The night erupted as Trask's forces descended—trucks unloading controlled mutants, drones swarming, and a massive tank rolling forward, its cannon glowing with antidote-laced rounds. Bill stood at the haven's edge, Four Arms template active, four fists raised. Clara and Lily flanked him, spear and fire ready, the moat blazing high. Comics' battles—Secret Wars, mutant massacres—fueled Bill's fury, but this was personal.The tank fired—Bill caught the shell with two hands, crushing it, antidote mist hissing harmlessly against his Tetramand skin. "You don't touch my family," he roared, charging. Drones buzzed—two arms swatted them like flies, while Iron Man's HUD flickered, guiding his strikes. Controlled mutants rushed—a telekinetic hurled steel; Bill's third arm blocked, fourth smashing the mutant down."Lily, moat!" he shouted. Her fire surged, melting a truck's tires, trapping mutants. Clara speared a speedster, pinning it—Bill grabbed it with one hand, hurling it into the tank. The enforcer emerged, mech upgraded—claws, lasers, a dart gun. "The antidote ends this," he sneered.Bill's determination flared—Four Arms roared, leaping, four fists pounding the mech. Metal buckled, but darts flew—SCP-173 kicked in, unseen speed snapping the gun mid-blink. The enforcer fired lasers—Bill swapped to Steve, crafting a stone shield, then Four Arms again, ripping the mech's arm off.Mutants swarmed—twenty, then thirty—telekinetics, brutes, a screamer shattering stone. Bill fought, four arms a whirlwind—punching, throwing, crushing. Lily's fire melted a brute's armor, Clara's spear stabbed a screamer's leg—Bill finished it, two fists caving its chest. Drones dropped antidote bombs—SCP-096's rage surged as one glanced him, tearing them apart in a blur, then back to Four Arms, smashing the tank's turret.The enforcer laughed, deploying a final wave—Prime Sentinels, comics' nightmares, eyes glowing. Bill's comics dread hit—mutant hunters, unstoppable—but Four Arms met them. He grappled one, four arms twisting its limbs, Steve crafting TNT to blast another. Iron Man's repulsors fired, SCP-173 snapped a neck unseen—templates weaving chaos.Lily's fire wall slowed the Sentinels, Clara's spear jammed a joint—Bill roared, Four Arms lifting a Sentinel, hurling it into the enforcer's mech. The tank exploded, antidote vials shattering, mist rising. Bill shielded his family, Tetramand bulk unyielding—comics' resilience, Ben 10's might.The enforcer fled, Sentinels smoking, mutants collapsing—control broken. Bill shrank, Four Arms fading, panting as Clara and Lily hugged him. "You're a beast," Clara said, awed."Four beasts," Lily grinned, glow bright.The haven stood—walls cracked, moat dim—but alive. The system hummed:
"Host emotional state: Triumphant. Template mastered: Four Arms. Haven damage: Moderate. Objective: Repair, brace for antidote retaliation."Bill looked at the wreckage—Trask's antidote, Prime Sentinels, a war escalating. Four Arms had turned the tide, but the comics warned of worse—Apocalypse, maybe. "We're not done," he said, voice steel. "But we're still here."Inside, Clara bandaged him, Lily stoked the fire. The haven's heart beat on—four arms, one family, unbreakable.