818/Ben 10, Ares 0.

Ben 10, Ares 0.
Date of Scene:	06 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Ares, 233, Athenaeum

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Ares has posed:
    The middle of the day in Manhattan is busy like most other times of the day, just a little different in flavor. There's nowhere near as much traffic, though the taxi cabs are still just as rampant. What's most kicked up is the foot traffic, a million people all walking around running errands or trying to get some lunch before their boss busts them for being late. But for someone who works the night shift, this tends to be the time of day they kill.
    One such a fellow is John Aaron. Right now he's leaning forwards on a park bench that's seen better days. His attention is wandering from passerby to passerby. Some ways down the street is the boys academy that his son is attending. At times he'd take these moments to run errands, or see what's to be seen. But today he's simply taking in the rainy mid-day weather, ignoring the faint droplets that hit his flannel jacket while he people watches.
    It's there at the edge of Central Park that he passes the time, occasionally glancing across the way to the large wrought iron metal clock that's in the face of an old fountain that's trickling away. People are coming and going around it, and for the most part the world seems to be at peace.

Ben Tennyson (233) has posed:
    There's a very good chance that Ben Tennyson should be back in Bellwood and back in class right now. School's not exactly out for the summer yet but they are close enough to the end of the year that he doesn't seem to be worried about his attendance. Then again, considering that he's a national (possibly global) celebrity of superheroic fame... maybe the school will overlook his attendance issues. Y'know, on account of having to save the world on a regular basis.
    Right now, though, Ben is walking down these fine Manhattan streets on his way towards Manhattan Madness comics and games. He's rocking his normal attire that consists of his jeans and t-shirt but that loud green leather jacket is probably what makes him stand out even more. Or, y'know, the fact that he's also semi-famous. He's actually more famous in his own head than in reality but that's neither here nor there.
    "Man, this place better have a huge Sumo Slammers section. This is a lot of walking. Too much walking." Ben ends up bumping into some of the people that just always seem to be on the streets in New York. "And people. Lots of people. And none of them even stopped me to ask for my autograph!"
    Ben's talking to himself because he's pretty perturbed that he's not getting the attention he feels he deserves... as he walks right up to the edge of Central Park. "Annnnnd now I'm lost. Because this is not a World of Splendor, Wonder and Affordable Prices." Ben frowns and reaches for his phone. GPS Time.

Athenaeum has posed:
Sometimes it is nice just to take in a bustling place with lots of humanity. Not something she'd want to do every day, but now and then the young looking magician takes the time to walk amongst the people, listen to their conversation and generally try and absorb a bit of modern culture.

So it is that she finds herself walking around the edges of Central Park having popped into existance within a copse of trees (thankfully vacant). Wearing a gown of deep amber, a square neckline picked out in thread-of-gold embroidery, spiralling patterns that merge into themselves in waves of glittering colour. The same is at her cuffs and the floor-length hem of the garment, along with the edges of a deep hood that reveals only her new cream coloured chin, and lips painted a deep Umber. For now, the woman's hands are resting lightly on her lower belly, nails the same dark colour as her lips.

She can't help but overhear a young man talking to himself, or rather perhaps, ranting at himself. She can't help it, if he could see her eyes, he'd see that sparkle of mischief, though all he'll hear is a warm, Western European voice asking; "Excuse me, can I have your autograph?" A notebook and pen is proffered, apparently for signing.

Ares has posed:
    Ben's right, very few people actually make eye contact, let alone look long enough to try and place the young hero. At the most he gets a second glance from an elderly Hispanic woman, but that might be just because he wasn't walking at the pace she would like. Yet assuredly if more eyes are drawn to him then he'd definitely gain some looks of recognition. But right now, he's just another set of feet on the sidewalk.
    A set of feet that are jostled a bit by a group of three men who are moving with what one would call purpose. Not the normal everyday purpose of the typical New Yorker having to get where they're going, buddy. But with a certain intensity to them. At a glance he might see their profiles, nothing too out of the ordinary. Though one of them is wearing a hoodie, and it's a hoodie that hides a good bit of his features, but what Ben could see in that moment... it might very well be scales.
    But then that young woman appears, seemingly from nowhere with nary a sound to herald her arrival. From his vantage point, John Aaron is able to espy her, albeit at something of a distance. Perhaps there is something suitably arcane about her that would aid in deflecting the eye from noticing such an approach into reality. But for the incognito Olympian, he turns to the side to observe her. It just so happens that this shifts his focus away from the approach of those three men that jostled past Ben.

