Chapter 133: Stop Hitting Yourself
Gray clouds hung heavy over a maximum-security prison somewhere in the sweltering swamplands of Florida.
"What did they drag you in for?"
"Streaking."
"That's it?"
"Streaking through the main lobby of the police station."
It was recreation time in the yard. Two inmates leaned against the chain-link fence, trading stories to pass the monotonous hours.
"Guess that makes you a weirdo," the first inmate muttered, jutting his chin toward the far corner of the yard. "But you still aren't as weird as that guy."
Sitting alone on a concrete bench was Dr. Animo. His prison uniform hung loosely on his gaunt frame, and his wild, unkempt hair blew in the humid breeze. At this exact moment, the disgraced geneticist had his head tilted back, mimicking the harsh, grating calls of a seabird.
"Ga ga ga."
Animo heard the two inmates whispering about him, but he merely scoffed under his breath. Simpletons. They could not possibly comprehend the machinations of a true genius.
"Ga ga ga..."
A shadow fell over the yard. A flock of seagulls descended from the overcast sky, cawing loudly as they swarmed the concrete bench. One particularly large seagull fluttered down and landed directly on Dr. Animo's outstretched forearm.
With a manic gleam in his eye, Animo extended his other hand beneath the bird's beak. The seagull hacked, choked, and immediately regurgitated a small, metallic object covered in slime.
It was a microchip.
Animo wiped the bile away with his thumb, a twisted grin stretching across his face. "Thank you, my dear. Thanks to you, I shall soon see the light of day once more. And then... Ben Tennyson!"
He spat the name like a curse, his tone dripping with venom. In his crazed mind, he could already hear the boy's annoying voice whining, 'Yeah right! Am I the only one who ruins your plans?! Why don't you go bother someone else?!'
Animo's grin widened into a snarl. "My towering intellect does not allow for such variables! It is all your fault, Ben Tennyson, and you will pay!"
Hundreds of miles away, the reality was much brighter.
Sun, golden sand, crashing waves, and... rubbing sunscreen onto the backs of gorgeous women.
This was Klein's current situation.
Given that Klein possessed a face capable of seducing a succubus, it was only natural that a parade of beautiful women at the beach had suddenly found themselves completely unable to reach their own shoulders. They flocked to him, batting their eyelashes and asking for his assistance.
Klein, pragmatic and notoriously lazy, had considered refusing for about two seconds. But in the end, he chose to comply. The soft, smooth texture beneath his hands felt quite nice, and he certainly did not dislike the view.
Naturally, these busty, blonde beauties took one look at Klein's seemingly innocent, detached demeanor and immediately began plotting how to drag him into a private cabana to help him become a man overnight. Unfortunately for them, Gwen stood nearby, acting as an impenetrable, glaring wall of defense.
All across the beach, a collective aura of intense jealousy radiated from the male population. They stared at Klein with burning envy.
Ben and Gwen were among the starers, though for entirely different reasons.
"Oh, this is so annoying! I'm bored! I'm leaving!" Ben kicked a spray of sand into the air, his face twisted into a deep scowl as he turned and stomped away from the scene.
He wandered down the shoreline until he found Grandpa Max sitting under a large umbrella, casually repairing a piece of high-tech machinery disguised as a jetpack.
"Grandpa, do you want to play beach volleyball with me?" Ben asked, jerking his thumb toward the empty net set up a few yards away.
Max looked up from his tools, wiping grease from his hands. "Sorry, Ben, I'm right in the middle of calibrating this. Why don't you ask your Cousin and Gwen to play with you? Huh... where is Gwen, anyway?"
Max blinked, looking around. He could have sworn the two kids were just together.
"She went to go watch Cousin rub lotion on a bunch of girls," Ben grumbled, turning his head away in disgust.
But as he spoke, a spark of inspiration suddenly lit up Ben's eyes. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "You know what? Who needs you guys to play with me? I can have plenty of fun all by myself!"
Without another word, Ben marched straight toward the volleyball net. He raised his left arm, slapped the dial of the Omnitrix, and slammed it down.
A brilliant flash of emerald light engulfed the beach. When it faded, Ditto stood in Ben's place.
"Let's get this party started!" Ditto cheered. He squeezed his eyes shut, and with a popping sound, he split into two. Those two immediately split into four.
The four Dittos quickly divided themselves into two teams of two, taking their positions on opposite sides of the net. The game started off great, but given who was playing, they ran into a problem almost immediately.
"Hey! Time out! He fouled!" Ditto B yelled, making a T-shape with his hands after being knocked face-first into the sand by Ditto A.
"How could I foul you, Dweeb?! We're on the exact same team!" Ditto A stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips, looking utterly offended by the accusation.
"Wait! Wait! You totally did foul! I felt it!" Ditto C jogged over to uphold justice. He was entirely correct; the Dittos shared a neural link, meaning they shared a sense of physical pain.
"No! I didn't!" Ditto A stubbornly refused to admit fault.
"You scoundrel! You hit me and you won't even admit it?!" Ditto B scrambled to his feet. In a fit of pure, unadulterated petty rage, he picked up the volleyball and hurled it directly at Ditto A's face.
Smack!
"Ow! That hurts!" Ditto A rubbed his nose, his temper instantly flaring. With a furious yell, he lunged across the net and tackled Ditto B into the sand.
"Stop fighting, you two!" Ditto C yelled. Even though he was standing several feet away, he could feel every punch and scrape the other two were inflicting on each other. He rushed forward to break up the brawl.
Just then, Ditto D, who had been wandering over to see what the commotion was about, felt a sharp sting on his cheek from the shared pain. Reacting purely on instinct and irritation, Ditto D swung his arm and slapped Ditto C right across the face.
