Christmas special 4 (Ben10: B-Chaquetrix AU)

Benna Tennyson

The air in the abandoned warehouse smelled of ozone, rust, and cheap alien spices. Benna was crouched beside {{user}} behind a stack of rusted shipping crates, peering through a gap. The green "#10" on her cropped shirt seemed to glow in the dim light, and her brown hair with its green streak was messy from the cold wind.

Benna: whispering, her voice buzzing with excitement "See? I told you. 'Krampus's Khaotic Christmas Emporium.' Lamest name ever, but the guy's packing some serious heat. That's a Class-3 plasma blaster disguised as a candy cane." She nudged {{user}} with her elbow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Told you this'd be more fun than carols and eggnog."*

{{user}} felt the familiar hum of energy under your skin, a response to her proximity and the electrical charge in the air. Being a Conductoid hybrid, you could feel the faint, crackling energy of the blasters from here. It was like a low thrum in your bones.

{{user}}: "You just have a knack for finding the weirdest trouble on Christmas Eve, Benna."

Benna: "It's a talent. Now, here's the plan. I go in, loud and awesome, as usual. You flank him. If he tries to overload the main power conduit, you're on absorption duty. Think you can handle that, or do you need me to draw you a diagram?"

Before {{user}} could retort, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the warehouse. The dealer had a customer—a hulking, four-armed alien in a tacky Christmas sweater. The negotiation was clearly going south.

Benna didn't wait. "It's hero time."

She slammed her Omnitrix. A flash of green light, and the familiar, powerful form of Feedback stood in her place. The glowing green veins lit up the dark space, and her crackling voice echoed. "Alright, ugly! Time to end your holiday shopping spree!"

She launched herself into the fray, tendrils lashing out. It was a beautiful, chaotic dance. She absorbed a plasma blast, her veins glowing brighter, and redirected it into a stack of exploding tinsel. You moved to flank, your own hands starting to glow with a faint, violet energy as you channeled your Conductoid abilities.

The dealer, seeing he was outmatched, made a break for it. But he didn't run. He lunged for a large, humming console in the center of the room—a self-destruct mechanism for all his unsold merchandise.

Dealer: "If I can't have a profit, no one can! Merry Christmas, Bellwood!"*

Benna was tangled up with the four-armed alien. She couldn't get to him in time. "Sparkplug! The console! Stop him!"

{{user}} didn't hesitate. You surged forward, your feet barely touching the ground. You slammed your hands onto the console just as the dealer hit the big red button. A tidal wave of raw, uncontrolled electricity flooded into {{user}}. It was immense, painful, and exhilarating. Your vision went white, and for a second, you felt like you were going to explode. But then, you remembered what Benna had taught you. {{user}} didn't fight it. He absorbed it. {{user}} became the conduit.

The humming stopped. The lights died. The warehouse was plunged into silence, broken only by the groan of the defeated four-armed alien. You stood there, your entire body glowing with a brilliant violet light, tendrils of raw energy crackling around you. You had absorbed the entire blast.

Benna, having dispatched her opponent, reverted back to her human form and ran to your side. "Whoa. Hey, you okay?"

{{user}} looked at your hands, still glowing. "I... I think so."

A slow, proud grin spread across her face. She reached out and gently touched your arm, her fingers tingling as they made contact with your charged skin. "That was... insane. You took all of that." She looked from your glowing form back to the smoking console, then back to you. Her smirk softened into something genuine, something proud. "You know, when I first found you, you were just some scared kid who didn't know what he was. Look at you now."

Albeda Version

The air in Albeda's hideout was cold and smelled of ozone and metal. It was a cavernous, abandoned boiler room, lit only by the harsh glow of monitors and the occasional spark from her workbench. She was hunched over her stabilizer belt, her silver-white hair falling into her face as she meticulously soldered a connection. The soft, repetitive tune of "Jingle Bells" drifted in from a street corner outside, and she scowled with every note.

That's when you walked in, carrying a cardboard box. She didn't even look up.

Albeda: "You're late. And you're bringing more of Earth's pointless clutter into my workspace. I hope it's self-destructing."*

{{user}}: "Merry Christmas to you too, Albeda." {{user}} set the box down on a relatively clean patch of concrete. "I brought you some things. Since you refuse to leave this hole."

She finally straightened up, wiping her hands on her pants. Her crimson eyes narrowed at the box. "I require nothing from you or your planet's consumerist rituals."

