Author's Note: Hey again, welcome to a late night update of Ben 10: Origins. I hope you're enjoying the story! Aside from big action sequences and character banter, my favorite thing to write is Easter eggs and foreshadowing. If things go as planned, reading through Danger Watch should feel like watching the MCU all the way through, with team-up events, sequels, and more all coming together to form a long-form story. it's a lofty goal, but I hope I can deliver! Not sure why I'm rambling on in the AN today, but I guess I wanted to give you guys some insight into the project and what to expect as you read on! If that gets you pumped up and excited, feel free to leave a Favorite/Follow. Its really encouraging to see how many of you are becoming fans of the series!

Phew, wow, anyway, that's enough out of me. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 02

Over the course of the next three weeks, Ben, Gwen, and Max travelled to every single tiny town that boasted any sort of tourist trap within a 500 miles of the East coast. They visited giant rubber-band balls, concert venues, novelty joke shops, celebrity hometowns, carnivals, and more miniature Statues of Liberty than Ben could have possibly counted. The entire time, Max seemed to be having the most fun out of all of them, although there were certain times that Ben and even Gwen enjoyed themselves. Particularly at the carnivals, where Ben always had fun on the rollercoasters and Gwen enjoyed testing her skill with games of chance. She was quite lucky.

Whenever Gwen wasn't being forced into some kind of family activity by Max, she had her nose buried in the huge tome that he had given her. While at first he was glad that his granddaughter was enjoying herself, he started to seem a little concerned with her strange fixation on the old book. She would stay up late into the night, a flashlight skimming over the pages of the strangely notated book, her eyes glued to the words and images there. It was entirely handwritten, and according to what Gwen had rambled in Ben's ear, written like a journal of some kind, with entries on certain creatures taken down as if they were from first hand experiences. She found it entirely thrilling. One of the biggest mysteries was the cover of the book. Unlike a traditional storybook, it boasted no title or traditional illustration. Instead, there was only a golden handprint, with the the number 2 embossed in the center.

Her fascination with the book grew to such a point that she began to ask Max to factor certain locations into his course that were supposedly "magical hotspots." After the second or third time she had asked him to urgently take an detour so that they could spot a unicorn migration, he had sighed, and looked her firmly in the eye.

"Gwen," he had said, "those are just stories. Those monsters… They aren't real."

"But they could be!" Gwen had insisted. "The book is so detailed, Grandpa. Plus, you said it yourself, you don't remember where it came from. Maybe whoever wrote it had some real encounters with these creatures!"

Max's forehead had begun to sweat slightly. He sighed.

"I- Listen, if it'll get you to calm down about it, we can visit the Kenville History Museum," he'd said. "I hear its got all kinds of exhibits that were supposedly "magic" but got debunked. Does that sound like a deal?"

Gwen had seemed to grin with satisfaction.

"Deal!" She had said.

Now, as the R.V. pulled into the museum parking lot, Gwen was nearly on the edge of her seat, the big leather book under her arm as she watched the large building approach. Ben, however, sat glumly, arms crossed. The idea of going to a museum sounded an awful lot like a school field trip, and that was not his idea of fun. In fact, the better part of these last three weeks had been anything but fun, and as the trio walked across the parking lot to the entrance of the museum, he looked longingly to the game shop across the street. He could see the blinking lights of arcade boxes, along with signs that showed blown up versions of the latest comic book crazes. With a sad sigh, he turned away from the shop, and trudged into the museum behind Max and Gwen.

"Hey there! Welcome! Remember, try to stay at least 10 feet away from the exhibits at all times!" Said a painfully cheerful woman as they passed the front desk. They acknowledged her, and then Gwen suddenly gasped and took off down the hall, prompting Ben and Max to swap glances before going to catch up with her. Max noted Ben's poor attitude, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Listen, Ben," he said, reaching into his pocket, "I know you're just about as tired of hearing about that old storybook as I am. Here."

There was a small jangling sound as Max deposited a handful of quarters into Ben's hand. The kid looked at his palm like he had won the lottery, and then glanced up at Max to confirm his suspicion. The old man smiled.