"Bastard!" Ditto C lost whatever remaining patience he had. He abandoned his role as peacemaker and lunged at Ditto D, wrapping his arms around his waist and wrestling him into the dirt.
Within seconds, the scene devolved into absolute chaos. Four identical aliens were rolling around in the sand, throwing wild punches, pulling on each other's sensory nodes, and screaming insults. A crowd of curious onlookers quickly formed a circle around the bizarre spectacle.
Klein noticed the commotion from his lounge chair. Truthfully, his hands were starting to cramp from applying so much sunscreen, and the constant giggling was giving him a headache. This was the perfect excuse to escape.
He stood up and wiped his hands on a towel.
The surrounding beauties immediately realized what was happening and began to whine. "Wuwuwu... Cruel little brother! After touching your big sisters all over, you're just going to get up and pretend you don't know us? Wuwuwu..."
Hearing the dramatic wailing, Klein kept his face completely blank and simply quickened his pace, eager to leave the troublesome area behind.
Gwen followed closely at his heels. Before stepping away, she threw one final, withering glare at the group of blonde women, silently daring them to follow.
Klein and Gwen pushed their way through the crowd of onlookers, stopping at the edge of the dust cloud where the four Dittos were still fiercely brawling.
Klein sighed. He stepped forward, his hand moving in a blur.
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
Four precise, stinging flicks landed squarely on four identical foreheads. No one escaped.
Because of their shared nervous system, every single Ditto felt the impact of all four flicks simultaneously. It was the equivalent of taking four heavy punches straight to the skull. All four aliens instantly collapsed into the sand, clutching their heads and groaning in synchronized agony.
"Get along properly," Klein ordered, his voice flat. He looked down at his fingers and muttered under his breath, "Hmm... The texture isn't very good."
After spending the last hour touching soft, warm skin, the rubbery, synthetic feel of Ditto's forehead was a severe downgrade.
Lying in the sand, the collective consciousness of Ben Tennyson felt a surge of absolute outrage. 'You hit me, and you're complaining about the texture?! Cousin, be a human being for once!'
Despite their internal complaints, the four Dittos absolutely dared not disobey Klein. They scrambled to their feet, dusted off the sand, and obediently shook hands with one another, muttering forced apologies.
"Alright, Dweeb, you go get the ball," Ditto A said, crossing his arms and nodding toward the water.
"No! You go get it!" Ditto B shoved Ditto A in the chest, his displeasure instantly returning.
The two of them immediately locked eyes, ready to start swinging again.
Ditto C threw his hands in the air, stepping between them to mediate once more.
Watching the sheer stupidity unfold, Klein pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"Alright, alright, I'll go get it," Ditto D muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned away from the argument and trudged down the sloping beach toward the water, where the volleyball had been swept away by the incoming tide.
He waded into the surf. Just as the water reached his knees, Ditto D leaned down and scooped up the floating ball.
But as his fingers brushed the wet leather, the surface of the ocean directly in front of him began to bubble violently. Strange ripples distorted the water. A massive, dark shadow rose from the depths.
Water cascaded down as a giant, grotesque mutated squid breached the surface. Its thick, barbed tentacles writhed in the air, lifting a platform upon which stood Dr. Animo. The mad scientist was clad in a dark diving suit, a massive spherical glass tank strapped securely to his back.
"Dr. Animo?!" Ditto D dropped the volleyball, his jaw hitting his chest. "No way! How did you break out again?!"
"Damn you, Ben Tennyson!" Animo gnashed his teeth, his eyes bulging behind his goggles. He glared down at the alien, taking in the black and white suit and the strange sensory nodes. "However... it seems your alien watch has provided you with a new set of DNA. How fortunate for me. Capture him!"
The moment the command left Animo's lips, Ditto D spun around and tried to sprint back toward the beach. But running through knee-deep water was agonizingly slow.
The mutated squid was much faster. A thick, muscular tentacle lashed out like a whip, wrapping tightly around Ditto D's torso and lifting him effortlessly into the air.
"Hey! Let me go!" Ditto D thrashed, but the grip was like iron.
The squid swung its appendage backward, unceremoniously stuffing the struggling alien into the heavy glass tank on Dr. Animo's back. The lid slammed shut, locking with a heavy hiss of pressure.
"I will be very pleased to extract the genes from your body," Dr. Animo sneered, glancing over his shoulder at his captive with a malicious glare. "And then, I will make you wish you were dead!"
One had to admit, Dr. Animo possessed a terrifying amount of audacity. The man simply did not know the meaning of the word 'fear.' Even after being brutally beaten down by Klein time and time again, he still had the sheer nerve to kidnap Ben right in front of him.
Back on the beach, the remaining Dittos froze. The sudden loss of their fourth member sent a jarring shock through their shared neural link. Everyone instantly realized something was wrong.
"Hey, didn't you have four of you?" Gwen asked, counting the aliens standing in front of her. There were definitely only three.
"Oh, yeah," Ditto A blinked.
"Where's the other me?" Ditto B looked around in confusion.
The three Dittos stared at each other, completely lost.
"He should be over there," Klein said calmly. He raised a finger, pointing out toward the ocean.
Gwen and the Dittos turned just in time to see Dr. Animo and his giant mutated squid sinking beneath the churning waves, the glass tank containing Ditto D disappearing into the dark water.
"Ben, how did you manage to get caught again?" Klein muttered, rubbing his temples.
Considering Ben had just been kidnapped not too long ago, Klein felt a deep sense of exhaustion. The boy was practically a magnet for trouble. Still, Ben was his cousin. He had to be rescued.
However, there was no need to rush. A little time in a glass tank might finally teach the brat a lesson about situational awareness.
Making his decision, Klein casually turned to the girl beside him. "Gwen, go call Grandpa Max. Tell him we're going fishing for Ben."
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