Chapter 16: Are You Scared?
"I'm not a circus freak! I'm a hero!" Ripjaws snapped, his massive, razor-sharp teeth clacking together as he glared down at the bewildered police officers.
Water dripped from his scales onto the asphalt, pooling around the unconscious mugger he had just dragged out of an alleyway. After Ben wrapped up yet another one of his daily hero routines, the Omnitrix timed out in a flash of green light. Dusting off his hands, the boy jogged back to the RV. They were finally closing in on their destination.
"Circus performances! Those are for kids!" Ben crossed his arms tight across his chest, sinking deep into the passenger seat of the Rustbucket. He stared out the window, refusing to look at the colorful billboards passing by.
"I love watching the circus!" Gwen leaned forward from the back, her eyes shining with anticipation. She was the complete opposite of her cousin, practically vibrating with excitement.
"That's because you're basically a clown yourself, Dork." Ben shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He forced a massive, exaggerated yawn and stretched his arms. "Ah, whatever. I'm exhausted. Let's just go to bed first. We can catch a circus show some other time. Like next year."
"Ben, it's barely eleven in the morning," Grandpa Max reminded him gently, keeping his eyes on the road while turning the steering wheel.
Sitting on the sofa nearby, Klein slowly lowered his magazine. He rested his chin on his knuckles and gave Ben a long, piercing look. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly why the kid was sweating.
What was meant to happen always would. Despite Ben's desperate, increasingly creative excuses to steer the family away from the big top, the Rustbucket eventually rolled to a stop right in front of the main entrance.
"Uh, you know, I bet the tickets are totally sold out by now." Ben planted his feet on the dirt, trying to backpedal toward the RV door. "It's a total waste of time to stand in line. Let's just head back and try another day."
"Don't be silly, we're already here!" Grandpa Max chuckled, reaching out to firmly grab Ben by the collar of his shirt and haul him forward.
Just as Ben was dragged toward the ticket booth, a man with a wildly curled mustache and a flamboyant ringmaster's coat stepped out from behind the velvet ropes. He held a megaphone to his mouth, his voice booming over the gathering crowd.
"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Prepare to be amazed! First, welcome the incredibly strong Thumbskull!"
A hulking brute of a man stomped out from the shadows of the tent. His heavy brow hung low over dull, unintelligent eyes. He grabbed a thick steel rebar with both hands, let out a guttural grunt, and bent the metal entirely in half before tossing it aside like a twig. The crowd gasped.
"Next, let's welcome Frightwig! Heaven knows what this fiery beauty looks like with her hair down!" the mustachioed announcer continued, gesturing grandly to the side.
A woman with a striking figure and fiery red hair sauntered into the light. Even under layers of heavy, theatrical makeup, her sharp features were striking. But the real spectacle was her hair. The thick red locks writhed and coiled with a life of their own, moving like a nest of vipers. With a flick of her neck, the prehensile hair lashed out, wrapping tightly around the discarded steel rebar and twisting it effortlessly into a perfect circle.
"And finally! Appearing before you now is Acid Breath, the man who hasn't seen a toothbrush in who knows how many years!" The ringmaster passionately threw his free hand into the air.
A gaunt, sickly-looking man shuffled out from the dark. His skin possessed an unhealthy, grayish pallor. Acid Breath reached up, unhooked the special respirator mask covering his lower face, and exhaled a thick, noxious cloud of green gas directly onto the twisted steel. The metal hissed violently, dissolving into a puddle of bubbling slag within seconds.
"Now that is quite the opening act, isn't it?" Grandpa Max's eyes crinkled with genuine excitement. He was completely sold. "Let's go, everyone. The main event is waiting." He took the lead, marching straight toward the giant, candy-striped tent.
Gwen grabbed Klein's sleeve, practically dragging him along. She was using him as an anchor to keep up her momentum, though Klein didn't offer any resistance. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his expression neutral but his eyes glinting with mild amusement. The abilities of those three mutants were nothing more than cheap parlor tricks to him, but he didn't mind the distraction. He rather enjoyed watching people perform for him like trained monkeys.
"Let's go, Ben." Klein's calm, flat voice cut through the noise, instantly shattering Ben's stealthy attempt to slip away into the crowd.
Caught in the act, Ben's shoulders slumped. Left with absolutely no way out, he dragged his feet and followed them into the tent.
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly loud.
"Hmm... quite boring."
Not even ten minutes into the main performance, Klein rested his elbows on his knees and propped his face in his hands. His deadpan gaze tracked the colorful figure of Zombozo the clown bouncing around the center stage.
The clown was doing typical clown things. Honking a horn, throwing confetti, making exaggerated faces. It was painfully dull. Yet, the entire audience around them was roaring with laughter. People were clutching their sides, tears streaming down their faces, howling at jokes that didn't even have punchlines. The only two people not laughing were Klein and Ben.
Klein's eyes narrowed. He shifted his focus past the dancing clown, peering into the heavy shadows behind the stage curtains. A faint, rhythmic blue light pulsed in the darkness. Through the gaps in the fabric, the silhouette of a massive, churning machine became visible.
He glanced back at the audience. Their laughter sounded hollow, almost manic. Their energy was literally being siphoned away.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Klein's face. "Finally. Something interesting."
"Uh, hey, I'm gonna go find the restroom." Ben suddenly stood up, his face pale, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor to avoid looking at the stage.
