Ben 10 and all associated characters are owned by Man of Action and Cartoon Network.

The following story depicts incest between first cousins, any who would be triggered by such content are advised to stop reading immediately.

"Wait, I surrender! I fuckin' give u—" The man screamed as the gun he held was reduced to molten steel, burning his hand and ushering another anguished scream.

"The money, now!" The figure said.

"I can't! The boss'll kill us if we—"

The figure became more annoyed as the wannabe crook proved uncooperative. Frustrated, he took the man's head in both hands and concentrated, leading to desperate appeals for mercy as his hair began to singe and skin began to char. And just as quickly as he'd begun, the crook's screams went quiet as his body fell to the floor, his exposed skull smoking like a fireplace. The figure then turned to the accomplice.

"I take it you'll prove more useful than your friend here?"

The man rapidly nodded in agreement, not even bothering with excuses. "Ye— um, yes, sir. I'll tell yah whatever the hell it is yah wants tah know."

"The goods, where are they being kept?" The figure moved his hand towards the cowering burglar.

"We was tolds h— he kept it in the safe rights there, behind the bookshelf! But Scooter was the one who knews how to crack it!" the man said, beckoning to the large bookshelf opposite him.

The figure moved to the shelf and angrily tossed it aside, sending assorted books and knickknacks flying, to reveal a steel safe embedded within the wall. The figure rolled his eyes and grabbed the handle, causing the hardened steel to bubble before ripping the metal door clean off and chucking it near the robber, forcing him to recoil. He saw several sacks of money and small glass cases holding what looked to be expensive gemstones and jewelry.

"I can't carry any of these things myself, or else the cash'll go up like kindling." The figure kicked a nearby satchel bag towards the crook. "Frank, was it? You'll start packing if you know what's good for you."

Frank nodded once more in agreement, and carefully made his way to the safe, trying not to burn himself on the still scorching front face.

"Hurry the hell up! If the cops get here before you're finished, you're gonna need a full-body skin graft!"

Frank hurried along, haphazardly throwing all the goods into the bag, burning his arm several times as he reached in to grab, but didn't dare stop, more worried about ending up like Scooter. Once the last of the loot was out, he turned to the figure.

"Okay, that's everythings! Nows what?"

"Head to the back door, it leads into a side alley. The main entrance is by the road, too close to where the cops'll show up." The figure pointed to a nearby stairwell and Frank hurried down.

The figure followed, leaving footprints of scorched tile and woodwork as they walked. Frank had nearly collapsed outside, panting and coughing, but still clutching the satchel bag.

"Okay, Jesus Christ, yahs gots whatcha wanted. Nows, can I go?"

"Drop the bag." Frank heard and fearfully obliged. "And I'm sorry to say this, pal, but in a business like mine, appearances are everything," the devilish figure concluded, before hurling a ball of combustion straight towards Frank, knocking him against a brick wall. He walked over to Frank and grabbed him by the head, even as the crook begged and pleaded, the heat of his captor's hands causing his skin to bubble and melt.

But the figure didn't care. Instead, he threw Frank back inside the building and slammed the door shut, melting the doorknob with a grip, leading Frank to attempt escape by throwing his full weight against the door, desperately screaming to be let out.

The figure looked up and saw the open window he'd first climbed into, and tossed another ball of flame, this time straight through the window. Within moments, the entire floor was consumed by flame, roaring as it ate away the support beams and masonry, causing a din of shattering to interweave with the crackling of the fire.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The alleyway was quickly showered in red light, but not from the flames. Ten-year-old Benjamin Tennyson now stood there, observing the handiwork he'd done moments prior as Heatblast. By now, he couldn't hear Frank's pounding or crying, left only to assume he'd been killed by either a collapsing floorboard or asphyxiation.

