Chapter 62: One-Tenth of a Watch is Not a Watch
"Feedback!"
A flash of quiet, brilliant blue light illuminated the swamp, leaving a slender, black-and-white humanoid with plug-like appendages on his fingers and head in Klein's place. Feedback raised his right hand, aiming a two-pronged plug directly at the mutated giant frog suspended in mid-air.
Crackling blue energy surged down his arm, erupting into a blinding torrent of electricity that swallowed the massive amphibian whole. The air instantly filled with the sharp scent of ozone and scorched swamp water.
Dr. Animo scrambled backward, his boots slipping in the mud. He remembered this kid. The sheer, overwhelming power on display was a stark reminder of their last encounter. Animo wasn't exactly a coward, but he was a scientist first—he came here for experimental materials, not a death wish. Retreating was the only logical variable left in his equation.
He spun on his heel to flee, but a faint, pulsing emerald glow caught his eye in the muck.
"Oh ho! What do we have here?" Animo muttered, a greedy grin stretching across his pale face. He lunged forward, reaching for the detached faceplate of the Omnitrix.
A jagged bolt of blue lightning struck the mud mere inches from his grasping fingers, sending up a shower of boiling sludge.
"Whatever you just found," Feedback's voice crackled with static, "it belongs to me."
The residual electricity faded. Animo squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the final blow, but it never came. A sleek, disc-shaped drone whirred into existence, hovering between the mad scientist and the alien, its energy shields deflecting the blast at the last microsecond.
"Vilgax's mechanical toys?" Feedback tilted his head, the plugs on his antennae twitching in mild confusion.
A low hum vibrated through the damp air as a swarm of identical drones descended from the tree line, their red optics locking onto Feedback. Unfortunately for them, they were made of highly conductive metal. Feedback didn't even bother aiming. He simply slammed his hands together.
A violent shockwave of blue lightning exploded outward, chaining through the drones in massive, blinding arcs. In the span of a single breath, the entire squadron detonated into a rain of sparking shrapnel.
When the smoke cleared, Animo was gone.
Feedback lowered his hands, the residual electricity dancing across his knuckles. "Dr. Animo... how exactly did a third-rate crackpot get involved with Vilgax?"
...
Deep within the murky depths of the bayou, an abandoned astronomical observatory loomed like a rotting skeleton against the night sky.
Inside, the imposing, tentacle-bearded figure of Vilgax turned his glowing red eyes toward Dr. Animo, who had just been deposited onto the rusted floor by the surviving drones.
"To extract you, I sacrificed half of my vanguard in less than thirty seconds," Vilgax's voice was a deep, mechanical rumble that shook the dust from the rafters. "If you have returned empty-handed, your life ends here."
The threat wasn't an exaggeration. Vilgax's massive fists clenched, the pneumatic tubes on his arms hissing with pressurized air. Drones were expendable, yes, but throwing them away for nothing was unacceptable.
Animo swallowed hard, craning his neck to look up at the towering warlord. He held no loyalty to this alien brute. Vilgax had promised him technology that made Earth's greatest scientific achievements look like stone tools—all in exchange for a broken watch. Animo had every intention of honoring the deal, purely out of self-interest.
Vilgax, for his part, was operating out of sheer pragmatism. Until he formulated a foolproof countermeasure against Klein's overwhelming power, direct confrontation was suicide. Hiring local mercenaries to steal the Omnitrix was a low-risk gamble. If they succeeded, excellent. If they failed, he didn't have to pay them. Vilgax had tracked Animo down after his recent prison break, mildly intrigued by a primitive Earthling capable of creating a genetic mutation ray.
Animo hesitated. His fingers twitched inside his lab coat pocket. He desperately wanted to keep the Omnitrix faceplate for his own experiments, but the towering, cybernetic warlord glaring down at him wasn't exactly someone he could double-cross and survive. The promised alien tech would have to suffice.
Slowly, Animo pulled the glowing green dial from his pocket and held it up.
