Chapter 2: Forced to be a Hero
The campfire crackled, casting long, dancing shadows across the campsite. Klein, Gwen, and Grandpa Max sat around the small folding table, picking at their dinner while the evening insect chorus hummed in the background.
Ben had been gone for quite a while, and the empty seat at the table was starting to draw attention. Grandpa Max kept glancing toward the dark tree line, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing minute.
"Maybe he was eaten by a bear," Gwen offered casually, poking at her food. She caught the sudden, grim tightening of Max's jaw and quickly cleared her throat. "I'm just kidding. We could only be so lucky."
"Don't worry, Ben will be fine," Klein said, his voice smooth and unbothered. He knew perfectly well nothing fatal would happen to the kid, but the tense atmosphere was ruining his meal. "If you're really worried, I'll go take a walk and look for him. A little after-dinner stroll sounds good anyway."
Grandpa Max let out a quiet sigh of relief, his posture relaxing. He knew Klein carried the Another Omnitrix on his wrist. With that kind of power at his disposal, sending him out into the dark woods was the safest bet possible. "Then I'll leave it to you, Klein."
Klein pushed his chair back, preparing to stand, when the rustling of leaves broke the quiet.
"Grandpa, I'm back," Ben announced, trudging out from the bushes. He looked completely normal, entirely uninjured, and most, completely bare-handed.
Klein paused. His eyes immediately dropped to Ben's left wrist. There was nothing there. No bulky, alien technology. Just ordinary skin.
"Hmm? Ben, did you encounter anything weird while wandering in the forest?" Klein asked, keeping his tone light despite the sudden shift in his understanding of the situation. "Like a falling meteor, maybe? A shooting star?"
Ben blinked, scratching the back of his neck in genuine confusion. "No, nothing at all. Why do you ask, Cousin? Was there supposed to be a meteor shower tonight?"
"Nothing. Maybe I was mistaken," Klein replied, his expression smoothing over, though his mind was racing.
He hadn't done anything to interfere. He had just been sitting here eating. Could the butterfly effect of his mere existence in this universe actually influence the trajectory of a spaceship in outer orbit? Was the timeline really that fragile?
A heavy wave of realization washed over him. If Ben didn't have the Omnitrix, that meant the responsibility of dealing with every single alien threat, mutant animal, and crazy scientist was going to fall squarely on his shoulders. How was he supposed to slack off and enjoy a lazy road trip now?
'Since things have come to this...' Klein thought, mentally shrugging. He felt a brief flash of annoyance, but no real panic. The butterfly effect didn't scare him. The Another Omnitrix secured to his wrist was his ultimate trump card, a flawless cheat that could handle absolutely any problem this universe threw at him.
It was just deeply annoying being forced to be the hero.
"Let's eat first, Ben," Klein said, gesturing to the table.
Ben looked down at the steaming bowls of rice worms and lamb tongues Grandpa Max had enthusiastically prepared. His face scrunched up in immediate disgust. "No thanks, Cousin. I'm not very hungry."
He wasn't the only one. Gwen had already pushed her bowl away, quietly snacking on a bag of crackers she had hidden in her pocket, loudly declaring that she was completely full.
...
Later that night, the interior of the Rustbucket was filled with the familiar, endless bickering of the two cousins. Ben and Gwen were trading insults over a comic book, while Grandpa Max sat up front, slowly turning the dial on the old radio.
Static hissed through the speakers, rising and falling in waves.
"Static... static... This is... Help! You might not believe it, but I encountered... robots!" a panicked voice suddenly broke through the white noise.
The playful atmosphere in the RV vanished. Grandpa Max's expression hardened into stone. He reached for the ignition, twisting the key. The Rustbucket's engine roared to life, and he immediately threw it into gear, steering the heavy vehicle toward the coordinates mentioned on the emergency broadcast.
Gwen grabbed the edge of the table as the RV lurched forward, her eyes wide with concern. "Grandpa, even if the robots are real, shouldn't we call the police? We can't just drive over there!"
In her perfectly logical mind, they were just an old man and three kids. Driving toward a robot attack was the definition of insanity.
"Robots! Dork, don't you want to see them?" Ben countered, practically vibrating with excitement. He leaned over the table, a massive grin on his face. "Besides, someone is shouting for help! It'll be way too late by the time the police arrive."
Gwen crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Dweeb, I think your little head is completely overheated. How exactly are you going to stop a robot? Your scrawny body isn't even enough for it to hit once. You'd be squashed like a bug."
As the two of them instantly devolved into another shouting match, Grandpa Max glanced up at the rearview mirror. His eyes locked onto Klein, who was sitting quietly in the back. Klein wore a serious expression, staring intently at his wrist.
In reality, Klein wasn't preparing for a heroic battle. He was just bewildered. Ben hadn't found the watch, yet the alien drones were still attacking the campsite. He was currently trying to figure out if Vilgax's tracking signal was somehow locked onto his Another Omnitrix instead.
...
The Rustbucket slammed to a halt at the edge of the clearing.
Everyone piled out of the door, and the sight before them brought the argument to a dead stop. The campground was in absolute ruins. Tents were shredded, trees were splintered, and the terrified screams of fleeing campers echoed through the night air.
In the center of the destruction stood a massive, mechanical monstrosity. It looked like a nightmare fusion of a crab and a spider, its heavy metallic legs crushing the earth as its central cannon continuously fired blinding orange-red energy beams. Swarming around its legs were several smaller, saucer-like drones, zipping through the air and blasting anything that moved.
Ben and Gwen stood frozen, their mouths hanging open in pure shock.
"Cool! It really is a robot!" Ben finally shouted, his fear entirely overshadowed by his obsession with sci-fi action.
