"So," Vilgax said, his deep voice rumbling through the training hall like distant thunder. "We have an agreement?"
When he spoke those words, murderous intent radiated from every fiber of his being. The robot drones standing behind him, dozens of identical mechanical soldiers, all turned their optical sensors toward Dr. Animo, weapons tracking his every movement.
The threat was unmistakable.
Sweat beaded on Dr. Animo's pale forehead, trickling down past his goggles. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Of, of course, Vilgax! Absolutely! We'll work together to eliminate that brat Asher!"
That insufferable little pest with his alien watch.
"You don't harbor any ideas about the Omnitrix, do you, Doctor?" Vilgax's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, his tone deceptively calm. The way a predator sounds right before it strikes. "I would hate for there to be... misunderstandingsbetween us."
"No! No ideas at all!" Dr. Animo waved his hands frantically, shaking his head so hard his helmet antenna wobbled. "None whatsoever!"
Even if he'd had ambitions about the Omnitrix before, and he absolutely had, those dreams died the moment Vilgax's drones dragged him onto this warship. You didn't argue with someone who could crush your skull like an overripe melon.
"The Omnitrix belongs to me." Vilgax stated it like an immutable law of physics. "The planet Earth, however... that I will grant to you."
He spoke like a conquering emperor dividing spoils before the battle even began, utterly confident in his inevitable victory. "When this is finished, everything on that pathetic little world will be yours to do with as you please."
"Really?" Dr. Animo's eyes widened behind his goggles, a spark of genuine excitement breaking through his fear. "You truly mean that?"
"Yes. It will be yours."
Vilgax nodded slowly, his expression never changing from that cold, calculating mask.
A simple strategy, he thought with contempt. Threaten the weak-willed fool with violence, then dangle a prize before his greedy eyes. Carrot and stick. These humans are so pathetically easy to manipulate.
As for whether he'd actually keep that promise after claiming the Omnitrix?
Amusing.
Of course Earth would belong to Dr. Animo. Right up until the moment Vilgax decided to take it back, along with the doctor's miserable life. Once he wore the Omnitrix and commanded its full power, crushing one insignificant human scientist would be effortless. Almost boring.
Let him believe his lies. Let him do the work. Then dispose of him like the tool he is.
Dr. Animo could see the calculation behind those burning red eyes. He wasn't stupid, mad, perhaps, but not stupid. He understood exactly what Vilgax was thinking.
But what choice did he have?
Can't fight him. Can't escape him. Can only play along and hope for the best.
Better to pretend ignorance and live a little longer than to challenge Vilgax and die immediately.
Rolling his eyes behind his goggles where the warlord couldn't see, Dr. Animo redirected his thoughts toward a more satisfying target. That insufferable Asher Tennyson and his alien watch. The boy who'd humiliated him repeatedly, destroyed his experiments, ruined his plans...
"So, Vilgax!" Dr. Animo rubbed his hands together eagerly, his theatrical nature reasserting itself. "When do we begin our assault on Asher? How about right now? Strike while they're complacent!"
"Patience."
Vilgax flexed his massive arms, muscles rippling beneath his armor-plated skin like coiled steel cables. He radiated raw physical power, twelve feet of alien muscle and battle-hardened brutality. "I've only recently recovered from my injuries. I still need time to adapt to my current physical condition. Let the Tennyson family fear for a few more days. Anticipation makes prey all the more desperate."
His tone carried dark satisfaction. "When I'm ready, then it will be their turn to die."
The words dripped with cold certainty. Not bragging. Not hope. Just stating facts.
With that, Vilgax turned and strode toward the training facility's entrance, Dr. Animo scurrying after him like a nervous lab rat.
Inside the training hall itself, Dr. Animo stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping open.
"Is that, is that a Four Arms?!" He stared in disbelief at the assembled aliens. "And an alien covered in flames! That crystalline being, Diamondhead?! And what is that, some kind of prehistoric reptilian hybrid?!"
