"And be on the lookout on State Highway 818 for a prison bus reportedly taken over by the inmates," the voice crackled through the radio as the Rust Bucket cruised down the highway under the fading sunlight.

Before anyone could react, a loud metallic crash jolted the RV, throwing everything into chaos. Ferox, the small four-armed creature they had recently adopted, tumbled off Micheal's head where it had been comfortably resting and landed on the table with a startled squeak. The creature quickly got up, its fur puffed up as it let out an angry growl, bouncing on its small legs in frustration.

Jen glared out the back window at the prison bus speeding away. "Those cons picked the wrong bridge at the wrong time," she muttered, determination flashing in her eyes as she slammed her hand onto the Omnitrix.

Micheal activated the Ultimatrix, his form shifting into Ampfibian, while Jen turned into XLR8 in a flash of green light. "Yes! Finally, the watch listened to me," Jen exclaimed, admiring her sleek, speedy new form.

Suddenly, Venom emerged from her shoulder, his inky black tendrils twisting into shape as he eyed the group. "Jen, can we eat their skulls?" he asked out of nowhere, his voice calm yet disturbingly enthusiastic.

Everyone froze, their attention now squarely on the symbiote. Micheal, glowing faintly in his Ampfibian form, tilted his head. "Was jetzt?" (What now?)

Jen raised an eyebrow at Venom. "Why would you want to do that?"

Venom turned his gooey, sharp-toothed glare to Ferox, who was sitting innocently on the table, happily chewing on a leftover scrap of food. "BECAUSE THIS LITTLE FUR BALL EATS EVERYTHING IN THE FRIDGE!" Venom bellowed dramatically, lunging toward Ferox with exaggerated fury.

Ferox, unfazed and completely oblivious to the tension, blinked at Venom, a crumb falling from its mouth. It let out a playful chirp, tilting its head in confusion.

Jen quickly grabbed hold of Venom's tendrils, holding him back with surprising ease. "Venom, you're not eating Ferox. It's me and Micheal's little furball. And besides, maybe if you labeled your snacks, this wouldn't happen."

Venom snarled, but he relented, shrinking back into her shoulder while muttering grumpily, "Still doesn't mean I trust that fridge-raiding menace."

Micheal sighed, his electric-like energy crackling around him. "Können wir uns konzentrieren? Es gibt einen Gefängnisbus voller entflohener Häftlinge, mit denen wir uns befassen müssen, und er entkommt." (Can we focus? There's a prison bus full of escaped cons we need to deal with, and it's getting away)

"Of course, my love," Jen said with a playful smirk as she opened the door of the Rust Bucket, a blue blur disappearing into the distance as she sped off. Micheal hovered off after her, his electric energy leaving a faint trail in the air.

Jen reached the prison bus in seconds, as she maneuvered beside it. "Venom, time to spice it up!" she called out. Venom responded immediately, extending his tendrils down to her wheels, shaping them into sharp, jagged blades. With a swift move, she swerved close and punctured the bus's tires with a metallic screech. Sparks flew as the tires shredded, causing the bus to wobble uncontrollably.

Micheal, now floating above the bus, charged his Ampfibian energy and fired a precise bolt of electricity straight at the engine. The hood of the bus sparked violently before erupting in smoke, the engine sputtering to a stop. The bus screeched to a halt, skidding sideways before finally coming to rest across the highway.

The cons, panicking at the sudden chaos, began leaping out of the bus one by one, aiming for the water below in a desperate bid to escape. Just as they thought freedom was within reach, the Rust Bucket screeched to a halt behind them. The door swung open, and Gwen stepped out calmly, her spellbook in hand.

"I don't think so," she said flipping through the pages of her spellbook, she quickly found the incantation she needed. Holding out her hand, she chanted, "Aquata Risa Spackwata!"

In an instant, the water below the bridge churned and swirled unnaturally. Streams of water shot upward, forming spiraling jets beneath the fleeing convicts. The watery tendrils coiled around them, lifting them high into the air and suspending them like marionettes. The cons flailed helplessly, their escape halted in spectacular fashion.

"I meant to do that," Gwen muttered nervously, avoiding Max's knowing look. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, only shaking his head with a faint smile before heading back into the Rust Bucket.

