Chapter 112: Grandpa, Which Grandma Is This?
Deep within the cold, sterile confines of a warship drifting through the cosmos, Vilgax stared up at the towering silhouette of his newest weapon. The giant mechanical monster hummed with latent energy, its heavy metallic plating gleaming under the harsh overhead lights. Yet, despite its imposing stature, Vilgax's jaw clenched. He shifted his weight, his voice carrying a rare, unsettling edge of uncertainty. "Are you entirely sure this... thing can actually retrieve the Omnitrix?"
Beside him, his chief tactical advisor bowed slightly, a sickeningly confident smirk plastered across his face. "Without a doubt, Lord Vilgax. This latest prototype is equipped with a advanced autonomous evolution program. It possesses the unique ability to assimilate surrounding matter, continuously modifying and reinforcing its own chassis in real-time."
Vilgax narrowed his glowing red eyes. It sounded impressive on paper. But compared to his own raw, unbridled power, it was nothing more than a glorified toy. And more... it was nothing compared to that kid. Just the thought of Klein made a phantom ache throb in Vilgax's cybernetic limbs.
Masking his internal dread with a thick layer of feigned indifference, Vilgax crossed his massive arms. "And what of Klein? Are you certain this machine can defeat him?"
The advisor's confident smile didn't waver in the slightest. "Oh, it absolutely cannot win, my lord. It would be crushed instantly."
A thick vein bulged violently on Vilgax's forehead. His massive hand twitched toward his sword, fully prepared to cleave the insolent fool in half for daring to mock him.
"Lord Vilgax, please, do not be in such a hurry!" the advisor rushed out, sensing the impending execution. "Allow me to explain! Based on my extensive behavioral analysis, the anomaly known as Klein rarely intervenes unless provoked by a worthy challenge. He views himself as a spectator. He utterly despises opponents he deems too weak. Given his past combat data, a mindless mechanical drone won't even register on his radar as a threat."
The logic was sound. Klein would take one look at the drone, scoff at its pathetic power level, and go back to whatever lazy activity he was doing. He wouldn't lift a finger. But the others—the loudmouth cousin and the old man—would definitely take the bait.
Vilgax slowly uncrossed his arms, nodding in solemn agreement. It made perfect sense. Only a truly magnificent, universe-conquering warlord such as himself was worthy of being chased across the galaxy and brutally beaten by a monster like Klein. He quickly pushed that humiliating thought aside.
He glared down at the advisor, his red eyes narrowing expectantly. "Continue."
"While Klein remains aloof, the drone will bypass him entirely," the advisor explained, tapping a datapad. "It will target the weakest link: Max Tennyson. Once the old man is captured, we simply use him as use to force Ben Tennyson to surrender his Omnitrix."
In truth, the advisor secretly coveted Klein's 'Another Omnitrix' far more. The data readings on that device were off the charts. But he wasn't suicidal. Klein's psychological profile indicated a ruthless streak; he wouldn't trade his watch for anything., intelligence reports suggested Klein was merely adopted into the Tennyson family. The advisor severely doubted the boy cared enough to sacrifice his ultimate weapon for an old man.
Vilgax read the unspoken hesitation in his subordinate's eyes and grunted. He knew exactly what the advisor was thinking. But Ben Tennyson's Omnitrix was more than enough to secure his galactic conquest. He didn't need to poke the sleeping dragon that was Klein.
"Of course," the advisor added smoothly, bowing his head. "If Lord Vilgax still harbors any concerns about the mission's success, you could personally escort the drone to Earth."
Vilgax stiffened. Go back there? With just one drone for backup? Absolutely not. The very idea made his cybernetic life-support systems pump coolant a little faster. But he would rather die than admit that out loud.
He puffed out his chest, projecting an aura of absolute arrogance. "Hmph! Who do you take me for? I am Vilgax! Do you honestly expect me to personally intervene for a simple extraction mission?!"
"Forgive my insolence! You are entirely correct, my lord!" the advisor groveled instantly.
Appeased, Vilgax lifted his chin with a proud nod. He swept his massive hand toward the launch bay. "Excellent. Launch the drone immediately. Bring me the Omnitrix!"
Meanwhile, lightyears away, deep within a dense, uncharted forest on Earth.
A severely damaged spacecraft lay half-buried in the dirt, its metallic hull scarred by atmospheric reentry and laser fire. Vines and moss had already begun to creep up its sides, masking the alien technology from the world.
Inside the darkened, silent cabin, a sudden hiss of depressurization broke the quiet. Frost spilled over the floor panels as a cryogenic healing pod slowly slid open.
A low, groggy groan echoed through the empty ship as its sole occupant finally stirred from her slumber.
The early morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the local park. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass and morning dew.
Klein stood in the middle of a wide grassy field, lazily holding a spool of string while Gwen expertly maneuvered a bright red kite higher into the clear blue sky.
