The flames burned with terrifying intensity.
The temperature approached the surface of the sun—thousands of degrees concentrated in the space of a city street. The "charred boyfriend" that Azmuth had mentioned in his initial report was now nothing more than scattered ash, his body completely incinerated in the first explosive burst of power.
And this was from someone who'd just awakened their abilities moments ago.
If she ever learns to control this, Ben thought grimly, she could level entire city blocks.
Fortunately, the woman's energy reserves weren't sufficient to sustain the initial apocalyptic heat. The temperature of her flames dropped rapidly as her power fluctuated—but even diminished, they remained a massive threat to everyone nearby.
"Help me..." the girl sobbed, her voice cracking with terror.
She was completely engulfed in fire, her body wreathed in dancing orange-red flames that licked at the air around her. Every movement sent waves of scorching heat radiating outward. Every step forward left melted asphalt in her wake, the street surface bubbling like tar.
She reached out desperately toward the crowd, seeking help from anyone who would listen.
But every gesture was a weapon. Every stumbling step caused burns to nearby pedestrians who couldn't retreat fast enough from the ambient heat.
In an instant, the crowd recoiled as though she were a venomous snake poised to strike.
No—the danger of a venomous snake was far less immediate, far more predictable.
From the moment her power had erupted until now, less than thirty seconds had passed. Several people were already dead. More than a dozen were injured, their skin blistered and charred.
The acrid smell of burned flesh mixed with melting plastic and tar filled the air.
"I didn't mean to..." the girl choked out between sobs, staggering forward with her arms outstretched. "Please... help me..."
She looked like a drowning person grasping desperately at straws, terror and confusion warring in her flame-lit eyes.
"Don't come any closer, monster!" someone in the crowd shouted.
Everyone retreated in a coordinated wave of panic. Strong men shielded women and children behind them, backing away like a herd of deer surrounded by wolves. The fear was primal, instinctive—the ancient human terror of fire given terrible new form.
But the word monster clearly struck a nerve.
The flames, which had almost subsided to manageable levels, erupted again in response to the woman's violent emotional spike. Rage and hurt and self-loathing combined into a fresh surge of power.
"I'm not a monster!" she screamed.
BOOM!!!
The scorching heat flash-melted the asphalt street into bubbling tar. Several nearby cars exploded, their fuel tanks igniting from the ambient temperature alone. Flames spread rapidly across metal and plastic, threatening to create a chain reaction that would engulf the entire block.
The inferno expanded outward like a living thing, reaching for more victims—
Then suddenly, the fire seemed to come alive in a completely different way.
The flames twisted upward, pulled into the sky by an invisible force. They formed a swirling vortex, a controlled storm of fire that carried away all the deadly heat with it. The temperature on the street dropped precipitously, the immediate danger vanishing in seconds.
Everyone looked up in unison.
A tall figure descended from above, his body resembling a walking volcano. Molten rock patterns glowed across black stone skin. Flames wreathed his shoulders like a living cape. He raised one massive arm, and the fire responded to his command like a loyal subject bowing before its king.
Every flame on the street bent toward him. Every spark obeyed.
"It's Heatblast!" someone in the crowd gasped.
"One of the Plumbers!"
"The Heatblast! We're saved!"
The shouts rippled through the gathered civilians. Nowadays, members of the Plumbers organization were practically celebrities on Earth—their exploits widely publicized, their heroic deeds documented and broadcast.
Although Ben rarely appeared in his civilian form these days, Norman Osborn had spared no effort in promoting and developing the alien heroes Ben transformed into. There were animated series. Action figures. Video games. Lunch boxes.
An entire merchandising empire built around the Omnitrix's transformations.
Incidentally, Princess Looma had acquired an enormous collection of Four Arms plushies and action figures. Her quarters on Sakaar reportedly looked like a shrine to Ben's Tetramand form.
Ben knew about the merchandising, but he didn't particularly care. Norman wouldn't embezzle his profits, and more importantly—
At least they're not calling me 'Flame Boy' or 'Fire Dude,' Ben thought with internal relief.
Just imagining people shouting "Great! It's Flame Boy! We're saved!" made him want to immediately transform into something less memeable. The indignity would be unbearable.
" Heatblast! Heatblast! Heatblast!"
The crowd excitedly raised their arms and cheered in unison, their voices blending into a rhythmic chant. The enthusiastic atmosphere reminded Ben of the gladiatorial arena on Sakaar—thousands of voices united in acknowledgment of power.
In stark contrast to the crowd's excitement, the woman at the center of the incident was filled with nothing but fear and despair.
Her body was still wreathed in diminishing flames, clearly visible despite Ben's control over the surrounding fire. Her legs trembled violently. Her mind had gone completely blank with terror.
She'd known that causing such a public incident would attract the attention of Primus's security robots. That was bad enough—facing automated law enforcement with their cold efficiency.
But she'd never imagined one of the actual Plumber agents would personally respond. That elevated this from a criminal incident to something far more serious.
As Ben gestured downward, controlling and withdrawing the ambient flames with casual mastery, the fire covering the woman's body almost completely disappeared.