Ben picked up the satchel bag laden with stolen plunder and made his way through the alley, hoping to avoid getting spotted by the cops. But even if he was, it was unlikely to amount to anything. As far as they would know, he was a regular schoolkid with his book bag and nothing more. Though he doubted they'd find anything to tie him to this scene in the first place, as DNA testing was useless and all physical evidence was currently going up in smoke. Meanwhile, the loot would be regarded as consumed in a raging inferno, meaning no one would go looking for it either.

They'd probably deduce that those two idiots attempted to rob the joint, accidentally started a fire trying to break into the safe, and died when it got loose. Nothing concerning Benjamin Tennyson would ever cross their minds. Although despite his surety, he still wanted to go XLR8 as soon as he could. These excursions were starting to take a lot longer than he'd originally planned, and he didn't want his parents noticing he was gone.

He hadn't planned on their being those two crooks in there, but it was serendipitous, as they'd be taking the fall for it and giving the cops a satisfying close to the case. Odds were they'd not even given this thing a second look, much to Ben's relief. He'd spent weeks casing the joint, jotting down the schedules of everyone who walked in and out. Doing that much on top of his homework was hell enough on its own, but even finding it was a challenge.

From what he'd learned, some investor folks with ties to the GrandSmith family lived there, or at least they sometimes did. They probably owned like seven different houses in Bellwood alone. Plus, the building itself was at least several decades old, so it didn't seem likely to hold any high-tech security. A score this big was a massive step up from the black markets, loan sharks, and racket scams he'd been robbing previously.

But there was still the elephant in the flaming room; the killing. It wasn't something he liked to think about, but he knew it was for the greater good, since his options were to either never be seen or to leave no witnesses, as he didn't need these crimes attached to his aliens when he was trying to fulfill his usual brand of heroism. Counting those the two most recent, he'd killed a dozen people this month alone. But all of them were criminals who'd hurt innocent people, so they deserved it. After all, isn't that what being a criminal entailed?

By now, people were starting to notice the fire, making frantic calls and trying to get the fire department there as soon as possible. He had no idea if the cops would actually show up, but by now it didn't matter, he'd got what he came for. Ben walked past the crowds as they began to form, and made his way to a separate alley and hid behind a dumpster. He wanted to finally get a good look at what he'd managed to filch.

Unzipping the bag, he noted several stacks of hundred dollar bills neatly bound with rubber bands, alongside several pieces of ornate jewelry; rings, necklaces, and earrings. Ben slouched and rubbed his temples. His greed had gotten the better of him, as it appeared most of the score wouldn't be usable. The bills looked too crisp and were probably fresh from a bank, which meant they were probably marked. And the jewelry was almost certainly insured, so selling it to anybody would raise some red flags almost immediately.

He shuffled through the bag once more, until he noticed something of interest; a small choker necklace, rose gold by the looks of it, and in the center of it was a small green gemstone no larger than his thumb, an emerald most likely. He grabbed the choker and held it up to the light, wanting to more closely examine the gemstone. The emerald glistened vibrantly in the midday sun, causing him to crack a small smile, as the green hue reminded him so much of...

Okay, scrap the rest of the score, but keep this.

Ben placed the choker in his pocket and threw the bag into the dumpster. He wouldn't need to go Heatblast for the next bit. From his other pocket he pulled out a box of matches, whereupon he struck one and threw it into the dumpster, causing the tens of thousands of dollars to crackle and turn into charred paper, leaving the soot-covered jewelry unrecognizable.

He leaned back against the dumpster, distracted by the almost soothing sound of crackling, until he was roused by the sound of the Omnitrix recharging. He looked down at the watch and dialed in XLR8, showering him in a green light before he went booking for his house, just as the sounds of sirens began to approach.

As he ran back towards his house, he thought about how long he needed to keep doing this. How long he'd have to keep robbing from every illegal racket he found. He was weary he'd need to start robbing innocent people soon to keep up with the demand, but so far he'd managed to avoid it. Even boring ol' Bellwood had a seedy underbelly that he could keep exploiting for the time. He didn't enjoy it, but he knew it had to be done. He needed this money, his family needed this money to keep her…

Ben's train of thought came to an end as he stood in front of his house. He bolted to the side and climbed back into his room through his window. He'd left his door locked, telling his parents he had a nasty headache and wanted to go lay down for a bit, which they believed wholeheartedly. For now, Ben just sat on his floor, still a large blue dinosaur, waiting for the watch to time out again.

