Chapter 148: Cooper and the Circus Freaks Breaking Into the Vault
The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine needles and damp earth as golden sunlight spilled over the rustic cabins of the summer camp.
"Grandpa Max, thank you so much for picking me up," a young boy with medium-length blonde hair said, jogging slightly to keep pace. He adjusted his glasses, looking up at the older man. "My parents are both overseas right now, and my grandpa came down with a really bad cold. I honestly thought I was going to have to walk all the way home."
Max Tennyson chuckled warmly, effortlessly hauling several heavy duffel bags over his broad shoulders. "I'm just glad your grandfather gave me a call, Cooper. Good friends look out for each other."
Max paused, shifting the bags to point a thumb toward the parking lot. "I think you'll really hit it off with Ben and the others. They are certainly a lively bunch."
They approached the familiar, battered exterior of the Rustbucket. Max reached out and pulled the heavy side door open.
The moment the door swung wide, a wall of pure chaos blasted out to greet them.
"Dweeb! Let go! You are wasting time!" Gwen shrieked, her hands locked in a death grip around the RV's bulky landline receiver.
"I heard it first! I should be the one to answer it!" Ben yelled back, planting his feet against the counter and pulling on the phone cord with all his might.
Max stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at his two grandchildren engaged in a fierce tug-of-war, the heavy silence of his own disappointment hanging over him. He slowly turned his gaze toward the back of the RV, harboring a faint sliver of hope. 'Maybe my eldest grandson is actually behaving...'
"Damn it!" a voice roared from the lounge area. "Which brain-dead idiot designed this boss?! Eight health bars?! Just die already!"
Klein sat slouched on the sofa, a heavy pair of headphones clamped over his ears. With a disgusted scowl, he violently hurled his game controller across the cushions, where it bounced twice before clattering onto the floorboards.
Max let out a long, defeated sigh. Right. All of his grandchildren were absolute menaces. He shot an apologetic glance at Cooper, silently praying the boy wouldn't immediately run back to the summer camp.
Over the sound of the squabbling, the Rustbucket's dashboard radio crackled with the overly enthusiastic voice of a local DJ.
"And now, we are selecting our lucky callers to attend the exclusive, red-carpet premiere of Space Pirates 4: Emperor's Revenge!"
This was the source of the war. Ben and Gwen had actually managed to dial the hotline in time. They were the legendary tenth caller. But as they violently wrestled over the receiver, Ben's elbow slipped, slamming directly into the receiver cradle.
A sharp click echoed through the RV. The line went dead.
A second later, the DJ's voice blared from the radio again. "Oh, looks like we lost them! Alright, folks, it seems we will have to let the next caller win those VIP tickets!"
Ben and Gwen froze. They slowly turned to look at the disconnected phone, then at each other.
"You idiot!" Gwen screamed, lunging at him.
"Me?! You are the one who pulled my arm!" Ben shouted back, dodging her swipe.
"Um, excuse me?" a quiet voice piped up from the doorway.
Ben and Gwen paused their wrestling match, turning to see the blonde kid standing next to their grandfather.
Cooper nervously adjusted his glasses. "I actually have an extra premiere ticket. My uncle works on the production crew, and he gave me two VIP passes. If either of you wants to go, you can just come with me."
Dead silence filled the Rustbucket. Ben and Gwen stared at the boy as if he had just descended from the heavens wrapped in a halo of golden light.
In a flash, Ben abandoned the phone, sprinted across the RV, and threw an arm around Cooper's shoulders like they were lifelong blood brothers.
"I knew it!" Ben beamed, his grin practically splitting his face. "I always said making new friends pays off! You are a lifesaver, man! Uh... what was your name again?"
Max sighed, setting the bags down. "His name is Cooper, Ben. He is the grandson of a very good friend of mine. A fellow Plumber."
"Right, right! Cooper!" Ben tightened his grip, completely unbothered by his own shamelessness. "Buddy, pal, let me go with you. I am the biggest Space Pirates fan alive!"
Cooper blinked, looking a bit overwhelmed by Ben's intense energy. He pointed a hesitant finger toward the red-haired girl still standing by the counter. "What about her? Doesn't she want to go?"
Gwen crossed her arms, feigning a perfectly casual shrug. "Forget it. Let the Dweeb have it."
She tossed her hair back, her tone dripping with practiced indifference. "Honestly, I only wanted to win those tickets so I could go with my cousin. Since you only have one extra, I will pass."
In truth, Gwen wasn't upset in the slightest. Her mind was already spinning with a far more devious plan. If Ben was out of the picture for the evening, and she could somehow trick Grandpa Max into running an errand, she would have the RV all to herself with Klein. More specifically, she could finally sneak into Klein's stash, grab that weird hypnotic pocket watch he had been tinkering with, and force her lazy cousin to do something actually productive for once. Like doing her chores.
