X-GENE OMNITRIX-Chapter 1 - (updated)

Tigers

Tigers were magnificent.

Not just fast—lightning in fur. Not just strong—raw power wrapped in muscle and sinew. And when they moved through the world, everything else held its breath.

Alex sat cross-legged on the couch, popcorn forgotten in his lap, transfixed by the screen. On TV, a tiger slipped through tall grass like liquid gold, each pawstep deliberate and silent. The deer, oblivious, lowered its head to drink.

"Did you know a tiger can devour eighty pounds of meat in one sitting?" Alex stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, crumbs spilling onto his T-shirt. "That's like a hundred cheeseburgers stacked together!"

Martha's laugh drifted in from the kitchen as she appeared in the doorway, dish towel slung over her shoulder. "You and these animal facts," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Where do you even find them?"

"It's true!" Alex's face lit up. "Tigers are legendary. Lions don't even compare."

Martha sank into the cushion beside him, the couch dipping under her weight. "Oh? And what crime have lions committed to earn such disdain?"

"Lions need their pride to survive," Alex declared, sitting up straighter. "Tigers hunt alone. They don't need anyone's help."

His mom's fingers found his hair, ruffling the unruly strands. "Even the mightiest creatures need someone watching over them sometimes, sweetheart."

"Nope." Alex shook his head firmly. "Tigers are different."

On screen, the tiger lunged.

The deer's muscles tensed a heartbeat too late. The chase lasted seconds—a blur of movement ending with predator's claws sinking into prey. Victory guaranteed from the moment it began.

Alex's smile faltered.

Something about the deer's struggle—its eyes wide with terror, legs kicking frantically at empty air—turned the popcorn in his stomach to stone.

He swallowed hard. "I mean... it's just nature, right?"

Martha's arm slid around his shoulders. "That's how the world works, baby."

Alex nodded, but the uneasiness grew, spreading through his chest like ice water.

Then his fingers twitched.

Heat flooded his body—not comfortable warmth but something fierce and primal. His skin prickled as if a thousand tiny needles were pushing outward. His heart hammered against his ribs, too big, too wild for his chest. His vision sharpened until he could count the dust motes floating in the sunbeam by the window.

Pain shot through his spine—white-hot and electric—

Then—

CRACK!

Something inside him snapped.

His arms stretched, bones elongating beneath his skin. His nails darkened, curved, sharpened to deadly points. Muscles rippled and expanded, tearing his favorite shirt at the seams.

The popcorn bowl clattered to the floor. The coffee table groaned under his weight.

And that's when Alex felt it.

Fur.

Thick, luxurious striped fur sprouting along his arms.

His ears flicked at the sound of the fallen bowl—ears that now perched atop his head, rotating to catch every whisper of sound. His jaw ached, stretched wider, heavier with teeth that could crush bone.

He tried to call for his mom, but what escaped was—

A rumbling growl that vibrated from deep in his chest.

His gaze darted to the TV screen's reflection—

And what stared back wasn't a twelve-year-old boy.

A tiger.

A massive, amber-eyed tiger with black stripes slashing across golden fur.

His massive paws shifted against the wooden floor, claws clicking against the boards. His tail—his actual tail—lashed behind him, knocking a lamp from the side table.

This wasn't make-believe.

This was real.

Then—

"Alex?"

His ears swiveled toward the sound.

His mother stood frozen in the doorway, dishrag slipping from nerveless fingers. Her face had drained of color, lips parted in a silent scream. In her eyes—those eyes that had only ever held love for him—Alex saw something that shattered his world.

Pure, undiluted terror.

She was afraid.

Of him.

No. This couldn't be happening—

Alex tried to step toward her, to somehow explain, but his massive body sent the coffee table skidding across the floor. His tail knocked a photo frame from the wall. His mother flinched at each movement, pressing herself against the doorframe.

He needed to tell her it was okay, that he was still her Alex inside this strange new body, but all that emerged was another rumbling growl that made her shrink further away.

Her hands trembled violently.

"Alex...?" The name escaped as barely a whisper.

Her voice—small, fragile—broke something inside him.

