A hollow click-click-click echoed in the cavern.
"Rio?!" Gwen yelled.
"It's empty!"
The creature immediately sensed the opening. Its mouth split wide, jagged teeth grinding together as new limbs pushed outward from its gelatinous mass, clawing their way toward the kids.
"LOOK!" Gwen shouted, pointing up. "The pipe—on the ceiling!"
Rio's eyes snapped upward. A thick, rusted water line ran across the cavern roof, trembling from the chaos below.
"Take cover!"
He moved before they could ask why, drawing his custom taser rifle and firing in one smooth motion.
His gun was made differently from Ben's and Gwen's, which also means it has many more options and modes.
BOOM.
The bolt slammed into the pipe, blasting it open. A violent explosion of pressurized water erupted, crashing down like a waterfall.
The monster shrieked.
Wherever the water touched, its body sizzled and dissolved, melting into bubbling puddles on the cavern floor.
But in the chaos, unnoticed by anyone, a tiny fragment of it suddenly separated.
The alien tore off a piece of itself, throwing it out of the downpour just in time. It vanished between a cluster of rocks, quivering faintly before going still.
When the last spray sputtered from the broken pipe, the only sound was the steady drip of water.
Ben coughed, wiping his soaked face. "I think… that did it."
Gwen scanned the bubbling pools, her tone cautious. "No movement. I think it's finished."
Rio didn't answer right away. He just exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting to the rows of pods along the wall.
"We need to get the seniors out," Gwen said, stepping closer.
Ben pressed a hand against one of the pods, grimacing. "Okay, yeah, but how? These things are like alien Tupperware."
Rio lifted his wrist, tapping the Omnitrix.
BEEP.
The dial glowed a steady yellow. "Give me one minute."
He pulled out his phone, switched to camera mode, and aimed it at the pods. "Help identify the residents and project their home addresses."
A smooth, synthetic voice replied,
>Acknowledged. Mapping identities and residences now.
Names and apartment numbers began popping up on-screen.
After a few tense minutes, the trio managed to haul every pod into the center of the cavern. Even the ones hidden deep inside the crashed ship were dragged out and piled together.
Just as Rio was setting down the last one, the Omnitrix beeped. Its faceplate flickered from yellow to a steady, glowing blue.
Rio's lips curved into a thin grin. "Perfect."
He slammed the dial down.
In a flash of blue light, the Omnitrix sank into his arm. A sharp jolt shot up his spine. His legs snapped backward, black chitin spreading over his skin like armor. His feet split into two sharp talons anchored by a stabilizing ball joint.
Rio's head stretched back as a helmet-like shell formed over it, a visor sliding down over his eyes. A tail extended from his rear, snapping like a whip.
His clothes morphed into a tight black suit with blue streaks cutting along the sides, the Omnitrix symbol glowing on his chest.
When the light faded, XLR8 stood where Rio had been. Wind picked up around his feet before he vanished in a streak of blue.
To Ben and Gwen, it looked like the air itself bent around him as he darted through the tunnels—slicing open pods with his sharp claws, catching unconscious seniors, and racing them back to safety.
Less than five minutes later, he was back, skidding to a stop in a gust of wind.
"All done," Rio said, his voice slightly distorted through XLR8's visor.
He grabbed Gwen and Ben before either could protest, then blurred through the tunnel in a rush of wind. In less than a heartbeat, they were back at the garbage dump where they'd first entered.
It was still night, around two a.m. The desert air felt cool against the sweat and grime clinging to their skin. Rio set them down gently.
Ben exhaled. "Okay. That was… way too close."
Gwen wiped the mud off her shirt. "I'm gonna need, like… five showers."
"Stay here," Rio suddenly said.
"I'll just check the ship one last time to make sure we didn't miss anyone."
Gwen and Ben looked skeptical, but they didn't argue. The aliens were gone, and the danger seemed over—so they let him go.
The air inside was heavier now, thick with humidity. Water dripped from the ruptured pipe above, the steady plink-plink-plink echoing in the cavern's emptiness.