"Oh. Alright then," Cooper murmured. He found the family dynamic incredibly strange, but he wisely chose not to press the issue.
Meanwhile, halfway across the country, a far less innocent scene was unfolding.
The Fort Knox Depository.
Thick steel walls, reinforced concrete, and heavily armed guards lined the pristine, brightly lit corridors. A sharply dressed tour guide stood before a massive, multi-ton vault door, gesturing proudly to a group of visiting civilians.
"Fort Knox is honored to serve as the United States Federal Reserve's primary gold vault," the guide announced, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. "Secured behind these doors is over a trillion dollars' worth of solid gold bullion."
Concluding his speech, the guide politely ushered the crowd down the hallway, leading them away from the high-security zone.
However, three individuals lingered behind.
They were draped in heavy, oversized brown trench coats, the brims of their fedoras pulled low to obscure their faces. While the rest of the tour group shuffled away, these three stood perfectly still, like statues planted on the polished floor.
Once the corridor was mostly clear, the trio pivoted in unison and began marching directly toward the massive vault door.
A heavily armored guard immediately stepped forward, raising his rifle. "Stop right there! This is a restricted area! You need to return to the public sector immediately!"
The three figures didn't say a word. Instead, they reached up and simultaneously ripped off their trench coats.
The guard's eyes widened.
Standing before him was the infamous Circus Freak trio. Frightwig hissed, her prehensile, snake-like hair writhing wildly around her pale face. Thumbskull cracked his massive, meaty knuckles, his oversized cranium gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Beside them, Acid Breath let out a raspy chuckle, toxic fumes already leaking from his rotting teeth.
Before the guard could even pull the trigger, a calm, reedy voice echoed from the shadows.
"Now, now. There is absolutely no need for violence."
The three freaks parted respectfully. A short, impeccably dressed man stepped forward, adjusting his monocle. Sublimino, the master hypnotist, smiled thinly, a pendulum already swinging rhythmically from his fingertips.
Back on the road, the steady hum of the Rustbucket's engine was suddenly interrupted by Max's serious tone.
"Ben, Gwen, Klein. Get up here and take a look at this."
Sitting in the back, Klein paused his game. He exchanged a confused glance with his cousins before the three of them squeezed their way to the front cabin.
Max tapped a button on the dashboard, flipping down a hidden Plumber monitor. The screen flickered to life, displaying grainy, black-and-white security footage. On the screen, the massive steel doors of a vault were being violently torn apart from their hinges. The Circus Freaks casually strolled through the wreckage, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the guards.
"Look closely," Max instructed, keeping one eye on the highway. "I just intercepted this footage from the Fort Knox automated security network."
As they watched, the feed cut to a camera inside the vault. Acid Breath looked directly up at the lens, opened his mouth, and exhaled a thick cloud of corrosive gas. The metal casing of the camera instantly bubbled and melted, turning the screen to static.
Klein leaned against the passenger seat, his expression completely deadpan. "Wow. What a truly fragrant video. I can practically smell his gingivitis through the screen."
"What are those freaks in the video doing?"
Ben and Gwen jumped nearly a foot in the air. They whipped around to find Cooper standing right behind them, peering curiously at the monitor. In their rush to look at the screen, they had completely forgotten the new kid was still in the RV.
Panic set in. The secret! They had to protect the secret!
"Uh! This is just!" Ben stammered, waving his hands frantically. "A music! A video! Yeah, a music video! Shot by this really edgy new underground band!"
"Yeah!" Gwen chimed in, nodding so fast her neck threatened to snap. "They are called the... the Perverted Circus Freaks! Very avant-garde!"
Klein slowly turned his head to stare at his cousins, his eyes half-closed in sheer disbelief at their stupidity.
Cooper just blinked, his expression flattening into a look of deep unimpressed judgment. "You racked your brains, and that is the best lame excuse you could come up with?"
Ben and Gwen froze, their fake smiles twitching.
Cooper sighed, adjusting his glasses again. "Guys, my grandpa is a Plumber too, remember? Grandpa Max already told me everything. I know all about the magic spellbook, the aliens, and the Omnitrix."
Silence descended upon the front cabin.
Klein, Ben, and Gwen slowly, mechanically, turned their heads to glare at their grandfather.
'You just blurted it all out?! To a kid we just met?!'
Feeling the weight of his grandchildren's collective judgment burning into the side of his head, Max kept his eyes glued to the road and offered a weak, helpless shrug.
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