Chapter 11: Fantasyland
The morning sun baked the asphalt of the interstate as the Rustbucket rumbled along its endless stretch. Inside, Ben had his face squished flat against the passenger window, contorting his features into a grotesque mask.
Na na na... he taunted, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out at a boy in the backseat of a sleek sedan cruising parallel to them.
Seeing that the face-making contest had reached a stalemate, the boy turned away. He picked up a half-eaten hamburger from the seat beside him, took a deliberate bite, chewed for a moment, and then spat the mashed food out onto his tongue, flashing the gross display directly at Ben.
Ew, that is a seafood special! Ben gagged, wiping his mouth in phantom disgust. Since that is how you want to play it, I am bringing out my secret weapon!
Ben squatted down out of sight. A brilliant green light flooded the cabin.
Ah! Stinkfly shot up, pressing his massive compound eyes against the glass. His mandibles clicked open wide, spraying a thick glob of yellow-green slime that splattered aggressively against the interior of the window.
The boy in the adjacent car let out a piercing scream. His father in the driver's seat whipped his head around, his eyes bulging as he caught sight of the giant, drooling insect monster plastered against the RV's window.
The sedan swerved violently, tires squealing as it fishtailed left and right before the driver floored the gas pedal, speeding far ahead of the Rustbucket with absolutely no intention of slowing down.
Ah ha ha ha! Stinkfly collapsed onto the floor of the Rustbucket, clutching his segmented belly as he roared with buzzing laughter.
Dweeb! You are messing with your watch again! Gwen marched over, crossing her arms as she prepared to sit on the sofa.
No way! Fun is the most important thing! Stinkfly hacked up a fresh wad of yellow-green sludge and spat it directly at Gwen's seat.
Before the foul liquid could make contact, a vibrant purple aura flared to life. The slime froze mid-air, enveloped in crackling magenta energy, before violently rocketing right back into Stinkfly's face.
Taken completely by surprise, Stinkfly was instantly plastered in his own sticky goo. He sputtered, wiping his eyes, but before he could launch a counterattack, a lazy voice drifted from the back.
Ben, you really need to consider carefully how you use the Omnitrix, Klein reminded him. He was leaning back against the cushions, his posture relaxed but his tone carrying an unmistakable weight.
Stinkfly deflated slightly, wiping the last of the slime from his chin. Alright, Cousin, I will listen to you. Ben still held a deep respect for Klein. After all, Klein was the one who had given him the Omnitrix in the first place.
Hearing this, Gwen flashed a triumphant, smug smirk at the giant bug. See? Cousin still supports me the most.
Just as Stinkfly opened his mandibles to retort, the Rustbucket slammed on its brakes. The sudden deceleration sent Stinkfly sliding face-first across the linoleum floor.
You guys come quick and see... Oh! You are really fast. Grandpa Max was just turning around to call the three of them over when he noticed Stinkfly had already slid right next to his boots.
A massive pile-up had occurred on the highway ahead. A large semi-truck had collided violently with two passenger cars. Thick black smoke billowed into the sky, and flames licked the sides of the crushed truck cabin, where the driver was clearly still trapped. The intense heat and spreading fire indicated an imminent explosion.
Grandpa! I am going! Seeing the critical situation, Stinkfly did not hesitate. He buzzed his wings and launched himself straight out of the open window, streaking toward the wreckage.
Although Gwen usually loved nothing more than to bicker with Ben, she recognized his raw strength and utility in a crisis. She stayed put in the RV, watching him work.
As for Klein, he remained comfortably seated. For him, the absolute greatest benefit of handing the Omnitrix over to Ben was exactly this: he no longer had to drag himself out of his seat to deal with these annoying, trivial emergencies.
...
After a successful rescue and a brief statement to the arriving authorities, the Rustbucket continued its cross-country journey.
You are going to love playing with it, Gwen read aloud, squinting at a massive, brightly colored billboard they passed on the side of the highway.
Please! Grandpa! Give me a hint, what exactly is it? Ben begged, standing right beside the driver's seat and bouncing on his heels.
Uh, uh, sorry, I have been preparing this surprise for the entire summer, Grandpa Max replied, a wide grin on his face as he firmly refused Ben's request.
...
Welcome to Fantasyland. Ben and Gwen stared blankly at the faded, peeling wooden sign hanging over a dirt path, unconsciously reading its depressing text aloud.
Klein stepped out of the RV, his eyes sweeping over the deserted, dusty, and utterly pathetic excuse for an amusement park. Tumbleweeds might as well have been rolling past. He let out a slow breath. It truly was a big surprise.
While the three cousins immediately lost every ounce of expectation they might have held, Grandpa Max seemed practically vibrating with excitement. Is there anything more fun in this world than Fantasyland?
Hello. Welcome to Fantasyland, a man in a faded uniform stated. His face was entirely devoid of emotion, his voice a flat, deadpan monotone. I am the park manager here.
