Chapter Eight: The World Blended Seamlessly

Marshall and Peter made it back to the campsite just as the first hints of dawn began to creep through the trees. Everything looked untouched, as if the chaos of the night hadn't happened. His parents' soft snores drifted from the larger tent, and the campsite glowed faintly in the cool morning light.

"Alright," Marshall whispered, nudging Peter toward his tent. "Go to bed before my mom wakes up and starts asking why you look like you saw a ghost."

Peter hesitated, glancing nervously over his shoulder toward the woods. "Are you sure those things aren't coming back?"

Marshall nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure himself. "Yeah. I toasted them good. If there's more, I'll deal with it. Just go to sleep."

Peter gave him a long look, his eyes filled with unspoken questions. Finally, he nodded and slipped into his tent, zipping it shut behind him.

Marshall sighed and ducked into his own tent, collapsing onto his sleeping bag. He couldn't sleep, though. His thoughts churned like a storm, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his chest.

"I almost got Spider-Man killed," he muttered under his breath.

The realization hit him harder each time he thought about it. Peter Parker—one of the most important heroes in the MCU—had almost died because of him. He sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"No Spider-Man means no one to stop half the stuff that's coming," he murmured. "The MCU without Spider-Man? Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

He stared at the Omnitrix, its faint green glow pulsing rhythmically. "I've gotta be more careful. I'm all for changing some things, but these are people's lives. I can't screw this up."

Fiddling with the Omnitrix, he began scrolling through the holographic display. Each alien symbol flickered in the dim light, their rotating projections casting strange shadows.

The first alien silhouette was sleek and crystalline, its entire body shimmering with sharp angles and facets. Its glowing outline was unmistakable.

"Diamondhead," Marshall muttered, squinting at the projection. "You're definitely a tank. Pure crystal armor, can grow more crystals, and hurl shards like missiles. Probably gonna be useful for anything that punches harder than me. I just hope I don't accidentally skewer someone."

He scrolled to the next form, which looked aquatic, with broad, fin-like appendages and a streamlined frame.

"Water Hazard," he murmured, tilting his head. "You're like a portable fire extinguisher. Water cannons, hydro blasts, and, what, breathing underwater? Guess that's useful if I need to fight something in the Hudson."

The next silhouette made him grin—a small, humanoid figure with exaggerated proportions and glowing eyes.

"Echo Echo," Marshall said with a chuckle. "Soundwaves, duplication… Man, you're gonna be fun. I can already imagine the jokes. 'Now there's two of me!'"

He flicked to the next, his eyes widening slightly as he studied the feral, hunched creature with sharp claws and a mane-like structure around its head.

"Wildmutt," Marshall muttered. "No eyes, huh? That's gonna be weird. But you're fast, strong, and… smell things? Great. Just what I need: a super nose to go with a swampy alien form."

The following silhouette was lean and humanoid, with coiled wires extending from its hands and glowing circuits running across its body.

"Feedback," Marshall whispered, staring at the projection. "You absorb energy, huh? Electric blasts, energy beams… and you can shoot them back. Yeah, you're definitely a game-changer."

He scrolled again, landing on a figure with elongated legs and arms, its frame built for pure speed.

"XLR8," he whispered, his excitement growing. "I've always wanted superspeed. You're definitely gonna come in handy."

The next alien made him pause. It was hulking, its muscular frame looking like a cross between an ogre and a tank.

"Gax," Marshall murmured. "Big guy. Heavy hitter. Not subtle, but when am I ever gonna need subtle with something like this?"

The following projection was tiny, almost comically small compared to the others, with a bulbous head and gangly limbs.

"Gray Matter," Marshall said with a smirk. "Super genius in a bite-sized package. If I ever need to tech my way out of a problem, you're my guy."

The next figure was tall and leafy, with vines extending from its limbs and a glowing core in its chest.