"Gwen and I will do our rounds. You go ahead to that game store across the street. See if you can beat any high scores," he said.

"Aw man," Ben said, "awesome! Thanks grandpa!"

He gave Max a quick hug, and before he could change his mind, went dashing back out of the entrance of the museum. Max stood up and called after him as he ran.

"I'll swing around and get you in an hour!" He said, hoping that the impulsive boy had heard him. Then, with a sigh, he turned around to go and find his other impulsive grandchild.

Luckily, Ben heard him, but excited as he was, he didn't acknowledge Max, or even turn back. He tore across the museum parking lot, provoking a honk from a sleek, black, unmarked car that was pulling in. Scrambling out of its way, Ben turned to look as the person in the passenger seat, a man wearing a strange mask, along with some kind of historical get-up, seemed to stare at him, before the dark, tinted window was quickly rolled up.

"Museum people are weird," Ben muttered, before jogging across the street.

There was a jingling sound as Ben opened the door to the hobby store, and he was met with the familiar smells of fresh comic books, sweaty teens, sweaty adults, and cheesy snacks. It was just like home. The sounds of arcade action rung out in his ear, and he realized that the gaming selection was far more robust than he had been expecting. Ignoring the reproachful look from the acne-ridden older teen at the cash register, he walked past the first few aisles of merchandise to a secondary room. This second room had a cool, galaxy patterned carpet, dynamic lighting, and at least 10 different big, retro arcade boxes, all chiming and blinking and inviting Ben to play them. For a moment, he couldn't decide, there were so many options! He settled on a familiar classic: Mortal Kombat.

Plugging in a number of quarters that he felt was robbery, Ben grinned as he was brought to the game's main menu, and selected the campaign mode. The announcer gave a gregarious: "Reptile!" as Ben chose his avatar, and then he began to hammer away on the buttons with youthful glee, watching pixelated blood and gore go splattering everywhere as he punched, kicked, and tongue-lashed through stage after stage. Eventually, one of his opponents proved too difficult, and with a frustrated slam of his fist, he was met with a morose: "Game. Over."

Ben glanced down at his handful of change, which was starting to look meager already. Times had changed since Grandpa Max had been to an arcade, he figured, and a couple bucks in quarters would only get him so far, it seemed. Not to mention, he had seen the prize station at the front of the store, and he wanted to get his hands on some tickets. There was a limited edition copy of a Spider-Man comic book collection up there. That could be the only reading material he would get his hands on for the rest of the summer. This was life or death.

Scouring the machines, row after row, Ben tried to find the game that would give him the most tickets for the least amount of coins, and eventually settled on a game that was essentially a giant roulette. Placing a coin in would drop a ball. The ball would bounce for a while on a rotating disc, full of holes with numbers assigned to them. The number on the hole the ball eventually settled in was the number of tickets you would score, with the smallest hole being covered in a sparkly foil and labeled 'Jackpot.' Rolling up his metaphorical sleeves and biting his tongue in concentration, Ben walked over to the game and inserted a coin. He watched with a sense of helplessness as the ball dropped, bounced twice, and then landed in one of the largest holes. 5 tickets came feeding out of the machine. Ben snatched them up, and then turned around to look hopefully at the Spider-Man comic.

It was 1,000 tickets.

Ben's heart sank. At this rate, he would never get enough tickets for the comic book, save by maybe landing on the jackpot every single time. Even then, he knew, the jackpots on these machines reset after each win, and would be miniscule if won over and over again. He groaned internally. This was just great. If Gwen had been here, he thought miserably, she would have gotten a jackpot on the first try. Stupid Gwen.

With a heavy sigh, Ben figured he would at least try. Maybe, just maybe, he would get a stroke of luck. He plugged in another quarter, and again watched with bated breath as the ball bounced around inside of the machine. This time, it rolled hair-raisingly close to the jackpot, before rolling past and dropping into a larger hole. 20 tickets came out. Again, Ben put in a quarter. 5 tickets. 10 tickets. 45 tickets! 5 tickets. It went on like this, until Ben realized with a sudden sadness, that he was almost out of coins. He looked down to the substantial number of tickets piled on the floor in front of him, and counted them up. Nearly 300 tickets all told. Not even a third of what he needed.

