Ben 10: Justice Incarnate Chapter 31 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 31: The Main Man Part 1

Metropolis

August 5, 11:38 EDT

On top of the Daily Planet, Ark and Superman sat side by side, each holding a bottle of soda pop as they watched the skyline of Metropolis. Superman took a long sip, tired. It had felt like a long month.

After a moment, Ark gestured toward one of the buildings—the unmistakable L-shaped neon sign at the top. “So, what can you tell me about your arch-nemesis?” 

Superman rolled his eyes as he looked toward the LexCorp building. “Lex Luthor? Where do I even start? He’s brilliant, ambitious, and, unfortunately, obsessed with proving he’s better than me in every possible way.”

Ark took a swig, nodding. “Sounds like a real pain. What’s his beef with you, exactly?”

Superman sighed, leaning back. “It’s complicated. Lex sees himself as the rightful hero of Metropolis. He believes he could be the one to ‘save’ the city if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“Ah, an “Everyone is the hero of their own story” situation.

“Basically.”

“Lex genuinely believes that humanity should stand on its own. He thinks people shouldn’t rely on aliens like me or outside forces to save them. To him, my presence is holding Earth back… or at least that’s how he frames it.”

Ark raised a brow. “So he’s pushing this whole ‘humans first’ philosophy?”

Superman nodded. “Exactly. And, in some ways, I get it. It’s not that I don’t understand the desire for independence or wanting people to find their strength. People like Lex see my being here as a crutch for humanity. They don’t see it as a partnership.”

“In fairness, it seems like you and other heroes have saved the earth from extinction a few times. Like, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but that doesn’t work when you are dead. Plus, I don’t see how the average Joe is supposed to grow from these threats.”

“I do what I can to share information with the city and the US government on any returning threats. Superheroes like us won’t always be around, and Earth needs to learn to protect itself.”

Ark nodded. “That’s life. We do what we can. I know several civilizations that fell because they couldn’t adapt.”

“Yeah… But Lex takes it too far. He sees me specifically as the embodiment of an obstacle, not as someone here to help. Earth is my home, too. To him, my existence undermines everything he believes in.”

Ark frowned, letting the idea sink in. “That’s… intense.”

Superman shrugged. “He wants a ‘pure’ version of humanity without outside intervention. And he’s not alone in thinking that way.”

Ark gave Superman a look of sympathy and shook his head. “I don’t know, man. You’re just trying to do the right thing. As you put it, he could make a difference if he’d just give up the whole ‘must-be-better-than-Superman’ mentality. He could change the world for the better.”

Superman sighed, looking down at his drink. “Yeah. He could. 

“I’d rather he just try to do good for its own sake. But Lex…”

“could probably cure cancer but spends his days trying to get under your skin?”

“More or less. It’s a shame, really. In his mind, he’s probably Metropolis’s true savior. He’s spent years trying to position himself as the hero—the one who ‘protects’ this city, whether anyone else sees it or not. And every time he slips through the cracks, thanks to his lawyers or lack of evidence, it only makes him bolder.”

Ark raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried getting him on tax evasion? Worked with Al Capone.”

Superman laughed. “I wish. But knowing Lex, he probably has a team of accountants ready to handle that, too.”

“Yeah, no kidding, and if he’s this bad as a CEO, God forbid he ever tries to get into politics.”

Superman winced. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Ark shrugged, giving Superman a reassuring pat on the back. “Hey, you keep doing what you’re doing. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll wake up and realize he’s been fighting the wrong battle all along.”

“Maybe…”

Ark gave him a nudge. “You’d still be here, though. As long as you’re around, Luthor can’t mess with people however he wants.”

“In the meantime, I guess I’ll just have to keep watching my back.”

Superman’s expression softened, a small smile forming. “Thanks, Ark. Sometimes, it’s nice to hear that.” They clinked their soda bottles together and took another sip.

Outer Space

Steaming Load Tavern

Lobo let out burp through the tavern. "I’m givin' you geeks ten seconds before I frag everything in sight!" He lifted his gun with a grin. "One..." Then he pulled the trigger. "TEN!"

Without hesitation, Lobo started blasting. Aliens of all shapes and sizes fled in panic, ducking and diving for cover.

A small brown rat-like alien with an extra pair of eyes on his head peeked nervously from behind a jukebox, inching toward the exit. He almost made it when a chain-hook shot out and wrapped around his waist, dragging him back.