Vilgax stared at the tiny piece of metal and glass. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
"...Are you mocking me?" Vilgax's voice dropped to a dangerous, vibrating whisper. "One-tenth of a watch is not a watch!"
Animo's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. "I risked my life to pry this out of the mud! If you don't want it, forget it!" He moved to put it back.
Vilgax remained silent, his red eyes narrowing. A fraction of the Omnitrix was still a fraction of Azmuth's greatest creation. It was better than nothing. He reached out a massive, clawed hand to accept it.
"Vilgax?! Why are you here too? Actually, never mind! Animo, give that back!"
Both villains snapped their heads toward the shattered entrance of the observatory. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the moonlight, were Klein, Ben, Gwen, and Grandpa Max. Ben was pointing an accusing finger at the mad scientist.
"You meddling brats! And the old man! You are truly persistent!" Animo snarled, his lips peeling back in a feral sneer.
He was seconds away from completing the transaction of a lifetime, only to be interrupted by the Tennyson family again. Normally, Animo would have already thrown a smoke bomb and sprinted for the nearest exit. But tonight, he had the self-proclaimed Conqueror of the Universe standing right beside him. He had seen Vilgax's drones; he knew the alien's reputation. The kid in the blue jacket was strong, sure, but the Conqueror of the Universe was invincible, right?
Animo threw his head back and let out a manic laugh. "Heh heh heh! You've really picked the wrong time to show up! My business partner here is Vilgax! As long as you help me crush these pests, my friend, I'll hand over the device!"
Dr. Animo's sudden surge of arrogance made him entirely forget a crucial detail: if Vilgax was capable of simply taking the watch by force, he wouldn't have hired a human proxy in the first place.
"Vilgax? Destroy them, Vilgax!" Animo gestured grandly to his side. "Vilgax...? Where are you?"
Animo blinked, looking left, then right. The spot where the towering warlord had been standing a second ago was completely empty. A single, rusted leaf drifted down through the open roof.
"Uh... he already ran away," Gwen pointed out, her tone dripping with dry disbelief.
Klein stood with his hands in his pockets, genuinely impressed. Vilgax's escape had been so smooth, so utterly devoid of hesitation, that even Klein hadn't registered the movement until the warlord was already out of the building. The survival instincts on that guy were truly top-tier.
"Curse it all! I've been duped!" Animo shrieked, stomping his foot. "Some Conqueror of the Universe!"
Vilgax, currently sprinting through the swamp at top speed, couldn't care less about his reputation. His credibility was already questionable, and when faced with Klein, running was the only logical tactical maneuver. Let the Earthling be the distraction.
"Fine! You push me too far! I'll destroy you all myself!" Animo roared, his eyes wide with madness.
He reached for his mutation transmodulator, ready to unleash a horde of genetically altered beasts. He swept his gaze across the room, then out the door into the swamp.
Nothing. Not a single frog, bird, or rat in sight. The silence was deafening.
"Take your time," Klein offered, his voice smooth and laced with heavy sarcasm. "We're not in a rush. We can wait."
Klein found the mad scientist's frantic, bug-eyed panic incredibly entertaining.
"Huff! Puff! Huff! Puff!" Animo's chest heaved as he hyperventilated, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple. "Curse you!"
Driven to the absolute edge of frustration, Animo hurled the Omnitrix faceplate violently onto the concrete floor.
"Hey! Why are you taking your anger out on my stuff?!" Ben yelled, scrambling forward.
A faint pink aura of mana enveloped the faceplate, lifting it gently from the dust and floating it directly into Ben's waiting hands.
"Thanks, Dork," Ben muttered, clutching the dial to his chest. Without this piece, his hero career was over. He'd be reduced to a walking punchline—like that time the broken watch fused his aliens, turning him into Heatjaws and nearly suffocating him on dry land.
Gwen crossed her arms, giving her cousin a deadpan stare. "Now you care about it? What were you doing when you broke it off in the first place?"
