow it cast over his building for hours each day only added to his irritation.
‘I need allies if I want to kill Bennyson… Or was it Tennyson? Anyway…’ Fixing his condition wasn’t impossible with money, but it would take time. Time he wasn’t sure he had.
‘Billions tower… why is conquering this corporate tower worth two slots?’ His attempts to reach Tommy had been futile. Billy, Tommy’s son, was equally unreachable.
Nemesis recalled the Ben 10 saga he’d watched, well precisely the only three episodes where he featured. He knew Billy Billions was considered one of Ben’s villains like him. ‘Could little Billy also be a participant like me?’
His contemplation was interrupted by a nurse’s aide entering his room. “It’s time, Carl Nesmith,” she announced, wheeling in a chair. Soon, Nemesis found himself seated and being directed to the rehabilitation gym.
The gym’s track stretched before him, parallel bars lining each side. With gritted teeth and trembling muscles, he stood. His hands gripped the bars tightly, each step a monumental effort.
Suddenly, his leg gave out. He crashed down, his head colliding with the left bar.
“Nesmith!” the aide cried out in alarm.
As he lay there, thoughts raced through his mind. ‘Is this retribution? For the people who died in my staged crimes? For those I killed to keep my secret? For the teenager I tried to murder?’
But Nemesis wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity. Before anyone could assist him, he forced himself up. His eyes blazed with determination. ‘Bullshit! The only way to live is without regret. I will walk forward, ignoring every ant I step on!’
With renewed vigor, he pressed on. Each step was a battle, but one he persevered. The pain was excruciating, yet it fueled his resolve. He would overcome this. He would regain his strength. And then, he would have his revenge.
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In front of the iconic Mount Rushmore, ten individuals gathered. The colossal stone faces of past presidents loomed above them, silent witnesses to the unusual assembly.
A young woman with dark red hair, styled in a punk fashion, broke the silence. Her hands gripped an M4 Carbine, a versatile assault rifle boasting a 30-round magazine and quick reload capability. Though not alien or supernatural in origin, the weapon exuded lethal potential.
“So, Ben Tennyson or whoever possesses the watch actually resides inside,” she remarked. A screen appeared in her field of vision, displaying the positions of all special items granting participation slots. The notice had just been released. “You didn’t lie, old man. But how exactly did you find him to begin with?”
Perched atop a three-meter giant mutant frog, an elderly man replied. Filthy clothes hung loosely on his thin frame. Long, unclean nails adorned his gnarled fingers. His voice carried a hint of amusement.
“To begin with, I don’t make a habit of lying. And secondly…”
He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “The Omnitrix originated from outer space. This led me to wonder about potential news regarding unidentified objects entering our atmosphere. Naturally, no official report would surface, but a curious incident involving a burned forest caught my attention.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he elaborated. “My creatures stumbled upon a spherical metallic pod. According to what they overheard from scientists at the site, they couldn’t determine its origin. The pod’s contents remained a mystery, as it had already been opened upon discovery.”
“Creature? Like your frog? They seem a little too big for discretion.”
The elderly individual, more precisely Aloysius Animo, shortened to Dr. Animo or simply Animo, retrieved a slimy egg from a container in his pocket as he jumped off his frog.
The egg hatched in his hand, revealing a small dog with insect characteristics. An unusual contraption crowned Animo’s head: a helmet-like cask with two protruding antennae. This device lent him an air of a mad scientist. Many who knew him would actually describe him as such. Under the influence of waves emanating from his antenna helmet, the animal slowly matured while retaining its small size.
“Too cute,” noted a teenage girl with long white hair, purple at the ends and styled in a ponytail. She scratched the creature’s belly with her slender finger as it rolled back on Animo’s hand. “He’s so fluffy. Let’s call you Fluff.” She wore a purple dress with large sleeves. Her pink eyes studied the small creature intently.
“Charmcaster…” warned an old man with mostly white skin. Named Hex, he wore a red and black hooded dress that shadowed his head. He stood near the teenage girl, his niece.
Animo continued, “And thanks to my Canis olfactinsecta minimus, with the developed sense of smell of a dog and an insect, sniffing out the trail of anyone who was in the vicinity, even after a forest fire, is child’s play… Anyway, it’s useless now.”
The doctor cackled as he increased the wave frequency of his helmet, his eyes glittering with cruel delight. The small artificial creature trembled and shook violently, its legs collapsing beneath it as if its joints had turned to liquid. The newly born lifeform let out a high-pitched whine. Its chest rose and fell rapidly, once, twice, then fell still. Any trace of life that once inhabited this unstable lifeform vanished, snuffed out like a candle flame in the wind.
Before anyone could process the cursed event that just transpired, Animo tossed the small corpse in the direction of his giant frog, which gulped it down.
“What the—” Charmcaster’s face paled, but she quickly recovered. It wasn’t uncommon for her to sacrifice cute animals to concoct magical potions. However, she still eyed Dr. Animo warily.
Animo shrugged. “It was going to perish today anyway.”
