Chapter 27: The Villa of Horror
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Ben sat in a traditional Japanese studio, the aroma of green tea wafting through the air as he sipped from a small porcelain cup. Across from him, a seasoned Japanese director was intently reading Ben's script for Attack on Titan.
The director's face was a canvas of emotions as he read through the story. His eyebrows furrowed as he delved into the harrowing opening sequence, His eyes widened in shock at the brutality and despair woven into the narrative, and at one point, he leaned back with a deep exhale, his lips pressed into a tight line.
When he reached the part detailing the sacrifice and struggles of the Survey Corps, his expression softened, though his eyes remained heavy with contemplation. And as he closed the script he looked up at Ben, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly. It was clear the story had struck a nerve.
After what felt like an eternity, the director finally spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of awe and hesitation.
"Mr. Tennyson," he began, carefully choosing his words. "I've read your previous works, and I've admired them greatly. They are groundbreaking in their own way. But… this script—this story—it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It's brilliant, no doubt, but it's also dark. Brutal. This isn't just a story of survival; it's a raw exploration of the human condition, of despair, and sacrifice. Are you certain this is what you want to animate?"
Ben leaned forward, setting his tea down gently on the table. His gaze was calm but firm as he spoke. "I know it's dark. I know it's brutal. But that's the point. This story is about more than just survival. It's about the cost of freedom, the weight of choices, and the sacrifices people make for something greater than themselves. It's supposed to unsettle people. It's supposed to make them feel. That's why I brought it here—to Japan. Because I know this is the only place where it can be animated without censorship dulling its edge."
The director's face tensed, his hesitation evident. "I understand that, but it's not just the content—it's the sheer emotional weight of it. Audiences may find it… overwhelming."
Ben's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Overwhelming? Good. That's what makes it memorable. If people don't walk away questioning everything they know about morality, sacrifice, and humanity, then we've failed. And if your studio isn't ready to take on something this ambitious, I'm sure there are others who are."
The message was clear: Ben wasn't here to negotiate or tone down his vision. He was here to create a masterpiece, and he wouldn't compromise.
The director sat in silence for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the script. Finally, he straightened his posture and gave Ben a small bow.
"No, no, Mr. Tennyson. That's not what I meant," the director said, his tone respectful yet resolute. "Your story is a masterpiece, and I understand its importance. Our studio will animate it. And not just animate it—we'll bring it to life in a way that does it justice."
Ben nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Good. I expect nothing less than greatness."
"You'll have it," the director replied with a determined glint in his eye. "This will be a story that not only redefines anime but also leaves an indelible mark on the world."
After some touring and Enjoying his time in japan Ben was lounging on a tatami mat in their rented villa in Japan, enjoying a peaceful evening with his family. His little sister was engrossed in a manga, while his parents were preparing some tea in the nearby kitchenette. The warm glow of the setting sun bathed the room, and the tranquil sounds of a bamboo water fountain in the garden added to the serene atmosphere.
Just as Ben took a sip of green tea, Baymax's voice echoed in his earpiece, which was cleverly disguised as a small, sleek earbud.
"Sir," Baymax began, his tone calm but urgent. "There are reports of suspicious activity at a villa nearby. I detected no cameras in the area initially, but using our company's satellite network, I was able to locate the issue."
Ben raised an eyebrow, his posture straightening. "Suspicious activity? What kind?"
Baymax's voice deepened slightly, a sign of concern. "It appears there are people being dragged into the villa, and there is evidence of illegal betting. The individuals involved are wearing traditional ninja attire, which matches your previous description of The Hand."
Ben's expression darkened. "The Hand, huh? They never seem to take a vacation."
Baymax continued, "I thought it necessary to inform you, sir. But I must inform you, you left your advanced suit back at headquarters."
Ben let out a soft sigh, already standing up from his seat. "No suit, huh? Guess I'll have to make do with what I have."
As he walked toward his luggage, his little sister glanced up. "Where are you going, Ben?"
"Just a work thing," Ben replied casually, rummaging through his travel bag. His hands pulled out a small, sleek mask. The mask was no ordinary accessory—it was a Plumber ID mask he had specially designed. Not only did it allow him to change his facial appearance, but it also carried encrypted identification, granting him plausible deniability if needed.
He placed the mask on his face, activating it with a touch. Within moments, his facial features morphed seamlessly, reshaping into the face of the real Ben Tennyson, the hero of legend. This was a face no one could trace back to him, Sorry ben but you will be a hero here also.
Baymax tell me the location.
"Yes, sir," Baymax responded promptly. "The villa is 1.2 miles east of your current location.
Ben stood on the quiet road, the villa just a faint silhouette in the distance. The moonlight illuminated the eerie scene as Baymax's voice echoed in his ear, "Sir, the Hand operatives seem to be performing a ritual. I must warn you, their leader's energy readings suggest some form of dark mysticism."
Ben's fist clenched, his jaw tightening. "Dark mysticism, huh? I'll show them some real power."
He raised his left arm, the Omnitrix glowing a vibrant green. Scrolling through its holographic interface, he locked in on his chosen alien. The familiar chime of the Omnitrix rang out as he slammed his hand down on the watch.
A brilliant flash of green light enveloped Ben, illuminating the Dark Ally . His body shrank and contorted, becoming leaner, sleeker. His arms transformed into sinewy limbs with clawed, three-fingered hands. His legs became elongated and digitigrade, his feet resembling talons. A long, sharp tail sprouted, balancing his frame. As the light dimmed, Ben stood fully transformed into XLR8, his smooth, black-and-blue armor-like skin reflecting the moonlight.