The sound of his voice drew attention. The giant robot's massive single eye swiveled toward the group. The mechanical iris dilated, locking directly onto the Another Omnitrix resting on Klein's left wrist. A deep, mechanical hum vibrated through the air as the central cannon began to glow with intense heat, preparing to fire.
Ben's grin vanished. "Uh oh. This isn't cool anymore."
He opened his mouth to yell for everyone to run, but the machine was faster.
A blinding pillar of orange energy erupted from the cannon, tearing across the clearing straight toward them.
There was a flash of brilliant light.
The devastating explosion they all expected never came. Instead, a towering humanoid creature stood directly in the path of the beam, shielding the others behind his broad back. His entire body was composed of jagged, ultra-dense crystals, gleaming in harsh shades of deep purple and crimson red. He stood as steady as a mountain, completely unbothered by the scorching heat washing over him.
"Diamondhead!"
The crystalline giant raised one hand, spreading his thick fingers wide. The orange energy striking his chest didn't burn him; it flowed into his body, traveling down his arm before erupting from his palm in a concentrated, blinding beam, firing right back at the source.
The redirected energy slammed into the giant robot's chassis.
The massive machine detonated instantly, blowing apart into a shower of useless scrap metal and sparking wires. It was almost disappointingly easy.
The smaller saucer robots paused, their mechanical processors registering the instant destruction of their commander. Lacking any self-preservation protocols, they showed no fear. They swarmed forward in unison, firing a barrage of lasers directly at Diamondhead.
Diamondhead didn't even take a fighting stance. He simply walked forward, his pace as casual as a man taking a stroll through a park. The laser blasts harmlessly pinged off his purple and red crystalline armor, barely leaving a scratch. He reached out, his heavy hands moving with terrifying speed and precision, snatching the drones out of the air and crushing them into scrap metal, one in each hand.
When the last drone fell to the dirt in pieces, Diamondhead didn't stick around to chat. He turned and sprinted into the dense depths of the forest, vanishing into the shadows.
Back at the RV, Ben and Gwen were still standing frozen, their mouths wide enough to swallow an egg. It took Grandpa Max calling their names three separate times to finally snap them out of their trance. Shaking off their shock, they quickly rushed into the ruins to help pull the terrified survivors from the wreckage.
...
Later that night, the adrenaline was still running high inside the Rustbucket.
"Cousin, you were so cool! How did you transform into that awesome crystal guy?!" Ben was bouncing on his heels, entirely too excited to even think about sleeping.
"Yeah!" Gwen chimed in, for once completely agreeing with her cousin. Her large, bright eyes looked up at Klein with pure admiration. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a whisper. "The crystal guy was amazing, but you looked incredibly handsome doing it."
Grandpa Max cleared his throat from the driver's seat. "That was an alien."
Ben and Gwen both spun around, staring at him in confusion. "Grandpa, how do you know it's an alien?"
Max stiffened, realizing his slip-up. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking incredibly guilty. "Uh... well, what else could it be besides an alien?"
Ben didn't care enough to dwell on the suspicious answer. He immediately turned his attention back to Klein, firing off questions like a machine gun. "What's that alien's name? Can I give him a name? Cousin, how exactly did you transform? Can you turn into other things?"
Klein leaned back against the counter, letting out a quiet sigh. If he didn't answer, the kid was going to pester him until sunrise.
"His name is Diamondhead. You can call him whatever you want, it doesn't really matter to me. I transformed using this watch, and yes, it can turn into other things too." Klein explained, his tone flat and utterly exhausted by the interrogation.
"So cool! Cousin, where did you get that watch? Can I borrow it just to play with for a little bit?" Ben stared at the device with undisguised envy, though there was no real malice or jealousy in his eyes, just the burning curiosity of a ten-year-old boy.
"I bought it at a toy store," Klein lied smoothly, not missing a beat. "Don't ask me which toy store, the store is gone now. Burned down. Tragic. Also, I'm sorry, Ben, but this watch physically cannot be taken off, so I can't lend it to you."
Ben's shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh. Okay, then never mind. But wait, Cousin, what other aliens can you turn into? Are there any with lasers?"
"Alright, kids, that is enough for tonight. Time to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow to hit the road," Grandpa Max interrupted, clapping his hands together to signal the end of the discussion.
Ben looked like he wanted to argue, but seeing the finality in Max's expression, he swallowed his remaining questions. "Okay, fine. But..."
"I want the top bunk!" Ben and Gwen shouted at the exact same time, immediately realizing what the other was about to say.
Inside the back of the Rustbucket, aside from Grandpa Max's pull-out bed, there was only one set of bunk beds.
"Big Dork! What does it matter where you sleep? Why are you always fighting me for the top bunk!" Ben yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"Dweeb! You have athlete's foot! I am absolutely not sleeping on the bottom bunk where your gross feet are going to be hanging over my head!" Gwen fired back, her face twisted in disgust.
The argument raged on for another ten minutes before Gwen finally claimed victory, securing the top bunk, leaving a grumbling Ben to take the bottom.
When the lights finally went out, Klein ended up sharing the top bunk with Gwen. It was a purely practical decision. Ben's sleeping posture was notoriously terrible, involving random kicking and thrashing that Klein had zero interest in dealing with.
He lay near the edge, staring up at the ceiling. He had absolutely no ulterior motives. No matter how much of a lazy troll he was, he wasn't a creep. He had zero inappropriate thoughts about sharing a space with a ten-year-old kid. He just wanted a peaceful night's sleep without getting kicked in the ribs.
As for what was going through Gwen's head, that was entirely unknown. But when the morning sun finally filtered through the RV windows, Klein couldn't help but notice that Gwen's face was alarmingly, brightly red.
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