Sometime later, the gang had pulled over at a quiet rest stop along the highway. Max was seated at the picnic table outside the Rust Bucket, munching on a bag of pretzels and flipping through an old map.

Gwen sat nearby, deeply focused on her spellbook and scribbling notes on her laptop. She absentmindedly muttered something about water spells under her breath, clearly trying to refine her earlier performance.

Outside the Rust Bucket, Ferox darted around on its tiny legs, joyfully chasing a fluttering butterfly. Its oversized ears flopped slightly as it leaped into the air, trying to catch the elusive insect. Lucky seeing the creature trying to catch the butterfly also followed Ferox.

Inside the RV, Micheal was leaning back against the cushions with Jen draped over him like a cozy blanket. Her head rested on his chest, her arms loosely wrapped around him as her breathing slowed, teetering on the edge of sleep.

"Bequem?" (Comfy) Micheal asked softly, glancing down at her. Jen snuggled closer, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Mhm... You promised to cuddle me as long as I wanted, remember?"

"I did," he replied with a small smile, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

From the window, Venom peeked out, noticing Ferox's antics. "That furball better not bring that butterfly in here," Venom grumbled lowly. Ferox, oblivious to the symbiote's irritation, continued its playful chase outside.

Jen snuggled deeper into Micheal's chest, her mischievous grin betraying her sudden idea. "Micheal..." she began sweetly, her tone drawing out his name. "Can you turn into Blitzwolfer for me?"

Micheal blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected request. He glanced down at her, already suspecting her motives. "Jen... I can't just use the Ultimatrix for something like that," he replied, trying to sound firm. But his faint blush betrayed him.

Jen, however, wasn't one to give up easily. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her lips curling into an adorable pout. "Please?" she asked, her eyes wide and shimmering with the most devastatingly effective puppy-dog look he'd ever seen.

Micheal clenched his jaw, determined to resist her charms. "Jen, no—" he started, but before he could finish, she snuggled even closer, pressing her body against his as if to seal her argument.

"Pleeeaaase?" she whispered, her voice soft and pleading, her gaze unwavering.

Micheal sighed deeply, feeling his resolve crumbling. He could feel the teasing smirk she was hiding under her innocent expression. "Du bist unmöglich, weißt du das?" (You're impossible, you know that?) he muttered, reluctantly reaching for the Ultimatrix on his wrist.

Jen's face lit up instantly, her excitement barely contained. "Thank you, Micheal! You're the best!" she chirped, her arms wrapping tighter around him as she planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a small smile, Micheal activated the Ultimatrix. With a flash of light, he stood before Jen as Blitzwolfer.

Jen squealed in delight, practically bouncing as she sat up. "You're so fluffy!" she exclaimed, reaching out to run her fingers through his thick fur. Blitzwolfer—or rather, Micheal—groaned, his ears flattening slightly in embarrassment.

"Jetzt glücklich?" (Happy now?) he grumbled, his deep, gravelly voice betraying his discomfort at being treated like a giant plush toy.

Jen grinned, her hands continuing to stroke his fur. "Very. Now hold still—I need to pet you more," she declared, completely ignoring his embarrassment as she scratched behind his ears.

Jen's mischievous smirk grew as Micheal let out another involuntary moan, his embarrassment painted across his lupine features. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" she teased, her fingers working expertly behind his ears. Her voice dipped into a playful whisper, her lips close to his ear. "Maybe I should turn into Jenwolf and show you just how good it can feel."

Micheal's red eyes widened, and his already reddened face deepened into a crimson hue. "N-no, I don't think that's necessary," he stammered, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. But his traitorous tail wagged uncontrollably, betraying his true feelings.

Jen giggled, leaning closer and pressing her body against him even more, her warmth making it impossible for him to focus on anything else. "Your tail says otherwise, big guy," she purred, scratching under his chin now for good measure.

"Jen, seriously, this isn't—" he started, but his voice cracked as another contented sound escaped him.

"Or, maybe I use Fourarms to pleasure you in every place." She teased into his ears, making the German blush and stutter trying to say something. Jen, seeing him trying to say something giggled as she pressed her body on him.