"Aw man! That sucks!" He said, leaning forward and putting his head against the glass with a dull thunk.

"What sucks?"

Ben looked up. Leaning against the arcade machine next to his was a young boy around his sage, with long, messy, black hair, and punkish looking clothes, complete with grungy black sneakers and a raggedy black shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had deep bags under his eyes, and was looking at Ben with a combined look of curiosity and mirth. Ben gestured towards his tickets miserably.

"I wanted to win that limited edition Spider-Man, but… I blew it," he said.

The other kid raised an eyebrow, glancing over the pile of tickets and then back to Ben.

"How many you got?" He asked.

"300," Ben said. Then, he added sadly: "I need a thousand."

The kid regarded Ben and his plight for a moment, pushing off of the machine and uncrossing his arms as he walked forward a few steps. Ben looked at him curiously, unsure of his intentions.

"Well, I wouldn't waste any more quarters on that thing," the kid said.

As they stood there, sizing each other up, the clerk at the register called back into their section of the store.

"Hey, kid," he said, clearly directing his words to the dark-haired boy. "If you don't buy something in 30 seconds I'm gonna kick you out."

The boy turned to glare at the clerk, and Ben furrowed his brows as well.

"Just chill, man, I'm about to," the kid called back. This was clearly not the first interaction between these two that day.

"Yeah, right," the clerk said, sneering at him. "You don't even have any money. Street rat."

The kid's cheeks went red, and Ben could see him balling up his fists. The older teen was being a real jerk, Ben thought. He hated jerks like him. Standing up beside the new kid, Ben looked defiantly at the clerk.

"What do you mean?" He said, holding out the palm that held his last few coins. "He just gave me these four quarters."

The kid looked at Ben in confusion, but Ben just gave him a confident grin, and then cupped the coins in his hand, fingers downward, and held them out to the kid.

"Here. Take 'em," Ben said quietly. The kid did, and stared at his hands before looking back up at Ben. He looked at a loss for words. The sweet moment was broken up by the jarring voice of the older teen.

"Whatever. Hurry up and buy something. I don't care whose money you use," he said.

The kid and Ben both turned back to look at him in disgust, and then begrudgingly, as if he were pulling teeth, the grungy kid strode up to the counter, slamming down a chocolate bar, along with the coins, and glaring daggers across at the clerk. The older teen ignored the face he was receiving, swiping up the coins and depositing them in cash register before looking down at the kid with a shit-eating grin.

"Have a nice day," he said wickedly.

Ben watched as the dark haired boy physically restrained himself, his fists balled up and shaking. He watched him force himself to turn around, sucking in a deep breath and walking back over to Ben with the chocolate bar under threat of being squished entirely in his palm. Once he had made it back, he rubbed the back of his neck, and offered the chocolate to Ben.

"Uh, here," he said. "It was your money."

"Keep it," Ben said. "I'm about to get dragged into the middle of nowhere for a camping trip. My grandpa's gonna make me eat more s'mores than I'll know what to deal with."

The two of them laughed.

"Man, that sounds nice," the other kid said. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Ben. You?"

"I'm Kevin," the kid said, glancing over his shoulder as the teen at the counter plugged in his earbuds and began to scroll on his Blackberry. Seemingly satisfied, Kevin turned back to Ben. "Wanna see something cool?"

As they walked from display to display, Gwen was like a kid in a candy store. Her eyes flew across the descriptions of every so-called artifact, skimming over the folklore and alleged abilities that each one possessed. Then, she would ogle at the most recent treasure for a few moments, only to then bound to the next one. Grandpa Max was having a hard time keeping up, but he was glad his granddaughter had found something that she was passionate about. At one point, Gwen rounded a corner a bit too fast, prompting Max to walk forward at a bit of a brisk pace. As he was about to go around the same corner, he nearly bumped into a trio of men.