"Not you, Sqweek." Lobo yanked the alien close.

Sqweek gulped. "H-Hey, Lobo. Long time, no see."

Lobo tightened his grip. "Emperor Spewge knows it was you who pilfered his treasury, Sqweek. He’s payin’ me to bring the dough back in a nice little pile."

"What about me?"

Lobo's smirk widened. "Same deal."

Sqweek became desperate. "Framed. I was framed!"

Lobo scoffed, kicking up a spittoon and catching it in his other hand. "Is that so?"

"No, no!"

Lobo shoved him into the spittoon, muffling his protests.

The tavern door swung open at that moment, and several aliens entered.

"Hey, leave my little brother alone."

Lobo smirked. "Well, if it ain’t Gnaww Vermin and his roach-motel rejects. Don’t tell me you’re after this bounty too."

"If anyone’s gonna collect on Sqweek, it’s gonna be family. Hand him over."

Lobo grinned. "Sure." He tossed the spittoon—Sqweek and all—right at Gnaww’s head. Then, with a swift kick, he sent Gnaww and his lackeys tumbling back.

"Was hopin’ I'd see some excitement on this job." He cracked his knuckles.

A bar brawl erupted as Lobo bashed two grunts' heads together. Gnaww managed to charge Lobo from behind, lifting him with a double-arm slam and throwing him to the floor. All around them, aliens were brawling, glasses shattering, and tables breaking under the chaos. The spittoon with Sqweek inside rolled away, and the rat-like alien clambered out just in time to see Lobo fighting his way across the room.

"Hold on, Sqweek!" Lobo called, slamming an alien with a wine bottle that ricocheted off his opponent and struck Sqweek in the face, knocking him out cold.

As Lobo drew his gun, he heard a shout from across the room. "Lobo!" Gnaww was back on his feet, blaster in hand, and he aimed right at the bounty hunter.

Lobo grabbed a roach-like alien by the arm and held it up as a shield. The alien squirmed and protested as each shot pinged off its thick exoskeleton. "Hey, wait!"

Lobo shot at a shelf above Gnaww with a smirk, sending barrels toppling down. They burst open, spilling a foul-smelling liquid all over Gnaww.

Lobo tossed the roach alien aside and dipped a finger in the liquid flow. "Old weasel spit. Too bad I can’t stick around."

Lobo grabbed the unconscious Sqweek and the spittoon, then whistled. His bike crashed through the tavern wall. He sped off out of the building.

When a tiny spark ignited the liquid-covered Gnaww, a massive explosion erupted. As the smoke cleared, aliens lay sprawled on the ground, singed and covered in soot.

Gnaww staggered to his feet. "Now I’m mad. Now I’m really mad."

#

As Lobo flew through space with Sqweek trapped under one arm, he smirked to himself. “It’s always sweeter collectin’ a reward knowin’ you beat some other geek out of it.”

Meanwhile, a nearby vessel monitored his progress closely.

“The bounty hunter has entered range,” announced the ship’s computer.

“Proceed,” replied a deep, ominous voice from the darkness.

Out of nowhere, a red beam struck Lobo, engulfing him, his bike, and Sqweek in a flash of energy. Lobo’s grin widened. “Holy fragarolli! F-feels like I’m bein’ torn apart! Cool.” In an instant, they materialized inside the shadowy hold of the Preserver’s ship. Lobo jumped off his bike, holding a crowbar in one hand and Sqweek in the other. He looked around, sneering, “Oh yeah. Somebody’s definitely tired of breathin’. Show yourself, ya slimy geekwad!”

The shadows parted as a large, regal-looking alien floated forward, draped in green and orange robes. “I am the Preserver,” he intoned.

“And I’m the night manager at the Hotel de Frag. Lookie there, it’s checkout time.” Lobo swung his crowbar, but the Preserver unleashed a wave of blue energy, sending him sprawling.

“Fraggin’ gizzards,” Lobo muttered, picking himself up.

The Preserver regarded him with cold detachment. “You are Lobo. Assassin, brigand, sociopath, monster.”

Lobo dusted himself off, flashing a crooked grin. “You left out ‘scourge of the cosmos.’”

The Preserver continued, “And the most ruthless bounty hunter in the galaxy. I want to hire you.”

“Sorry, dude. I’m already on a job.” But as he spoke, Sqweek was teleported out of his grip, vanishing into thin air. “Hey!” Lobo protested.

