Chapter 4: The Dream of Winning an Award Shattered by a Punch
Above the ruined aisles, Dr. Animo took one look at the blazing alien and decided he had overstayed his welcome. Yanking the reins of his giant mutated parrot, he urged the monstrous bird upward. With a deafening crash of shattering glass, the avian beast smashed right through the supermarket's skylight, sending shards raining down onto the linoleum floor. He clearly had zero interest in tangling with Heatblast.
"I must reclaim everything that is rightfully mine!" Dr. Animo's screech echoed down through the broken roof. "I have no time to dally with you meddling pests!"
Down below, the flames wreathing Klein's body flickered as he tilted his head up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. 'Who the hell was that?'he thought.'And more, is the pet food in this aisle laced with steroids?' He genuinely drew a blank on Dr. Animo's identity. God only knew how many lifetimes had passed since he last sat down to watch an episode of Ben 10.
Beside him, Ben dusted off his shirt and offered a nonchalant shrug. "Beats me. Where do these freaks even crawl out from?"
The sound of shuffling shoes broke the quiet. The store owner scurried over, his hands wringing together nervously as he bypassed the ten-year-old boy entirely and stopped right in front of Heatblast. "Great hero!" the man gushed, his eyes wide with awe at the towering figure of fire and magma. "You saved my livelihood! What do you desire? Name it, and it is yours. Anything in the store!"
Ben crossed his arms, his face scrunching up into a sour pout. He kicked a stray piece of rubble. 'Man, what a rip-off,'he grumbled internally.'I took down that giant stupid hamster, and what do I get? Zip. Zero.' He noticed the owner had not spared him a single glance. With a literal walking inferno standing right there, nobody was going to look twice at a scruffy kid in a baseball tee. The lack of recognition stung worse than any physical blow.
Heatblast raised a burning hand, waving off the owner's praise. "No, you have the wrong guy. I am not the hero here." Klein pointed a fiery finger down at his cousin. "That kid right there is the one who took down the giant hamster. He saved the old man and the little girl by the registers." Klein then looked directly at Ben, lowering his voice into a dramatic, booming tone. "You, my friend, are the true hero."
Ben's eyes widened, shining with sudden emotion. His pout melted away instantly. "Thanks! Cous— I mean, Heatblast!" Being acknowledged like that, especially in front of an adult, hit him right in the chest. To a ten-year-old boy, this level of validation was practically on par with scoring a limited-edition Sumo Slammer gold card.
Catching the drift, the store owner quickly pivoted, plastering a grateful smile onto his face as he looked down at Ben. "Well then, young man! What would you like as a reward?"
Ben inhaled deeply, a massive grin splitting his face. "I want—"
Before the boy could even finish his sentence, a large, calloused hand clamped down on his shoulder. Grandpa Max hoisted Ben up by the back of his shirt, dragging him backward.
"Alright, Ben, wrap it up. We still have a giant mutated parrot to catch," Max declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. He steered his protesting grandson toward the exit. Deep down, the older man was actively trying to prevent Ben from developing a habit of doing good deeds purely for material compensation.
Left behind in the ruined aisle, Heatblast simply gave a crackling shrug. He turned his flaming head back to the bewildered store owner and pointed a glowing finger toward the glass display case near the front counter. "I will take that, please." His finger rested squarely on the gleaming surface of a Sumo Slammer gold card.
...
The wheels of the Rustbucket hummed against the asphalt of the Washington D.C. streets. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with adolescent sulking.
"So unfair!" Ben grumbled, slumping deep into the worn upholstery of the RV's sofa. He hugged his knees to his chest, glaring at the floorboards. "I do all the heavy lifting, and what do I get? Absolutely nothing!"
Sitting across from him at the small dining table, Gwen rested her chin in her hands and offered a smug, teasing smile. "Oh, Dweeb. You are just mad you didn't get to milk the situation for all the credit."
Klein, having reverted to his human form, leaned against the counter. He watched the bickering duo with a dry, amused expression. "Alright, Ben, quit your whining. Look up for a second. What is this?" He reached into his pocket and pinched a shiny, rectangular object between his index and middle fingers, holding it up to the overhead light.
Ben's head snapped up. His jaw dropped open. "A Sumo Slammer gold card! No way! How did you get that?" He practically launched himself off the sofa, his hand shooting out to grab the prize. But halfway there, his fingers froze. He pulled his arm back slightly, his excitement dimming. It was his cousin's card, after all.
"The store owner insisted I take something," Klein said smoothly, his tone casual as he tossed the gleaming card through the air. It landed perfectly in Ben's lap. "You want it?"
Ben stared at the card in his lap for a split second before clutching it to his chest like a priceless artifact. "Thanks, man! You are the best!" he cheered, his previous foul mood completely evaporating into pure ecstasy.