"Swampfire," Marshall muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Already know you. Fire powers, plant manipulation… and an absolutely terrible smell."

The final alien was ghostly, its translucent wings and skeletal body glowing faintly.

"Big Chill," Marshall whispered, staring at the projection. "Ice breath, freezing powers… Yeah, you're definitely getting a trial run soon. Flying around invisible? Sign me up."

Marshall let the projection fade, the Omnitrix returning to its idle glow. "You're all insane," he muttered, leaning back. "But I guess I need insane to survive whatever's coming."

His mind drifted back to the battle in the woods, the screech of the droids and the glowing pod. The memory sent a shiver down his spine.

"Forever Knights. Plumbers. Villains," he murmured. "How am I supposed to deal with all of this?"

He leaned against the wall of the tent, his thoughts swirling. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the Omnitrix, before exhaustion finally pulled him into a fitful sleep.

When Marshall opened his eyes, he wasn't in his tent anymore.

The blinding white light stretched endlessly in every direction, the sterile void feeling both familiar and deeply unsettling. He groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "Rob?"

"Hello, Marshall!" came the Rob's cheerful, sing-song voice.

Marshall turned sharply to see the Rob standing a few feet away, his grin as smug and infuriating as ever.

"Why didn't you warn me?" Marshall demanded, stepping closer.

The Rob tilted his head innocently. "Warn you? About what?"

Marshall's fists clenched. "About the droids, Rob! You didn't tell me that stuff from Ben 10 was going to follow me into the MCU!"

The Rob chuckled, his grin widening. "Ah, yes. That. Fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun?!" Marshall's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "I almost got Peter killed! You know, Spider-Man? Kind of important to this world? You blended Ben 10 into the MCU without telling me!"

The Rob shrugged, unbothered. "I only did it to have fun. I blended the worlds seamlessly into one another. Hardly noticeable, really." He waved a hand dismissively. "Forever Knights, Plumbers, all the villains that made Ben the hero he is—they're here now, stitched right into the fabric of this world. Isn't it brilliant?

Marshall glared. "What about allies? Are they here too?"

The Rob smirked. "Oh, of course. The Plumbers, old mentors, even some concepts you might recognize. They've always been part of this world now. Seamless. The people here will never question their existence—it's just how their world works now."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Marshall snapped.

The Rob's grin widened, his tone sharp. "I don't have to tell you anything. You're here for my entertainment. You mortals always think you're entitled to answers. Lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for your stubborn behavior. But do watch your tongue, boy."

The white room began to dissolve, the edges of the void collapsing in on themselves. The Rob's voice echoed around him, light and carefree.

"Good luck, Marshall. I'll be watching."

Marshall woke with a start, his heart pounding. The Rob's words echoed in his mind, each one pressing down on him like a weight.

"For better or worse," he muttered, glancing at the Omnitrix, "this is my world now."

He glanced toward Peter's tent, where soft snores drifted out. For now, the world was quiet again. But Marshall knew it wouldn't stay that way.

This was only the beginning.

Marshall jolted awake, his chest heaving. The tent's fabric glowed softly as the morning light seeped in, but the weight of his dream still clung to him. He glanced at the Omnitrix, its faint green glow steady, almost calm—as if it wasn't the most disruptive thing in his life right now. The dream with the Rob replayed in his head, the god's smug grin and casual dismissal of the chaos he'd unleashed on this world.

Marshall sat up, rubbing his temples. He had the Omnitrix. He had a head start. But none of that mattered if he didn't have a plan.

"I need to survive this world," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Money. Allies. A place to work from. And I need to figure out how to stop all the crap Rob dumped into this universe."

He held up his wrist, staring at the watch. "I've got this thing, but it's not enough. I can't just rely on the Omnitrix for everything. I need resources. If I want to make real changes, I need to play this world's game—and that means money. Stark-level money."