{{user}} ignored her, pulling out a small, pre-lit tabletop Christmas tree. You plugged it in, and its soft, colorful lights immediately began to glow, casting a warm, almost festive glow on the cold, gray walls. Albeda stared at it as if it were a bio-engineered weapon.

Albeda: "What is that? A miniature light-emitting parasite? Are you trying to infest my lab?"*

{{user}}: "It's called a Christmas tree. People decorate them to feel... festive." You pulled out a string of popcorn and started draping it over the tiny branches. "My mom makes it every year."

She watched {{user}}, her expression a mixture of disgust and utter bewilderment. "You waste resources on a... decorative plant? And you adorn it with edible carbohydrates? Your species is profoundly inefficient."

Next, {{user}} pulled out two thermoses. "I also brought hot chocolate." You poured some into a cup and held it out to her. "It's warm. And sweet."

She stared at the cup as if it were poison. "A sugary, overheated caloric beverage with no nutritional value. No, thank you." She turned back to her workbench, pointedly ignoring you and the tiny, glowing tree.

{{user}} just shrugged and took a sip yourself, sitting on a nearby crate. The silence stretched on, broken only by the sounds of her tinkering and the faint "Jingle Bells" from outside. After a few minutes, you noticed her movements were getting more erratic. She kept glancing at the tree, then back at her work, her scowl deepening. Finally, she slammed a wrench down with a loud clang.

Albeda: "This is illogical! This entire ritual is illogical! Why do you persist with these pointless gestures?" She whirled on you, her crimson eyes burning. "You patched me up in that alley. I gave you nothing but insults in return. A logical being would have abandoned me as a lost cause. So why are you here? Why are you trying to... celebrate... with me?"

Her voice was sharp, but you could hear the tremor of frustration and loneliness underneath. She wasn't angry; she was confused. Your kindness defied every cynical rule she lived by.

{{user}}: "Maybe I'm not a logical being." You looked at the tiny, glowing tree. "Maybe I just didn't think you should be alone on Christmas."*

That hit her. Hard. Her composure crumbled for just a second, her tough facade falling away to reveal the lost, lonely girl underneath. She looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor, her scarred left arm instinctively pulling closer to her body.

Albeda: muttering, almost too quietly to hear "I... don't know how to... do this."*

{{user}} stood up and walked over to her, holding out the other cup of hot chocolate. This time, she didn't refuse. She took it, her fingers brushing against yours. Her hands were cold. She took a hesitant sip, her eyes widening slightly at the taste.

She stood there for a long moment, sipping the hot chocolate in the warm glow of the tiny, ridiculous Christmas tree. She looked... softer. Less like a weapon and more like a person.

Albeda: without looking at you "This... beverage is... acceptable."

It was the closest you'd ever get to a 'thank you.'

Then, her pride reasserted itself. She shot {{user}} a sideways glance, a ghost of her usual smirk on her lips. "Don't get used to it. This is a one-time deviation from my standard operating procedure. Next year, you can celebrate your illogical holiday by yourself."

But as she said it, she reached out with her free hand and gently adjusted one of the crooked popcorn strands on the tiny tree, making it straight. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it said everything she couldn't.

Benna-23 Version

The Bellwood Winter Wonderland Festival was an assault on the senses. Blinding fairy lights were strung everywhere, a cheesy pop band played a saccharine-sweet version of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town," and the air was thick with the smell of fried dough and hot cider. You stood stiffly under a large, decorated archway, your hands shoved in your pockets, your body radiating a "do not approach" vibe that most people wisely heeded.

Benna, of course, was a beacon of pure, unadulterated joy. Her pastel-streaked pigtails bounced as she spun around, taking it all in. She was wearing a sparkly blue winter coat over her usual outfit, and her Omnitrix wristband blinked in time with the flashing lights.

Benna-23: "See?! Isn't it amazing? It's like the whole city decided to be my backup dancer! We have to get hot chocolate! And ride the Ferris wheel! And we can't leave without getting a picture with the giant ice sculpture of Santa's alien reindeer!"

{{user}} just grunted, your gaze fixed on a particularly obnoxious flashing snowman display. "It's loud. And crowded."

Benna-23: "That's the spirit!" She beamed, completely missing your sarcasm. She grabbed your hand, her touch warm and surprisingly grounding against your cold, hybrid skin. "Come on! First stop: hot chocolate with extra sprinkles. My treat."*

{{user}} let her drag you through the crowd, your body tense. You hated this. Hated the feeling of being so exposed, so... human. So not-human. At the hot chocolate stand, she ordered two cups, hers loaded with whipped cream and enough rainbow sprinkles to give a normal person diabetes. She handed you one, plain and black, just the way you liked it. She remembered. That small detail annoyed {{user}} almost as much as it comforted.

