Chapter 27: The Great One Appears
Towering pine trees blanketed the rugged mountainsides, casting long, cool shadows over the valley. A crystal-clear river carved its way through the landscape, its rushing waters carrying the occasional piece of weathered driftwood past the muddy banks where small amphibians scrambled for cover.
"Now this is what I call a perfect day to commune with Mother Nature!" Grandpa Max declared. He planted his hands firmly on his hips, taking in a massive, lung-expanding breath of the crisp mountain air.
"You are not kidding. It is actually gorgeous out here," Gwen agreed. She tugged on Klein's sleeve, pulling her older cousin along the dirt trail to catch up with their grandfather. The picturesque, postcard-worthy scenery had managed to lift her usually guarded spirits.
Klein let his gaze drift over the sprawling treeline. He kept his silence, but a faint, lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. For once, the universe was not throwing an immediate crisis at them, and the tranquility was a welcome change of pace.
Ben, however, could not care less about the majestic wilderness. He trudged behind them, aggressively tapping the faceplate of the Omnitrix. His brow furrowed into a deep, irritated scowl.
"Dweeb, what are you messing with now?" Gwen asked, glancing over her shoulder. Seeing him practically hammering on the extraterrestrial device made her anxious; she half-expected the thing to explode and take his arm with it.
"Ugh! So annoying!" Ben refused to stop twisting the dial. "I just want to turn into XLR8 so I can run into town and grab a burger with extra pickles. But this stupid watch is completely ignoring me!"
"Now, Ben, there is no need for fast food when nature provides a veritable buffet of delicacies," Grandpa Max said cheerfully. He strolled over to a decaying, moss-covered log and gave it a solid kick, rolling it over to expose the damp earth beneath. "Take a look at this."
The damp soil writhed. A cluster of massive, beige grubs squirmed blindly in the sudden sunlight, their segmented bodies glistening with a thick layer of slime.
"Mmm. Fresh, plump, and full of protein," Grandpa Max hummed in appreciation. Without a second of hesitation, he pinched one of the wriggling insects between his fingers and popped it straight into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, a loud crunch echoing in the quiet forest. "Not bad raw, but they would definitely be a knockout if we stir-fried them with a little garlic."
"Ugh, gross!" Gwen gagged, her face turning a distinct shade of green. She immediately spun on her heel and marched back toward Ben, suddenly very invested in his rule-breaking. "Move over, let me help you fix that thing. I want a burger with extra hot sauce. Cousin, what about you?"
"Just a classic double cheeseburger is fine," Klein replied smoothly. Spending an extended summer road trip crammed in the Rustbucket with these two had thoroughly corrupted his dietary habits. He had fully embraced the junk food lifestyle. His philosophy was simple: if a perfectly good, greasy burger was an option, only a madman would choose to eat slimy dirt-worms. He honestly wondered how Grandpa Max had survived this long with such an iron stomach.
A sudden burst of static interrupted the peaceful forest. The audio jack on Ben's portable radio had slipped loose, broadcasting the local news station through the tinny external speaker.
"We interrupt this broadcast for an astronomical update," a crisp voice announced. "Local observatories have tracked a small meteorite entering the atmosphere. Current trajectory indicates it is plunging directly toward the northwestern quadrant of the state."
"A meteorite?" Grandpa Max muttered, though he did not seem particularly alarmed. He wiped a bit of grub residue from his chin. While falling space rocks were not exactly an everyday occurrence, his decades of classified Plumber work meant he had seen more than his fair share of extraterrestrial debris crashing into Earth.
Klein raised a single, skeptical eyebrow at the older man's casual dismissal. "Grandpa," he drawled, his voice carrying a dry edge. "The northwestern quadrant of the state. Correct me if I am wrong, but is that not exactly where we are standing right now?"
Grandpa Max blinked, the geographical reality finally clicking into place. He let out a heavy, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Well, I suppose that means our peaceful communion with nature is officially canceled for the day."
He knew perfectly well that his grandchildren were far from normal. Between Ben's alien arsenal, Gwen's budding magical talents, and Klein's terrifyingly overpowered capabilities, a falling rock was not exactly a death sentence. Still, a localized meteor strike packed the kinetic force of a small bomb. As a grandfather first and foremost, his protective instincts demanded they evacuate the impact zone immediately.