"I still remember what happened to the bathroom." She said, hearts in her eyes remembering their time in the shower. Micheal's blush deepened as he tried to shift away from her.

"Do you want me to help you release all of the tension?" She asked with a smirk reaching for the Omnitrix and scratching his chin and ears. But the Ultimatrix beeped as he turned back, making Jen huff.

Jen pouted dramatically, crossing her arms as she flopped back against the couch. "You're no fun sometimes, Micheal," she huffed, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. "Fourarms could've made things very interesting."

Micheal groaned, running a hand through his hair and glancing away. "Jen, can you please not bring up the bathroom incident again?" he asked, his voice a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. "That was—uh—an accident."

"Accident, huh?" Jen smirked, leaning closer to him again. "Sure didn't seem like one at the time. You seemed pretty into it." Jen then had another idea as she jumped on top of him.

"Maybe now, you'll enjoy this more." She said as she sat down on his lap and pressed down on 'it', making the boy blush as steam came out of his ears. But, before he could say anything she grabbed his head and put it in her chest as Jen let out a delighted moan. 'He's so cute.. So mine.' She thought in her mind as she squeezed his head more.

Jen was about to pull their shirts up when the door to the Rust Bucket suddenly opened, and Max's voice broke the moment. "Get ready, you two. We need to get moving."

Jen looked up at him, a confused expression on her face. "Why? What's going on?" she asked, not fully understanding the urgency.

Gwen, sitting at the laptop, glanced over at them. "This is why," she said, turning the screen toward Jen and Micheal. On the screen was a news broadcast showing a reporter.

"The Noven spacecraft was delayed due to a freak electrical storm," the reporter was saying. "I've covered storms all over the world, but I've never seen anything like this. The purple lightning is unlike anything we've encountered before."

"But we have," Micheal said, standing up, his tone serious. "In the desert with that werewolf?" Max nodded, adding, "And at the farm with that mummy."

"This is Steve Comings, reporting live from the Kennedy Space Center." As the report concluded, the laptop screen flickered off. "Next stop, Cape Canaveral," Max said as they began to drive,

Meanwhile, at the space station, the room hummed with the faint buzz of machinery as a man in a white lab coat concluded his presentation. "And my redesign of the propellant tanks will increase velocity on the twin solid-rocket boosters, allowing for increased high-altitude efficiency. The changes are already being implemented." Dr. Victor declared confidently, the glow of the projector casting his stern face into sharp relief.

The presentation ended, and polite applause filled the room. A man seated near the front, shuffling through a stack of papers, spoke up. "Very impressive, Dr. Victor, but since you're new here, you should know that once a launch is scrubbed, protocol dictates a thorough review of all–"

Before he could finish, Dr. Victor loomed over him, his eyes narrowing. "And who are you to question my work?" he demanded, his voice low but threatening. The room fell silent as tension crackled like static electricity.

The man, unperturbed, adjusted his glasses and looked up at Dr. Victor. "I'm the flight director of this mission," he replied firmly.

Dr. Victor blinked, his posture softening slightly. "Yes, of course," he said, stepping back with forced composure. Without another word, he turned and exited the room, the doors sliding shut behind him.

"Not exactly Mr. Personality, but he is brilliant. I can see why you hired him," one of the men in the control room commented as he watched Dr. Victor leave.

The flight director, still organizing his papers, glanced up in confusion. "I thought you hired him," he replied, his brows furrowed. Both men exchanged uneasy looks, their conversation trailing off as the tension lingered in the air.

Back at the Rust Bucket, the team drove along the highway until the massive NASA space center came into view.

Jen, seated next to Micheal, already had her Omnitrix dial spinning. "Okay, here's the plan," she said with a grin. "We go in as Fourarms and Humungousaur, take down anyone who gets in our way, and figure out this whole purple lightning mess."

Micheal sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Jen, wir gehen zur NASA und stürmen nicht ein Raumschiff, um gegen einen außerirdischen Frankenstein zu kämpfen," (Jen, we're going to NASA, not storming a spaceship to fight an alien Frankenstein) he said, his tone firm but amused.

