Chapter 142: I Am His Agent
Nighttime. The underground wrestling arena was a suffocating mix of stale beer, cheap cigars, and roaring adrenaline. Spotlights cut through the hazy air, illuminating the packed stands where a sea of spectators screamed themselves hoarse.
"Woohoo! Tear him apart!"
Inside the ring, a massive brute in a tight blue singlet dominated the canvas. Standing nearly three meters tall and built like a brick wall, he hoisted his battered opponent into the air and slammed him down with a bone-rattling thud.
"You little runts!" The giant beat his chest, his voice booming over the speakers. "None of you are a match for me! I am Big Thing!"
Big Thing raised his thick arms, basking in the deafening cheers and a shower of tossed popcorn.
"That's not necessarily true," a young voice muttered from the shadows below the stage.
Ben narrowed his eyes at the boasting giant. Slipping away from the roaring crowd, he ducked into a quiet corridor and reached for the dial on his wrist. A familiar emerald flash briefly illuminated the dark hallway.
A moment later, Klein stepped out from nowhere, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He leaned against the concrete wall, watching the spot where Ben had just vanished with a faint, amused smirk.
Up in the ring, Big Thing was still strutting back and forth, flexing his oversized biceps for the cameras.
Suddenly, the heavy ropes groaned.
A massive, crimson-skinned figure vaulted over the top turnbuckle and landed on the canvas with a heavy thud that shook the entire ring.
Big Thing stopped his posing. He turned his heavy head, blinking down at the four-armed challenger standing just a few paces away. "And who are you supposed to be?" he sneered, clearly unimpressed by the alien's height disadvantage.
Four Arms cracked his knuckles—all sixteen of them—and flashed a confident, toothy grin. "Call me Four Arms!"
With a roar, Big Thing charged like a runaway freight train, throwing a punch the size of a bowling ball straight at the alien's head.
Four Arms didn't even flinch. He sidestepped at the last possible second, letting the giant's momentum carry him forward. Clenching his upper fists together, Four Arms brought them down like a sledgehammer right between Big Thing's shoulder blades.
The impact echoed through the arena. The immense force drove Big Thing face-first into the mat. Before the giant could even groan, Four Arms grabbed the back of his blue singlet, hoisted his massive frame into the air, and hurled him across the ring.
Big Thing crashed into the elastic ropes, the tension snapping him violently back toward the center. Four Arms stood waiting. As the giant rebounded into striking range, Four Arms planted his feet and delivered a devastating right hook.
Big Thing's eyes rolled back into his head. He crumpled to the floor, completely unconscious.
The crowd went dead silent for a split second before erupting into absolute pandemonium.
The referee scrambled into the ring, sliding to his knees beside the fallen giant. He slapped the mat. "One! Two! Three!"
Big Thing didn't even twitch.
The referee jumped up, grabbing one of Four Arms' massive wrists and raising it high. "Winner! Four Arms!"
"Hey! Awesome!" Four Arms grinned, dropping his arm and holding out a massive palm. "So, where's my championship prize money?"
The referee, who was busy waving over the medical crew to drag Big Thing away, paused and looked up at the alien. "Championship prize money? Buddy, this is a knockout wrestling tournament. You're only the champion if you defeat everyone on the roster! You've got to fight fifteen more matches!"
Four Arms' jaw dropped. "Fifteen?! That would take all night! My bedtime was hours ago!" He crossed his lower arms in annoyance. "I can't fight anymore tonight."
"Then go talk to Mr. Moneybags," the referee said, shrugging helplessly. "I just count the pins. It's the boss's rule."
Following the referee's pointing finger, Four Arms spotted a middle-aged man strutting down the aisle. He wore a sharp suit, a pristine white cowboy hat, and had a gorgeous woman clinging to his arm.
Mr. Moneybags had watched the entire spectacle from the VIP section. His eyes gleamed with dollar signs as he evaluated the four-armed powerhouse. He pushed past the security detail and approached the edge of the ring. "Hey, you! I want to talk to you."
Four Arms leaned over the ropes, ready to negotiate, but a sudden, frantic beeping interrupted him. The Omnitrix symbol on his chest began flashing a rapid, warning red.
Panic flared in Four Arms' eyes.
"I'll talk to you."
A calm, familiar voice cut through the noise.
Four Arms snapped his head around. His four eyes widened in absolute horror. "Cousin?!"
Mr. Moneybags froze. He looked at the hulking, crimson-skinned, four-eyed monster, and then down at the handsome, delicately featured teenager standing next to him. Cousin?! You two aren't even the same species!
"Don't mind him. I'm his agent," Klein said smoothly. He waved a dismissive hand at the dumbfounded promoter. "What he said is just a respectful cultural term."
"Yeah! He'll talk to you! I'm leaving now!" Four Arms yelled. Seeing the red light flashing faster and faster, he didn't wait for a response. He vaulted over the ropes and sprinted down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows just as a burst of red light flashed.
A few minutes later.
Ben trudged back into the main corridor, his shoulders slumped. He stopped dead in his tracks. Klein was leaning against a vending machine not far away, looking at him with a deeply playful expression.
Ben immediately tensed up. He considered running the other way, but knowing Klein, that would only make things worse. He forced himself to walk over.
"Ben..." Klein started, before his nose wrinkled in disgust. He swallowed whatever he was about to say, covered his nose with his sleeve, and took two large steps back. "Ugh. Did you fall into a cesspit?"
"No!" Ben's voice cracked defensively, though it quickly lost its volume. "I just... fell into a dumpster."
He stared at his shoes. It was fine when Klein was just looking at him, but the moment his cousin actually spoke, the embarrassment hit Ben like a truck.
"Never mind. Go get cleaned up and get ready," Klein said, his tone entirely casual. "It's your turn again in two more rounds."