He opened his mouth to order a retreat to the Rustbucket, but a blinding flash of emerald light cut him off. The brilliant green glare washed over the trees, signaling that Ben had finally managed to force the Omnitrix to activate. When the light faded, the words died in Max's throat. He stared, utterly fascinated by the bizarre new form standing in his grandson's place.
The new alien was incredibly top-heavy, boasting a bulky, predominantly white body. Thick, smooth plates of yellow armor covered its back, shoulders, and the backs of its stubby arms and legs, looking like heavy-duty biological shielding.
It was Cannonbolt. Naturally, Ben had not come up with the name yet. Klein already had the Arburian Pelarota DNA unlocked in his own modified Omnitrix, but since he rarely bothered using it, the form remained a complete mystery to the rest of the family.
"Whoa!" Cannonbolt yelped. His incredibly short, stumpy legs failed to support his massive, disproportionate bulk. He tipped forward, crashing face-first into the dirt with a heavy thud. He flailed his thick arms, rocking back and forth like an overturned turtle, completely unable to right himself.
Klein let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head at the ridiculous display. He and Grandpa Max stepped forward, grabbing the alien by his thick, armored shoulders and hauling him upright.
"What even am I?" Cannonbolt grumbled, holding up his massive, clawed hands. He stared at his own thick, padded fingers in utter confusion.
Gwen circled him, her eyes scanning his absurdly wide proportions. "You look like a giant, walking bowling ball. With a serious weight problem."
"Ha ha. Hilarious, Dork," Cannonbolt deadpanned, glaring down at her with heavy, unimpressed eyes.
"A brand new transformation," Grandpa Max murmured, his eyes alight with scientific curiosity. "This confirms my theory. There must be hundreds, maybe even thousands of dormant alien DNA samples locked inside that device."
"Seriously?" Cannonbolt's voice pitched up in excitement. He immediately swiveled his massive head toward Klein. Since his older cousin was the one who originally secured this version of the watch for him, Klein was the ultimate authority. "Does that mean I can get Humungousaur?! Oh man, please tell me I can turn into Humungousaur!"
Ben had been insanely jealous of Klein's Vaxasaurian form for weeks. A towering dinosaur that looked like it could bench-press Four Arms was every ten-year-old boy's ultimate dream.
"Maybe," Klein replied, his tone noncommittal. In truth, he had not bothered checking if Ben's specific Omnitrix playlist included the Vaxasaurian sequence. But seeing the sheer, unadulterated hope radiating from the giant yellow ball, he decided not to crush the kid's dreams. Even if the DNA was not active, Klein could easily hack the interface and unlock it for him. He just had not done it yet because, frankly, it sounded like too much work for a Tuesday.
"Awesome!" Cannonbolt cheered, completely missing the lazy evasion in his cousin's voice.
His excitement quickly pivoted back to his current predicament. "Alright, let us see what this guy can do. Time to test the hardware."
He planted his stumpy feet, puffed out his broad chest, and opened his mouth as wide as it would go. "Raaaargh!" he bellowed, straining his throat. He waited for a torrent of roaring flames to erupt. Unfortunately, nothing happened. Not even a wisp of smoke.
"No fire breath? Lame," Cannonbolt muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly. But he bounced back a second later. "Okay, wait. I bet it is eye lasers. Infrared, armor-piercing death rays!"
He locked his gaze on a nearby boulder, widening his eyes until they bulged. He stared. And stared. He stared until his corneas dried out and he had to blink furiously to clear the stinging sensation. Still, no lasers.
"Electromagnetic Railgun!" he shouted, thrusting his right arm forward. He contorted his thick fingers into various shapes, pointing like a gun, giving a thumbs-up, and even attempting a classic web-shooter pose. The air remained perfectly still. Absolutely nothing happened.
"Ugh!" Cannonbolt threw his heavy arms down in defeat, his claws slapping against his armored thighs. "This guy is completely useless! I got a dud!"
Klein watched the pathetic display for another few seconds before deciding to intervene. The secondhand embarrassment was getting to him. "Ben," he called out, his voice dripping with dry amusement. "Take a look at your center of gravity. You are basically a giant sphere covered in armor plating. Have you considered... I do not know, rolling?"