Rio swept his light across the walls, over the scattered remnants of pods and half-melted slime. Shadows danced with each flicker of the beam.
Something tugged at his thoughts.
He knew. In the show, the alien had survived by splitting off a piece of itself. And he was certain it had done the same here.
A piece had crawled away.
With only minutes left before his transformation expired, he used his super speed to flash through the cavern, checking every rock cluster and dark crevice.
He found it soon enough.
Wedge between two rocks was a quivering lump of green flesh, the size of a rat. One lone red eyeball glared weakly at him with pure, venomous hate.
Rio raised the water gun and fired.
The creature let out the faintest hiss just as the water hit.
Then the fragment sizzled, liquefied, and melted into nothing.
Silence swallowed the cavern.
— (Internal monologue dump)
Rio stared at the sizzling green puddle on the floor. A faint, acrid steam rose from it, carrying the scent of ozone and something faintly organic.
It didn't scream. Didn't bleed. Didn't even die like anything he'd ever seen.
But it was alive.
And now it wasn't.
His hands were steady, but his chest felt hollow.
That thing would've devoured everyone. Ben, Gwen, and drained every last one of the helpless people in the pods like juice boxes. He knew that. That's why he stopped it. That's why he did what had to be done.
Still… knowing didn't erase the fact that he'd ended something that lived.
Rio exhaled slowly, forcing the air out of lungs he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The weight didn't disappear—the weight of ending a life, no matter how monstrous.
But it didn't crush him as it had before. Maybe he was just getting used to it.
If he was going to be the shield for his family in this world, he couldn't afford the luxury of hesitation. The universe didn't play fair, and it sure as hell didn't stop to ask if you felt bad about surviving.
This was different from the cannery. At the lake, facing those men, he'd crossed a line he'd drawn for himself in the sand of his own humanity. He'd thought he wouldn't need to kill or injure humans, because some part of him was still clinging to the idea that humans were different. That there was a line he wouldn't cross.
But that night, when everything went wrong, he'd crossed it. And the aftermath had left a stain—a mix of disgust and, worse, a dark, shameful thrill. It had shattered something in him.
But this? This was a line he'd always known he'd cross someday. The moment he landed in this world, he understood. To protect this universe—to protect Ben, Gwen, Grandpa Max, everyone—he would have to end lives. It wasn't a question of if, but when and what.
His thoughts spun faster and faster. The timeline—his so-called advantage—was already slipping through his fingers.
In the show, Grandma Vera wasn't taken until later in the night. Her being in the ship now was a clear, unsettling deviation. And back at the lake, Ben and Gwen being left on the ship with an explosive alone told him everything. His knowledge of the "story," the cheat sheet he'd been clinging to, had an expiration date, and the clock was ticking down.
The butterfly effect wasn't a theory anymore. The small changes were already stirring a storm.
Every decision, every changed encounter was pulling the future into uncharted waters. Soon, his greatest advantage would be useless.
He couldn't rely on knowing what came next. Which meant he had to prepare for anything instead.
Then all they'll have is me, he thought, his gaze drifting back toward the tunnel where Ben and Gwen waited. But they couldn't just rely on him. Not forever. Not when the threats kept escalating, and the enemies didn't wait for their turn.
They were brave, yes. Quick to act. But not careful enough. Their skills were good—better than they should be—but their instincts were still raw. They'd turned their backs on a live enemy. They'd acted on emotion, not tactics. They were still kids playing at being heroes.
They needed to be ready on their own.
Weapons. Training. Awareness. Fallback plans. Safe zones.
A family that could survive even if he wasn't standing in front of them.
His gaze shifted toward the ship half-buried in the dirt. Alien tech. Salvageable components. Power sources. He began thinking of what he could do with it. Maybe even finally build what he'd been dreaming of since day one.
He took one last look at the charred puddle, then turned toward the tunnel's dim glow—back toward Ben and Gwen, back toward the reason he'd made peace with what he'd just done.