The training hall was massive, easily the size of three football fields, and filled with alien creatures. But not just any aliens. These were members of the same species that made up Asher's Omnitrix arsenal. Tetramands. Pyronites. Petrosapiens. A living catalog of the watch's genetic samples.
And every single one of them looked absolutely terrified.
They huddled in small groups, kept in line by hovering security drones, their eyes constantly darting toward the towering figure of Vilgax with barely suppressed fear.
"My training method is quite simple," Vilgax growled, cracking his knuckles with sounds like breaking stone. "You will use your Transmodulator to enhance these specimens, making them stronger, faster, more durable. Then I will fight them. Again and again. Until I've memorized every technique, every weakness, every possible attack pattern that these species can produce."
He bared his teeth in something that might have been a smile if it held any warmth whatsoever. "By the time I face the boy, I will know how to counter every single one of his alien forms. I will be prepared for anything his Omnitrix can produce."
This was the most brutal, efficient training regimen imaginable. Live combat against actual members of every species in the Omnitrix. No simulations. No holding back. Pure, unfiltered battle experience against every possible enemy.
"Brilliant!" Dr. Animo breathed, his scientific mind immediately grasping the genius of it. "Systematic combat analysis against primary source specimens! Why didn't I think of that?"
Then reality set in. "But, but where did you even get all these aliens? Some of these species are incredibly rare!"
"I am Vilgax."
That was apparently all the explanation necessary. When you were the most feared warlord in three galaxies, acquisition of rare specimens was merely a matter of sending your drones to collect them.
"Activate your device." It wasn't a request.
"Right! Yes! Of course!" Dr. Animo adjusted his helmet nervously, the Transmodulator's antenna crackling with energy. "Initiating genetic enhancement sequence now!"
Red beams of mutagenic energy lanced out from his helmet, striking the nearest Tetramand. The Four-Armed alien roared as his muscles swelled grotesquely, bones thickening, strength multiplying several times over in seconds.
Vilgax watched with cold satisfaction as his training partner was upgraded to combat specifications.
In the coming days, his power would grow exponentially. Every fighting style, every tactical advantage, every weakness of Asher's alien forms would be laid bare before him.
The boy had no idea what was coming.
Meanwhile, back on Earth, the Rust Bucket rumbled along the highway toward their next destination.
Day one of the resumed road trip passed without incident.
It was peaceful. Almost unnervingly so. The kind of calm that makes you suspicious when you're used to fighting for your life.
Everyone except Asher and Max seemed to relax, letting their guards down as the miles rolled by. Ben played his handheld games. Gwen read her books. They stopped at diners and tourist traps, enjoying the simple pleasures of a normal summer vacation.
Ben's track record of constant victories, Asher's track record, really, since he'd never actually lost a real battle, had created a dangerous sense of invincibility in the others. In their minds, Asher was practically unbeatable.
An undefeated myth.
Vilgax felt like some distant, abstract threat. A name they'd heard but never truly faced. Just another villain who'd inevitably fall before Asher's alien forms like all the others.
Only Asher and Max remained vigilant, their trained instincts screaming warnings that everyone else seemed deaf to.
Day two arrived with equally perfect weather and equally perfect peace.
They visited a water park. Ate at local restaurants. Ben insisted on trying every arcade they passed. Gwen found a bookstore that sold magic-themed novels and bought three. Max indulged them both, happy to see his grandchildren enjoying themselves.
Still no attacks. No robot drones. No mad scientists or ability criminals. Not even a random alien sighting.
It felt wrong.
"Why hasn't he made a move?" Asher muttered, staring out the RV window at passing trees. "According to the timeline I remember from the show, Vilgax should have already recovered by now. He should be actively planning something."
But the notorious warlord remained eerily silent. No attacks. No reconnaissance. Nothing.
What's changed? Why is the plot diverging from what I know?
What Asher didn't realize, what he couldn't know, was that Vilgax had indeed changed his approach. The original timeline's Vilgax had relied purely on his natural abilities and combat experience, never bothering with systematic training.