"Rolling?" Cannonbolt repeated, his heavy brow furrowing in confusion. He looked down at his curved belly, then at the thick yellow plates on his back. Slowly, the gears clicked into place. He tucked his head down, pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his shins. With a loud clack, the yellow armor plates locked together, sealing him into a perfect, impenetrable sphere.
The moment he formed the ball, physics took over. He spun in place, the armored shell grinding against the dirt like a revving tire, before shooting forward with explosive velocity. His muffled voice echoed from inside the shell as he tore through the forest like a runaway freight train, completely out of control. Wood splintered and cracked like thunder as he plowed straight through a dozen thick pine trees, snapping their trunks effortlessly before finally skidding to a halt.
The yellow sphere uncurled, and Cannonbolt popped back up onto his stumpy feet, shaking sawdust from his shoulders. A massive grin stretched across his wide face. "Hey! Okay, that was awesome! This guy is actually pretty sweet!"
"Ben!" Klein's voice cut through the air, sharper and louder than usual. He stood several yards away, waving his arm in a sharp, commanding gesture. "Get out of the drop zone! The meteorite is right on top of you!"
"There is... wait, what?" Cannonbolt cupped a hand around where his ear should be, struggling to hear over the ringing in his head from his impromptu lumberjack routine.
"Look up, you idiot!" Klein yelled, pointing sharply at the sky.
"Up? What is up th—" Cannonbolt tilted his heavy head back. The sky above him was entirely blotted out by a massive, flaming rock. The air roared, superheated by the friction of the descending mass, casting a terrifying crimson glow over his white and yellow armor.
His eyes bulged to comical proportions. Then, the sheer absurdity of his luck caught up with him, and his expression flattened into pure, unadulterated annoyance. "Oh, come on! So annoying!"
Boom!
"Ahhh!" Cannonbolt screamed. The meteor had not scored a direct hit, but the sheer kinetic force of the blast wave caught him right in the chest, launching his heavy body through the air like a discarded toy.
He crashed into the dirt with a heavy groan, his armor absorbing the worst of the damage. He lay flat on his back, his stubby limbs twitching as he struggled to catch his breath. He rocked back and forth, grunting with exertion, before finally managing to roll onto his stomach and push himself upright.
"What in the world is that thing...?" Cannonbolt muttered, rubbing the top of his smooth head. He squinted through the settling dust cloud, staring at the colossal, glowing red meteorite resting at the center of the smoking crater.
"Ben!" Klein sprinted over to the edge of the crater, with Gwen and Grandpa Max hot on his heels. "You still in one piece?"
"I am fine, I am fine," Cannonbolt grunted, waving a dismissive hand. His attention remained entirely fixated on the smoldering space rock.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying an absolutely vile stench from the crater. It smelled like rotting meat mixed with sulfur. Gwen immediately clamped both hands over her nose and mouth, her eyes watering. "Ugh, it reeks! It smells like a garbage dump! For a second there, I thought it was just Ben's natural scent after dodging the shower for three days!"
"Actually, it has been four days. Almost five," Cannonbolt corrected her, flashing a smug, entirely unashamed grin.
A sharp, cracking sound interrupted their bickering. Deep fissures spider-webbed across the red surface of the meteorite. Large chunks of the rocky exterior began to slough off, hitting the ground with heavy thuds. As the protective shell peeled away, the true nature of the object was revealed. It was not a rock at all. Nestled inside the crater was a gargantuan, pale-purple insectoid creature. Its massive, segmented body curled inward, heavily resembling a grotesque, fleshy conch shell.
Before anyone could process the giant bug, a low humming sound echoed from above. Three bizarre alien figures descended from the sky, riding sleek, hovering discs. Two of them were draped in flowing white ceremonial robes. One was exceptionally tall, possessing stark white skin, piercing blue eyes, and distinct, shark-like gills flaring on its neck. The second robed figure was short and squat, with sickly yellow skin, six slender arms, and matching gills. The third alien was clearly the muscle. Clad in a tight white bodysuit, he was a towering, heavily muscled brute. Four stalk-like eyes protruded from his head, strikingly similar to a Stinkfly, and his massive hands gripped a vicious, double-bladed battle-axe.
The three extraterrestrials brought their hover discs to a smooth halt just above the crater's edge. They raised their arms high, their voices booming in absolute, fanatical unison. "All hail! We welcome the arrival of The Great One!"
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