They were all clad in black suits, and they each wore a little brooch that had a unique coat of arms on it. The person in the front, for instance (a shrewish, mustached, dark haired man) had the crest of a bear and 2 swans. Something clanked as they stepped into view, and an old instinct forced Max's eyes to their hips. There, to his confusion, he saw three sheathed rapiers. Noting his confusion, one of the rear men spoke up.

"Pardon us. We are… enthusiasts," he said. This man sported a pencil thin goatee and bushy black brows.

All of them looked at Max, who stood stock still for a moment. A chill ran down his spine, as memories once distant began to swell in his subconscious. Then, shaking those thoughts from his mind, he offered them a kindly, grandfatherly smile.

"Oh, I see," he said, scratching the top of his head in an attempt to look witherly. "Explains those fancy swords then."

The lead man glanced quickly down to his waist, shifting ever-so slightly so that his hips angled the sword away from Max, and then looked back up to the old man, who was still holding that cheerful, idiotic smile. His lip curled faintly.

"Excuse us," is all he said. Then, he lead the way forward, and the men strode in single file past Max. The last one in the line, who had been silent for the duration of the encounter, left his lingering, ice-blue gaze on the old man as he walked off. Even after the trio had moved past Max, the man stared at the back of his billowing red shirt, squinting.

He had recognized his voice.

Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief once the men had gone, Max hurriedly walked around the corner, and another wave of relief washed over him as he spotted the well-kept red hair of Gwen, who was reading over yet another museum display. The old man walked over to her, she saw him coming a mile away, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and was suddenly taken aback by the solemn face he bore.

"What's wrong grandpa?" She asked.

"It's time to go," he said.

"What? But we just got here!"

"No buts, Gwendolyn," Max said. Then, realizing he was being a lot more stern than normal, relaxed a bit, and offered her a placating smile. "There's a great pizza place in town, and I don't wanna miss the lunch special."

Gwen sighed.

"Fine," she said, "but we have to get pineapple on the pizza."

Kevin walked over to the roulette machine that Ben had been using, and glanced once more over his shoulder, just to be sure. Then, apparently satisfied, he gave Ben a grin and put his hand against the side of the machine. He focused for a moment, and then there was a snap! as a couple of blue sparks suddenly seemed to fly off of his fingertips, and into the machine. Ben's eyes widened. Then, the machine began to make a loud whirring noise, before suddenly spitting out tickets rapidly. Far more rapidly than it should have. After only a handful of seconds, there was suddenly an exorbitant amount of tickets piling up on the floor in front of them. Ben stood in shock, as the tickets suddenly stopped coming with a jerking noise.

The machine was empty.

Ben turned to Kevin.

"How did you do that?" He asked in awe. Kevin gave a lopsided smile.

"Just a little trick I can do…" he said.

Ben looked like he was about to pursue the question further, when there a familiar, novelty car horn sounded outside. His expression instantly drooped, and Kevin looked past his shoulder, squinting out of the front window to the rickety old mobile home that was pulling up.

"I'm… guessing that's your old geezer, huh?" The dark-haired boy said. Ben turned around, and then groaned.

"Yeah," he said. Kevin jutted his chin at the pile of tickets on the ground.

"I'd say that's enough for your comic book," he said, "wouldn't you?"

It turned out, it was enough for not only the comic book, but also a pair of cool bracelets, of which Ben gave one to Kevin. The boy looked at the bracelet, and then smiled at Ben, who smiled back.

"Oh, hey!" Ben said. "What's your phone number? Maybe we can meet up again some day."

Kevin suddenly looked a little off put.

"Oh, I uh…" He said. He was interrupted by another honk of the R.V. Ben made an annoyed look, and then gave Kevin a sad look.

"Dangit… I really gotta go," he said. "Stay cool, OK?"

Kevin grinned, and the two exchanged a fist bump.

"You too, man," said Kevin. Then, the bells on the front door jangled, and Kevin watched sadly as his new friend got into the R.V. and it drove away.

He wondered if they would ever meet again.

Subnote: Re-uploaded to fix the problem we were having where people couldn't see the chapter... Sorry about the weirdness!