After the rust bucket parked, the gang hopped off. They followed the route toward the practice fields, where teams were warming up.
Ben's eyes lit up. "Look—it's the Cannons! I'm gonna go say hi!" He sprinted ahead, Gwen and Fred trailing behind, while Max wandered toward the food truck for snacks.
Ben burst onto the field—only to be yanked upward by his pants. "Haaa!!" he screamed, dangling from the gate by his underwear. A familiar voice sneered. "Well, looky who we have here…"
Ben groaned, twisting to see. "No way… Cash? J.T.?"
Cash smirked. "It's Wedgie Tennyson!"
Ben struggled, underwear ripping as he fell to the ground. He stood, brushing himself off. "Yeah, well, I've been busy saving the world this summer instead."
Cash laughed. "Saving the world? Ha!" J.T. chuckled behind him.
Gwen and Fred arrived. Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Friends of yours?"
Ben muttered. "If you can call them that."
He turned back. "Anyway, how'd you two make the team?"
Cash puffed his chest. "Talent."
J.T. blurted, "That and four guys got chicken pox."
Cash elbowed him. "Dude!"
Ben smirked. "Aw man… guess I could've had a shot too."
Gwen teased. "By default you mean."
Suddenly—"Watch out!!" A random Cannon player shouted.
A baseball whizzed past, slicing the air. The ball spun at blistering speed. Ben, Cash, J.T., Gwen, and Fred ducked as the ball was snatched midair by a Squire player.
Gwen snapped. "Hey! Watch it!"
But the Squires ignored her, eyes cold, movements eerily synchronized.
Max stormed up to the Squires' coach, furious. "Your team almost decapitated my grandkids! Teach them some control!"
The coach scoffed. "Maybe they should stay out of the way." He turned sharply. "Squires!"
The team marched in perfect formation, eerie precision in every step.
The coach smirked. "Good luck, Cannons. You're gonna need it."
Cash grabbed a stray baseball, hurling it at the last Squire. "Hey, you forgot something!"
Without turning, the Squire caught it seamlessly, still in sync with the others. Fred frowned. "Something tells me the Cannons are going to lose badly."
The stadium roared with energy, packed with fans and lined with presidential security. The President sat in the VIP section, agents scanning the crowd.
Fred whistled. "This place is packed."
The Tennysons found their seats as Max handed out snacks. Gwen ignored hers, opening her laptop.
"Something about the Squires doesn't feel right…" she muttered.
Ben bit into a hot dog. "Yeah… they're too perfect. In a weird way that is."
The Cannons entered the field, greeted by cheers. Cash jogged to the mound as starting pitcher.
Ben cupped his hands, shouting. "We want a pitcher, not a hairy—"
Max yanked him back to his seat. "Benjamin!"