Her clothes had burned to ash long ago, but no skin was exposed beneath the dissipating flames.
Because what the fire revealed wasn't soft, pale human flesh.
Instead, her body resembled charcoal—black, cracked, and hideous. The residual heat from her power caused some sections to glow dull orange-red, like dying embers in a fireplace. Thick black smoke billowed from every crack in her transformed skin, creating a haze around her trembling form.
She had no will left to resist.
She collapsed to the scorched pavement, looking up at Ben's towering Heatblast form with desperate, pleading eyes.
"I didn't mean to..." she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I was just... I was just a little angry with him. I didn't know this would happen. I didn't know I could do... this..."
Ben already understood what had transpired. Azmuth's analysis had provided the full context—a couple's argument, escalating emotions, then spontaneous power manifestation.
It was clearly an accident. Unintentional harm caused by abilities she'd had no idea she possessed.
But he couldn't simply let her go.
The injured civilians were one thing—Primus Technologies could provide free medical treatment, heal their burns, restore their bodies to full health.
But what about the people who'd died? The boyfriend she'd incinerated. The pedestrians who'd been caught in that initial explosive surge of heat.
Who would seek justice for them? Who would speak for the dead, who would acknowledge their suffering?
Accident or not, people had been killed.
"Jenny Becker," Ben said, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he descended to street level. His massive, volcanic body cast a shadow over the ash-like girl. "You're under arrest. Don't resist. This will be easier for everyone if you cooperate."
He activated a specialized containment device—a cube-shaped energy cage designed specifically for powered individuals. The shimmering barrier surrounded Jenny, suppressing her abilities and preventing any further outbursts.
Behind him, the sound of sirens filled the air. Police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances had been dispatched the moment the first emergency calls came in.
Then, just as quickly, most of them received updated orders.
The ambulances continued their approach—there were still injured civilians who needed immediate medical attention. But the firefighters and police officers obediently returned to their stations, their services no longer required.
Especially the police.
Commissioner George had never imagined that being a police officer would one day become what amounted to a sunset industry in New York City.
Look at the city now! There wasn't even petty theft anymore. He spent his days either sitting behind his desk doing paperwork or walking patrol routes that never saw criminal activity. The dignified Police Commissioner had essentially become glorified city management.
"Why are they pulling back the units again?" one of his officers called out, clearly frustrated. "What happened this time? Did those metal robots beat us to the scene again?"
Another officer, who'd just hung up with dispatch, practically bounced in his seat with excitement.
"It was Heatblast! One of the Plumbers responded directly! Man, I wish I'd been there to see it!"
Another superhero fanatic, Stacy thought with weary resignation.
His entire department had been infected with it. Half his officers spent more time discussing Plumber exploits than actual police work.
"Oh well," he muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. "At least I never have to worry about Gwen's safety anymore. Not with the Plumbers watching over the entire city."
It was a small comfort in an increasingly strange world.
Plumber Orbital StationEarth Orbit
Ben brought Jenny Becker to the space station immediately after making the arrest.
Here, with state-of-the-art equipment and specialized personnel, he could confirm his suspicions about the nature of her powers. The station's medical bay contained scanning technology that could analyze genetic structures at the molecular level.
"Lie down on the examination table," Ben instructed, his tone gentler now that the immediate crisis had passed. He'd reverted to human form—no need to intimidate her further. "Jenny Becker, don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to run some tests."
The woman wasn't exactly innocent—her loss of control had resulted in multiple deaths. But she wasn't necessarily evil either, not in the way someone like Kingpin or Hydra had been.
If this truly was the X-gene manifesting, if she was genuinely a mutant experiencing spontaneous power awakening, then such tragic harm was almost inevitable. Nearly impossible to avoid.
Mutants often awakened their abilities during moments of extreme emotional stress. And newly awakened mutants almost always injured or killed people around them before learning any semblance of control.
There was no crueler example than the boy in the cave. He hadn't asked for power; he had simply hit puberty, and the genetic lottery handed him a death sentence instead of a gift. He woke up one morning and his parents were dead burned away by the invisible, toxic radiation his body had begun to emit. His neighbors, his classmates, two hundred and sixty-five people in his town... all gone, simply because he had breathed.
He fled to a culvert, terrified of his own skin, waiting for a hero to come save him. But you cannot save a boy whose very existence is a weapon of mass destruction. The man who came for him wasn't there to recruit him to a school. Wolverine arrived with a cold beer and a heavy silence. He sat with the boy in the dark, offering him his first and last drink, a momentary peace before the claws came out. It wasn't malice; it was a mercy killing. The X-gene didn't care about morality or fairness; it was a biological dice roll, and sometimes, the dice came up snake eyes.
It was a pattern as old as the X-gene itself.
"What's going to happen to me?" Jenny's voice trembled with fear.
Her charcoal-like skin had cooled now, the orange glow fading to dull gray black. She looked simultaneously monstrous and pathetic victim of her own biology.
"You are going into lockdown," Ben answered truthfully. He wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't offer false hope. "Nothing excessive. Your situation will be taken into consideration."
He could see the relief and despair warring in her expression.