Up in the driver's seat, Grandpa Max glanced at the rearview mirror, his thick eyebrows knitting together in a stern frown. "That is not setting a good example, Klein. We do not ask for rewards when we help people in need."
Klein leaned back, crossing his arms with a completely unbothered expression. "Relax, Grandpa. Ben busted his tail fighting off that giant hamster back there. A tiny little souvenir is not going to corrupt his soul. Besides, I am pretty sure he understands the moral of the story." Klein was fundamentally a pragmatist who lived for his own amusement. If tossing a piece of cardboard to his cousin made the kid shut up and smile, that was a win in his book.
"Exactly! What he said!" Ben chimed in immediately, throwing both hands up in the air in a show of absolute, innocent agreement, though his eyes never left the gold card. "I totally get the moral, Grandpa. Loud and clear!"
Max let out a long, defeated sigh, shaking his head at the road ahead. "Alright, alright. Just... no more demanding payment next time." He knew when he was outnumbered.
"Hey, look at this!" Gwen suddenly called out, spinning her bulky laptop around so the screen faced the rest of the RV. A grainy news article was displayed, featuring a younger, less unhinged version of their current villain. "Dr. Animo. Back in his youth, he was a highly respected biologist. But he completely lost his marbles when he was passed over for the Nobel Prize." She shifted her gaze toward her cousin, a wicked little smirk playing on her lips. "Obsessed with getting credit and throwing a massive tantrum when he does not get a shiny award... Ben, does that remind you of anyone?"
Ben's face flushed red. He shoved the gold card into his pocket, suddenly finding the floorboards very interesting again. "Shut up, Dork! Alright, fine, I get it. I will not complain next time." Even he had to admit the parallel was a little too close for comfort.
"The real question is, where is Dr. Animo heading now?" Max interjected, steering the conversation back to the crisis at hand. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Washington D.C. is a massive city. Tracking down a single oversized parrot in this concrete jungle is not going to be an easy task." The towering high-rises blurred past the windows, casting long, shifting shadows across the dashboard. The tension in Max's shoulders betrayed his growing anxiety.
Ben sat up straight, his eyes lighting up as the gears in his head finally clicked into place. "Wait! I know exactly where he is going!"
...
"The Natural History Museum!"
Half an hour later, the Rustbucket pulled up to the curb. Under the heavy blanket of the night sky, the massive stone architecture of the museum loomed like a dormant beast. Unlike the surrounding cityscape, which was bathed in the warm, electric glow of streetlamps and neon signs, the museum was completely dark. Not a single light shone through its towering windows, giving the entire structure an eerie, unwelcoming atmosphere.
The group slipped through the forced front doors, their footsteps echoing faintly against the polished marble floors. They handled the cavernous exhibit halls until they spotted a faint, pulsing light ahead.
There, standing amidst towering skeletons of prehistoric beasts, was Dr. Animo. He was frantically twisting wires and adjusting dials on a bizarre, jury-rigged contraption.
Hearing their approach, the mad scientist whipped around, his wild eyes twitching. "Why do you persistent pests keep tailing me?!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "I despise being followed!"
Ben stepped right out into the open, planting his feet wide and resting his hands confidently on his hips. "Give it up, Dr. Animo! Surrender right now, or we are going to beat you so hard you will be crying for your mommy!"
Animo let out a grating, maniacal laugh. He slammed a pale hand down onto the central console of his machine. "Fools! Behold my genius! This is the Transmodulator, a flawless prototype of the second stage! Soon, this pathetic modern Washington D.C. will be transformed into a glorious, prehistoric paradise!"
He yanked a heavy lever downward. Instantly, violent arcs of scarlet electricity erupted from the device. The crimson lightning lashed out like whips, striking the massive fossilized skeletons positioned in the center of the room. Bone rapidly fused with unnatural, mutated muscle tissue. Within seconds, a fully fleshed Triceratops and a towering Tyrannosaurus Rex roared to life, their eyes glowing with a feral, toxic red light.
Klein let out a long, exaggerated yawn, casually scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry to burst your bubble, doc. If I were in a slightly better mood, I might actually humor you and play along. But I am in a hurry." He raised his left wrist, the sleek, metallic face of the Another Omnitrix catching the dim light. "It is way past my bedtime, and I really need to get back to my beauty sleep."
He reached over with his right hand, his fingers dancing across the dial.
"Humungousaur!"
He slammed the core down. A blinding, brilliant flash of azure light instantly illuminated the dark museum hall, casting long, sharp shadows against the walls. As the blue radiance faded, Klein was gone. In his place stood a hulking, three-meter-tall bipedal dinosaur. Thick, armored brown scales covered his back, contrasting with a tough, yellowish-white underbelly. His arms were absurdly massive, ending in fists that were visibly thicker and heavier than his own feet.
ROAR!
The resurrected Tyrannosaurus Rex and Triceratops let out deafening, bone-rattling roars, snapping their jaws at the new arrival. They clearly did not take this newcomer seriously. Even at three meters tall, Humungousaur was dwarfed by the prehistoric titans. They were easily twice his size, looking down at him like a mere snack.
