Ben
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Transformation sequence — Duration: 0.00 seconds
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His skin dissolved, not burning or changing — dissolving like flesh into paste. Soon, the liquefying tissue was covered by a bulky armor of green, black, and dark green hues. Spread over the armor were closed openings that twitched like breathing holes. At his stomach, a transparent window revealed swirling gas churning violently inside — it was no longer a body, but a containment chamber.
An overwhelming urge surged within him — the desire to spread the gas beyond all boundaries, no matter what it contained.
The armor grew bulkier, breathing holes pulsing with each internal pressure change. The familiar symbol ( 〉〈 ) sealed itself over his mouth, forming a gas mask that acted as a muzzle, holding back whatever needed to be restrained.
What had been Ben was now a walking gas weapon, barely contained.
The strangest part: nothing felt strange. It was like becoming another version of what he'd always been.
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The green flash faded. New instincts formed, new senses emerged.
So, I can do that?
The openings of his armor lifted.
Let's call this one Gutrot!
Gutrot looked at Gwen and his grandfather near the Rust Bucket. "Just stay inside."
"Benjamin, don't!" Max yelled. Before he could take action, thick gas quickly spread through the surroundings. Within dozens of seconds, the entire force field area was covered in dense smoke.
"I'll be back… later." Ben ran, the gas quickly hiding him from sight. He alone could see through the smoke… well, not perfectly, but good enough.
"Idiot!" He heard Gwen's voice shouting, but ignored her.
Ben ran forward. He looked up through the swirling fog, finally noticing that the force field contained the gas.
Now, I just have to figure out… something.
But his confidence wavered as he ran deeper into the gas-filled zone. Reality seemed to fracture around him.
Hundreds of zombies were emerging simultaneously from multiple locations — not just the restaurant, but the landfill, the gas station, everywhere. And cutting through them with coordinated precision were three-legged robots several meters high and massive fly-like drones with lasers.
This isn't just about a zombie apocalypse — this is…
Ben's mind struggled to process the scope. Fear clawed at his gas-filled stomach, followed by something else. Excitement?
Two separate forces… and whoever's controlling the robots is slaughtering the zombies by dozens! How many different enemies are out there?
The chaos was overwhelming. Ben had trouble accepting what he was seeing as gas swirled inside of him.
Despite the thick gas, the robots finally noticed him as he moved closer. Looking at the zombies, Gwen's words echoed in his mind: How do you know they're really dead?
Crap.
He tightened his fist.
These people don't deserve to die, but what would I do if they attack me? No, I should act now, stop thinking!
He needed to save the zombies. Stop the slaughter. Stop the robots. Make sure he could keep the watch.
I need something to attack.
The gas in his stomach swirled as instincts suggested new combinations. He didn't know the chemical names, but he knew what might work.
He jumped, putting his hand over one of his openings, covering it with highly volatile and unstable gas and liquid, then extending this sparking, flammable hand toward a drone. When his hand touched the drone, an explosion triggered.
The explosion was small and only destroyed part of the robot, as Ben took several steps back wincing in pain while holding his hand.
So I'm not immune to my chemical reactions? Or maybe just explosions.
I need a less stupid idea… I see!
His gas swirled as corrosive gas emerged from his openings, spreading in every direction. Robots began malfunctioning as the acidic compounds ate through their systems.
The ease of use was exhilarating. Each successful destruction sent a thrill through him — the range, the power, the control over such devastating force.
But it wasn't enough. More robots adapted, attacking from a longer range. He was struck several times, and while it hurt him, it was like throwing stones at his human form — painful but not immediately lethal.
It had been a long time since I felt so alive.
More robots appeared, strangely less and less affected by his gas. Only higher concentrations made them crumble, and the steady escalation thrilled Ben even as the sheer numbers began to worry him.
More waves closed in. He felt the gas thickening around him; the force-field wasn't just a barrier, it was bottling every toxic breath he exhaled — pressure rising, danger growing for everyone trapped inside.
Max, Gwen, the zombies… if any of them inhaled much more of this, they were finished. He'd have to reabsorb it soon.
Then the real horror slammed him: what if the gas was flammable? One spark and the whole dome could blow. A bomb — created by his own hand. And what if the gas was a straight-up corrosive substance for organic beings? (Currently it's still dangerous for organic beings, but only by inhaling too much for an extended period of time — not corrosive to their skin or clothes.)
The realization sent a chill through him. Chain reactions. Massive destruction potential. All contained in this perfect enclosed battlefield.
And all it would take is me picking another gas… And all of us die…
He touched his gas mask.
This watch, these transformations… are starting to sound more dangerous than cool.
He shook his head and accelerated his pace as the ground trembled and a bulky hand nearly grabbed him.
A massive, bulky, two-meter-tall zombie stumbled into his path.
"Getting annoying," he muttered. Sorry for what I'm about to do.
Covered in corrosive liquid, Ben's punch connected with a small explosive force, mainly acid-enhanced and piercing through the zombie. The creature dropped as Ben withdrew his fist from the puncture.
Ben wasn't even sure if it could bleed to death or if he'd missed a vital organ.
Getting more violent, some distant part of his mind noted, but he rationalized it away. Desperate situations required desperate measures. The sooner he could get rid of the ones controlling the zombies and the robots, the more people will be saved.
Ben shook his head. Maybe he should have listened to his grandfather to get a better plan. But in any case, the zombie controller needed to be out as the robots were nearly all destroyed except for some flying high (still affected by the gas as many gradually fell, but less).
Suddenly, without any apparent reason, following the loud noise of an explosion, all the zombies converged toward the landfill.
So, they're hiding in there?
Ben sprinted toward the landfill, mind racing — excitement over his new capabilities blending with a growing confidence in handling threats. He was no longer the directionless, angry person who'd stormed out of the Rust Bucket.
He was hunting now. The watch granted him incredible power — endless possibilities, yet endless ways to hurt, kill, and die.
I need to figure out a way to not hurt the zombies. Let's try the other eight transformations—
Suddenly, a laser blast scorched the tree beside him.
Startled, Ben recovered quickly. Gas swirled inside him, deadly potential within his reach.
"Come with me quietly, or this one dies," a voice commanded.
Ben turned toward the source of the threat.