The Consequences of Being a Hero

[Ben 10 Dimension]
[Earth]

It was a warm summer's evening, the fireflies buzzed all around as a single mother sat on her porch, watching the sun slowly set as her son, a young boy runs around, laughing, smiling and just being generally happy as he chased and danced around with the glowing bugs.

The boy was pale, caucasian, about as white as a ghost, needless to say. He had very little distinct facial features, but his green eyes shined in the rising moon's light, it was almost magical. Almost being the operative word, because it was time to say farewell to the fireflies, and head inside. He ran to the porch and into his mother's arms, excited as can be. "Ma, did ya see me?! Did ya see me, Ma? Didja?!" The boy asked with a smile on his face.

The mother smiled, holding her son as she carried him inside. "Yes, my little Scotty, I saw. You're always so hyperactive at night, but the moment you tire yourself out, it'll be sweet dreams for the whole night," The mother opened the front door and walked inside, closing the door behind her and setting the boy on the couch. "But, that's assuming you'll go to sleep, and I know ya won't." The mother remarked with a grin, ruffling her son's brown hair.

The boy chuckled and grabbed a remote, turning on the TV as the mother walked to the kitchen and began to clean the dishes. Soon enough, the sound of a news broadcast began to play, and the mother could only smirk and roll her eyes. 'My baby sure loves to be informed, just like his grandma.' The mother thought.

The boy sat on the couch, crossing his legs as he listened intently. "Good evening, I'm Will Harangue, and we'll be bringing you the news tonight. First up, there was yet another wildfire in Yosemite National Park, caused by a band of terrorists known as the 'Forever Knights'. The second major wildfire to occur, unlike the devastating wildfire that plagued it five years ago, along with a robot attack. Some have made claims that this strange swampy superhero, calling himself by the moniker 'Swampfire', was on the scene, attacking the terrorists and absorbing the flames, some reports even go as far as to imply he planted seeds to try and restore the damage that had been done. If you ask me, these alien 'heroes' are menaces to society, anywhere they go it's destruction on all fronts, and don't get me started--"

Scott rolled his eyes, seeming annoyed. "Man, this Willy guy is always so mean! At least Swampfire showed up to help, while you sit at your fancy big city desk and push fancy legal papers and polish the specs on yer face ta look purdy." Scott remarked, blowing a raspberry at the man on TV.

A deep booming laugh echoed across the house, revealing a tall, rotund, but incredibly muscular man, looking down at the boy with a smile. He was dressed in a green flannel dress shirt and dark blue overalls. "Ain't that the truth, son. You have your fun already?" The man asked, his voice sounding heavy and tough.

Scott looked up and smiled from ear to ear. "Hey pops, yeah I had my fun. Just watching more stories about the alien superheroes before bed. Man, they rule!" Scott cheered.

The man laughed again, moving to the kitchen as he kissed his wife on the cheek. "He's real excited tonight, think he knows something we don't?" The man asked, a sense of whimsy in his tone.

The woman smiled and pat the man on the back. "He seems to really like those alien things savin' people, I guess it was bound to happen in a world like ours. Anything's possible, I 'spose." The woman responded.

Soon enough, they looked over at their son, seeing him get closer to the screen. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and everyone else watching this broadcast. We have a special announcement, and it does pertain to these alien 'heroes' you all love so much. An anonymous source sent in a compilation of clips, each one showing off a random assortment of these aliens, and has claimed to have found the individual behind all these creatures," there was silence, only a few murmurs from within the studio, and Scott was intrigued to see where this could go. "Yes, you heard me right, everyone. It's not multiple individuals involved, it's one person. We'll play the clip now, and at the end, we'll show the image of the man behind these alien monsters." Will finished up.

The man and woman looked at each other, just as curious about the broadcast as their son, but they chalked it up to propaganda. If it truly was one man behind all those aliens, surely they would've come out about it at some point. Right?

They looked over at their son, his eyes going wide as he saw numerous aliens moving around in the video. He saw a giant eyeless orange dog, running across a river in the woods in broad daylight. He saw a large rotund creature with orange shell plating across its body. He saw Swampfire, sprouting vines from his back like tendrils. He saw numerous small white creatures, running and leaping everywhere, shouting and duplicating. He saw a bunch of aliens, each one brandishing the same green hourglass badge.

Scott wasn't aware that someone else was talking in the midst of the clips, but at some point, Scott finally snapped back to reality, as if he was in a trance. He saw the clips come to an end, only to show a photo of an individual. In the photo was a fifteen-year old boy with green eyes and brown hair, dressed in a green biker jacket, blue jeans, and had a green watch with that same hourglass emblem on it.