The idea wasn't just a whim. Marshall's intelligence, even at its current level, was already giving him ideas. He could revolutionize technology, just like Tony Stark. Maybe even surpass him, if he played his cards right. Clean energy, advanced AI, robotics—it wasn't just a way to survive; it was a way to thrive.

"And then there's allies," he continued, his thoughts racing. "I can't do this alone. Peter's a start, but he's just a kid right now. I'll need more than him. People I can trust. People who won't freak out the second something alien shows up."

His mind drifted to the other potential players in the MCU. Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton. Bruce Banner. Steve Rogers was still on ice, but he'd thaw out eventually. And then there were the wild cards—the Plumbers, maybe even a version of Ben Tennyson himself, if Rob had been feeling especially chaotic.

"I need to prepare for all of it," Marshall said firmly. "And that means I need a base of operations. Somewhere I can work, plan, and stay under the radar. No way am I doing this out of a tent."

As his plan began to take shape in his mind, Peter's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hey, Marshall, you awake in there?"

Marshall sighed and pushed himself up, poking his head out of the tent. Peter was standing a few feet away, still in his pajamas, holding a plate of pancakes.

"You've been brooding in there forever," Peter said, frowning. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not having some kind of midlife crisis, are you?"

Marshall smirked, stepping out of the tent. "I'm fine, Pete. Just thinking about my next move."

Peter handed him a pancake and sat down on a nearby log. "Next move? You sound like you're planning to fight a supervillain or something."

Marshall froze for a split second before forcing a laugh. "Nothing that dramatic. Just thinking about how to get ahead in this crazy world."

Peter gave him a skeptical look. "You've been weird ever since we found that… thing in the woods. I mean, I get it—it was freaky—but you're acting like you're carrying the weight of the world or something."

Marshall sat down beside him, taking a bite of the pancake. "Maybe I am. Someone's gotta look out for you, right? You almost got robot-sliced last night."

Peter frowned. "I didn't ask for that. And I definitely don't need you treating me like I'm a baby. I'm not your sidekick or something."

Marshall raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, come on. Think about it. I'm Batman, and you're Robin. The dynamic duo. Saving the day, fighting bad guys—sounds cool, right?"

Peter groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Oh my God, no. I'm not your Robin. I'm not anyone's Robin."

"Why not?" Marshall teased, nudging him. "You'd make a great sidekick. You're scrappy, you ask a million questions, and you're already pretty good at running away from danger."

Peter shot him a glare. "You're hilarious. But if anyone's gonna be Robin, it's you. You're the one with the fancy alien watch."

Marshall laughed, leaning back against the log. "Fair point. But seriously, Pete, you've gotta be careful. There's a lot more going on than you realize."

Peter tilted his head, his expression softening. "Like what?"

Marshall hesitated. He couldn't tell Peter everything—not yet. The kid didn't know he was destined to become one of the greatest heroes in this world. And if Marshall messed up the timeline too much, who knew what kind of ripple effects it would have?

"Just… stuff," Marshall said finally. "Stuff I need to figure out. But don't worry—I've got it under control."

Peter didn't look convinced, but he shrugged. "Fine. Just don't get all weird on me, okay? You're already enough of a weirdo."

Marshall smirked. "Takes one to know one."

As Peter went back to eating his pancake, Marshall leaned back, staring up at the sky. His plan was coming together, but there were still so many unknowns. He needed money, allies, a base, and a way to track down threats before they could do any real damage.

And then there was Kevin Levin.

"If Kevin's here," Marshall thought, his expression darkening, "I need to find him before he finds me. Or worse, before he hurts someone else."

The Omnitrix pulsed faintly on his wrist, as if it shared his determination. For now, the campsite was peaceful, the sounds of the forest blending with Peter's quiet grumbles about being called a sidekick.

But Marshall knew the peace wouldn't last. He had work to do, and he couldn't afford to waste any more time.

This world needed a hero—or maybe something a little more clever than that. And Marshall was ready to rise to the challenge.