Ben Tennyson (233) has posed:
    "Hey! Relax, dudes! It's a park. It's not goin' anywhere!" Ben doesn't like being jostled. Especially when he's got an Omnitrix attached to his arm. There could've been some accidental transformations happening or something. He's attitude and tune changes in the exact moment that he's approached by someone asking the question that he's been needing to be asked the entire walk.

    "Finally!" Ben realizes he might've said that aloud and immediately flashes a grin to try and smooth it over with the intent to look as cool as ever. "... I mean, finally someone has a cool pen to use!" Ben reaches out to grab the pen and the notebook, flipping one open and flipping the other around for some writing use. "You got it, lady. Who should I make this out to?" Ben is going to milk this autograph as much as humanly possible right now.

    If Ben did notice the slightly scaled face of the hooded jostler he's certainly forgotten all about it now. He's been distracted by the lure of fame and celebrity. Attention can be a mighty dangerous drug and Ben's going to overdose on it someday.

Ares has posed:
    The act of signing an autograph after someone asks for one, that tends to cause a rustle in the crowd, people take notice. At first a few people give the girl asking for the autograph a double take, but then the curiosity is aimed almost exclusively at Ben. Who is he to be giving out autographs? Wait isn't he that kid that was on the news? What was his name? Steve Five? Max Six? George Four?
    Whatever it is, that first autograph triggers a few other people to draw up short and ask, "Hey can we get a picture with you?" A pair of twenty-something girls ask him with wry smiles and happy features.
    "Who are you supposed to be?" Asks an older guy holding his briefcase.
    "Wait, is he the guy... from the Bugle? Spider-Man?"
    But all of that is happening behind the park bench as that trio of men step around it. At first John notices the shadow fall across him, then he sees the other two men step up alongside the fellow in the hoodie. "You."
    "Me?"
    "Yeah you. John Aaron, right?"
    "Yes."
    "Mr. Berl doesn't like you askin' questions. We don't like it either?"
    "What questions in particular bother him? I tend to ask quite a few." John is still sitting, looking up towards the men in front of him.
    The one in the hoodie pulls it back, revealing snake-like features with an angry twist to them. "You're not gettin' the picture here, buddy."

Athenaeum has posed:
"Ysabelle Orion." The woman intones truthfully, her smile never wavering. It's not really one of adoration, if Ben wasn't so wrapped up he might pick up that it's more maternal indulgence. But then, a smile's a smile on a pretty face, even one as covered as hers.

"Your work is admirable, are you working on anything right now?" Open questions, easy for someone to fill in the blanks that they're expecting. Of course, she wasn't expecting everyone else to start crowding the lad. But she gives way a little, widening the circle, allowing genuine adoration to come his way. People need that, or so she'd heard. For the moment, with all the noise around them Ysabelle doesn't hear the discussion going on a little way away...

Ben Tennyson (233) has posed:
    Finally! The attention he so richly deserves. Not that he intended to let the fame go to his head but he's pretty much unable to resist being the center of attention when that's what happens when he's a cool ass superhero.

    "Ysabelle Orion. I like it." Ben's smile stays intact as he gets to scrawling on the paper in the notepad. He scribbles up: 'To Ysabelle Orion. Go Hero. -- Ben 10.' Yeah, that's right. He signs it Ben 10. That's how much he's into his limited fame right now. With a flip and a twirl, the notebook and the pen are offered back to Ysabelle. "You know, it's refreshing for someone to actually know how hard I work at saving the world. I mean, just last week I was in Canada fighting mutated sharks with laser beams... for eyes. Of course, I won. But it's nice of you to ask!"

