Years Ago
A man stood inside a rising elevator, encased in a sleek, latex-like mechanical suit. His helmet, dark with a black visor, hid his face, but his rigid posture made it clear he was focused, waiting. As the elevator ascended floor by floor, he stared ahead until it finally halted at the top level with a soft chime. The doors slid open to reveal a large, dimly lit room.
At its center, a high-backed chair faced a massive panoramic window. From the shadows, a voice emerged, serious and steady.
"Wow, so you're finally here, Tennyson," the voice said.
The man removed his helmet, revealing a hardened face with brown hair and dark brown eyes. "Yes," Max replied, stepping forward.
The voice chuckled. "Then we can begin."
With a hum, the room's lights flickered on, revealing lavish decor and walls lined with photographs of women from various alien species. The chair swiveled around, revealing a Galvan comfortably seated in it, wearing pink glasses and an outfit in black and pink tones. His name was Azmuth, and he looked entirely too relaxed.
Max sighed. "Azmuth, why do you always have to make everything so dramatic with the lights?"
"For dramatic effect, of course," Azmuth said with a smirk. "Besides, this conversation is important. Not one of our usual chats."
"But I like the usual ones," Max said with mock disappointment, pouting like a child pretending to be upset.
Azmuth waved him off. "Aha, whatever. Look at this!" He jumped from his seat and unrolled a set of blueprints on the nearby table. "I'm about to create a masterpiece!" He adjusted his glasses proudly. "It'll be an invention that can preserve the DNA of extinct and endangered alien races. Everything has a beginning and an end—but I believe we can fix that. This, my friend, will be the Omnitrix. And I think you could be its first carrier."
He paused, his expression turning somewhat sentimental. "You're one of the few I trust—though you can be annoyingly persistent. But in the end, you're a good friend. Am I not a genius for dreaming up something so magnificent?"
Max leaned over the table, eyeing the plans with a raised brow. "Mmmmmm."
Azmuth scowled. "There it is—that silly face. Go on, tell me what you're thinking."
"Well... it's not that I dislike it," Max said, dragging the words out. "Buuuuuut~"
Azmuth narrowed his eyes. "But what?"
Max grinned like a mischievous child. "What if the aliens' DNA were gender-swapped based on the user's gender? You know—make them female if the carrier's male."
Azmuth stared. "Ha. No."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Why not? If your goal is preserving the species, wouldn't reproduction make the most sense? That's still saving them, right?"
Azmuth exhaled sharply, already regretting indulging Max. "Max, we've been through a lot. Partied across the galaxy. But this idea? It's ridiculous. You're just trying to fuel your limitless fantasies—and honestly, I get it. It doesn't sound bad. But the party has to end sometime. Stop spouting nonsense."
Max smirked. "So the 'great genius' can't do it?"
Azmuth's body went rigid. He slowly turned to Max, his ego clearly pricked.
"I'm sorry, Max. Could you repeat... what the fuck did you just say?"
Max folded his arms and smiled smugly. "If you're as brilliant as you claim, why can't you do what I asked?"
Azmuth practically exploded. "OF COURSE I CAN! But I already said—"
"I just think you're feeling weak," Max interrupted, pretending to sigh in disappointment. "Can't handle the party anymore. It's fine. Some people peak early."
"You must be a damn Australopithecus!" Azmuth bellowed, rage in his tiny frame. "I won't be mocked by someone whose brain barely reaches 2% of its capacity!"
Max turned to leave, shrugging as he raised his hands. "Well, I guess it's impossible. What a shame. Guess I'll go back to doing things my way..."
Azmuth snarled and violently kicked the plans off the table. "You son of a—!"
Without another word, he snatched fresh schematics and began furiously drafting a new blueprint. Max turned back, grinning.
"So?"
Azmuth slammed his hand down. "YES, YES, I'LL DO IT! ARE YOU HAPPY, YOU PIECE OF ANIMAL?!"
"Quite a lot, actually," Max said with a satisfied grin.
Azmuth, still fuming with frustration, tossed a few scattered blueprints aside before sighing and sitting back in his chair. He adjusted his pink-rimmed glasses, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the armrest.