Humungousaur cracked his massive knuckles, the sound echoing like gunshots. "What the hell are you screaming at?! You got a problem with me?!"
Suddenly, the armored plates on Humungousaur's body began to shift and expand. Stegosaurus-like spikes erupted from his spine and tail as his muscle mass exploded outward. He grew rapidly, surging past five meters, then ten, until he towered at a staggering twenty meters tall. The ceiling of the Natural History Museum groaned and shattered, plaster and steel beams raining down as his massive frame burst right through the roof.
'If the museum could talk, it would definitely be screaming right now,' Klein thought dryly as he shook the debris from his shoulders.
Down below, the once-intimidating T-Rex and Triceratops now looked like absolute jokes. Compared to the colossal Vaxasaurian, they were the size of newborn chicks.
The two mutated dinosaurs let out pathetic, high-pitched whimpers. Stripped of their size advantage, their primal biological instincts kicked into overdrive, screaming at them to flee. They scrambled backward, their heavy claws slipping frantically against the polished marble floor.
"Too late for that," Humungousaur grunted.
He reached down with blinding speed. His massive right hand clamped entirely over the T-Rex's skull, while his left hand seized the Triceratops by its frill. With a casual, almost lazy flick of his wrists, he slammed the two prehistoric beasts together.
CRACK!
The sickening sound of bone colliding with bone echoed through the ruined hall. Humungousaur released his grip, and both dinosaurs crumpled to the floor in a tangled, unconscious heap, completely out cold.
Dr. Animo stared at his defeated creations, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Realizing that fighting a twenty-meter-tall alien powerhouse was a mathematically terrible idea, he scrambled onto the back of his giant mutated parrot.
"Listen here, you overgrown, lumbering brute!" Animo shrieked, desperately pulling the reins to take off through the massive hole in the ceiling. "I will reclaim what is rightfully mine! Do not attempt to interfere with my genius again!" Even in full retreat, the madman just could not resist delivering his parting villain monologue.
He didn't even make it ten feet into the air.
Humungousaur didn't say a word. He simply drew back his fist and swatted the air like he was dealing with a particularly annoying mosquito.
BANG!
The massive, armored knuckle collided directly with the giant parrot and its rider. The sheer kinetic force of the blow sent Dr. Animo and his mount rocketing out of the sky, crashing violently into a display case of ancient pottery on the far side of the room.
Humungousaur lowered his fist, staring blankly at the cloud of dust settling over the wreckage. Realistically, taking a direct punch from a twenty-meter-tall Vaxasaurian should have instantly turned a frail, middle-aged scientist like Animo into a fine red paste.
Did Klein care? Not in the slightest.
'If he dies, he dies,'Klein reasoned with cold, pragmatic detachment.'It is a dangerous line of work. Better him than me.'Besides, if the authorities ever launched an investigation, the official report would say a giant dinosaur crushed him. What did that have to do with a lazy teenager named Klein? His only real concern was the inevitable, exhausting lecture he would get from Grandpa Max about using proportional force. He was already mentally drafting his excuse:'It was a total accident, Grandpa, my hand slipped.'
...
WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO!
The shrill wail of police sirens finally pierced the night air, red and blue lights flashing frantically through the museum's shattered windows.
Klein, having shrunk back down to his human form in a flash of blue light, walked over to the rubble. He stared in absolute, deadpan disbelief.
Dr. Animo was currently being handcuffed by two bewildered SWAT officers. He was bruised, covered in dust, and missing a few teeth, but he was very much alive and kicking.
"You have got to be kidding me. You are literally a cockroach," Klein muttered under his breath, genuinely speechless at the sheer, logic-defying vitality of the cartoonish villain.
"Unhand me, you ignorant peons!" the human cockroach screeched, thrashing wildly against the officers' grip as they dragged him toward a squad car. "You cannot arrest me! I have an award ceremony to attend! My Nobel Prize! It belongs to me!"
Grandpa Max clapped his hands together, brushing a layer of drywall dust off his Hawaiian shirt. "Alright, kids, show is over. Time to head back and get some sleep." He turned and led the way out of the ruined museum, heading back toward the Rustbucket. "We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow, and trust me, you are all going to be very excited about our next destination."
Ben let out a loud, exhausted yawn, completely indifferent to the promise of a surprise trip. Klein mirrored his cousin's apathy, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he dragged his feet toward the RV, his only desire being a soft pillow.
Gwen, however, lingered a step behind. She glanced at the massive hole in the museum roof, then back at Klein's retreating, slouched figure. A faint, flustered blush dusted her cheeks as she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. Between the sheer absurdity of the night and her cousin's casual, overwhelming power, one could only say that the easily exasperated Gwen found the whole chaotic ordeal weirdly charming.
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