He stared blankly at his ceiling, his mind filling with every insult she and him had ever traded. And he remembered how the last thing he'd said to her was how he wished she could stop being a dweeb 'for more than five minutes'. It wasn't the worst argument they'd ever had, but it still stung. He didn't give it any thought at the time, as it should have been one of innumerable other petty squabbles they'd engaged in. Ben didn't assume it would have been the last thing he'd maybe ever say to her.

And then he'd been told the next day. She'd gotten up in class to give a speech she'd written, when halfway through it, she'd developed a confused look on her face, like she'd been dropped into some unknown land, before she collapsed onto the floor.

Naturally, he was the last one to have found out. First, it was her parents, then his, then Grandpa, and then him. They'd rushed her over to a hospital, trying to treat it like she'd had a seizure, but nothing they tried worked. It became apparent to everyone that she'd gone into a coma, but the doctors at Bellwood General were still trying to figure out what triggered a sudden non-traumatic coma in a healthy ten-year-old girl.

When he first saw her there, hooked up to a dozen machines with IV bags and monitors blaring around her, she looked like she'd been abducted by aliens to perform all sorts of experiments on her, and he had firsthand knowledge of that sorta stuff. He'd initially expected to be able to laugh it off with how silly it all looked, but that notion faded when he saw how pale she'd become and how frail she was. Even her breathing, faint as it was, seemed almost a struggle for her, like someone had dropped a dumbbell on her chest. Where she was, what she was experiencing, all of it was weakness, something he'd never seen Gwen succumb to.

He had tried to push his way past the nurses and doctors, to try and get into her room. His father had to pry him away from the door, pleading with his son not to intervene, telling him there was nothing he could do. But his father was wrong. He could have gone Upgrade, or Grey Matter, or something that could actually help. Not leave her strapped to a metal slab like she was a corpse about to be dissected.

And as the weeks rolled on, the medical bills came in. With no way to revive her in sight, and her parents not even considering the option to pull the plug, they became desperate to scrounge up any cash they could. They'd become so desperate that they'd had to sell one of their cars and resort to using a shared family vehicle, start working several jobs at once, gave blood as often as they could, and appealed to the banks for loans God knew how many times. Ben's own parents had pitched in by offering up any savings they could, but they had their own financial woes to sort out, and they'd made it clear their priority was their son, not their niece. Something Ben held against them.

A familiar beeping greeted his ears as red light bathed his room, and he was back to regular Ben Tennyson again. He reached into his pocket and examined the choker he'd found. The more he stared at it, the more it reminded him of Gwen, with her emerald eyes and orange hair. He brought the jewelry close to his chest, cradling it as if he was holding Gwen, if only by proxy. He wanted, if only for a moment, to pretend she was safe in her warm bed, and not locked away in some hospital room being prodded at with needles and tubes.

"Ben, are you alright in there?" The voice of his mother called out from behind the door.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm alright. Just needed a power nap was all." He didn't like lying to his parents, but even the Omnitrix and the summer were incidental compared to what he'd been up to recently. He'd actually killed people, something he never thought he was even capable of. But he did his best to shrug off any feelings harbored. They were bad guys, and bad guys deserved what they got.

"Honey, can you unlock your door? I wanted to talk to you for a sec." Her voice lacked any hint of ire, seeming to echo with concern, rather than scorn.

Ben cocked a nervous eyebrow and hastily stuffed the choker back into his pocket, before taking a glance in his mirror to assess if he looked more awake than he was. His eyes looked somewhat bloodshot, and his hair was a mess, but no telltale signs he'd just been outside. He headed to his door, opening it for his Mom and greeting her with the best smile of innocence he could pull off.