Max folded his arms and leaned casually against the table, smirking. "Now that the concept of the Omnitrix has changed, we can't just call it the same thing. I mean, it's no longer just about storing alien DNA… it's about summoning living beings—hybrids, no less. A whole new level."
Azmuth didn't respond immediately. His eyes narrowed in thought as he pulled a holographic screen into view, fingers flying across its surface. "True," he muttered. "It's not just a transformation device anymore. It's a cross-dimensional summoning system... a replicator... maybe even a synthesis engine."
He paused, letting out a slow breath. "We need a name that reflects its duality. The merging of species. The connection between the user and the summoned entity."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. So what do you suggest, genius?"
Azmuth leaned forward, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What about... the Chaquetrix?"
Max blinked. "Chaquetrix?"
Azmuth nodded. "From the word chaqueta—slang in some Earth dialects with... let's say... interesting connotations. But it also implies a layer, a cover, a second skin. Fitting, no?"
Max chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Only you could make something so perverse sound so scientific."
Azmuth smirked. "I am a genius, after all."
Max tilted his head, arms still crossed as he eyed the swirling schematics. "So, are you going to add any new features to the device? Like… I don't know, a useful AI, built-in tools, maybe a stamina enhancer? You know, things that don't just make it flashy, but actually practical?"
Azmuth let out a snort, clearly amused. "You think I'd settle for just flashy? Please, Max, give me some credit."
He tapped the holographic interface again, pulling up several blueprints and complex data clusters. "The Chaquetrix will not only summon hybrid beings—no—it'll include a fully integrated quantum AI assistant. Responsive, adaptive, and even capable of learning from the user's behavior."
Max gave a low whistle. "You really outdid yourself this time."
Azmuth continued, his tone growing more animated. "I'm also incorporating a limited nanotech toolkit. Repair functions, basic survival features, even a bioshield in emergencies. As for the stamina enhancer… I'm working on a bio-feedback loop. It'll regulate the user's metabolism and optimize energy efficiency while using the device."
"Translation?" Max asked.
Azmuth pushed his glasses up with a smug grin. "It won't drain the user like the Omnitrix sometimes did. If anything, it'll make them stronger."
Max nodded in appreciation, letting out a low chuckle. "Damn. You really are a mad genius."
Azmuth shrugged, though a spark of pride gleamed in his eyes. "I prefer 'visionary.' But yes, I know."
As Max finished his comment, the sleek metallic doors of the lab slid open with a soft hiss. A sudden chill swept through the room—not from the air, but from the intense aura of the figure that stepped inside.
A tall, imposing female Chimera Sui Generis entered, her crimson eyes narrowed with unmistakable irritation. Her jet-black armor-like skin shimmered subtly under the lab's overhead lights, and her posture radiated strength and poise. Though she shared traits with the infamous Vilgax, her features were more refined—sharp yet elegant, with a regal bearing that made even Max subconsciously straighten up.
Azmuth flinched slightly. "Ah… Mayaxx."
She stopped a few paces from them, arms crossed and her glare fixed on the tiny Galvan. "You've been wasting your resources again, haven't you?" Her voice was cool, commanding—an edge of venom beneath the surface. "I go to check the DNA cataloging systems and find half of your processing power rerouted to something labeled 'Chaquetrix Experimental Fantasy Branch.' Care to explain?"
Azmuth chuckled nervously, tugging at his collar. "Now, now, let's not get dramatic—"
"You don't get to talk to me about drama," Mayaxx snapped. "I've warned you repeatedly about indulging your... perversions during work hours."
Max, watching from the side, was completely absorbed—not just in the argument, but in Mayaxx herself. His eyes lingered for a moment too long on her form, admiration flickering across his face. "Huh," he muttered under his breath. "Didn't think Chimera Sui Generis could look that good."
Mayaxx's gaze snapped to him, her eyes narrowing further. Max quickly straightened up, coughing into his hand.
Azmuth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mayaxx, please. This isn't one of my usual distractions. The Chaquetrix has potential—revolutionary potential. Preservation through hybrid summoning, adaptive AI, biological enhancement—this could change everything."