"All of these alien heroes are one man, one man who has dedicated his life to stopping evil at all costs. His name, is Ben Tennyson." The unknown voice remarked.

Scott stared at the screen, his mouth opened agape, his eyes wider than they ever were before, his heart was pounding, and before he knew it, Scott found the strength to get up, look at his parents, and fell backwards, going unconscious.

***

The next morning, Scott slowly woke up, only to find out he was in bed. Scott groaned softly, rubbing his head and got up, leaving his room and going downstairs. He notices that his mom was watching the news, the same broadcast that came on last night. "Ma?" Scott called out.

The woman jumped, turning towards her son as she walks up to him, holding him in her arms. "Hey hon, did you sleep well?" she asked.

Scott hugged his mother and smiled. "I'm alright. I do feel pretty great this morning, but last night, was probably the best night ever." Scott remarked.

The mother let her son go and Scott was a bit surprised, if not confused. His mother's eyes looked wet, and the little makeup she had on, was running, streaming down her face. "Ma, is everything okay?" Scott asked.

The mother sniffed and kept her smile. "Why don't you eat some breakfast and get ready for school. I need to uh... talk with your father real quick." The mother responded, dismissing her son's question.

Scott looked back at his mom and raised an eyebrow. "I don't go to school, I'm homeschooled... Something ain't--"

There was a scream, a scream that could only be described as one of sheer terror, and utter despair. "Ma?!" Scott called out.

The sound of a struggle could be heard, along with some inhuman noises, too. It almost sounded like the chittering of some kind of bug, but it wasn't any bug Scott ever heard of. Scott was terrified, he didn't know what to do... well, he did know what he wanted to do, but he didn't know if he should, glancing at the steak knife on his dad's untouched plate.

The sound of stuff breaking, and the cracking of wood echoed out, and Scott decided to at least try and help. Scott grabbed the steak knife and hurried up the stairs, noticing that the hallway was a total disaster. The picture frames were shattered, there was claw marks on the walls, and a strange green goo that clung to the ceiling. Scott felt his breath catch in his throat, and tried to muster the courage to move. He just barely managed to do just that, tears slowly welled up in his eyes as he made it to his parents' bedroom.

Scott, without thinking, ran inside. His eyes went wide, he felt confused, angered, upset, and horrified by the scene. Of all the things he's seen, like crazy supervillains attacking on the regular, or alien superheroes, this was somehow, even stranger.

The sight before him reeked of death. His father laid on the floor, unmoving, his chest clawed at, bleeding. He was pale, incredibly pale, like death just took him before he could attempt a rescue. He looked to his side, noticing three larger men, hunched over what looked like his mother. She was clearly dead, though she looked as if she was drained of everything she had. Scott wasn't aware of what was happening, but he felt his body trembling. He felt a pit the size of the moon drop in his stomach, he felt sick. He felt scared.

The three individuals soon stood up, and immediately turned around, staring at the child. The creatures looked like aliens of some kind, specifically like horse flies, or something similar. Their bodies were covered in a sleek black chitin, and even wore armor to some extent. They had these decrepit and malformed wings, and these huge bulbous fly-like eyes, each one shining blue as they chittered, clicked and hissed. They also had noticeable holes in parts of their body, though nothing about the body's interior could be seen.

Scott knew this was a losing fight, should he decide to fight in the first place. Scott might've been a child, but he wasn't stupid. Sure, he didn't want to leave his parents, even if they were already gone, but he needed to leave. He needed to run. He needed to find help.

One of the creatures walked slowly in his direction, seeming to be more careful with its body language. Scott backed up, keeping the knife in front of him, ready to throw down if he had to. The creature continued its advance towards Scott, slowly reaching out its three-clawed hand to the child. "I- I don't know w-what you are, but I-I won't go do-down without a f-fight! You hear me!? Keep ya distance a-and this doesn't have to get any worse!" Scott warned, his voice cracking as he tried to keep himself calm, failing miserably.

The creature stopped moving, as did Scott, who was one step away from falling down the staircase. Soon enough the other two creatures marched forward, joining its comrade by its side, and surrounding Scott. "What are you? W-What do you want?" Scott asked. He was trying his best to suppress his fear, his anger, but it was all slowly bleeding out. The creatures didn't respond, only looking amongst each other, then focusing back on the kid. Scott gulped, terrified. "We... w-we don't have that much money, if th-that's what you're after." Scott responded.

Again, the creatures looked amongst each other, but only then did they back away. They fluttered their wings and left through a hole in the ceiling, flying into the air as they left for wherever it was they were going next. Scott squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, falling to his knees as the tears finally flowed free. The tears poured and fell to the wooden floor, and Scott just couldn't handle it.