Panic crashed through him like a tidal wave. His entire body shuddered.

And suddenly—

The pain returned, rocketing through his spine.

His muscles contracted, bones compressing. The fur receded into his skin like water into sand.

And in the tiger's place stood a small, terrified boy with torn clothes and tears streaming down his face.

Martha launched forward, gathering him in her arms so tightly he could barely breathe. She was shaking harder than he was.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. I've got you," she whispered against his hair, her voice cracking.

Alex clung to her, burying his face against her neck. But even as she held him, he could feel her racing pulse against his cheek.

She was still afraid.

And Alex...

For the first time in his life...

Was terrified of himself.

Alex couldn't understand why their entire life had to be uprooted.

One morning, he was eating cereal in their sun-drenched apartment kitchen, listening to the familiar symphony of city life outside. By nightfall, they were racing down the highway, their belongings crammed into suitcases and garbage bags, their past abandoned like something shameful.

Now they were here.

In the mountains.

In a cabin so remote that silence had its own crushing weight.

No school. No friends. No Wi-Fi pulsing through the walls like a digital heartbeat.

Nothing but trees and sky and the constant whisper of wind.

"This is garbage," Alex muttered, kicking a pinecone off the porch, watching it tumble down the slope and disappear into the underbrush.

Martha knelt beside him, her fingers gentle as they tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "What's our rule, sweetheart?"

The words tasted bitter on his tongue. "Never use my powers where anyone can see. I'm special, and bad people might want to take me away."

"That's right." She pressed her lips to his forehead, lingering there as if memorizing the feel of him. "We just need to be careful, okay? Just until we figure this out."

Alex wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to argue.

He was careful.

But the truth hung between them like a shadow—

The neighbor's kid had seen him. Just a glimpse through the window as Alex, frustrated over a video game, had half-shifted without meaning to. The boy had told his parents. His parents had made phone calls.

And Martha had known, with bone-deep certainty, that they had to run.

The first month in the mountains stretched endlessly, each day bleeding into the next.

Too quiet.

Too still.

Alex missed the constant hum of the city—car horns and music and voices flowing together into a lullaby of humanity. Here, there was just the creak of the cabin settling, the rustle of leaves, the occasional cry of a distant bird.

And at night?

A silence so complete it felt like drowning.

Until one night, when something changed.

Alex jerked awake, his senses firing like electric currents beneath his skin. The hair on his arms stood on end. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Something was watching him.

He turned toward his window—

And froze.

A shadow.

Not the gentle flutter of branches against moonlight.

A solid shape.

Human-shaped.

It moved—shifting slightly to the left.

Alex's legs carried him to his mother's room before his mind could process the fear coursing through him. He burst through her door, gasping.

"Mom! Someone's outside!"

Martha bolted upright, instantly alert. She reached for him in the darkness, pulling him against her. "Are you certain?"

He nodded against her shoulder, fingers digging into her arms. "By my window."

She held him close, one hand stroking down his back in slow, soothing motions. "It's okay, baby. I'm here."

But Alex felt the sudden tension in her body, the way her muscles coiled tight beneath her skin.

And she didn't say, You're just seeing things.

Because deep down, she'd been waiting for this moment.

Waiting for them to be found.

Something cold pressed against Alex's forehead, dragging him from dreamless sleep.

Metal.

His eyes flew open—

Dark silhouettes loomed over his bed, faceless in tactical gear, their outlines blurred in the beam of a flashlight.

"Target secured," a voice whispered from behind a mask.

Alex's scream died in his throat as a gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

The bedroom door splintered inward with a deafening crack.

"RUN, ALEX!"

His mother's voice—raw, desperate, terrified.

Alex thrashed wildly, heat surging through his veins. His bones began to shift, muscles stretching, the change starting to ripple through him—

Pain exploded in his neck.

A needle.

His limbs turned to lead. His vision swam, the room tilting and spinning around him.

He hit the floor with a thud that he felt more than heard.

Footsteps thundered around him, voices shouted commands that blurred together. A metallic click.

Cold steel encircled his throat—a collar, heavy and unyielding.