XLR8's visor-like helmet flickered with a faint green glow as he cracked his neck. "Let's end this madness."
And with that, he was gone—a blue-and-black blur streaking through the quiet streets, kicking up dust in his wake. The world around him became a slow-motion tableau as he dashed toward the villa. Trees swayed gently as if in a breeze; the stars above seemed frozen. Within seconds, Ben was at the villa's entrance.
He slowed to a halt, the high-pitched screech of his momentum dissipating. The scene before him made his blood boil. The villa was a dimly lit, cavernous space with ancient Japanese architecture, its walls adorned with dark red banners bearing The Hand's emblem. In the center of the room, almost forty people—men, women, even children—were huddled together, beaten and bloodied. Hand ninjas circled them like vultures, some laughing, others sipping sake as if it were a celebration.
At the head of the room stood a man in ornate ninja robes, a mad grin plastered across his face. In his hands, he held a bloodstained katana. His voice was loud and theatrical as he addressed the terrified crowd.
"Be grateful, peasants! Your lives have meaning tonight. By your sacrifice, I will summon the great beast, and its power will be mine! Hahaha!" His laughter echoed through the room, cold and cruel.
Ben transformed back into his human form, quietly slipping into the shadows near the entrance. His eyes darted around the room, analyzing the situation. He could feel his pulse quicken, anger bubbling in his chest. The laughter of the Hand operatives grated against his nerves. He clenched his fists, his gaze narrowing.
"That's it," he muttered. "They're going to regret this."
Ben's hand moved to the Omnitrix again, this time dialing in a more chilling option. He glanced at the huddled prisoners, his expression hardening. He needed to make a statement—one that would shake these monsters to their core.
With a swift motion, he slammed the Omnitrix, triggering another transformation.
This time, his body was engulfed in an unsettling, ghostly glow. His form elongated, his skin turning pale white and translucent. His chest bore a dark black stripe that ended in the Omnitrix emblem. His eyes became sinister yellow orbs glowing with a spectral light, and his claws extended, sharp and menacing.
As the transformation completed, Ghostfreak hovered in the shadows, his presence eerie and foreboding. A chill filled the air, and an unnatural silence fell over the room.
Ben stepped forward, his translucent body making no sound. His appearance was enough to catch the attention of a few Hand ninjas. One of them pointed, his face turning pale.
"What... what is that?" the ninja stammered.
The madman at the center of the room turned to see Ghostfreak's haunting form. At first, he chuckled dismissively. "A ghost? Someone must be playing a prank Who between you doing these.
But as Ghostfreak floated closer, his claws outstretched, the temperature in the room plummeted. The ninjas shivered, their breath visible in the suddenly freezing air. The laughter ceased.
"W-What's happening?!" one of the ninjas yelled.
Ghostfreak didn't respond. Instead, he phased through a nearby wall, disappearing from sight. The ninjas glanced around nervously, their composure crumbling.
Suddenly, Ghostfreak reappeared behind one of them. A low, guttural laugh echoed through the room as he whispered, "Boo."
The ninja screamed, dropping his weapon and falling to the ground. Ghostfreak extended his claws, swiping at the air, but instead of physical harm, the ninja's mind was assaulted with horrifying visions. He clutched his head, writhing in terror, before passing out.
The room descended into chaos. Ghostfreak began moving unpredictably, phasing through walls and floors, his spectral form flickering in and out of sight. The ninjas opened fire, their bullets passing harmlessly through him.
"Shoot him! Kill it!" the madman screamed, his voice breaking with fear.
But their weapons were useless. Ghostfreak hovered above them, his glowing eyes piercing through the darkness. He let out a bone-chilling wail, the sound reverberating through the room like a banshee's cry.
One by one, the ninjas fell into disarray. Some dropped their weapons and ran, only to find Ghostfreak blocking their path. Others tried to fight, swinging their swords wildly, but their attacks passed through him as if he weren't there.
The madman, now visibly trembling, raised his katana. "Y-You think you can stop me? I am the chosen one! I—"
Ghostfreak interrupted him by phasing directly in front of him, their faces inches apart. The madman froze, his bravado evaporating.
"You enjoy putting fear into others," Ghostfreak said, his voice a low, otherworldly growl. "Let's see how you like it."
With that, Ghostfreak unleashed his full power. His body twisted and contorted unnaturally, his form becoming even more grotesque. Shadows danced across the walls as if alive, and whispers filled the air—dark, unintelligible murmurs that seemed to come from nowhere.
The madman screamed, dropping his katana as he fell to his knees. He clutched his head, his eyes wide with terror.
"Stop! Please, stop!" he begged, tears streaming down his face.
Ghostfreak leaned in closer, his voice a whisper. "You'll wish you never crossed me."
When it was over, the room was silent. The ninjas lay scattered, unconscious or too terrified to move. The madman was curled into a ball, muttering incoherently.
Ghostfreak turned to the huddled prisoners, his form softening slightly. "You're safe now," he said gently, his voice no longer menacing.
With a flash of green light, Ben returned to his human form. He quickly untied the prisoners, reassuring them as they stumbled to their feet.
"Go," Ben said, pointing toward the exit. "It's over."
As the prisoners fled, Ben glanced back at the carnage. His expression was grim.
"Baymax," he said, his tone serious. "Call the authorities and send them the coordinates. They'll need to clean this up."
"Yes, sir," Baymax replied.