“Your prisoner will be held until you return,” the Preserver replied smoothly. “Besides, this job should be no great task for one with your skills.” He gestured, leading Lobo down a hallway lined with containment tubes, each holding strange and rare creatures.

“Behold. Gathered here are the rarest creatures in the universe, each the last survivor of its race,” he declared.

“So you got a thing for varmints. So what?” Lobo sneered, but the Preserver’s tone turned serious.

“Many years ago, the planet Krypton was destroyed,” he said, ejecting a data slate from his suit that floated into Lobo’s hand. “I had long believed all members of the Kryptonian race were extinct until I found evidence of one living on a distant world called Earth.” A hologram of Superman appeared, and Lobo eyed it with disdain.

“Looks like a first-class wimp to me,” he scoffed.

“He is more than he appears,” the Preserver replied. “Additionally, reports suggest other near-extinct species on the same planet.” The hologram shifted to show images of other beings, beginning with Rath, a hulking, tiger-striped creature with massive claws and muscles rippling beneath his fur. Next appeared Heatblast, a humanoid figure wreathed in fiery energy, his body composed of molten rock glowing red-hot. Lastly, Terraspin—a giant, turtle-like alien with a tough shell and limbs that could retract and spin to create whirlwinds.

Rolling his eyes, Lobo tossed the data slate back. “Sluggo, I got better ways to waste my time than rounding up bugs for your flea circus. So if you’ll hand over the runt, I’ll cancel the homemade colostomy I’m plannin’ to inflict on your tiny, wrinkled…” But his rant trailed off as a large chest of glimmering jewels materialized in front of him. His eyes went wide, and he dropped to his knees, running his hands over the treasure. “Oh, mama. That’s a lot of mai tais.”

The jewels vanished, and the data slate floated back into his hands. “Deliver the aliens, and the jewels are yours. Do we have a bargain?” the Preserver asked.

Lobo squinted as he glanced at the floating alien before him. His fingers drummed impatiently on the handle of his massive gun. “You’re askin’ me to deliver you several aliens? That may be a bit much even for me,” he growled, eyeing the Preserver with suspicion.

The Preserver’s eyes glowed with an unnatural calm. “Do not concern yourself. I anticipated your need for support, so I have contacted another bounty hunter to assist you in this endeavor. In fact…” The Preserver’s lips curled into a slight smile. “You may already be familiar with him.”

As if on cue, the teleporter hummed with energy, casting a red glow across the room. Moments later, a figure materialized: tall, lean, and clad in worn, western-style clothes with a sweeping cape and large, folded wings. His face was hidden under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat, but a crooked smirk crept across his face as he looked up.

“Bedlam?” Lobo barked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Lobo?” Bedlam replied, his voice a deep, mocking drawl. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he surveyed the larger bounty hunter, taking a step forward. “Didn’t expect to see you on this end of the cosmos. Last I remember, we were tearing up the Citadel together.”

A chuckle rumbled in Lobo’s chest. “Yeah, those were some fun times,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “So, what brings you to this side of the universe?”

Bedlam flicked his cape back, his wings stretching slightly. “Same as you. Was closing in on another bounty when our friend here decided to pick me up. Seems he has plans to keep us both busy.” He shot a glance at the Preserver, his eyes narrowing. “And you’re offering a pretty hefty payout, I assume?”

The Preserver inclined his head. “The rewards for this task are substantial, but make no mistake—it requires absolute focus. These targets are not only unique but elusive.”

Lobo grinned, his eyes sparking with a mix of excitement and mischief. “Alright, let’s get this rodeo started. But don’t think I’m splittin’ the reward with ya, Bedlam.”

Bedlam chuckled, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Lobo. Just don’t slow me down.”

Lobo tucked the data slate under his arm with a feral grin at the Preserver. “Hose down a cage, boss. You’re gettin’ a new exhibits.”

The Watchtower

Martian Manhunter sat at the console as he performed his daily routine of monitoring Earth. Everything seemed peaceful as usual, but a slight unease in his lower stomach started to distract him. He ignored it at first, then winced. The extra-spicy takeout he’d ordered earlier wasn’t sitting well.

A pang of discomfort forced him to pause, and after another wave hit, he knew it was time to retreat to the restroom. He left the console, mumbling “never again.”