It was painfully obvious that managing such a desolate, godforsaken patch of dirt would drain the life out of anyone.
I know you are all eager to go in and have some fun, Grandpa Max said, practically shoving his wallet at the manager to buy three tickets. He handed the flimsy paper slips to Klein and the kids. I will go book us a room first. Have at it!
Oh, this is annoying! What are we even doing in this godforsaken place? Ben groaned, kicking up a cloud of dust as he glared at the incredibly boring surroundings.
With nothing else to do, the three of them trudged over to the first attraction, a small, rundown room with a ticket counter out front.
Welcome to Fantasyland, please show your tickets.
The exact same expressionless face. The exact same flat, soul-crushing tone. It was undeniably the same manager from the front gate.
I thought... I thought you were the manager at the entrance? Ben stammered, pointing a finger back and forth between the man in the booth and the empty front gate in the distance.
Child, I think you should know the meaning of the phrase, the more capable, the more work, the manager replied without blinking, slowly tearing their tickets in half.
Given the absolute lack of foot traffic, one employee was clearly more than enough to run this rundown place. In fact, he still seemed entirely too idle.
The trio wandered through the park, half-heartedly playing around with the few functioning facilities. They mostly just bickered and entertained themselves, finding the actual rides completely lacking. That was, until they reached the centerpiece of the park.
Surrounding a large pedestal were several flashing warning signs:
PLEASE DO NOT TAKE PHOTOS OF IT.
PLEASE DO NOT USE ANY ELECTRONIC DEVICES NEAR IT.
It is... a... giant rubber band ball?!!! Ben shouted, his voice cracking. Before walking up to the pedestal, the intense warning signs had actually managed to build up a tiny sliver of hype. Now, staring at the massive, dusty sphere of intertwined rubber bands, he realized he really should have kept his expectations at absolute zero.
You can play as long as you like, but please follow the rules, the manager stated from right behind them, his face still a mask of pure apathy.
It... it is just a giant rubber band ball?!!! Ben repeated, refusing to accept this reality.
Please follow the rules, the manager reminded him again, his tone completely unchanged, before he turned on his heel and walked away.
Oh! Annoying! I have really had enough of this! Ben slammed his hand down on the Omnitrix dial. A brilliant green light washed over the dusty courtyard.
Four Arms!
The towering Tetramand cracked his four knuckles, stepped up to the pedestal, and hoisted the massive rubber band ball into the air with his lower set of hands.
Dweeb, I am with you this time. Gwen exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Four Arms.
Four Arms grinned, pulling his upper arms back before launching the heavy rubber band ball directly at Gwen.
Instead of crushing her, the ball stopped dead in its tracks just inches from her face, glowing with a fierce purple light. Gwen swept her hands forward, and the mana-infused ball rocketed right back toward Four Arms. The purple glow dissipated mid-air as the Tetramand caught it with a heavy thud.
Klein, watching from the sidelines and realizing exactly what kind of game they were starting, allowed a rare smirk to cross his face. Playing with a ball? Naturally, a feline is the most suitable for this.
Klein tapped the faceplate of his own watch. A blinding bluish-purple light erupted.
Rath!
The massive Appoplexian hit the dirt, his orange fur bristling as he flexed his claws. He glared across the courtyard at the Tetramand.
Let me tell you something, stupid Four Arms, you giant four-eyed musclehead! You better hurry up and throw that ball to Rath!
...
Oh, crap! the three of them yelled in unison.
After the trio had played their destructive game of super-powered volleyball for a while, Four Arms decided he wanted to show off his spiking skills. He slammed his upper fists into the rubber band ball with entirely too much force, accidentally sending it flying out of bounds.
The giant rubber band ball became a bouncing projectile of mass destruction. It crashed wildly through Fantasyland, ricocheting off the cheap pavement and tearing through the already fragile amusement facilities, sending wooden planks and metal signs toppling into the dust.
Finally, after a path of absolute carnage, the rubber band ball rolled to a halt right in the middle of Fantasyland's main dirt road.
What none of them noticed in the chaos was that the surface of the rubber band ball was now flickering with a few faint, erratic electric sparks.
I will go get it back! Four Arms realized he had just caused a massive amount of trouble and quickly prepared to run over and retrieve the ball.
But the Omnitrix, ever the rebellious device, clearly had no intention of letting him fix his mistake. The dial flashed a harsh red, and with a high-pitched whine, Four Arms shrank back down into Ben.
Oh! Annoying! Ben kicked the dirt.
Seeing this, Rath let out a heavy, rumbling sigh. He stomped over to retrieve the sparking rubber band ball, attempting to shove a collapsed ticket booth back into an upright position with his massive claws along the way. Unsurprisingly, the fragile wood simply splintered further under his heavy-handed efforts, leaving the park in an even worse state than before.
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