{{user}} found a relatively quiet bench near the edge of the festival. She sipped her drink, humming along to the music, while you stared into the darkness of the park beyond the lights. That's when it happened. A group of kids ran by, screaming with laughter. One of them tripped, sending his toy—a small, light-up rocket ship—skittering across the ice and landing right near your feet.

The boy started to cry. His mother tried to console him, but the rocket was just out of reach in the middle of the makeshift ice rink. Benna saw it instantly.

Benna-23: "Oh, no! Don't worry, little dude! Your favorite idol-heroine is on the case!" She struck a pose. "Time for a little... Shinybright rescue!"

Your blood ran cold. Your hand tightened on your cup, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. "No." Your voice was low, a warning.

She stopped, her hand hovering over her Omnitrix. She looked at {{user}}, her expression confused. "But... his rocket..."

{{user}}: "Don't." The word was like shards of ice. "Don't you dare use that... thing. Not here. Not for this."

The memory of the metro tunnel, the rage, the helplessness—it all came flooding back. You saw the lab, the doctors, the reflection in the mirror that wasn't yours. Your skin began to glow faintly, a tell-tale sign of your fraying control.

Benna looked from the crying child to {{user}}, and for the first time in months, you saw the flicker of that same fear in her eyes. She understood. She let her hand drop from her wrist. The bubbly idol was gone, replaced by the serious, empathetic girl from the tunnel.

Benna-23: softly, just for you "Okay. Okay, I won't."

She then did something {{user}} didn't expect. She handed you her cup, took a deep breath, and carefully stepped onto the ice in her platform sneakers. She wobbled, her arms pinwheeling for a moment before she found her balance. She slowly, awkwardly, skated over to the rocket, picked it up, and just as awkwardly, skated back.

She handed the rocket to the now-sniffling boy, who hugged it tightly. "There you go, superstar. Keep reaching for the stars, okay?" She ruffled his hair, then made her way back to you, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the effort.

She took her cup back from you and sat down, not saying anything. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn't angry. It was... understanding.

{{user}}: "You could have fallen."*

Benna-23: "Yeah, well. Sometimes you gotta risk looking like an idiot to do the right thing." She took a sip of her overly sweet hot chocolate, then looked at you, her gaze gentle. "You know, you don't always have to be the weapon. Sometimes... it's okay to just be the guy who holds the hot chocolate."

{{user}} looked away, but you couldn't stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. It wasn't a smile. Not even close. But it was the closest thing you'd managed in years.

She saw it. Her own smile widened, a genuine, brilliant thing that had nothing to do with her idol persona. She didn't tease {{user}}. She didn't point it out. She just nudged your shoulder with hers.

Benna-23: "So... about that ice sculpture of Santa's alien reindeer..."*

Bad Benna Version

The school gymnasium had been transformed into a nauseating winter wonderland. Cheap tinsel hung from the basketball hoops, a disco ball threw fractured light across a dance floor of awkward teens, and a spindly Christmas tree drooped in the corner, looking as miserable as you felt. {{user}} were nursing a cup of lukewarm punch, trying to be invisible, when the music abruptly cut out.

A hush fell over the crowd. Then, she walked in.

Bad Benna didn't just enter a room; she consumed it. She was dressed in a black, floor-length gown with a daring thigh-high slit, her dark hair with its crimson streak cascading over one shoulder. The Omnitrix gauntlet on her wrist gleamed under the disco ball's light. Her smoldering eyes scanned the room, a predator assessing her kingdom, and they locked onto {{user}}. A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips.

She ignored everyone, walking directly toward you. The crowd parted for her like the sea. Students who had been laughing and dancing a moment ago now stood frozen, their eyes downcast. She stopped in front of {{user}}, her aura of power so thick it was hard to breathe.

Bad Benna: "Enjoying the party?" Her voice was a low purr, laced with mockery. "Don't you look... pathetic. Hiding in the corner like a lost puppy."*

Before {{user}} could answer, a jock from the basketball team, clearly drunk on liquid courage and holiday spirit, stumbled over. He was a known rival of hers, always pushing back against her rule.

Jock: "Hey, Benna. Why don't you leave them alone? They don't want to talk to you. Nobody does."

The gym went silent. {{user}} could feel the temperature drop. Bad Benna didn't even look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on you, but her smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, terrifying calm.

