Ben 10 - Blindly Aware

Myaxx has never entertained the notion that she was vain. She does not primp or style her tendrils; such things only wasted valuable research time. She does not file or paint her nails, her precision and dexterity would be thrown off by the unfamiliar shape and hue the tips of her fingers would take. She does not fret about having the required physique the intergalactic society has thrust upon her gender, all that matters is that she is able to run, fight and gather data without losing life or limb in the process. She does not spend countless hours in front of a mirror fussing over the deep lines forming under her eyes, she is happy to have her skin still intact after the numerous explosions and life-threatening situations she has survived through.

While she does maintain an acceptable level of grooming and personal hygiene, she makes no apologies should she be found in a disheveled state. She has given everyone the impression that vanity is simply the furthest thing on her mind. For Myaxx, there was no reason for her to look pretty, no desire to catch anyone’s eye. There was just no point. Period.

The Chimera had no time to concern herself over such superficial matters for she was a scientist. She had said as much whenever her employer, Azmuth, would make an off-handed comment on her femininity in particular her lack thereof. Myaxx’s additional responses of snarling, cussing and hurling the nearest object at the Galvan just validated the statement.

At present, Azmuth was completely perplexed upon overhearing (read: eavesdropping on) his assistant’s latest complaints. The Galvan could understand if she had been lamenting how he was taking her for granted yet again. However it had lost some of its pizzazz, having been an audience to that rant so often Azmuth could lip-synch along without missing a beat. He wouldn’t have been surprised should she have been muttering about wanting some credit and respect, it was her second favorite monologue and slightly less venomous.

He may have blinked whenever Myaxx mentioned plans about murdering him in his sleep, but the Chimera proved she was never the sort who followed through with her threats. Not unless it was made when she could immediately take action. The Galvan had nothing to worry about as he closely monitored the activities in his laboratory. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to get past his security measures.

But the female had voice none of these things. The thoughts she recently vocalized had strangely, inexplicably revolved around how she had never realized just how unattractive she must be.

It was curiosity from a completely scientific standpoint (at least that what he told himself) that prompted Amzuth to investigate the abrupt paradigm shift of his assistant. He had pulled up the recordings of her behavior the past few months and noted nothing out of the ordinary, save for how the instances of her humming had increased. And while the idea of a happy Myaxx was unsettling to the Galvan, he could not deny the improvement of her mood was an anomaly in relation to her self-deprecating appraisal. Shouldn’t her almost-pleasant attitude be more conducive to pats on the back and reassuring pep-talks?

“This doesn’t make sense.” Azmuth frowned, for all his brilliance in the field of genetics and technology, his anthropological endeavors always left something to be desired. Case in point: The Omnitrix. What was meant to serve as the ultimate peacemaking device became the most sought after weapon in the universe.

Eventually he stumbled across the footage of Myaxx returning from her most recent day off. Indeed, the Chimera’s request for respect had been denied, but Azmuth offered her instead the opportunity to every now and again take a break from her work and more importantly his snide mockery. So long as she followed the mind-numbingly tedious protocols of secrecy that Azmuth had lain out, she was free to go wherever she pleased.

Myaxx had made it a point not to discuss what she does on her own time and Azmuth had never cared enough to ask. But seeing the look of frustration on her face as she stalked through the facility’s doors, and this time knowing full well he had nothing to do with it, Azmuth began to reevaluate his level of involvement in his assistant’s personal life.

Meanwhile, in the quarters of the Galvan’s latest subject of research, Myaxx was completely unaware of her employer’s intentions. Had she known, the assistant would have made good her threat of crushing Azmuth with her bare hands. It was bad enough she didn’t have his trust or his respect, having no privacy would have been the last straw.

Not to mention it would be extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing for the female should Azmuth learn why she was suddenly so self-conscious. So here she was, pacing about in the (supposed) privacy of her quarters. Trying to rationalize why her attempts at making a certain Petrosapien aware of her interest to go beyond their current platonic companionship have consistently failed.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part. Her inexperience in the art of flirting just simply placed her at a clear disadvantage. The fact she was more likely to take a swing at someone to get their attention than she was to flash a “come-hither” smile didn’t help matters much either. Acting coy was out of the question, Myaxx wasn’t even certain she could bring herself to act so... demure without becoming violently ill in the process. Did such subtlety outside of a mission even work on the crystalline mercenary?

Perhaps she was simply sending out mixed signals. But that seemed unlikely for as far as the Chimera was concerned she had made it clear that she liked him. If there truly was no possibility between them, he would have informed her by now, wouldn’t he? Granted the verbalization of her feelings were something along the lines of “I don’t hate being around you.” Still, Myaxx assumed he would understand what she really meant.

After all, everyone was painfully aware of how unpleasant she could be and of her critical nature. They knew of her tendency to make derisive remarks and unnecessarily pessimistic comments. This meant her effort to be slightly less abrasive and less overly sensitive had not gone unnoticed.

Which begs the question: Why hasn’t the mercenary acted on her invitations?

Myaxx would have been more aggressive if not for her excessive self-respect giving her the impression that she was already as forthcoming as was possible. Anything beyond what she had already done would make it seem she wasn’t worth pursuing or worse, desperate. There was no doubt the Chimera was proud of herself and of what she was capable. Anger always took over, fangs bared, fists at the ready, should her skills or talents be questioned.

At this point, logic seemed to have fled and had no intentions of returning anytime soon so long as the Petrosapien was involved. Frustration simmered at the distinct lack of answers until it reached the point that allowed the irrational in Myaxx to come to the conclusion: She must not be pretty enough.

She had no reason to deny that Pride and Wrath were so familiar they may very well have taken permanent residence in her mind. But until either could explain the cause of Tetrax’s lack of action, they would have the displeasure of entertaining the unexpected visitor that was Vanity. The female would never have pegged herself even remotely vain; the concept was as alien to her as asexual reproduction was to a human.

Regardless of how extremely flawed the reasoning, Myaxx was satisfied with this unfounded hypothesis. The important thing was she was now aware of the problem and would be able to formulate the proper course of action to take. And it was this skewed awareness that blinded the female to the possibility that the problem did not lie with her.