Ben blinked, his head snapping up. He had fully expected a severe, hour-long lecture about responsibility, abusing the Omnitrix, and sneaking out. "Wait. Cousin, aren't you curious why I'm even here?"
"I know why," Klein replied, not bothering to act mysterious.
Ben's eyes widened further. The confusion on his face deepened. "You know?! Then why did you still let me..."
"No reason," Klein interrupted, his lips curving into a slight smile. "I just simply wanted to do it."
Ben stared at him. That's right, he thought, shaking his head. It really is that simple with him. He did it just because he felt like it. It was the most Klein-like answer possible.
"Alright, enough standing around. Get ready. You're up soon," Klein ordered, waving him off.
The underground wrestling circuit was a magnet for oddballs, and tonight was no exception. One-eyed mutants and guys covered in scales were par for the course. But two fighters in particular stood out: a man covered head-to-toe in sharp, bristling quills named Porcupine, and a hulking, hunched-over humanoid alligator named Gatorboy.
Watching from the sidelines, Klein noticed the two mutants shared a surprisingly tight bond, exchanging quiet words and watching each other's backs. Still, he felt absolutely zero concern for Ben.
Ben was equally unbothered. He just cracked his knuckles and smirked. "Bring it on."
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The bell rang. Four Arms VS Porcupine.
Porcupine wasn't exactly a tactical genius. Despite being half the size and weight of his opponent, he lowered his head and charged straight in for a head-on collision.
It went exactly as expected. Four Arms swatted him like a fly. His massive fist connected with Porcupine's chest, sending the mutant flying backward into the elastic ropes.
But Porcupine gritted his teeth, enduring the pain. Using the heavy rebound from the ropes, he curled his body into a tight, spinning ball of spikes and launched himself directly at Four Arms' face.
Four Arms raised a thick forearm, blocking the stabbing quills with his dense skin. Seeing his frontal assault fail, Porcupine uncurled, planted his boots squarely on Four Arms' blocking arm, and used the use to execute a rapid front flip. He sailed over the alien's head, landing perfectly on the top rope behind him.
Using the ropes for a second burst of momentum, Porcupine launched himself onto Four Arms' broad back. He wrapped his arms and legs tight around the alien's neck, digging his quills in and trying to wrestle the giant to the mat.
He strained, grunted, and pulled with all his might. Four Arms didn't budge an inch.
Sighing in boredom, Four Arms simply let his knees give out and fell flat on his back.
CRASH.
The sheer weight of the alien drove Porcupine straight into the canvas. His long, spiky hair pierced deep into the tough matting. Four Arms casually rolled over and stood up, brushing off his shoulders.
Porcupine thrashed and pulled, but he was completely pinned to the floor by his own quills. He couldn't even lift his head.
Four Arms walked over and lazily placed his right foot on Porcupine's chest, pinning him down for good measure.
Seeing the mutant hopelessly stuck, the referee slid into the ring. "One! Two! Three!"
The victory bell rang out once more.
"Man, this is so much fun!"
Ben sat slouched in a folding chair in the backstage green room, his feet propped up on the table. He took a massive bite out of a greasy, complimentary burger, chewing loudly.
"Maybe you should drop out of school and really become a wrestler," Klein remarked dryly. He stood near the wall, taking a slow sip from a plastic cup of complimentary juice.
Ben gave an awkward, muffled laugh around his mouthful of food. "Uh-huh. I think I'll pass on that."
Suddenly, Klein's relaxed posture shifted. His eyes flicked toward the hallway. "Someone's coming."
Ben stopped chewing. He looked toward the doorway just as a massive shadow fell over the room. Gatorboy stepped through the frame, his hunched, scaly body taking up nearly the entire entrance.
The alligator mutant's cold, reptilian eyes scanned the small room. "Where's Four Arms?" he growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp.
Both Klein and Ben instantly understood the situation. This guy wasn't here for an autograph. He was here to eliminate the competition.
Ben glanced down at his wrist. The Omnitrix was still glowing a dull red, locked in its recharge cycle. But a quick glance at his cousin standing calmly by the wall washed away any panic. With Klein here, there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Ben took another bite of his burger, chewing slowly before swallowing. "Sorry, pal. He's a little busy right now and can't sign autographs for his fans. But hey, if you—a mutant wrestler who just barged into our room—turn around and walk away obediently, I might just ask him for one later."
Gatorboy's slit pupils narrowed into dangerous slits. "Brat! Your mouth stinks!" He unhinged his massive, tooth-filled maw. "And so does mine!"
With a terrifying hiss, Gatorboy lunged across the room, his jaws snapping shut right where Ben's head had been a second prior.
Ben yelped, diving out of the chair and rolling across the floor. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted directly behind Klein, using his cousin as a human shield.
Gatorboy turned his heavy gaze toward the older teenager standing in his way.
Klein didn't even blink. Relying entirely on the absolute self-protection protocols woven into the Another Omnitrix on his wrist, he felt zero need to panic. He calmly lowered his plastic cup, setting it down on the table with a soft clack.
"What are you doing?! He's just a kid!"
A frantic voice echoed from the hallway. Porcupine limped into the room, rubbing his sore back and glaring at his reptilian partner.
"Yeah, and his wrestler just beat you to a pulp," Gatorboy snapped back, not taking his eyes off Klein. He didn't see anything wrong with his methods. "We need the prize money. We have to make them leave. Or die."
Porcupine sighed, stepping between Gatorboy and the two boys. He understood what his friend was doing—trying to scare the kids into pulling their fighter out of the tournament. But looking at the older boy standing perfectly still, his dark eyes entirely devoid of fear, Porcupine suddenly felt a cold sweat break out on his neck.
Something about this kid was far more dangerous than any four-armed alien.
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