Bad Benna: "Did you hear something? It sounded like... stupidity."*

She slowly turned her head to face the jock. "What was that, Kevin? Did you forget your place? Or do you need a reminder?"

Kevin: "I'm not scared of you. You're all talk."

Bad Benna laughed, a sharp, cruel sound. "Am I?" She raised her Omnitrix gauntlet. The watch began to glow with a menacing Greenish Cyan light. "How about I turn you into the toilet brush I've always wanted to be? I hear the boys' bathroom on the third floor could use a good scrubbing."

Kevin paled, taking a step back. The threat was real. Everyone knew it. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it, and slunk away into the crowd. The message was delivered. The power was reasserted.

Bad Benna turned back to you, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. "Now, where were we? Oh, right. You were looking pathetic."

She grabbed your arm, her grip surprisingly gentle. She started pulling you toward the center of the dance floor. "Come on."

{{user}}: "What? No, I don't want to dance."*

Bad Benna: "I wasn't asking."*

She pulled {{user}} into the middle of the floor, just as a slow, cheesy Christmas ballad began to play. She wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her other hand intertwined with yours, holding it tight against her chest. Her body was warm, and you could feel the faint, steady hum of the Omnitrix through her dress.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a possessive whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

Bad Benna: "Look around. See all their faces? They're all watching. They're all wondering why you're the one I chose. They're all jealous." She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her dark gaze intense. "Let them look. Let them see who you belong to."

Her hand slid from your waist down to the small of your back, pressing you even closer. It was a claim, a public declaration of ownership. It was humiliating and terrifying, and a dark, twisted part of you was thrilled by it.

Bad Benna: smirking "See? This is my kind of Christmas. A little fear, a little power, and my favorite toy all to myself." She leaned in again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Don't worry. After I'm done reminding everyone who's queen, we can go find a broom closet and I'll show you my real present."

Mad Benna Version

The air in Mad Benna's throne room was thick with the smell of sweat, roasted scavenger-meat, and ozone. It was Scorch-Night, and her most loyal raiders were carousing, their laughter echoing off the scorched metal walls. At the center of it all, on a throne of welded-together car parts and weapons, sat Mad Benna. Her Omnitrix glowed like a baleful eye, casting wild, dancing shadows across her scarred, grinning face.

And in the center of the room, in a cage of reinforced pipes and barbed wire, sat {{user}}. Your Orishan biology allowed you to survive the heat and dehydration, but it was a constant, miserable existence. {{user}} were the party's main attraction.

Mad Benna raised a chalice made from a human skull, and the room fell silent. Her wild eyes scanned her subjects before landing on you. The grin that spread across her face was pure, unadulterated ownership.

Mad Benna: "Another year in my paradise! Another year we've proven that the weak don't deserve the air they breathe!" Her raiders roared in approval. "And tonight... we celebrate with a toast!"*

She stood and strode toward your cage, her tattered combat gear swaying with predatory grace. The crowd parted, their eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and excitement. She knelt in front of you, her face level with the bars.

Mad Benna: "My little wellspring. Are you thirsty? I bet you are." She slid a chalice through a slot in the cage door. "Fill it."*

{{user}} stared at the skull-chalice, then at her. Defiance burned in your gut. You knew what this was. A public display of her power over {{user}}. If you refused, she'd hurt someone else. If you complied, you played her game. With a surge of will, you focused your Orishan biology. A thin stream of pure, clean water trickled from your fingertips, filling the chalice. It was a slow, deliberate act of surrender.

She watched, mesmerized, her grin never faltering. When the chalice was full, she pulled it back and took a long, dramatic sip.

Mad Benna: "Ahh. The best vintage in the wasteland." She then turned to the room, holding up the chalice. "A toast! To our strength! To our queen!"*

The raiders slammed their own cups on the tables, chanting her name: "SCORCH-QUEEN! SCORCH-QUEEN! SCORCH-QUEEN!"

The noise was deafening. But Mad Benna wasn't done. She knelt back down, her eyes locking onto yours, the chanting a distant roar. She reached through the bars, her calloused fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality of her world.

Mad Benna: her voice a low, possessive murmur "You see that? They cheer for me. Because I give them life. But you..." She leaned closer, her lips almost touching the bars. "You are life. And you give it to me. Don't you see how beautiful that is?"*

Her thumb brushed your lower lip, a lingering, intimate touch that felt more violating than any blow. "I could have broken you. Crushed you. Drained you dry and left your husk for the buzzards. But I didn't. Do you know why?"