    The hot selfie girls get Ben's attention next as he moves to get between them and poses with his Omnitrix all up in the camera. Yeah, he's not even trying to keep that thing out of the public eye anymore. Which is probably bad publicity that will make him an even bigger target than he normally is. But whatever. He's Ben Tennyson. He can handle it.

    "Spider-Man? Pfft. Spider-Man wishes." Ben then holds up a hand. "I'm kidding. Spider-Man's awesome. But no. I am not Spider-Man. My name is Ben Tennyson. Or as most people like to call me... Ben 10."

He is, of course, completely /oblivious/ to everything that's going on with snake-hoodies and John Aarons. What an idiot.

Ares has posed:
    A woman leans in to eyeball the autograph Ysabelle's getting. "Who is this guy for real?" She pops her bubblegum loudly and then looks back at Ben.
    "That's Ben Tennyson... he does magic stuff."
    "No way!"
    To some people this might be annoying, but to Ben this might be just what the doctor ordered. Ysabelle, for the most part is ignored after the space of a few heartbeats as the crowd starts to move to encircle Ben. Some New Yorkers grumble and grump as they try to make their way around the knot of people on the walk.
    Yet across the way over at that park bench, maybe fifty feet distant, the voice of the snake-like guy rises louder. "What did you call me?!" He shouts angrily, pointing at John even as he turns to his friends who oblige and pointedly try and hold him back as if he was straining to reach out and clock John one. "This guy called me a freak!"
    His friends, keep hold of the snake-faced one, even as the guy bares fangs and /spits/ some sort of brackish green liquid out of his mouth straight at John's eyes. When they land on flesh there's a hiss and a sizzle like a newly cracked egg on a hot skillet.

Athenaeum has posed:
Well that certainly gets attention, yelling draws eyes even amongst a crowd - and Ysabelle has been pushed back away from Ben as more people crowd in for the photo opportunites. Her work done here, she'd already been turning away when the shout came, and her eyes come up just in time to see something hit John's face. The young looking woman frowns.

Dropping one hand to her side, fingers flash through a series of almost painfull looking shapes as under her breath, words in a languge that maybe John would know, should he hear them. Certainly everyone else would consider it jibberish.

Flows of air skim across his skin, pulling venom out and away to roll into a ball before dropping the few feet to the asphalt, continuing to hiss and sizzle. By this point of course, she's already closing the distance, an amber figure with a look of distaste on her mouth.

Ben Tennyson (233) has posed:
    "It's not magic it's..."

    Ben fades his words out as he realizes there's something else going on around here. He really can't understand what's going on with all these people around him. He ends up holding up both of his hands to try and get the crowd to disperse a little bit. "Okay, folks. Get those phones ready. I'm about to show you exactly who I am."

    With that said, Ben pushes his way out of the crowd and starts off in a heroic jog into the park and off in the direction of the park bench of commotion. Because that's exactly what he should be doing.

    "Hey losers!"

    Ben's words are all over the place as he attempts to make sure he's grabbing the attention of the bad dudes that have decided to make some drama happen while he's trying to be al autograph-y. Which just serves to help his cause in the short term.

    "Maybe it's time for me to teach you the Ben Commandments! Number Seven! Thou Shalt Not Spit Nasty Stuff In Another Dude's Face!"

    During his heroic run, Ben starts to push up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal and pop up the face of the Omnitrix.

