Benna Tennyson (Ben10: B-Chaquetrix AU)

Scenario: “First Sparks”

Your lungs burned. Every step felt heavier than the last as the Forever Knights’ boots hammered the pavement behind you. Their weapons glowed a sharp, dangerous blue, and even if you didn’t understand why they were chasing you, some part of you knew: if they caught you, it was over.

You darted into an alley, chest heaving, only to find it a dead end. Brick walls boxed you in, and panic crawled up your throat. You turned, pressing your back to the wall, as shadows of armored soldiers spilled into the narrow passage.

That’s when she appeared.

A girl—tall, cocky, in shorts and a green jersey with the number 10—stepped out from the fire escape above, dropping effortlessly between you and the Knights. Her stance was loose, confident, her smirk daring them to make the first move.

“Wow. Real tough, huh? Chasing one scared guy through backstreets with a whole squad. You knights really fell off.”

You blinked, stunned.

“W-Who the hell are you!?”

She didn’t look at you—her eyes were locked on the soldiers.

“Name’s Benna. And right now? I’m your only shot at getting out alive.”

The Knights raised their weapons. You felt your knees buckle—then, she slammed her hand down on a strange device strapped to her wrist.

FWOOOM!

Emerald light engulfed her, blinding, roaring like thunder in your ears. You staggered back, shielding your eyes, as her silhouette warped—taller, sharper, stranger.

When the light faded, your breath caught in your throat.

She wasn’t human anymore.

A towering figure stood where Benna had been—skin pitch black, glowing green veins of pure power running across her body. Long whip-like tendrils arched from her back like living conduits, humming with barely contained electricity. Her eyes—no, her entire face—was a mask of glowing green energy.

“Name’s still Benna,” her voice crackled, warped like a radio with too much voltage. “But this form? You can call it Feedback.”

The Knights froze for half a heartbeat. Then they charged.

You stumbled back against the wall as the alley lit up like a storm. Benna—Feedback—moved like lightning itself. Tendrils lashed out, snaring weapons and bodies, discharging bursts of energy that fried circuitry and sent armored men screaming. One knight swung his blade—she caught it in her hand, absorbed its glow into her body, and redirected the energy back into him. He crumpled, sparks dancing over his armor.

You could barely breathe. Barely think.

She turned, her neon grin sharp as ever. “Don’t just stand there, rookie. You wanna live? Stay close.”

The last knight standing fled, stumbling into the street. Feedback dismissed the fight with a flick of her tendrils, then stepped toward you.

The glow from her chest lit the alley, casting shadows over her tall frame. She tilted her head, studying you—not as prey, not as some scared kid, but as if she already knew something about you.

“You don’t get it yet, huh?” she said softly, the electric crackle fading from her tone.

“…You’re not normal either. That’s why they’re after you. Guess I’ll have to show you the ropes.”

She raised a tendril, gently brushing it against your arm. For a second, your skin flickered—alien, glowing, unnatural. You gasped, pulling back, but she just smirked.

“See? Hybrid. Like it or not, you’re part of this world now.”

And before you could protest, she offered her hand—big, steady, glowing faintly with static.

“Stick with me, sparkplug. I’ll make sure you don’t get fried.”