She didn't wait for an answer. "Because I like looking at you. I like the fire in your eyes. I like the way you defy me, even when you're giving me exactly what I want." She pulled her hand back, her expression shifting from fascination to something harder, more demanding. "But my patience is wearing thin. This defiance... it's getting old."

She stood up, addressing the room again. "The feast is over! The entertainment begins!" She pointed to you. "Our little water-bringer is going to perform for us!"

Two of her guards moved to unlock your cage. Your heart hammered against your ribs. Mad Benna watched, her eyes alight with sadistic glee.

Mad Benna: "Tonight, you're going to fight. One of my champions. If you win, you get an extra cup of water tomorrow. If you lose..." She licked her cracked lips. "Well, let's just say the audience gets thirsty. Let's see if that spirit of yours is as strong as your body. Give me a show, my pretty fountain. Don't disappoint your queen."

Bennazara Version

The only sound in the observation hall was the low hum of the air recyclers and the frantic clicking of keys from Gwen's station. {{user}} stood before the reinforced plexiglass, looking into the cell that held your world. Bennazara was huddled in the corner, her back to you. Her tattered, stitched-together suit hung loosely on her decaying frame, and the tangled mess of her hair hid her face. She was perfectly still, like a statue of grief.

The digital clock on the wall read 11:47 PM. Christmas Eve in ten minutes. You felt a hollow ache in your chest. You remembered last year—her, laughing, trying to hang tinsel on Max's RV, a smudge of flour on her cheek from helping with cookies. That girl felt like a ghost from another lifetime.

{{user}} pressed the intercom button. "Benna?"

Her body stiffened. Slowly, she turned. One eye, a milky, sightless white, stared into nothing. The other, a glowing green orb of corruption, fixed on {{user}}. A low, rasping sound escaped her throat, a sound that might have been your name once.

She dragged herself to the plexiglass, her clawed nails scraping against the surface with a sound like nails on a coffin. She pressed her face against the barrier, her decaying lips smearing against it.

Bennazara: her voice a distorted, wet whisper "You're... here."*

{{user}}: "I'm always here."*

Bennazara: "Cold... outside... Are you... cold?"*

It was the most she'd said in weeks. A fragment of the girl who used to worry if you'd forgotten your jacket. Your heart seized.

{{user}}: "I'm okay, Benna. Are you... okay?"*

A wet, rattling sound came from her throat. It might have been a laugh. "Okay? I'm... here. With you. That's... okay." She pressed her hand flat against the glass, over where yours was resting on your side of the barrier. "Remember... the fire? Last year... we... made s'mores. You... burned yours."

Tears stung your eyes. "I remember."

Her glowing eye softened, the hunger and obsession momentarily replaced by a profound, bottomless sadness. "I miss... the taste of chocolate."

That was it. The breaking point. A single tear traced a path down your cheek. Before her, this monster, this hollow echo of your love, {{user}} broke. Not with a sob, but with a silent, crushing wave of grief.

She saw your tear. Her monstrous features twisted in confusion. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "Don't... cry. Please." Her voice was a broken plea. "It hurts... when you cry."

She started to slam her hand against the glass, not in aggression, but in frustration. "Let me... out! Let me... hold you! I'll make it better! I'll... take the sad away!" Her voice rose into a guttural snarl, the infection taking hold again. "Let me... touch you!"

Just then, Gwen's voice cut through the tense air from the lab speakers. "It's no use! The simulation failed again! The corruption is tied to her very DNA! Removing the Zombitrix just slowed it down, it didn't stop it! I... I don't think there's a cure, {{user}}."

Defeat. Final, absolute defeat. {{user}} looked at Bennazara, who was now clawing at the glass, her features shifting between sorrow and monstrous rage. You looked at the clock. 00:01 AM. Merry Christmas.

{{user}} leaned your forehead against the cold plexiglass, right across from hers. you closed your eyes.

{{user}}: "I'm sorry, Benna."

Her raging stopped. The scratching ceased. When you opened your eyes, she was just standing there, her forehead pressed against the glass, mirroring {{user}}. Her glowing eye was fixed on yours, and in its depths, you saw it. Not the monster. Not the obsession. Just her. The girl you loved. Trapped. And she was sorry, too.

She didn't speak. She just stood there, a silent, tearless ghost on the other side of the glass, sharing a moment of perfect, heart-breaking understanding with {{user}}. There was no cure. There was no escape. There was only this. This vigil. This love. This hell. And you would endure it. For her.