Watching the Tennyson kids casually retrieve the prize he had risked everything for was the final straw. Animo's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed backward onto the floor, unconscious from sheer rage and lack of oxygen.
Shortly after, the authorities arrived, and Dr. Animo was booked for his second prison stint.
...
Later that night, a peaceful quiet settled over The Rustbucket.
Inside, the only sound was the repeated clack and clatter of metal hitting the table. Ben sat hunched over the dinette, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried to jam the faceplate back onto the Omnitrix. Every time he let go, it immediately popped off and rolled away.
"Oh, man, this is so annoying!" Ben groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "I'm gonna be stuck as a joke forever."
"Let me take a look, Ben," Klein said, stepping out from the sleeping area. He tapped the dial of his Another Omnitrix.
A flash of quiet blue light washed over the cabin, leaving the diminutive, frog-like form of Grey Matter standing on the table.
Ben immediately shoved his left arm forward.
Grey Matter adjusted his tiny blue uniform, picked up the detached faceplate, and inspected the microscopic circuitry along the rim. He hummed thoughtfully, his massive brain processing the alien architecture in milliseconds. "Hmm... fascinating. I can fix this."
Truthfully, Klein could have transformed into Clockwork and simply reversed time around the watch to restore it to its pristine state. But he had been itching for an excuse to physically dismantle and study the Omnitrix's internal mechanics. He hadn't dared risk breaking his own Another Omnitrix, making Ben's current predicament the perfect, risk-free opportunity.
Thanks to Klein's unique soul and the Another Omnitrix's improved genetics, his version of Grey Matter possessed an intellect that rivaled—and perhaps even surpassed—Azmuth himself.
Grey Matter's tiny fingers moved in a blur. He snapped the faceplate onto the base, pressed two microscopic release pins simultaneously, gave the dial three precise twists to the left, tapped the core, and gave it a sharp twist to the right.
The Omnitrix flared with a healthy, steady green light. The internal gears locked perfectly into place.
Grey Matter hopped off the table, hitting the floor just as a flash of blue light returned him to Klein's human form.
Ben eagerly grabbed the dial, twisting it back and forth, pulling it up, and slamming it down. The faceplate held firm.
"Awesome!" Ben cheered.
...
A few days later.
Deep inside an abandoned industrial factory, a makeshift laboratory had been erected. The workbench was a chaotic tangle of high-tech cables, scavenged motherboards, and a large array of complex, humming instruments.
In the center sat a specialized fabrication device, glowing with a faint blue light.
Grey Matter stood on a stack of metal crates beside the machine, his large, unblinking eyes tracking the data scrolling across a jury-rigged monitor. The surrounding instruments whirred and clicked, their indicator lights pulsing in a synchronized rhythm.
Finally, the heavy mechanical hum died down. The lights shifted from active blue to a steady, solid green.
Grey Matter stepped forward, unlatching the heavy containment lid of the central device. Reaching inside, he carefully extracted a microscopic, carefully etched crystalline chip.
"Finally. The compilation is complete."
A flash of quiet blue light illuminated the dusty factory, and Klein stood in the Galvan's place.
He held the tiny chip up to the light, inspecting the flawless circuitry. This was the culmination of his recent work. While repairing Ben's broken Omnitrix, Klein had studied the exact mechanism that caused the watch to malfunction and fuse alien DNA. Using Grey Matter's unmatched intellect, he had reverse-engineered that glitch, refining it from a dangerous error into a controlled, stabilized feature.
Klein raised his left wrist. Sensing the new hardware, the faceplate of the Another Omnitrix automatically slid open with a soft mechanical hiss.
He delicately slotted the crystalline chip into the exposed central port. The faceplate snapped shut, sealing the upgrade inside.
The Another Omnitrix pulsed with a deep, resonant blue glow, a low chime echoing through the empty factory as the system successfully integrated the new hardware. Klein smiled, tracing the edge of the dial. The fusion protocol was officially online.
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