Scott went back downstairs, almost immediately making his way to the house phone that hung to the wall. He dialed the three digits he knew to dial, and was barely able to figure out what exactly he was supposed to say. Once the call went through, he heard the operator. "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" They asked.

Scott tried his best to keep himself composed, but a few stray whimpers and sobs escaped him. "Sir, is there a problem?" The operator asked.

***

Hours passed since the call. Scott just couldn't keep it together, but through it all, at least he got the message across to the operator. By the time nightfall came once again, a white alien ship landed right near the property.

Before Scott could move an inch, several individuals, human and alien, dressed in white suits of armor marched up to the home and moved inside. Soon enough, one of the armored men marched right up to Scott, kneeling down before him. "I'm gonna guess and say you're Scott, right? Scott Baristo?" The man asked, his voice tough and full of grit.

Scott said nothing, but he nodded in approval. The look in his eyes, it was clear a lot was on the kid's mind. 'Well this makes things complicated. I'd call those blasted kids here, but I doubt they could handle the aftermath of a gruesome killing... Well, Levin is the exception, he seems like the type. This is gonna be complicated.' The man thought to himself.

The man removed his helmet, revealing a mostly obscured green face with a strong chin. "My name is Gilhil, I'm with an organization known as the Plumbers. We were told by the operator that you had a run-in with three individuals of the same species, is that right?" Gilhil asked.

Scott nodded his head once more, seeming more disheartened than he was before. Gilhil sighed and stood tall, holding out his hand to the kid. "You look like you need a change in scenery. Don't worry about your folks, they're in good hands. Not all aliens are--"

"Horrible monsters?" Scott interrupted. Before he said another word, he took Gilhil's hand and stood up, keeping his gaze fixated on the ground. "I know, because Ben Tennyson is all the proof I need to know that not all aliens are horrendous monsters. I just wish I could've said goodbye, that's all. Heck, I wish I knew what those overgrown horse flies wanted in the first place. They didn't take any money, none of the valuables, either. They just killed my parents, left me alive and flew away." Scott remarked.

Gilhil gritted his teeth, but he held his tongue. But, even so, the boy's words did give some insight into his perspective, despite how odd it seemed to be. A random attack on a small family, no robbery, just murder the parents and leave the child alive? It didn't make sense, but it was three members of one singular species, most likely insectoid, so at least he could narrow the search down later. "Kid, why don't we take you back to the base, and see if we can't help alleviate the pain. Is there anything you want to get before we leave?" Gilhil asked.

Scott thought for a moment, then took his hand away from Gilhil's. He ran back into the house and back up to his room, pulling a drawer open as he grabbed a t-shirt. It was a black and white shirt his dad got him for his seventh birthday, remarking that he'll grow into it some day. Scott smiled, but it didn't last, so he packed it in a plastic bag. He looked back, seeing Gilhil standing in the doorway. Scott nodded, holding the plastic bag as they left the house.

Gilhil and a couple other plumbers escorted Scott onto the ship, where he was buckled into the front seat, clutching the plastic bag. "Tell me, kid. Is there someone, or something you want to be like when you're older?" Gilhil asked.

Scott knew his answer, even if it seemed a bit silly. He clutched the bag containing the shirt, slumping back into his seat, tired and exhausted. So much happened in such a small span of time, and whether it was him, grieving in silence, or the fact that he saw first-hand that his folks were dead, and saw the monsters responsible, he felt sick to his stomach.

5 Years Later...

[Bellwood, USA]

A man in his near teens walks down the street, his head held low. He had shorter, but equally messy brown hair, wore a black t-shirt with white detailing, dark blue jeans, and had some kind of oddly-shaped badge sticking out of his left pocket. His green eyes were full of determination, but they also showed a sense of shame. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pencil. The notebook looked beat up, and worn out in certain areas. Even the springs holding it together were beginning to loosen up and rust. He flipped to a blank page and began writing.

Day 730:

"It's officially been one-and-a-half years, nearly two years since I became an official plumber agent, but it's been a crazy time in-between back to where I used to be, and to where I am now. I doubt anyone else is gonna read this, but I suppose a self-recap would help me put the pieces together, and maybe it can help me cope.

If I remember correctly, this is the same day that my parents got killed by those strange insectoid creatures. I remember that night, almost vividly. Magister Prior Gilhil took me to this fancy space station and had people ask me questions. It was boring, but I was still reeling from the sudden loss. In an attempt to try and ease my pain, he took me to one of the training rooms. I met a lot of interesting individuals there, but Gilhil seemed to have other plans. He gave me one of those fancy alien guns and gave me a target or three to shoot at. I immediately asked if it was because I was raised out in the sticks he was letting me do this, and while he didn't say a word, he definitely felt silly after that.

