Chapter 37: Alien Arena, Kickin Hawk Versus The Crazy Chicken
A gentle breeze swept across the open plains, pressing the tall green grass into rolling waves. In the distance, massive white windmills turned at a sluggish, peaceful pace. The scenery was a perfect picture of tranquil beauty.
Except for the violent crater being carved into the middle of it.
Diamondhead skidded backward, his crystalline boots tearing two ugly, muddy trenches through the pristine turf. He crossed his arms just in time to block a devastating haymaker from Kevin.
Kevin stood tall, a grotesque, patchwork chimera of ten different alien species. He flexed a fiery arm and a crystalline fist, a smug grin twisting his half-mutated face.
"You idiot!" Kevin roared, his voice a distorted echo of multiple vocal cords. "I have the abilities of ten of your aliens, plus my own! You cannot beat me!"
Raising his mismatched hands, Kevin fired a volley of jagged diamond shards straight at Diamondhead.
"Yeah?" Diamondhead shot back, his crystalline voice grating like grinding stones. "But each of those abilities is only a tenth as strong as mine!"
Diamondhead swayed, letting the first few projectiles whistle past his shoulders. He snapped his hand up, catching the final shard inches from his face. With a sharp squeeze, he crushed the diamond into glittering dust.
A short distance away, completely detached from the life-or-death struggle, sat the Rustbucket. Under the shade of its extended awning, three beach chairs were neatly lined up.
Klein reclined in the center chair, an iced beverage resting in his hand. He took a slow sip through the straw, watching the explosive battle with the mild interest of someone watching a mediocre television show. Beside him, Grandpa Max and Gwen mirrored his relaxed posture, enjoying the afternoon shade.
Kevin had completely ignored their little viewing party. Ever since the mutated teenager had witnessed Klein transform into Way Big and casually dominate the battlefield, a deep, instinctual fear had rooted itself in his mind. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with Klein. His grudge was strictly with Ben.
When Kevin had ambushed the Rustbucket earlier, he had deliberately avoided attacking the vehicle itself. Instead, he had taunted Ben into a one-on-one duel.
Klein, possessing zero desire to intervene in the bizarre love-hate rivalry between Ben and Kevin, had simply set up the lawn chairs and let them hash it out.
Out on the field, Diamondhead and Kevin let out synchronized battle cries, charging at each other for another clash.
Just as their fists were about to collide, the sky tore open.
A blinding pillar of crimson light crashed down from the heavens, engulfing both combatants.
Klein's lazy demeanor vanished instantly. The plastic cup slipped from his hand, spilling ice across the grass. He slapped the faceplate of the Another Omnitrix.
A brilliant flash of light erupted. In a fraction of a second, Fasttrack stood in Klein's place.
The feline speedster kicked off the ground, leaving a sonic boom and a crater in his wake. He became a blur of blue and black, desperate to pull Ben out of the beam.
But even with Fasttrack's incredible velocity, he was a fraction of a second too late.
Fasttrack slammed into Diamondhead, tackling him hard, but before he could carry them out of the crimson light, the beam pulsed. The world around them warped, and both heroes vanished into thin air.
"Cousin! Ben!"
Gwen leaped from her chair. A surge of raw panic and adrenaline ignited the Mana within her. Her human disguise melted away, replaced by the glowing, magenta form of an Anodite. She shot into the sky like a rocket, her energy hair trailing behind her as she scoured the clouds where the beam had originated.
Empty air greeted her. There was no trace of them.
"How could this happen?" Grandpa Max ran onto the scorched grass, his jaw locked tight, his eyes scanning the empty sky.
Gwen floated back down, her glowing feet touching the ruined turf. She forced her breathing to slow, pushing down the rising tide of panic. Closing her eyes, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small trinket Klein had left behind. She wrapped her glowing hands around the object, channeling her Mana to track his unique energy signature.
Her magenta eyes snapped open, wide with shock.
"They are... in outer space." Gwen tilted her head back, staring up into the endless blue atmosphere.
Grandpa Max did not hesitate. His Plumber instincts took over immediately. "I need to make a call," he said, his voice grim and authoritative. "I am getting us a ship."
He turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the Rustbucket. Gwen flared her Mana and flew right after him.
"Where exactly... is here?"
Fasttrack stood up, brushing dust from his fur. He squinted into the pitch-black void surrounding him.
Suddenly, blinding stadium lights snapped on, flooding the area with harsh, artificial glare.
A deafening roar of cheers and jeers slammed into his ears.
Fasttrack frowned, his feline ears twitching at the overwhelming noise. He scanned his surroundings. High walls, a sandy floor, and massive tiered stands packed with bizarre, screaming alien species.
An arena.
Did they drag him across the galaxy just to put on a show?
'I am usually the one watching the shows,' Fasttrack thought, a dangerous edge creeping into his mind.
He cracked his knuckles, seriously considering blurring into the stands and dragging the cheering spectators down one by one for a little survival game.
Before he could act, a distinct, grating sound echoed from behind him.
"Cluck, cluck, cluck?"
Fasttrack's instincts flared. He dissolved into a blue afterimage just as a massive, clawed foot swept through the space his head had occupied a millisecond prior.
A hulking, muscular humanoid chicken—covered in coarse feathers and sporting a vicious beak—stumbled forward, looking utterly confused at the empty air.