A few yards away, Ben was fully embracing the canine lifestyle. Having dialed up Wildmutt, the massive, eyeless orange beast was currently bounding across the grass, playfully wrestling and running wild with a pack of local golden retrievers and terriers.
Sitting on a nearby wooden bench, Grandpa Max seemed entirely disconnected from the chaotic fun. His eyes were fixed on an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand down the paved path, feeding ducks by the pond. A deep, wistful melancholy clouded the old man's usually cheerful face.
"What's... wrong with Grandpa?" Gwen asked, her eyes tracking the kite but her attention clearly focused on the old man. She tugged the string slightly, her brow furrowing with concern.
Klein let out a soft, noncommittal hum, his gaze drifting toward Max. "Heaven knows. Maybe he's just missing Grandma."
Internally, Klein wasn't so sure. Given Max's wildly colorful past as a galactic Plumber, the man could be reminiscing about his late wife, or he could just as easily be thinking about a tentacled alien princess from the Andromeda galaxy. With Grandpa Max, it was always a coin toss.
Noticing Gwen's mood dampening, Klein decided a distraction was in order. He leaned casually against a nearby oak tree, a faint, mischievous glint entering his eyes. "So, Dork. How's your magic training coming along these days?"
Gwen blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. She adjusted her grip on the kite string, looking a bit uncertain. "Hmm? It should... be alright, I guess? I've been practicing." She bit her lip, secretly worried about disappointing her overpowered cousin.
Klein's lips curled into a full-blown, shit-eating grin. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Perfect. Then do me a little favor..."
Across the field, Wildmutt was still foolishly frolicking in the dirt, completely oblivious to the impending doom. He let out a playful, guttural bark, rolling over to let a tiny poodle sniff his massive paws.
Suddenly, his gill-like nostrils flared. His radar-sense picked up a massive shift in the environment. Dozens of rapid heartbeats were approaching. Fast.
Wildmutt snapped his head up, his sensory organs painting a terrifying picture. A massive pack of local dogs was sprinting directly toward him. And based on the specific pheromones flooding his highly sensitive nose, he recognized exactly what this was. He had seen this reaction before.
They were in heat. And they were all looking right at him.
Wildmutt let out a high-pitched, thoroughly undignified yelp of pure terror. Scrambling frantically, his massive claws tore up chunks of turf as he bolted toward the nearest oak tree. He launched himself upward, scaling the thick trunk with desperate agility, and clung for dear life to a high branch.
Below him, a sea of overly affectionate canines swarmed the base of the tree, barking, whining, and jumping up the trunk in a relentless frenzy.
Watching the sheer panic radiating from the terrifying alien beast, Gwen burst into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. She knew using a minor attraction spell on the local dog population wasn't exactly playing nice, but the results were undeniably hilarious.
Klein merely chuckled, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. It was harmless fun. A horde of overly amorous poodles wasn't going to actually hurt the Dweeb.
A few minutes later, the familiar red flash of the Omnitrix timing out illuminated the tree branches.
Ben dropped down from the tree, reverting to his human form. He trudged over to them, his face twisted in a scowl, his clothes absolutely covered in sticky, foul-smelling dog drool.
"You guys are the worst!" Ben spat, aggressively wiping a glob of slobber off his cheek. He marched right up to Klein, fully prepared to launch into a loud, whiny tirade about Gwen's unfair magical pranks.
But before he could even open his mouth—
A sharp, piercing shriek shattered the peaceful morning air.
Klein, Gwen, and Ben instantly snapped their heads toward the source of the noise. Emerging from the treeline at the edge of the park was a bizarre figure. It was a female alien, her skin a vibrant, aquatic blue-green. She possessed a slender, almost reptilian grace, with long, tentacle-like appendages cascading from her head. She was clad in sleek, form-fitting purple armor that hummed with advanced technology.
Klein's eyes narrowed slightly as his mind quickly sifted through his vast, detached knowledge of this universe's lore. Ah. Xylene. The Uxorite who had originally sent the Omnitrix to Earth. More, she had a very... intimate connection to Max Tennyson. If he recalled correctly, she was one of Grandpa's old intergalactic flings.
Deciding this was a family drama rather than a genuine threat, Klein relaxed his posture. He didn't even bother reaching for his watch.
He raised a hand, intending to tell his cousins to stand down. But Ben, still buzzing with adrenaline and irritation from the dog incident, was already sprinting headlong toward the newcomer.
Klein sighed, quickly grabbing Gwen by the back of her collar before she could follow suit. "Let him go. Watch the show," he muttered dryly.
Xylene paused, her large, expressive eyes tracking the boy charging at her. Her gaze instantly zeroed in on the bulky, watch-like device strapped to his left wrist. Her eyes widened in shock.
"The Omnitrix?!" Xylene demanded, her voice echoing with a strange, melodic resonance. "How in the galaxy did that get into the hands of a human child?!"