“This explanation was unnecessary, Animo,” remarked a man with a worn-out coat and pale green skin, Clancy. He felt the cockroaches, flies, and countless other insects beneath his coat stir in shock. ‘If I don’t find anything useful, I’ll kill him like he killed a precious insect without a second thought!’
“I think he has Antisocial Personality Disorder in addition to Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” added a small, bald man with a red and yellow coat and sunglasses, Sublimino. He glanced at his (real) pocket watch. “We get it, you enjoy talking. Get to the point.”
“Anyway, since I found Ben, Gwen, and Max Tennyson, I’ve used birds and occasionally frogs to keep track of them.” Animo finished.
“Okay, you don’t lie, but how are you going to remove the Omnitrix, genius?” The dark-red-haired punk woman, named Rojo, pressed.
Animo’s brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and amusement playing across his face. “I never said anything about removing the Omnitrix. We don’t have the capability to do that. But if any of you want to give it a shot, be my guest.”
Rojo raised her weapon, pointing it at him, but he remained unfazed. Animo thought, ‘I expected she would be more impressive than merely carrying a firearm, given her prime counterpart possessing some kind of armor. Regardless, this ragtag team serves as the perfect diversion. We all utilize each other. I don’t even need to lie about my intentions. The problem will arise later…’
Rojo slowly lowered her weapon when she noticed that the remaining eight present weren’t outraged. They either knew or didn’t prioritize taking the Omnitrix.
“I’m more interested in collecting more DNA from the Omnitrix and stealing anything of value from this Plumbers’ base in one fell swoop, especially considering the recent notice,” Animo continued. “And I have no doubt this place is filled with useful but dangerous items…”
None of them missed the emphasis on more, but they didn’t question it.
“Fine… I’ll also settle for the items.” Rojo conceded. It wasn’t like she could say anything else, but the looks she received spoke volumes of: What the hell is she doing here with us? She tried to strike a balance between being menacing and not overly annoying. The good thing was that a firearm wasn’t entirely useless.
“Hold up!” interjected a man in the brown and black uniform, his yellow kangaroo symbol gleaming. “Are we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room? Why not wait for the Omnitrix kid to leave? And Animo, why haven’t you invaded this place solo before now?”
His eyes narrowed as he gripped his multi-function gun. “This whole setup stinks of a trap.”
Animo scoffed. “Please. Does anyone here actually believe a secret base would be hidden in a national monument?”
The group fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances. Even those who didn’t dismiss the idea outright had to admit—if it was true, how would they get in? Storming the place as a group suddenly didn’t seem so foolish, especially given the unknown number of occupants and security measures.
“Look.” Animo continued, impatience creeping into his voice. “I only confirmed the base existence by tracking them here. The Omnitrix holder’s been inside for days, and time is of the essence.”
The man in the kangaroo suit — Kangaroo Kommando — relaxed his grip on his weapon. “Fair enough. I suppose I could use this chance to swipe some tech and test myself against Tennyson.”
“Just be quick about it.” Animo cautioned, barely suppressing a laugh. “Some of us are here for… shall we say, more permanent solutions. For him and the other Tennysons.”
The doctor found it hilarious. He marveled at the absurdity of holding grudges based on cartoon events from another universe. Equally amusing was the underestimation of a potentially competent Omnitrix user. This wielder might not be so easily eliminated. After all, it was virtually impossible for anyone to be more incompetent than Ben Prime.
Animo recognized the opportunity at hand. The group would serve as an ideal distraction, enabling him to capture Ben and access the DNA and life signatures within the Omnitrix. Additionally, as he stated, he aimed to acquire valuable technology, alien DNA, and artifacts from the Plumber base.
“Anyway, how do we enter?” Sublimino inquired before one of them could get angry.
“Only by force. We must assume an alarm will go off no matter what.” Animo replied.
“Why didn’t you leave one of your creatures with them so we could enter secretly?” Charmcaster asked.
“I did! Don’t underestimate my genius! All my cyborg insects, which are really hard to make in bulk, especially with mechanical parts, that I left in their RV have been destroyed. They seem to have been swallowed by two little aliens, or Galvans if I remember correctly, without them even knowing it, saying that was crunchy.”
Everyone paused, processing this information.
“Alright, so how do we get in?” Kevin Levin, a black-haired teenager, cut to the chase. He wasn’t about to waste time on pointless details.
Animo pondered for a moment, then reached a conclusion. “I collected some gasoline from their RV. I can use a Canis olfactinsecta minimus to track where they entered.”
"...Are you serious?” Charmcaster eyed the mad doctor. “Didn’t you just kill one of those things, saying it was useless?”
“Ah, but that was then, and this is now, my dear Charmcaster.” He reached into his pocket, producing another slimy egg. He declared, “Let’s go, Negative-10!”
"...The name is stupid, dude.” Kevin commented, scratching his head. ‘I just need to touch the Omnitrix to gain unmatched power and decide my future? Why not.’
“Just wanted to say it out loud.” Animo shrugged as the egg hatched in his hand.