Fasttrack reappeared a few yards away, crossing his arms. "You want to fight me, do you?" he called out, his voice dripping with dry amusement. "Alright. Come on if you dare!"
He reached up and slapped the Another Omnitrix symbol on his chest.
A faint blue light washed over the arena. The feline speedster expanded, feathers erupting from his skin, muscles bulging beneath a green wrestler's mask. Black, razor-sharp blades extended from his forearms with a metallic ring.
Kickin Hawk cracked his neck, fixing the Crazy Chicken with a predatory glare.
"Hey, stupid bird," Kickin Hawk taunted, dropping into a combat stance. "Ever played 'Eagle Catching Chicks'?"
Kickin Hawk exploded forward. He swung his right arm, the forearm blade slicing through the air. The Crazy Chicken snapped out of its daze and scrambled backward, but it was not fast enough. The black blade tore through its chest feathers, leaving three shallow, bloody scratches.
Sensing the retreat, Kickin Hawk fluidly retracted his right arm, pivoted on his heel, and unleashed a devastating reverse side kick.
His foot planted squarely in the Crazy Chicken's gut. The avian brute was launched backward like a cannonball, crashing into the dirt and rolling violently until it slammed against the edge of the arena.
The crowd went absolutely feral.
The Crazy Chicken scrambled to its feet, shaking its head to clear the dizziness. It looked up just in time to see Kickin Hawk already airborne, descending with a crushing dropkick.
Driven by pure survival instinct, the Crazy Chicken threw itself to the side. Kickin Hawk's feet slammed into the arena floor, cracking the stone beneath the sand.
Before Kickin Hawk could recover his footing, the Crazy Chicken lunged, throwing a massive, desperate heavy punch.
Kickin Hawk did not even flinch. He reached out, his talons clamping down on the chicken's incoming arm. Using the brute's own momentum, Kickin Hawk twisted his hips, hoisted the massive bird over his shoulder, and slammed it brutally into the ground.
Dust exploded into the air.
Kickin Hawk stepped back, readying another strike. The Crazy Chicken, humiliated and pushed to the brink of a berserker rage, let out a deafening screech. It abandoned all defense, charging head-on without dodging or evading.
The chicken threw a wild right hook. Kickin Hawk casually raised his left arm to block the strike, then brought his right forearm blade down in a vicious, calculated slash across the chicken's exposed arm.
"Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!"
The Crazy Chicken shrieked in agony, yanking its bleeding arm back.
That momentary distraction was all Kickin Hawk needed. He chambered his leg and unleashed a flawless front kick straight into the creature's chest.
The impact lifted the Crazy Chicken completely off the ground, sending it flying over the high walls and entirely out of the arena bounds.
The stadium erupted into a frenzy of cheers.
Kickin Hawk stood in the center of the ring, slowly turning to face the roaring audience. A smile stretched across his beak, though there was absolutely nothing friendly about it. It was a promise of violence.
Just as he bent his knees, preparing to leap into the stands and teach the spectators a lesson in manners, the crimson tractor beam struck again.
In a flash of red light, Kickin Hawk vanished.
A heavy mechanical grinding echoed through the stadium. The massive iron wall at the far end of the arena slowly descended into the floor, revealing two confused figures standing in the holding pens.
Kevin glared across the sand.
Diamondhead raised his fists.
"Where exactly is this now?"
Kickin Hawk materialized in a dimly lit, metallic corridor. He looked around, his patience completely exhausted.
A sharp hum of energy cut through the air.
Kickin Hawk ducked instinctively. A glowing energy axe cleaved through the space where his neck had just been. He did not hesitate. He reached out, his talons locking onto the handle of the axe. With a brutal yank, he pulled the weapon—and the robotic warrior holding it—forward.
As the machine stumbled into his range, Kickin Hawk swung his free arm. The black blade sheared straight through the robot's armored chassis. Sparks erupted from the deep, glowing gash in its chest, and the machine collapsed into a heap of scrap metal.
Another hum. A second energy axe swung toward his ribs.
Kickin Hawk sidestepped the glowing blade with fluid grace, pivoted, and drove a crushing kick into the second robot's midsection.
The machine flew backward, slamming violently into the steel wall. It slid to the floor, its optical sensors flickering out as electricity arced across its ruined frame.
"Very impressive."
A low, synthesized voice echoed through the chamber.
Kickin Hawk slowly turned his head. Hovering a few yards away was a grotesque, octopus-like alien cyborg, resting comfortably on a floating mechanical chair.
"I believe you will definitely make me a lot of money," the octopus monster muttered to himself, his tentacles twitching with greed.
Kickin Hawk straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing. "So, you are the one who dragged me up here, huh?"
"Of course," the monster boasted, spreading his tentacles wide. "I capture powerful warriors throughout the Milky Way Galaxy. I make them constantly fight each other to entertain my audience and earn me a lot of money."
The creature smiled smugly, completely oblivious to the danger he was in.
Kickin Hawk did not say a single word. He simply began to walk forward. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, and utterly terrifying. The shadow of his muscular frame fell over the floating chair.
The octopus monster's smug smile vanished. Genuine terror flashed in his eyes as he scrambled backward in his seat.
"What do you think you are doing?!" the monster shrieked. "Guards! Guards!"
Kickin Hawk cracked his knuckles.
A series of sickening crunches and metallic bashes echoed through the corridor.
"No! Ahhh!"
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