Chapter Text
After the world was consumed by the zombie infection, desperate nations funded the Nanite Project, believing it to be the last hope for a cure. The theory? Nanites could overwrite the zombie virus at a cellular level. The reality? A second catastrophe.
The Nanite Event devastated what little remained of civilization. Now, on top of regular zombies, the world also faced EVOs—mutated, nanite-corrupted monsters—and worse, zombified EVOs.
To combat this twofold threat, a new global force was born: Providence. Partnering with the Plumbers, their mission was to contain and, if possible, reverse the chaos. But where the Plumbers focused on extraterrestrial tech and defense, Providence specialized in EVO-related crises.
Five years later, a miracle emerged.
Rex Salazar, son of two key scientists from the original Nanite Project, was exposed to nanites. But instead of mutating like others, Rex gained control over them. He could shape powerful machines from his body, cure regular EVOs, and most importantly—he was immune to the zombie virus.
He became Providence’s secret weapon. Their only consistent answer to the EVO plague.
But what about the so-called "cure" before the cure—Ben Tennyson?
After being infected and lost to the zombie virus for years, the Omnitrix did what no one expected: it began repairing him. Bit by bit, it restored fragments of Ben's mind and personality. He still couldn't speak—just groans and low moans—but he could recognize faces. He could feel again. And most importantly, he could fight his hunger.
The sun had long lost its warmth.
Its rays filtered through the ash-laden clouds like the last dying breath of the old world. Wind carried with it the scent of decay—rotting buildings, scorched metal, and the ever-present stench of the undead. In the middle of that silence, something stirred.
Ben wandered.
His gait was uneven, slow but deliberate. He looked like any other zombie—sunken eyes, ragged breath, skin mottled with death. But if you looked closely, there was something… different. His eyes weren’t cloudy like the others. His Omnitrix, scratched and scarred, blinked softly—rhythmic and stubborn, like a heartbeat that refused to stop.
He didn’t know where he was going. Only that he was drawn .
And then—screaming.
A survivor camp, barely a handful of shoddy barricades and tents, was under siege by a massive EVO—some grotesque hybrid of man and insect, with serrated limbs and a mindless hunger. Providence soldiers opened fire from behind scrap metal cover, but nothing pierced the EVO’s thickened hide. People cried out as it tore through the defenses.
From above, Rex dove in with a mechanical roar, his Smack Hands slamming into the monster’s torso.
“Get those survivors out of here!” he shouted, deflecting a blade-like appendage with a clang. “I’ll keep it busy!”
It was clear he was struggling.
Ben stood still at the edge of a crumbled rooftop, eyes locked on the chaos below. His body twitched, torn between instinct and memory.
He should walk away.
But then—he saw a little girl trip. She fell, sobbing, as the EVO reared back one of its blades toward her. Providence soldiers were too far. Even Rex was distracted.
Ben moved .
Transforming into Shocksquatch faster than anyone could blink, he leapt from the rooftop with surprising speed, slamming into the EVO with full force. The beast screeched, stumbling back, confused by the sudden assault. Ben didn’t roar. He didn’t groan. He simply fought. Brutally. Efficiently. A blur of clawed hands and savage strength.
Rex blinked. “What the…? That—there’s no way.”
Ben held the EVO back long enough for Rex to get in close. Channeling his nanites, Rex deployed a focused blast of energy right into the creature’s chest. The EVO shuddered and convulsed, then collapsed, its body purging the mutation in a puff of silver mist.
Silence fell. Just for a moment.
The soldiers raised their weapons at Ben, cautious and unsure.
But Rex raised a hand. “No—wait.”
Ben turned toward Rex, mouth parted as if to speak, but only a faint groan came out. Still… he didn’t attack. He didn’t flee.
Rex stared.
“Dude…” he breathed. “You’re… you’re Ben Tennyson. ” A beat passed. “Holy crap, I mean—you're Ben freaking Tennyson!”
The soldiers looked between them, confused.
Rex slowly stepped forward, gears retracting into his back. His voice softened. “When I was a kid… I used to watch every news reel about you. The battles. The aliens. You were like… the world’s first real superhero. When everything went to hell, I kept telling myself you'd come back someday. That you’d save us.”
Ben tilted his head, as if the words echoed somewhere deep inside him.
“I always wanted to be like you,” Rex said quietly, eyes shining. “A symbol. A reason for people to believe in something again.”
Ben’s chest rose and fell. His hand twitched.
“…And now you’re here. Still fighting. Still saving people.” Rex gave a small laugh, choked with disbelief. “You really are a hero.”
Ben blinked. His lip quivered—not with hunger, but emotion. A low, guttural hum escaped his throat. A sound that almost resembled a name .
“Ben?” Rex whispered.
Ben didn’t answer—but he didn’t need to. His eyes shimmered with unshed memories. Recognition. Hope. Then, with a small, nervous grin, Rex extended his hand carefully—like he was offering it to a wounded animal. His voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow it carried through the stillness of the ruined world.
Ben stared at the hand. Then, slowly—shyly—he looked away, as if embarrassed.
Was he… blushing?
After a long moment, his cold, calloused fingers brushed against Rex’s palm. A soft grunt escaped his lips.
And for the first time in years, Ben Tennyson took a step forward.