But, I can't say I blame him. Even at the early age of eight, my dad always took me hunting. While it wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be, it helped put food on the table, and money in our pockets. When he gave me the gun, and pointed to the targets, it was like shooting fish in a freakin' barrel, from how easy it seemed. Before I could give the gun back, the most notorious pains in my ass would come blastin' through the doors, and by instinct, I shot at them without a moment's hesitation. Knocked the weapons out of their hands and rendered them incapable of fighting back.

After witnessing me take down the two individuals that I'd soon come to know as the Vreedle Brothers, Gilhil was sort of impressed with how I handled the situation. In his own words, he said I had potential. Potential to be a Plumber that would stop at nothing to do what's right, to ensure that no one else had to suffer like I had. I didn't like the prospect of being a law-man, in space or on Earth, but I felt like I owed it to my folks to do some good, even if it meant they'd never be around to see, or hear about it.

I admit, the training wasn't that bad, it just seemed like a boot camp up in space. It definitely wasn't easy, though. The drills, the exercises, the protocols, it all felt like some special way of saying semantics, and I didn't like it, but I toughed it out. By the time I turned fourteen, I had proven that despite my age, my size, and the fact that I was human, I proved to the other students that I can handle anything, and I wanted to prove it.

I would eventually graduate and become an on-duty plumber cadet, even if the uniform didn't fit me properly by the time I got a year older. I admit, being a cadet kinda sucks, but I'll keep going, I spent the last four years in the academy, and even had a run-in or two with Ben Tennyson himself, getting to see him work hard and prove why he's a hero in the first place. If I can survive being almost jettisoned out into the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space, or survive a surprise assault from some Plumber Black Ops gone rogue, then I can handle myself on a solo mission, or whatever I get called in for.

I can't quit now, not after everything that's happened. It's not what my folks would've wanted... or, at least, that's what I've been assuming. Speaking of, as of right now, I have some vacation days saved up, and it's the anniversary of my parents' untimely end. I'm currently on my way to the bus stop, hoping to pay my respects while I can. But, knowing how the last few times I tried to go and pay my respects went, I'm gonna be pretty damn pissed if I get called up to help. Again.

Well, I see the bus stop on the other side of the street. Here's to hoping this doesn't turn out like the last few times I've tried this."

Scott tucked the notebook and pencil back into his pocket and moved quick across the road. Before he knew it, he was on the other side of the street and the closest he's ever been to paying proper respect to his folks. He took a deep breath and sighed in relief, a brief smile forming on his face as he took a seat. 'Maybe this is my chance. Today has felt like a safe enough day, and at least I'm not standin' around, trying to look frickin' stupid. Maybe a day or three away from my job is exactly what I nee-'

The badge in his pocket began to emit a sequence of sounds, and the smile that formed on his face, faded in a near instant. Scott scowled and gritted his teeth, snatching the badge from his pocket and thought about what he should do. As much as he hated being constantly called away, just to mourn and pay respects, his job, even when he tried to get a vacation day in, was always the primary objective.

'One of these days, I'm gonna smash this badge under my frickin' heel, and scream.' He thought bitterly.

Scott took a moment, took a deep breath, and suppressed the unfurling irritation he felt. He spoke into the badge and could only wonder what the problem was this time. He knew that sequence of sounds too well, it was a sequence to notify that any and all plumbers, regardless of rank or position, are to answer the call if they're within range. "This is Cadet Scott Baristo, what's the gist, pally?" Scott asked calmly.

"Illegal tech trafficking ring. Baumann's market, can't miss it." The voice stated.

Scott rolled his eyes and got up from his seat. "It's your lucky day, I'm nearby, much closer than you think. If I run, I'll be there in a minute, maybe even a minute and a half. I'm on my way, sit tight." Scott replied.

"10-4. Over and out." the voice confirmed.

The badge went silent and Scott slid it back in his pocket. "After this, it's back to my business. No more distractions. In and out, stop the trafficking, and if possible, minimize casualties." Scott told himself.

Scott quickly ran down the sidewalk, blitzing around people that got in his way. He knew his objective, and he was surprisingly lucky to have had all of them be right near the bus stop. Whether it was a cruel joke played by fate, or him being lucky to be right near the danger, he knew he'd be remiss to think of himself. He didn't want others to suffer, and that meant doing every job he could, even when he's about to go on vacation.