Chapter 163: The Half-Blood Pyronite
Alan glanced over his shoulder. Through the shimmering heat haze radiating from his own body, he spotted Klein and his group standing a short distance away, watching him with varying degrees of interest.
"He looks like a Heatblast," Ben muttered, squinting at the fiery figure.
"No need for the 'looks like,'" Klein replied, his tone flat. "He is one."
Kevin cracked his knuckles, a feral grin spreading across his face as he looked at Ben. "Want me to beat him up for you? Relive some old memories?"
Klein didn't even bother shifting his stance. He eyed the fiery runaway. The kid didn't even look like an adult yet. He was small, his flames burning with an erratic, untrained intensity—an underdeveloped Pyronite. Klein couldn't muster a single ounce of interest in fighting a child.
"Don't be a busybody," Klein instructed, shutting Kevin down instantly.
Ben shot Kevin a glare before slamming his hand down on the Omnitrix dial. "Jetray!"
A brilliant emerald flash illuminated the night, and a red, manta-ray-like alien took Ben's place, hovering above the dirt.
With a sharp flap of his aerodynamic wings, Jetray shot high into the sky, instantly banking into a steep dive straight toward Alan.
"Stay away from me!" Alan yelled, throwing his hands forward. A roaring pillar of fire erupted from his palms, illuminating the dark fields.
Jetray barrel-rolled out of the inferno's path, the heat washing harmlessly over his wings. He continued his dive, slamming shoulder-first into Alan's chest.
The impact sent them both tumbling into the dirt. Alan grunted, kicking out with both feet to shove the alien off. The moment he had space, he blasted flames from his soles, propelling himself clumsily into the night sky like a malfunctioning rocket.
Jetray didn't miss a beat, darting upward in hot pursuit.
Seeing the red alien relentlessly tailing him through the high altitude, Alan gritted his teeth. He needed to catch this guy off guard.
Cutting the thrust from his feet, Alan let gravity take over. He inverted his body mid-air, falling headfirst. Just as Jetray closed the distance, Alan reignited his foot-thrusters, rocketing downward straight at his pursuer while simultaneously unleashing a torrent of fire from his hands.
Jetray banked sharply, weaving through the barrage of fireballs. The yellow horns on his face crackled with energy before he fired twin beams of green neuroshock lasers from his eyes.
The blast struck Alan square in the chest. The young Pyronite lost his momentum instantly, tumbling out of the sky.
Hovering above, Jetray glanced down to track his target's fall. As he did, his glowing green eyes swept over the harvested wheat field below. The flattened stalks formed massive, complex geometric patterns. Crop circles. Just like the rumors.
That momentary distraction was all Alan needed. Recovering mid-fall, he blasted fire from his feet once more, shooting off toward the horizon.
Jetray snapped his attention back and tore through the air, closing the gap in seconds.
Realizing he couldn't outrun the alien, Alan spun around, unleashing a massive, concentrated pillar of fire from both hands.
Jetray didn't even bother dodging this time. He fired his eye beams directly into the flames, parting the inferno down the middle. As he broke through the fire, he whipped his tail forward, firing a third neuroshock blast from his stinger.
The green laser slammed into Alan.
With a sharp cry, the fiery teenager plummeted, crashing heavily into the dirt of the crop circle.
Alan lay sprawled on his back, the flames on his body dimming to a weak flicker. "I don't feel so good," he groaned.
Jetray touched down lightly beside him. A flash of green light washed over the area, leaving Ben standing in his place.
Ben glared down at the groaning kid, his hands resting on his hips. "Are you done causing trouble?"
"Uh-huh?" Alan mumbled, his fiery head tilting in confusion.
"That old man who's been chasing you," Ben demanded, stepping closer. "He might be wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Where is he?"
"What are you talking about?" Alan pushed himself up onto his elbows, his voice laced with genuine bewilderment. "I don't understand at all."
Ben's jaw tightened. "My Grandpa! Where is he?!"
Alan stared at him. What did this guy mean? He didn't even know who this kid's grandpa was, let alone where to find him. The only person who had been chasing him all night was the local sheriff.
Alan opened his mouth to argue, but a harsh voice cut through the night air.
"Don't move!"
Sheriff Mason stepped out from the tall stalks, a heavy flashlight in one hand and his other resting on his belt. A group of deputies fanned out behind him, forming a tight perimeter.
"I knew it," Mason sneered, a strange, triumphant laugh escaping his lips. "You couldn't have started so many fires all by yourself. Alan, I've caught you and your little accomplice."
Ben froze. 'Oh no, I've become an accomplice!'
Perhaps it was a side effect of spending too much time bending the rules with Klein, but Ben's survival instincts kicked in instantly. He didn't even attempt to explain the misunderstanding. He just spun on his heel and bolted into the cornfield.
It was Ben's last act of mercy to the fiery kid. From this point on, it was every man for himself. 'If you get caught, don't rat me out!'
Seeing the guy who just beat him up pull such a slick, cowardly move, Alan's brain finally rebooted. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted right after Ben.
Ben tore through the thick stalks, his lungs burning. He found a dense patch of corn and was just about to dive into it when he glanced back.
A massive, brightly burning human torch was jogging right behind him, illuminating the entire field like a flare.
"You blockhead, are you stupid?!" Ben hissed, waving his arms frantically. "You're literally glowing! How am I supposed to hide with a walking bonfire following me?!"
Ben stared at the kid in sheer disbelief. This had to be a setup. The universe was actively trying to drag him down.
Alan stopped, the flames on his shoulders drooping defensively. "But I have nowhere else to go."
Ben rubbed his temples, letting out a long sigh. "You can go to... Shhh. Someone's coming."