"Come with me, Ben." Klein stood up immediately. Before Ben could protest, Klein grabbed him by the back of his jacket and hauled him out of the seating area, dragging him toward the restricted backstage corridors.
A few moments later, faint flashes of blue and green light illuminated the dark space behind the heavy velvet curtains.
On stage, Zombozo paused his juggling act. His painted smile twitched. "Hmm? It seems a spectator has wandered backstage." He chuckled darkly, turning his head toward the curtain.
The fabric didn't move. Instead, a spectral figure phased straight through it. Ghostfreak drifted onto the stage, his single purple eye locking onto the clown. A moment later, the curtain was violently shoved aside, and Diamondhead stepped into the spotlight, the crystalline shards on his back catching the stage lights.
In the stands, Gwen blinked. She stared at the faint blue hourglass symbol glowing on Ghostfreak's chest, then shifted her gaze to the familiar green symbol on Diamondhead's left pectoral. The fog in her mind cleared instantly. "That's Cousin Klein and Ben!"
Grandpa Max shook his head, the unnatural euphoria draining from his system. He recognized the two aliens immediately. "How did they get down there?"
The realization hit them both at the same time. The show wasn't just a performance; it was a trap. The laughter around them suddenly sounded sinister, not joyful. Seeing that Ghostfreak was hovering with a terrifying stillness, clearly executing a plan, Max placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder, signaling her to stay put and watch.
Down on the stage, Zombozo sneered. "Heh heh. Spectators running around where they don't belong are very annoying!"
The clown suddenly lunged, throwing a vicious right hook straight at Ghostfreak's face.
The punch connected with absolutely nothing. Zombozo's fist sailed harmlessly through Ghostfreak's ethereal body, throwing the clown off balance.
Before Zombozo could recover, Ghostfreak's hand shot out. His spectral fingers solidified like a vice around the clown's throat. With a casual flick of his wrist, Ghostfreak slammed Zombozo into the wooden floorboards, pinning him down effortlessly.
"You." Ghostfreak pointed a sharp claw at Diamondhead, then jabbed it toward the struggling clown. "Come here. Beat him for me."
Diamondhead's broad, crystalline shoulders flinched. He stood entirely frozen, his feet rooted to the stage. He didn't take a single step forward.
"It seems old Zombozo is being underestimated!" the clown wheezed. He grabbed Ghostfreak's wrist with both hands, straining with all his mutant strength to twist the alien's arm and break the chokehold.
Ghostfreak didn't even budge. He looked down at the struggling clown with utter apathy. Deciding the game was getting stale, Ghostfreak released his grip on Zombozo's neck, drew back his free hand, and delivered a brutal backhand.
The impact sent Zombozo flying across the stage. He crashed hard into the wooden backdrop, splintering the props.
Before the clown could even push himself up onto his hands and knees, Ghostfreak was already floating directly in front of him.
Slowly, deliberately, Ghostfreak reached up and dug his claws into the seam running down his chest. He pulled the protective outer skin apart.
A mass of writhing, grayish-purple tentacles spilled out from the dark void within, twisting and snapping in the stage lights. The sheer, eldritch horror of his true form was fully exposed.
"Ahhhhh!!!" Zombozo shrieked. The clown threw his arms over his head, curling into a pathetic ball on the floor, trembling violently.
Ghostfreak ignored the screaming clown. He turned his single, unblinking eye back toward the frozen Petrosapien.
"Come here!" Ghostfreak barked at Diamondhead again, his voice echoing with a chilling, metallic distortion. "Are you scared?"
"I'm scared!" Zombozo sobbed from the floor, answering the question meant for Ben.
The clown cautiously propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a terrified glance at the floating phantom. He opened his mouth, desperately preparing to beg for his life.
Ghostfreak didn't even look at him. He just casually swung his fist downward, punching Zombozo squarely in the face and sending him skidding across the floorboards again.
"Did I tell you to move?" Ghostfreak asked, his tone dropping to a freezing whisper.
Slumping against the wall, Zombozo pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms. He didn't dare make a sound, utterly paralyzed by the fear of being hit again.
"Come here!" Ghostfreak commanded Diamondhead for the third time.
This time, the crystal alien finally twitched. Diamondhead took a slow, stiff step forward, forcing himself to close the distance.
"Boss! The money is all packed up!"
Before Diamondhead could throw a punch, the heavy curtain leading to the back alley was yanked open. Acid Breath stepped onto the stage, shouting toward the center ring.
Ghostfreak and Diamondhead both turned their heads to stare at the sickly mutant.
Acid Breath froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two towering aliens and his boss cowering in the corner.
Seeing the distraction, Zombozo seized his only chance. He took a deep breath, his body rapidly inflating like a grotesque balloon.
Bang!
The clown exploded in a massive cloud of thick white smoke and colorful streamers. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left but a few floating pieces of confetti. He had escaped.
"Phew..." Diamondhead let out a long, shaky breath. The paralyzing tension finally drained from his crystalline body. He rolled his shoulders, clenched his fists, and slowly turned his attention toward the doorway. He took a heavy, confident step toward Acid Breath. "Looks like your boss just sold you out."
Hearing the sharp grinding of Diamondhead's knuckles cracking, a thick bead of cold sweat trickled down Acid Breath's forehead.
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