"Oh, so you want this too?!" Ben shouted back, his hand already hovering over the dial. "Then come and get it!"
He slammed his palm down on the faceplate. A blinding emerald flash erupted across the park, leaving a towering humanoid made of dark red magma and blazing yellow fire in his wake. Heatblast cracked his fiery knuckles, the ambient temperature around him skyrocketing.
Heatblast didn't hesitate. He thrust his hands forward, hurling a rapid-fire barrage of scorching fireballs directly at the alien woman.
Xylene didn't even flinch. With a graceful, almost lazy sidestep, she evaded the blazing projectiles. Suddenly, a brilliant aura of purple telekinetic energy flared around her body. She levitated off the ground, the glowing energy radiating from her form bearing a striking resemblance to Gwen's own mana constructs.
With a sharp flick of her wrist, Xylene reached out with her mind. The heavy metal jungle gym and swing sets in the nearby playground groaned under immense invisible pressure. In seconds, the thick steel pipes were violently ripped from their concrete foundations, twisting and flattening in mid-air until they formed a storm of razor-sharp metallic blades.
She thrust her hand forward, sending the storm of shrapnel hurtling straight toward Heatblast.
"Nice try!" Heatblast roared. He planted his feet and unleashed a massive, continuous torrent of roaring flames from both palms. The intense, white-hot fire stream met the incoming steel blades head-on, rapidly heating the metal until it glowed cherry-red, then white, before completely liquefying into harmless splatters of molten iron that sizzled against the grass.
Xylene's eyes narrowed. Adapting instantly, she shifted her telekinetic grip toward the edge of the street. With a sharp mental tug, she violently sheared the tops off three nearby fire hydrants. Massive geysers of high-pressure water erupted into the air.
Glowing with purple energy, the water was instantly corralled into a massive, floating serpentine whip. With a sweeping motion of her arm, Xylene brought the localized tidal wave crashing down directly onto Heatblast.
Caught entirely off guard by the sudden deluge, Heatblast couldn't dodge in time. The massive volume of water slammed into him with the force of a freight train. The roaring flames wreathing his head were instantly snuffed out with a violent, deafening hiss. Thick, blinding clouds of white steam billowed off his rapidly cooling magma body as he stumbled backward, groaning in discomfort.
Xylene raised her hands, preparing to follow up with a finishing blow to incapacitate the fiery alien.
ZAP!
A searing bolt of blue plasma tore through the air, striking the ground mere inches from Xylene's boots and leaving a scorched, smoking crater in the dirt. She gasped, her telekinetic aura flaring as she hastily floated backward to evade the blast.
"That was just a warning shot," a deep, gravelly voice commanded.
Max Tennyson stood a few yards away, his posture rigid and authoritative. He held a heavy, Plumber-issue laser blaster perfectly leveled at Xylene's back. The warm, grandfatherly demeanor was completely gone, replaced by the cold, calculating edge of a seasoned veteran. "Now, keep your hands where I can see them, and slowly turn around."
Xylene froze. The purple aura surrounding her flickered and died. That voice... it had been decades, but she could never forget that voice.
She slowly turned around, her large eyes wide with absolute disbelief. "That voice... Max?!"
Max's grip on the blaster faltered. The stern, battle-hardened expression melted off his face, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. He lowered the weapon, his jaw going slack. "Xylene?!"
Cue my entrance, Klein thought, thoroughly enjoying the soap opera unfolding before him.
Stepping out from the sidelines, Klein casually strolled over to where Max stood frozen. He shoved his hands into his pockets, a wicked, utterly shameless smirk plastered across his face. He looked from the stunned alien woman to his utterly bewildered grandfather.
"So, Grandpa," Klein drawled loudly, making sure his voice carried perfectly across the quiet park. "Which Grandma is this?"
Xylene blinked, momentarily disarmed by the boy's casual interruption. A soft, pleasant smile touched her lips. "Oh, what a sweet-tongued child. You must be his grand—"
She suddenly stopped dead. Her smile vanished. Her eyes snapped back to Klein, narrowing dangerously. "Wait. What do you mean, which Grandma?!"
She knew Max had married a human woman on Earth. She had made peace with that long ago. But the way this boy phrased it... it heavily implied that Max had a rather extensive, multi-planetary collection of wives.
Max broke into a cold sweat. His eyes darted frantically between Xylene's suddenly murderous glare and Klein's shit-eating grin. "Uh—now, hold on a minute, Xylene, it's not what it sounds like! And Klein, wait!" Max suddenly paled, a terrifying realization dawning on him. Given Klein's absurd, god-like abilities and his tendency to know things he shouldn't... could he actually know?
Klein's smile only widened into something truly diabolical. He nodded slowly, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief. "That's right, Grandpa. I've already met Grandma Verdona."
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