The last thing he heard before consciousness slipped away was his mother's screams echoing through the cabin—sounds of fury and terror and heartbreak that would haunt him long after the darkness claimed him.

Pain.

All-consuming, white-hot pain seared through every nerve ending in Alex's body.

He tried to scream, but his jaw wouldn't move. His tongue lay leaden in his mouth. His limbs refused to obey the desperate commands of his brain.

Something cold and heavy encircled his throat, pressing against his windpipe with every shallow breath. Not a regular collar—this was a nightmare of metal and wires, humming with malevolent energy. Each time his body instinctively tried to shift—to protect itself through transformation—electricity arced through him, paralyzing his muscles and sending fresh waves of agony cascading through his system.

His eyelids fluttered open.

The world appeared as if through gauze, everything distorted and wavering. Shapes moved on the other side of curved glass—faceless figures in white coats drifting like ghosts. Machines beeped rhythmically. Lights pulsed in hypnotic patterns.

He was suspended in nothingness.

His arms and legs drifted weightlessly in a tank of luminescent blue liquid that pressed against his skin from all sides. Tiny bubbles rose around him, shimmering like stars as they ascended toward the surface.

Every instinct screamed at him to fight—to claw and kick and break free—

But when he tried, agony slammed into him like a freight train, electric currents locking his muscles in painful spasms.

A voice penetrated the liquid barrier, muffled but clear enough to understand.

"Subject is stable and responsive to stimuli."

Another voice, colder. "Initiate primary extraction sequence."

A mechanical hiss reverberated through the tank.

Then—

Searing pain erupted in his arm.

Not one needle, but an array of them, plunging through his skin in perfect formation. Burning liquid pumped into his veins, igniting his blood from within.

His nerves caught fire, his brain flooded with signals it couldn't process. His back arched involuntarily, muscles straining against invisible restraints.

He screamed.

But in this watery prison, no sound escaped. The thick liquid swallowed his cries, leaving him voiceless in his agony.

His consciousness fractured, splitting between the reality of the lab and...something else.

Flashes.

Images that didn't belong to him.

Marvel logos splashed across a movie screen.

A green watch glowing on a boy's wrist.

Ben 10.

Familiar yet impossible.

His mind spun wildly, trying to make sense of memories that couldn't be his own. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

The pain surged again, dragging him back to the nightmare at hand.

"Heart rate exceeding safety parameters."

"Brain activity showing unusual patterns."

"Continue the procedure."

A fresh needle pierced the back of his neck, directly into his spine.

Alex convulsed, his body jerking violently as new chemicals flooded his system.

He could feel it happening.

His DNA—the very blueprint of his existence—was being rewritten.

Strand by strand, cell by cell, like someone was unraveling him from the inside out, only to stitch him back together wrong.

The agony didn't diminish.

It grew.

Expanded.

Consumed him entirely until he was nothing but pain—pain breathing, pain existing, pain incarnate.

And through the haze of suffering, a terrible realization settled over him like a shroud:

What if this never ended?

What if this was his forever?

When consciousness returned, Alex found himself bound to a cold metal surface.

Heavy restraints secured his wrists and ankles to a stainless steel table that reflected the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. The room gleamed with antiseptic whiteness—walls, ceiling, equipment—all sterile, impersonal, devoid of warmth.

His body felt wrong. Used. Like someone had taken him apart and reassembled him carelessly, leaving pieces missing and others misaligned. His throat burned raw, vocal cords strained from screams he couldn't remember uttering.

A shadow fell across his face.

A man in a pristine lab coat stood over him, clipboard clutched in one hand. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on a narrow nose. He appeared ordinary—someone you'd pass on the street without a second glance.

But his eyes...

Cold. Clinical. Empty of anything resembling compassion.

"Consciousness restored," he noted, voice flat. "How are we feeling today, Subject 117?"

Alex stared up at him, disoriented and parched. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, his tongue too thick to form words.

The scientist scribbled something down, not waiting for a response. "The subject's resistance to cellular degradation is remarkable. Most promising candidate to date."

Subject.

Not Alex.

Not even a number that belonged to him.

Just a specimen under glass.