Grabbing Alan by the arm—ignoring the intense heat—Ben dragged him down, forcing them both to crouch low behind a thick cluster of corn stalks.
A short distance away, heavy boots crunched against the dry earth.
"There's movement over there!" a deputy shouted, sweeping a high-powered flashlight across the field. The beam cut through the darkness, inching dangerously close to their hiding spot.
Suddenly, a pair of blinding headlights flared to life in the distance. The roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet night, and a sleek sports car tore out from the edge of the field.
The vehicle drifted wildly, kicking up a massive cloud of dust as it bypassed the deputies entirely and sped off down the dirt road.
"Get back to the cruisers!" Sheriff Mason barked, immediately abandoning the cornfield search. He sprinted to his police car, throwing it into gear and peeling out in hot pursuit.
The two vehicles raced through the complex crop circles, tearing up the dirt. Finally, a massive combine harvester blocked the narrow path ahead, forcing the sports car to screech to a halt.
Seeing the suspect vehicle boxed in, Sheriff Mason slammed on his brakes, stepped out of his cruiser, and marched over with his hand resting on his holster.
He tapped his knuckles sharply against the driver's side window. "Alright, Alan. Get out of the car with your accomplice."
The tinted window rolled down smoothly. Kevin leaned an elbow against the frame, offering a casual, innocent smile. "Is there something wrong, Officer?"
Mason frowned, shining his flashlight into the cabin. He swept the beam over the back seat, expecting to find the fiery runaway. Instead, the light illuminated a young man with an infuriatingly calm expression and a red-haired girl sitting beside him. They looked like nothing more than a wealthy young couple out for a joyride.
Mason let out a frustrated breath. The kid he was looking for definitely wasn't in here.
Miles away, Ben and Alan slipped through the cracked doors of an abandoned barn, collapsing onto the dusty hay bales inside.
Once he was sure the coast was clear, Alan turned to Ben, his glowing eyes filled with curiosity. "Why did you help me?"
Even though Alan had forced his way into following at first, Ben had actively grabbed him and pulled him into hiding when the cops got close.
Ben leaned back against the wooden planks, shaking his head. "I don't know. You just... remind me of myself, I guess."
Alan processed that for a moment, the flames on his head flickering. "Right. You... you're also a monster, aren't you?"
"Strictly speaking, I'm a monster hybrid," Ben corrected with a smirk. "My cousin is one too. But you absolutely must not say that in front of him, or he will actually kill you."
Ben's dry joke managed to ease the heavy atmosphere in the barn. "But honestly? That's what makes it cool."
Alan hugged his knees to his chest. "It's not cool at all."
"Are you kidding? Superpowers? Flying? How is that not cool?"
"I hate flying."
"Well, you do fly pretty badly," Ben pointed out helpfully.
A comfortable silence settled between them as they sat in the dim barn.
"I only learned how to fly recently," Alan admitted softly. "My superpowers only showed up a few weeks ago."
"Are you an alien?" Ben asked.
"Half-breed."
As Alan spoke, the intense heat radiating from his body began to recede. The fiery magma skin cooled, shifting into dark brown skin. Within seconds, the blazing Pyronite was replaced by a normal-looking teenager in a t-shirt and jeans.
Alan stared at his hands. "My mom is from Earth. I always thought I was too. Until one morning, I woke up and my bed was on fire. My dad managed to put it out, and then they finally explained it to me. He's a Plumber, and they are..."
"Intergalactic Police," Ben finished for him, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. "The badge. It was given to you by your dad."
"He gave it to me when he told me the truth," Alan said, his expression darkening. "But Sheriff Mason confiscated it."
Just mentioning the local sheriff made Alan's fists clench in frustration.
"Don't worry about that," Ben said casually. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy, metallic Plumber badge he had retrieved from the building earlier. He tossed it through the air.
Alan caught it, his eyes widening in pure shock as he stared down at the familiar red hourglass symbol.
Back on the main road, Sheriff Mason handed Kevin a bright yellow speeding ticket before turning on his heel and marching back to his cruiser.
As the police car drove off, Kevin flicked the paper ticket, a smug grin plastered across his face. "Things aren't that bad, after all. We diverted the cops, saved Ben, and only walked away with a minor ticket. I call that a win."
He threw the car into drive, steering out of the wheat field and back onto the paved asphalt.
In the back seat, Gwen slumped against the leather upholstery, looking at Klein with clear disappointment. "So... this really has nothing to do with Grandpa, right?"
Klein nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "The Plumber badge we tracked definitely belongs to that Pyronite kid. But he obviously isn't a Plumber himself. It's highly likely one of his parents holds the rank."
Gwen frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But why would an intergalactic special police officer give their official badge to their kid?"
"I don't quite understand the logistics of that either," Klein admitted lazily. He hadn't bothered paying much attention to the bureaucratic side of the universe during his travels. "Kevin?"
Kevin, who spent half his life dealing with shady alien merchants and black-market tech, glanced at them through the rearview mirror.
"It's to prevent the real Plumbers from arresting them, Boss," Kevin explained smoothly as he handled a sharp turn. "That badge acts like a universal passport. If you're traveling interstellarly without a badge, you're basically an illegal alien. Unless you've got some serious backing, or you're someone like you, Boss—someone even the Plumbers are too terrified to mess with—you're going to end up in a high-security cell."
Klein blinked slowly in the back seat.
'What is that supposed to mean?'he thought, his expression remaining perfectly stoic while his internal monologue sighed.'He makes it sound like I'm Vilgax or something. I just wanted to be a respectable Plumber like Grandpa.'
Klein decided right then and there that he needed to secure some proper identification from the Plumber Academy as soon as possible. If only to prove he wasn't an intergalactic warlord.
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