After all, when you're a Chimera Sui Generis with natural superhuman strength and centuries of conquest under your belt, why waste time practicing?
But Asher's unexpected combat prowess had given Vilgax pause. The boy shouldn't have been this skilled. Shouldn't have been this dangerous. The discrepancy made Vilgax cautious, a rare state for the warlord, and caution meant preparation.
Like Frieza from Dragon Ball, Vilgax had never needed to train a day in his life. Raw talent and species advantages had always been enough.
Until now.
Now he was training. Seriously training. And when someone with Vilgax's natural abilities actually trained?
The results would be catastrophic.
"Asher!" Ben's voice cut through his brooding thoughts. "Come on, there's a haunted house attraction! Let's check it out!"
In the distance, a garish carnival attraction loomed, painted zombies and fake blood and probably teenagers in masks jumping out at you. The kind of thing that was fun precisely because it wasn't actually dangerous.
The absent-minded Asher glanced up and responded halfheartedly. "Yeah... sure. Whatever."
He followed Ben and the others into the haunted house, but his mind remained elsewhere. Calculating. Worrying. Trying to figure out what Vilgax's angle was.
Days three and four continued the same pattern.
Peaceful. Normal. Almost aggressively mundane.
Eventually, even Asher's paranoia began to waver. Maybe he was overthinking this. Maybe Vilgax was just laying low for completely different reasons. Maybe the universe didn't revolve around him quite as much as he thought.
He started actually enjoying the vacation. Training still happened every morning, that was non-negotiable, but afterward, he let himself relax. Explored towns with Ben and Gwen. Tried local foods. Even played a few arcade games, though Ben completely destroyed him at everything.
The three cousins fell into an easy rhythm. The constant tension that had defined their lives since summer began finally eased.
It almost felt like being normal kids again.
Almost.
Early morning, five days after Dr. Animo's rescue.
Asher woke first, as always. Years of training had programmed his body to rise with the dawn whether he wanted to or not.
He washed up, grabbed a quick breakfast, did his morning exercises. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Stretches to keep his muscles limber and his reflexes sharp. Even with the Omnitrix, his human body needed maintenance.
After working up a decent sweat, Asher showered and changed into fresh clothes. Still early. Ben and Gwen would sleep for another hour at least.
Might as well see what's on TV.
He settled onto the RV's worn couch, grabbed the remote, and flipped through channels. Morning talk shows. News broadcasts. Infomercials. Weather reports. The usual wasteland of early morning television.
Then, suddenly, the picture cut away.
"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for breaking news."
A professional-looking reporter in a pressed suit appeared on screen, standing in front of what looked like a burning bank building. Emergency lights flashed in the background. Police cars formed a perimeter.
"Just minutes ago, a group of heavily armed robbers attacked the First National Bank on Highway 27. The suspects are armed with what appear to be advanced energy weapons and have taken an armored truck full of cash. They are currently fleeing eastbound on the interstate. Police are in pursuit, but the weapons these criminals possess are far beyond standard firearms. We're advising all civilians to avoid Highway 27 and, "
Asher sat up straighter, his exhaustion vanishing instantly.
Finally.
He felt an almost disturbing surge of relief. Not because people were in danger, he wasn't that far gone, but because the universe was finally making sense again.
This was Gotham City. This was how things were supposed to work. Constant chaos. Villains causing trouble. Heroes needed to stop them.
The peaceful vacation had been nice, but it had felt fundamentally wrong. Like waiting for a shoe to drop that never came.
"Now this," Asher muttered, a grim smile crossing his face, "this feels right."
He stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and rolled his neck until it popped. Adrenaline was already flooding his system, sharpening his focus.
Time to get to work.
The Omnitrix on his wrist pulsed with soft green light, ready and waiting.
"An alien hero can't just sit around when people need help," Asher said to the empty RV, his voice taking on that heroic edge he'd cultivated over the summer. "Let's go crash a getaway."
He kicked open the RV's door and jumped out into the morning sunlight, already running toward the highway.
Time to remind the criminal underworld why they should be afraid.