The Watchtower’s screens flashed in his absence, and an alert blinked over the radar system: Unidentified extraterrestrial presence detected. Red indicators marked two high-speed objects crossing Earth’s atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the room was empty, and the warning went unnoticed. Martian Manhunter was looking a bit paler than usual and muttering about the perils of earthly spice levels

Far below, two rogue bounty hunters made their way toward Metropolis.

#

Ark scrolled through his phone, stopping at a headline that caught his attention. “Hey, Superman. Do you know anything about this Leslie Willis? Seems like she’s trying to turn the public against you.”

Superman nodded. “Leslie Willis. Yeah, she’s a popular shock jock here in Metropolis. She goes by ‘Live Wire’ on her podcast. She’s built her brand on ridiculing me whenever she gets the chance. Lex Luthor’s a big fan of hers too, which doesn’t really help her objectivity.”

“What does she think of you?”

“Well, according to Leslie, I’m never around when I’m really needed. That Everything comes too easily for me. That I don’t actually care about anyone but myself.”

Ark cringed. “Wow. That sucks.”

Superman shrugged it off. “I’ve listened to her show, but I don’t let it get to me. At the end of the day, it's her free speech. Shock jocks like her thrive on stirring controversy. It’s part of the job.”

Ark frowned as he scrolled. “Even so, doesn’t it bother you that people might believe her? There's a level of trust that needs to be maintained for the long term."

"Even if people hate me, I'll still do my best to help them."

"And I'm all for that. Trust me. I've had my fair share of reluctant rescues. But, this kind of misinformation can build up and have real effects, especially if people think there’s truth to it.”

Superman tilted his head, considering Ark’s point. “Are you suggesting I go on her show for an interview?”

Ark shrugged. “It could be worth considering, but the results may vary depending on her angle. She’ll probably want the ratings boost, so she might toss a few ‘gotcha’ questions at you.”

Superman huffed. “I’m familiar with the ways of tabloids and paparazzi.”

Ark nodded slowly. “Still, it might be something to think about. People can be easily swayed by the media.”

He paused back to his own experiences with Will Harangue. Could he have handled that situation better? Probably. But maybe it would have been easier if he’d had a team to address the slander head-on.

Metropolis Police Department

The fluorescent lights flickered slightly in the otherwise quiet Metropolis Police Department lobby as an officer leaned back in his chair, eyes half-glued to the news. The screen displayed grainy footage of an unmistakable spectacle in the sky—a ragged-looking biker barreling into Metropolis on a flying motorcycle.

The newscaster’s voice buzzed through the room, “It seems we have yet another alien visitor in Metropolis. Video is as clear as it is confusing, but after careful analysis, experts agree it’s a scruffy biker...on a flying motorcycle.”

The officer sighed, leaning forward with a shake of his head. "It just keeps gettin' weirder."

Just then, a loud bang against the desk jolted him upright. He looked up to see hulking figures looming over him. One had an untamed mane of hair, a toothy grin, and a jacket patched with battle scars. The other looked like some kind of masked, angelic cowboy.

“Hey, how’s it goin’, chief?” Lobo leaned over the desk, far too close for comfort.

The officer raised an eyebrow, meeting their eyes warily. “I'm... good. Somethin’ I can do for ya, big guys?”

"We're lookin’ for some illegal aliens,” Lobo said with a smirk.

The officer stared for a second before blinking in realization. "Oh, you mean actual aliens… like yourselves."

"Yep!” Lobo grinned wider, and Bedlam gave a slight nod, eyes glinting beneath his hat.

The man blinked. "I see. Earth has a few…”

“Maybe you can help me; we're new in town.” Lobo dug into his jacket, pulling out a crushed data slate that managed to project flickering holograms of their targets. “And we’re lookin’ for these geeks here.”

The desk cop looked at the projected images of Superman and Ark, then shrugged. “Superman and the new guy from Central? Frank told me they were hanging around the city, but we don’t keep tabs on ‘em, pal. Really, they only show up if there’s trouble.”

Lobo’s grin stretched even wider as he reached for the oversized blaster slung over his shoulder. “Oh, I can do trouble.”

The officer, utterly unfazed, slowly reached for his badge, tossed it on the desk, and sighed. “Alright, bud. Have fun with that. I’m headin’ home.” He tipped his hat, grabbing his coat as he sauntered out the door, leaving Lobo and Bedlam alone in the lobby, eager to start their hunt.