Sorry it took so long! For a while I wanted to post this, but the chapter kept turning out terribly. Even now I'm not too pleased with it. Alas; I've rewritten this close to ten times. If I haven't perfected it by now, I never will.

Part of the reason why I couldn't post this earlier was because I lost power. A blizzard hit me. I just got power back last night.

Disclaimer: Why even bother with this? I don't own Ben 10.

"Cheer up! The worst is yet to come!"
-Philander Johnson

Chapter Three

Upon resuming consciousness, Ben was only truly aware of one thing: his head hurt like hell.

Lying on the floor in agony-induced senselessness, his skull seemed to throb with the same rhythm as his heart. He squeezed his eyes tighter, biting his lip against the pain and wincing as stretched out his sore muscles. Ben moaned as he tested his right arm; even the slightest motion caused spasms of fiery pain of blast through his side.

Clutching his head with his one good hand, he forced his eyes open.

Blearily, he blinked. The light was incredibly bright. It took several seconds to adjust to the searing glow. In a half daze, he let his eyes sweep the edges of his current 'prison.' Save his presence in the corner, the room was entirely empty. And white.

Ben blinked to make sure he was seeing things right. The initial brightness and monochromatic color hadn't just been a trick of his mind upon waking up. The light, the floor, the walls…everything had a blurry, glowing color. It reminded him of a hospital; the whiteness and the lack of any hues save the one gave everything a sort of holy aura. The only difference was that, from what he remembered, hospitals smelled like clean linen and the overpowering stench of antiseptic; his prison smelled like blood.

For a long while, he just sat there and stared.

The whiteness was nauseating.

Shaking off his momentary vertigo; Ben slowly, (painfully slowly,) sat up, keeping his broken appendage as still as possible. He felt weak, dizzy; his head seemed far too large and far too heavy for his neck. His joints groaned, every muscle ached and protested, and several unpleasant cracking noises resonated throughout his body as he shifted. In the process, he noticed a band of metal that encircled his left wrist, effectively cutting him off from the Ultimatrix.

Damn it.

Fully upright, Ben angled himself against the wall. He pushed his back against it, relishing in the soothing coolness the metal seemed to provide his sore, aching body.

Now what?

His situation seemed rather bleak at best. He'd been captured in the middle of the night, his arm had been reduced to a useless chunk of flesh and blood, he couldn't access the Ultimatrix (which was bad enough on its own,) and he had no way to contact help.

Can it get any worse?

As if to answer his own question, he let his gaze fall to his right arm which sat awkwardly in his lap. If it had disgusted him before, in the full light of his prison, it looked that much worse.

While the jagged cut that ran almost completely up the length of his arm was no longer bleeding, the bone still stuck out; a twisted and pointed reminder to just how God-damn helpless he was. Pretty much everything else, from his hand to the tattered remained of his right sleeve was covered in a crust of rust-colored dried blood. The thing seemed bloated about twice its normal size and a terrible, pungent odor hovered around it. Ben dearly hoped it was just the blood that was causing it to smell, and not the start of an infection.

He bit his lip and swallowed, trying hard not to throw up.

With a little, whimpering sigh, he proceeded to remove his iconic green jacket. Getting it off the left arm was simply a matter of slipping sleeve off and over his shoulder. His right arm was the problem. Every jolt of movement was like an earthquake, and even the slightest tension of the muscles in the area of the break caused every nerve of his to stand on edge.

Using his one good arm, he cautiously removed the sleeve, trying hard not to vomit as his hand made contact with the wet, slimy surface near bone. After a brief pause, he proceeded to wrap the jacket around his arm, tightly tying off where the break was.

It was no cast, but at least he didn't have to look at it.

Feeling jittery and antsy, Ben put his head back against the wall, closing his eyes in the process. His skull pounded with the same cold and intense fury as before, and his stomach felt at odds with him. Ironically, it wasn't so much as nausea now as it was of hunger. Of course; on top of everything else, he was hungry.

This sucks.

8888888

There was a loud, blaring, shrieking ring.

What the…? Kevin blinked. It took him half a second to realize he was in bed and not out fighting. He stared up at the beige walls that loomed up over his head. He yawned, his muscles aching both in exhaustion and in soreness.

Who the hell calls me this early? He wasn't pleased; he hadn't gotten much sleep the last few nights, and the previous evening had been the first time in nearly months that he'd been in bed before two A.M. It seemed almost ironic that he hadn't seen this coming; his life certainly sucked enough for it to…

The blaring ring stopped suddenly; the sound dying in the air. A few short breaths later, it started again with the same ferocity as before. Kevin's gaze shifted around the room before lighting swiftly on his cell phone. What the hell?

His head still firmly on the pillow, he reached out a hand to grasp the device. Several nasty, choice insults were on the tip of his tongue, his mouth more than ready to spew them out at whoever had decided to disturb his precious sleep. The anger abated slightly upon reading the Caller I.D.

Gwen.

What the hell could she possibly want…?

"Hello?" he asked in a gruff voice, insults dying on the tip of his tongue. He yawned. Damn, what time was it anyway?

His girlfriend answered almost immediately. "Kevin? Are you awake?"

He yawned for the second time in under five minutes. "I am now."

"I'm sorry."

"S'alright," he mumbled, before following it up with yet another yawn. "What time is it anyway?"

"A quarter to seven."

"What the heck, Gwen?" He could feel the whine in his voice. He damn hoped that her call was important; he was so drained from constantly fighting 'Criminals' that were not worth his time. What the hell was it now? Some petty thief? Some overblown scam?

He hated mornings.

"I'm sorry." She apologized rather quickly. Kevin frowned. There was something in her voice he hadn't picked up on earlier. She was nervous. Her tone had an edge that it usually didn't have. "It's just…" She trailed off, letting silence fill up their conversation. He waited. She had his attention. It was definitely important.

"Kevin, have you seen Ben?"

"I dunno, why?" It was an odd question; something he wasn't expecting. "Yesterday?" Gwen should've remembered. It wasn't that long ago. Certainly, the red-head, with her precise memory would be able to recall the last time she'd seen her cousin. Why the hell she was suddenly so concerned about the brunette (and more importantly, why she was calling him about it) was beyond him. Unless…

His sleepy mind put two and two together.

"Kevin," the voice was quiet, hollow; oddly emotionless, which made what she had to say all the more condemning. "Ben's missing."

"...Shit."

Again, I hated this chapter, but I feel incredibly guilty for taking more than a month to update (almost three in this case.)

Jeeze, Ultimate Sacrifice was pretty good. As there may be some out there who have not seen it, I shall not disclose spoilers. H owever, I can tell you honestly that it's right next to The Purge on my list of favorite episodes. The second half was decent enough to make me forget about how bad the rest of the season has been and about how much I hate Eunice. Almost.

I have no idea when the next chapter shall be posted. I'd like to say next week, but I'd rather not make false promises (my birthday is Sunday. I have no idea when I'll have time to do this.) Of course, the Swim Season is starting soon, which means any free time not being eaten up by homework (which isn't a lot, ) will be eaten up by the pool.

-TGW

(11/04/11)