Ares has posed:
    The farce is maintained even as the acid leaps the distance between the two men. At first John reels to the side, gaining his feet in one rapid movement. And suddenly it's not as cut and dried as it might seem. For when the man on the bench stands up it's clear he's a good eight to twelve inches taller than those three.
    At first the snake in the hoodie hisses a laugh, but then John rises up and up... and then his venom seems to swirl into life flowing up into the air and twisting together like some vitriolic ball of yarn, lacing around and around until it floats harmless there, having left only a red mark upon the side of John's cheek and neck.
    As if forgetting their role in things, the two who had been holding their friend back... they sort of let him go and step back, a subconscious offering of peace by sacrificing their friend to the slaughter. And if one were to get a look into the eyes of that tall man, they'd see why they thought as much.
    But then, abruptly, their attention is seized by the approach of Ben Tennyson. At first they sort of just eyeball him, confused. But then one of them sees Ben reaching for something on his arm? That guy pipes up, "Shit, I think that guy's a fuckin' cape!"
    "What, him?"
    "He talks like it."
    But despite the shade they're throwing Ben's way... they do seem to be backing up even as John's pulled up the collar of his shirt and used it to wipe at where the acid struck him while that ball of venom floats in the air near him.
    "Is that one of his powers?"
    "Telekeyness?" One of the crowd asks.
    "You mean telekinesis."
    "Whatever."

Athenaeum has posed:
Well he's certainly a tall one isn't he? The thought crosses the woman's face, noting that Ben (so that's his name!) is running along and giving all the bravado of youth... A youth with power it seems.

The magician counts the odds, two guys one obviously super versus three, one maybe a mutant? Either way, it looks like the men have the day as she sidesteps a little, coming to rest a short way away, and within the shade of a few bushes.

"There's nothing stopping me from helping back here... Should it be needed." Talking to herself, it's a habit you pick up when you live alone. The crowd do seem to have all eyes on the action, making it oh so each for her to subtly intervene, without being seen. She's sure that the others here will be perfectly capable, and besides, the big man, there's something familiar about him, something she can't /quite/ puzzle out...

Ben Tennyson (233) has posed:
    There's nothing that can stop Ben's racing to the rescue at this moment. Not the scrolling for the right alien. Not even the fact that there's something going on with the dude that just got acid to the face. Nope. Ben Tennyson is going to put on a show for this park crowd and convert them all into Ben 10 fans. It's just how things are going to work. That's the plan, anyway.

    "Sorry, dudes. In honor of Edna Mode I gotta' say No Capes. Just..."

    That's when Ben skids to a halt nearby and holds the Omnitrix'd wrist up in front of him, the holographic display showing an alien silhouette. He slams his hand down on it and his DNA gets all wishy washy and the transformation sequence kicks in (for the audience anyway). For those gathered around to see the craziness, there's just an instantaneous flash of green light and where Ben Tennyson once stood there is something new. Something different. There's...

    "HUMUNGOUSAUR!"

Humungousaur ROARS his name and that voice is nowhere near the same as Ben's. The transformation has been completed and the oversized dinosaur-shaped alien raises his arms to flex those epic sized muscles. His mighty tails smacks against the ground as he takes just a moment to show off to those that may still be looking in his direction.

    Humungousaur looks over his shoulder at budding fancircle and gives them a thumbs up. "Watch this, guys." And then he turns back to the bad news in question and lets loose with a loud roar of intimidation! And possibly really bad breath.

Ares has posed:
    To be fair when the trio of them took this job the guy pitched it as some art dealer who outbid another art dealer and just needed to be put in his place. A little intimidation, a little rough stuff, perhaps some irreparable scarring and maiming. Easy peasy. But now... suddenly with a creature named Humongosaur howling and roaring right at them, they definitely feel like they were under paid.
    Even as John steps forwards, scowling and wiping at his mouth with the back of a forearm, saying severely. "If that creature does not kill you, then I will make it so you will wish it had."
    Already questionable morale is broken, and suddenly the trio turns and /beats feet!/ They break into a run with the simultaneous decision-making process that clearly makes it a thing of utter panic. They give flight, no comment is hollared back, just the scuffle-patter of skidding footsteps while they try to get as far from Humongosaur as possible.
    The crowd that's gathered see this spectacle and some of them just can't help but laugh. At first it's just a titter from a few, and really if that guy who got acid spit on him was actually hurt then this would be super trafic, but he's fine and so it's ok to laugh at the guys who just probably messed their pants.
    And should Ben take a moment to turn or to bask in the moment, he will most likely gain some applause. Maybe even a smirk from John, or bench guy as the case may be.