Something cold and poisonous unfurled in Alex's chest—not fear this time, but the first flickering spark of hatred.

The scientist turned to speak to someone beyond Alex's line of sight. "We need to test the transformation limits. Increase the catalyst output to maximum."

A machine whirred to life, the sound sending terror crawling up Alex's spine.

Then—

Lightning exploded through his body.

His back arched off the table, straining against the restraints until they cut into his flesh. A scream tore from his throat, primal and agonized. The collar around his neck activated, pulsing with energy that sent additional waves of pain crashing through him.

It wasn't simple electricity.

It was something deeper, more fundamental.

It reached beyond flesh and bone to his very essence, tearing at the fabric of what made him him.

The scientist observed impassively, head tilted slightly as if watching an interesting chemical reaction.

"Fascinating response pattern," he murmured, making another notation.

Alex collapsed back onto the table, chest heaving, sweat drenching his body. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else.

The man adjusted his glasses, studying his notes. "The mutation sequence is unprecedented. Nothing in our database matches this particular genetic signature. We need a more aggressive approach."

A second voice responded from somewhere to the right. "Forced transformation cycling could yield better results."

"Precisely what I was thinking."

Alex's breath caught in his throat.

No.

They had already forced him to transform countless times.

Each more excruciating than the last.

They would activate the collar, send currents of agony through his nervous system until his body had no choice but to change—but it wasn't like his natural transformations. These were violent, brutal tearing of muscle and bone, each shift leaving him weaker than before.

Sometimes they kept him in tiger form for hours, prodding and testing and taking samples until he collapsed from exhaustion.

Sometimes they forced him to maintain a half-transformed state—neither fully human nor fully tiger—suspending him in an agonizing limbo between worlds.

Alex's voice emerged as a ragged whisper, barely audible. "Please... stop."

The scientist didn't acknowledge him. Didn't even glance his way.

He simply pressed a button on the control panel beside the table.

Agony exploded in Alex's chest, radiating outward like lightning striking a tree.

The transformation tore through him violently—bones snapping and reforming, muscles stretching beyond their limits, golden fur erupting from his skin in waves.

His jaw stretched, teeth lengthening into deadly fangs.

The tiger emerged—but something was terribly wrong.

His lungs seized. His heart stuttered in its rhythm.

He couldn't breathe.

Couldn't move.

Black spots danced across his vision as oxygen deprivation set in. His consciousness began to fade at the edges.

Then, just before oblivion claimed him—

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The pain abruptly ceased.

And darkness swallowed him whole.

The Voice

Floating.

Suspended in nothingness.

No pain. No fear. No sense of self.

Just peaceful oblivion.

Then, through the silence:

A voice.

Not the scientists'.

Not his mother's.

A voice he shouldn't recognize but somehow did—familiar as his own heartbeat yet impossible to place.

"You can do this, Alex."

A flash of memory—

A darkened theater.

Marvel logos splashed across the screen.

Superheroes defying impossible odds.

Another flash—

A cartoon boy with a strange green watch that transformed him into aliens.

Ben 10.

"You are more than what they say you are."

Alex's consciousness stirred, confused.

Why did these images feel like memories?

How did he know these stories?

And why did it feel like something—someone—was trying to wake him up from the inside out?

Alex's eyes flew open.

He was back in the glass tank.

Suspended in glowing liquid. Restrained. Monitored.

The machines surrounding him beeped steadily. White-coated figures moved about beyond the glass, oblivious to his return to consciousness.

His wrist tingled.

He looked down through the blue haze.

A strange green light pulsed beneath his skin—not the sickly glow of the chemicals they pumped into him, but something vibrant and alive. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat, growing stronger with each pulse.

And for the first time since his capture...

It didn't hurt.

The energy felt right. Natural. As if it had always been part of him, waiting to be discovered.

Power surged through him—not the destructive, agonizing force the scientists had been extracting, but something purer. Stronger. His to command.

In that moment, Alex no longer felt like a helpless test subject.

He felt like something else entirely.

Something powerful.

Something unstoppable.

And if they thought they could keep him caged forever...

They were about to learn just how wrong they were.