Jen pouted but before she could argue further, Max interjected. "Hold on, Jen. I may know someone who can help us get inside without... all the commotion."

The kids looked at each other as Jen asked, "Really, who?" Max smirked knowingly. "Just an old friend," he said, keeping the mystery alive as he guided the Rust Bucket closer to the space center gates.

As the group entered the building, Max led the way. They had barely made it a few steps before a booming voice called out from across the room.

"Max Tennyson! What's it been? Forty years?" The voice belonged to the flight director, who was striding toward them with a broad grin.

Max turned, his face lighting up. "Give or take," he replied as the two men shook hands firmly.

The flight director patted Max on the shoulder as they began walking down the corridor together, the kids trailing close behind. "Whatever happened to you? One day you were here, and the next, you vanished without a word," the director asked, his tone filled with genuine curiosity. Max chuckled softly as he said nothing.

The director glanced at the wall of photographs they were passing, one in particular catching his eye. "Had you give you're little walk to Armstrong," he said with a wistful smile.

Jen, overhearing the conversation, froze. Her eyes widened in shock as she hurried to catch up. "Wait a second—Armstrong? As in Apollo 11's Neil Armstrong? Grandpa, are you saying you were supposed to be the first man on the moon?"

"Sure was," the director said as he stopped in front of a framed photo, gesturing toward it. "Does this guy look familiar?" It was a picture of a young Max Tennyson, proudly standing in an astronaut suit. The director smiled warmly at the memory. "Best astronaut in the program."

Max gave the photo a brief glance before turning to the director with a faint smile. "A different duty called," he said, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

The director nodded, but his eyes drifted past Max to the group of kids standing behind him. Specifically, his gaze locked onto something perched on Michael's shoulder.

It was Ferox, casually nibbling on a piece of beef jerky Michael had bought earlier. The small creature's tail flicked lazily as it munched away, seemingly unaware of the growing attention.

The director raised an eyebrow and pointed. "Uh, Max... what exactly is that?"

Michael froze, his hand halfway to offering Ferox another piece of jerky. "Uh... it's my, uh... exotisches haustier," he said quickly, trying to sound convincing. The director looked confused hearing the German but Jen quickly translated for him, "He says it's an exotic pet."

Ferox paused mid-chew, tilted its head at the director, and waved his little arms before returning to its snack.

The director folded his arms and gave Max a skeptical look. "Exotic pet? Looks more like something out of a sci-fi movie. You kids aren't smuggling anything classified, are you?"

Max chuckled nervously, stepping in to smooth things over. "No smuggling, just some... unique company. You know how kids are these days—always into the latest trends."

The director eyed Ferox again, clearly unconvinced, but decided to let it slide. "Well, just make sure your 'pet' doesn't end up in the control room chewing on wires. We've got enough problems with the weather and what's that robot?" He asked as Lucky waved at him and beeped.

"Anyways, what can I help you with Max?" The director asked him, Max put his hands on the kids shoulders as he said, "Just playing tourist. Wanted to show the youngsters around the old stomping ground" He said as Micheal looked around seeing pictures of the younger Max unknowingly knocking into someone.

"Anyways, what can I help you with, Max?" the director asked, turning back to him.

Max smiled, placing his hands on the kids' shoulders. "Just playing tourist," he replied casually. "Wanted to show the youngsters around the old stomping ground."

As the group exchanged polite smiles, Michael began to wander off slightly, his eyes scanning the walls lined with photos of a younger Max. Distracted, he accidentally bumped into someone.

Michael quickly turned and looked up, only to meet the piercing gaze of Dr. Victor. The tall scientist glared down at him, his expression unreadable but intense. Michael felt a chill run through him.

Dr. Victor's gaze flicked from Michael to the small creature on his shoulder. Ferox, sensing the tension, let out a small, nervous chirp before leaping down and hiding behind Michael's legs, peeking out cautiously.

Dr. Victor's eyes narrowed as they settled on the glowing Ultimatrix strapped to Michael's wrist. "You shouldn't be here," he said coldly, his voice sharp and authoritative. Turning to the flight director, he added, "You bring unauthorized visitors into a classified area? Get rid of