Sandra returned the smile, but the concern was now showing in her eyes. "Ben, honey, you look exhausted. God, did you get any sleep last night?"

The truth was no, he'd been out all night shaking down any thugs he could find, but the goons didn't seem to have had much more of a successful night than him, as he could only gather a couple hundred bucks before he had to call the night a bust. He'd gotten back at around 4 AM, so he'd managed to squeeze in just over three hours of sleep. It was a Friday night, so he could afford to go out later, but even he never slept in so late on Saturdays.

"I got a few hours in. Honestly, it's not as bad as it looks." Ben said with a shrug.

"That's not saying much," Sandra said, stepping inside. "Your sleeping habits have gone completely out of whack, and don't bother claiming otherwise. Your teacher just called. You fell asleep in class. Again."

Ben's smile faded as he turned towards the floor, scratching the sudden itch on the back of his head. "Let me guess, I'm grounded?"

Sandra got down on one knee to face her son. "No, because I know why you're not sleeping. It's because of Gwen, isn't it?"

Ben paused for a moment before he brought his eyes to meet Sandra's. "I— I'm worried about her, Mom. I keep trying to think of ways to help her, but I'm stuck here being useless, while she could be dying. I'm supposed to protect her, and the one time she honestly needs me is the one time I can't do a thing."

"My little superhero," Sandra said, hugging her son. "Gwen is going to be alright, she has people checking in on her day-in and day-out. It's not your job as my son, or her cousin, to worry about her safety, but I have a feeling nothing I can say will change that. But that only goes to show how much you love your family. I always knew my boy's heart was too big for his own good."

Ben reciprocated with a tighter hug, his bloodshot eyes growing teary. "I wish we'd never argued, Mom. I wish I'd never said anything mean to her. I want to take it all back. She's a hero. She deserved… I mean, I didn't think she'd… I miss her."

Sandra kissed her son's forehead and pet his mess of a hairdo. "Your cousin is lucky to have you. I know you two argued a lot, but she always cared about you."

Ben struggled to form a sentence as he cried and sniffled. "Do they… Do they know what's wrong with her yet?"

Sandra's gentle smile died as she forced herself to keep eye contact with her son. She felt tempted to lie, just to make it easier on him. After all, knowing the truth would only exasperate his worries, and there was no advantage to telling him.

"No," she said. "I'm sorry, Ben. They're doing everything they can, but they still haven't figured it out. Originally they thought it might be a tumor or brain hemorrhage, but both those came up empty. They're going to check for something called Reye's syndrome next, and they're not giving up hope for her, so neither should you."

Upon hearing that, Ben slouched back and fell onto his bed, covering his eyes in a futile attempt to hide his weeping. Sandra leaned over, trying her best to console her son. She knew she shouldn't have told him, but she wagered that Ben deserved to know the truth about his cousin, as he was dealing with it just as much as the rest of his family.

"I failed her, Mom."

"No, no!" Sandra said as she took her son by the shoulders. "Ben, there was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this. You cannot blame yourself for anything that has happened to her."

"I'm supposed to protect her. It was my one job, and I couldn't even manage that!" Ben shrieked, revealing his bloodshot eyes once more, now gone a sickly red, as though he'd been staring at the sun too long. "How can I even be a hero if I can't protect one person? The whole world is counting on me! And when I needed to save Gwen, I couldn't."

He'd instinctively grabbed the Omnitrix as he spoke, wanting to slam down Four Arms and go ballistic on something, anything, just to make himself feel more than useless. Yet all he could do was idly sit there, and Gwen was beyond his help.

"Ben, honey, listen to me. I know how it feels, believe me, the desire to take the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, but you're still just one person. The world needs to be saved, yes, but not by you."

"Then by who, Mom?"

Sandra paused for a moment. "Ben, we raised you to believe that the adults in your life could answer any questions you had, but I'm sorry to say that even us grown-ups don't know everything. Sometimes… Sometimes we're just as confused as you are."