She was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned slightly, giving Max a subtle side glance. "And you're really going to trust him with a device that could summon weapons of mass destruction disguised as alien girls?"
Max grinned, raising a hand in mock salute. "Wouldn't be the first risky move I've made."
Mayaxx rolled her eyes. "Galvans and humans… You're both insufferable."
As the years passed, Maxwell Tennyson became more than just a Plumber—he became a legend. His name echoed across the stars, respected and remembered by many for his strength, wisdom, and unparalleled field experience.
Eventually, Max settled down, finding peace and companionship not with one, but two extraordinary women—both aliens from very different worlds. His first wife, Verdona, was a powerful Anodite with a free-spirited personality and cosmic-level energy. His second, Xylene, was a composed and intelligent Uxorite, once a brilliant field operative herself. Despite their rivalry for Max's affection in the beginning, the two women came to an understanding—one that blossomed into a stable, if competitive, marriage dynamic.
In time, both took on human forms to live peacefully alongside Max on Earth. Their presence added an air of mystery to the quiet Tennyson household, but to their neighbors, they were simply part of a loving, if slightly unusual, extended family.
Each of them had a son—Verdona bore Frank, and Xylene gave birth to Carl. Although neither boy inherited their mother's full alien powers, that never dulled the deep love and pride the women had for their children. They raised them with warmth, patience, and devotion.
Years continued to roll on, and the Tennyson family only grew stronger. Carl eventually married, and with his wife, had a son—Benjamin Tennyson. From the moment Ben was born, Xylene was captivated. She adored the boy, often spoiling him with affection and watching over him even from afar. To her, he was a bright flame of potential.
Verdona, too, found herself blessed. Her son Frank and his wife had a daughter named Gwendolyn, a sharp and curious girl with a spark of her grandmother's mysticism hiding behind her eyes. Verdona doted on her just as fiercely, sensing something special growing within Gwen, even if it hadn't fully awakened yet.
Though the alien lineage remained dormant in both children, it did nothing to diminish the love their grandmothers had for them. To Verdona and Xylene, Ben and Gwen were more than descendants—they were the future.
And the future was just beginning.
Ben's early childhood was filled with joy and mischief. From the moment he could walk, he seemed to have a knack for finding trouble—but in the most endearing ways. His laughter was infectious, his energy boundless, and his curiosity always getting the better of him. Wherever Ben went, his step-cousin Gwen wasn't far behind. The two were nearly inseparable.
Gwen looked up to Ben, often imitating him and copying everything he did—from how he tied his shoes to how he held his spoon. Their bond was deep, more like siblings than cousins. They argued like family, played like best friends, and loved each other dearly.
But everything changed on one fateful afternoon.
It was an ordinary day at the park. The sun was shining, families dotted the grass, and children laughed as they played. Ben and Gwen had been tossing a ball back and forth near the sidewalk, their guardians chatting a short distance away.
Suddenly, the ball slipped from Gwen's hands and bounced across the park, rolling toward the road. Without thinking, Gwen chased after it.
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion.
A truck, coming at full speed, barreled down the road just as Gwen reached for the ball. Shouts rang out. Time seemed to freeze.
Ben saw the danger, his young mind unable to process fear, only instinct. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Gwen. And in that moment—something inside him awakened.
The dormant Uxorite blood in his veins surged. His eyes flashed with psychic energy. The world around him bent, time slowed, and with supernatural speed and force, he tackled Gwen out of the truck's path—mere seconds before impact.
The truck screeched by, missing them by inches.
Everyone ran to the scene. Gwen was safe—frightened and shaken, but unharmed.
Ben, however, lay unconscious. His body trembled slightly, energy still humming faintly around him before it dissipated into silence. The strain of awakening his powers—powers no three-year-old was meant to wield—had taken its toll.
He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors were baffled. No physical injuries, no signs of trauma—yet he wouldn't wake. The diagnosis: a temporary coma, cause unknown.
His family waited, prayed, and watched over him day and night. And while his body lay still, his mind was beginning to stir—memories of a life long past, a different world, a different name.
Ben Tennyson would never be the same again.