# đź“– *Ben 10: The Lost Years*
**Episode 9 – Legends Born of Lies***
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### **POV: Cafeteria Gossip – Bellwood High**
High school rumors traveled faster than light.
Lunch in Bellwood High was proof. Yesterday, Ben Tennyson had stumbled into class with a split lip and ripped hoodie, claiming he'd "fallen off his bike." By noon today three stories swirled:
- Version One: Ben actually fought off three muggers and won.
- Version Two: He was training to be a secret agent and wasn't even really enrolled in school.
- Version Three: He was just clumsy and tripped into a trash can… again.
Sitting three tables away, Gary the Bully slammed a fist against the table. "He's just a freak. He's not a spy, or a ninja, or whatever. He's just Ben. Weird, scrawny Ben."
Gary's friend hesitated. "Yeah, but… you saw that spitball thing last week, right? He ducked before you even fired."
Gary flushed crimson. "Lucky. *Just lucky.*"
Meanwhile, Marty Henshaw sat near the end of the table, taking it all in, stealing glances at Ben. Lucky? Maybe. But Ben never got hit by "luck" the wrong way. Not anymore.
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### **POV: Ben – Cafeteria Table**
Ben sat with tray untouched, head in hands, listening without really listening. Rumors at school were funny compared to the **galactic whispers** that had already started creeping into taverns and syndicate files.
But here? He was just the lazy kid who either fought muggers, tripped into garbage, or moonlighted as James Bond.
He smirked tiredly, muttering under his breath: "At least no one here thinks I eat planets."
Marty leaned across. "What?"
Ben blinked fast. "Nothing. Eat… pizza. This pizza. Yum."
He stuffed a hardened slice in his mouth, ignoring Marty's suspicious look.
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### **POV: Ms. Dalton – Watching**
From across the cafeteria, Ms. Dalton scanned her class's trouble magnet again.
He was slouched as usual. But the bruises were new. The notebook he half‑hid, full of sharp angular handwriting, was new. Diagrams beyond schematics. Not the doodles of a bored child — the plans of a savant.
She whispered to herself, "Where are you learning this, Ben?"
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### **POV: Plumber Observation Log – Off‑World Tap (expository slice)**
[COMPOSED: Magister Labrid]
**Report:** Benjamin Tennyson continues erratic surface life. Suspect his legend now outpaces his actual movements. Multiple syndicate cells pushing exaggerated accounts. Taverns repeating nonsense:
- "Human boy tricked Skrall into cratering three armies."
- "He's half‑machine, his blood is liquid metal."
- "Cursed vessel of the Omnitrix, even without the device."
If even half of these exaggerations solidify, galactic morale may fracture. He is not simply "famous." He is *myth‑ic.*
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## 🚀 **Transition — Bellwood to Space Again**
That night, Ben slipped free from home, hoodie low, backpack rattling with "homework" that was mostly wires and scrap.
Sliding into the junkyard's shuttle, he exhaled, Spark humming in his ribs. Argit was gone. No snark to fill the silence. No rat to disguise the loneliness.
He muttered: "Guess it's just me now."
The shuttle coughed to life. Stars opened.
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### **POV: Neutral Station — Tavern Gossip**
The Ramelion Spires were infamous neutral territory: cavernous stations floating in sulphur‑green nebulae, lit by dim sputtering neon and crowded with smugglers drinking sour bark‑tonic.
Ben kept his hood low as he walked inside, senses sharp. Spark buzzed like antennae, telling him which tables brewed threat.
And everywhere, words hissed:
"He's the Trickster. Child who cheats death."
"No — he's a cursed god, sparks fire from breath!"
"I hear he betrays even allies. Don't trust him. Don't *look* at him."
Ben froze near the bar, sweat starting. They were talking about… him.
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### **POV: Alien Bounty Hunter – Listening**
The human walked by. Hood up. They all knew. Whispers traveled past faster than light. He really was shorter than stories said… but his grin when light caught his lips? Sharp.
No normal boy.
The hunter muttered: "The Sparked One."
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### **POV: Ben – Spiral of Lies**
Ben slid into the darkest corner booth, hands tight.
He heard more as dealers bickered nearby:
– One story claimed he had **an army of ten million freed prisoners**.
– Another insisted he stole **Vilgax's ship, single‑handed.**
– Another swore he **ate syndicate marks alive.**
Ben grimaced. "Wow. Nice. Guess I'm a cannibal demigod now. That'll look great on a college application."
Then he realized several eyes were watching him in silent reverence.
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### **POV: Rebel Recruiter – Projection**
The recruiter leaned closer. "We know who you are. The galaxy needs someone like you, Tennyson. General without an army. Legend incarnate. Won't you lead us?"
Ben blinked. "Lead you? I'm still cramming for algebra quizzes."
The recruiter didn't laugh. "Don't mock destiny. You are *the Sparked.* Come with us. Free worlds bend knee to your name."
Ben smirked, but his stomach twisted. He wasn't a demigod. He was a kid. But lies moved faster than truth.
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### **POV: Spark Moment — Internal Ben**
The Spark pulsed — information crashing across his skin. The recruiter's tension, smugglers' eyes, the assassin in the shadows sharpening a blade.
He knew instantly: this was getting out of hand.
He slammed his cup down and rose. "Rumors finish faster than people, huh? Let's add one more. Tell 'em Ben Tennyson doesn't babysit armies."
Fury and awe tangled in the crowd. Half saw it as dismissal. Half saw it as prophecy.
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### **POV: Alien Tavern Whisper**
Later: "He refused armies. Said no. Means he walks alone because he needs *no one.*"
"No. It means he fears his own power."
"No. It means he is *curse and spark both.*"
And a newer title emerged: **The Cursed Spark.**
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### **POV: Closing Earth – Duality Snap**
The shuttle dropped Ben back near Bellwood dawn.
By second period, he walked into Ms. Dalton's room pale, sluggish. Bruise on one cheek. Same hoodie.
Students whispered: "Maybe he fights gangs on weekends. Maybe he's literally a spy. Maybe he just lives in trash."
And Ms. Dalton muttered for herself again: "Too smart. Too strange. Too dangerous."
Across galaxies, he was whispered as "The Sparked General Without An Army."
At school? Lazy kid with doodle‑schematics.
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### **POV: Ben – Final Beat**
That night, lying across his bed, Spark humming in his ribs, Ben muttered under breath:
"Legends born of lies. School thinks I'm useless. Galaxy thinks I'm god. Guess neither's right, huh?"
He smirked faintly. "Truth is… I'm just trouble with great timing."
Stars twinkled like giggles at the irony.
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