Chapter 120: Let's Go! Find Azmuth
"I can't fix this. Only Azmuth can..." Diamondhead's crystalline jaw paused mid-sentence. His faceted eyes widened as the sheer absurdity of the previous statement finally registered in his alien brain. "Wait, what did you just say?!"
He stared down at Ben, his sharp, angular features locked in absolute bewilderment.
Ben shifted his weight from side to side, suddenly finding the dirt beneath his sneakers incredibly interesting. He rubbed the back of his neck, wilting slightly under the intense, unblinking gaze of the Petrosapien. "Uh... I mean..."
Before the boy could stumble through a half-baked excuse, Klein stepped smoothly into the line of sight, cutting him off.
Klein tilted his head, his dark eyes studying the crystalline alien with a lazy, yet piercing intensity. "So, you originally intended to take us to Azmuth?"
"To be precise," Diamondhead corrected, his broad chest puffing out slightly, "it was to take the Omnitrix to Azmuth."
Klein didn't blink. He just kept staring. A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between them.
Slowly, Diamondhead shifted his stance. The imposing alien warrior suddenly felt an odd prickle of unease crawling up his crystalline spine, mirroring Ben's earlier discomfort. There was something entirely too knowing in the older boy's gaze.
"I understand," Klein finally said, his tone entirely neutral.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, grabbed Ben by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him toward the Rustbucket.
Gwen's eyes lit up with insatiable curiosity. She immediately jogged after her cousins, her sneakers crunching against the gravel, leaving only Grandpa Max and Diamondhead standing alone in the clearing to exchange a painfully awkward glance.
Inside the Rustbucket.
The heavy metal door hissed shut, sealing the three cousins inside the dimly lit cabin.
Klein released Ben's collar and silently reached out, grasping the boy's left wrist. Ben didn't pull away. Despite his cousin's constant trolling, he trusted Klein implicitly. If Klein needed his arm, he gave it.
Still, the confusion was evident on his face. Gwen leaned in close, her green eyes darting between Klein's focused expression and the bulky alien watch.
Klein didn't bother explaining. His fingers danced over the dial of the Omnitrix. He twisted the faceplate with a sharp click, pressed a hidden sequence of nodes, and gave it one final, deliberate turn.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The familiar, ominous amber glow flared to life, casting harsh shadows across the cramped RV. The Omnitrix had reverted to its previous state—the self-destruct sequence was active once again.
Ben's jaw dropped. Gwen gasped, stumbling back a step. Both of them stared at Klein as if he had just grown a second head.
"Relax," Klein smirked, leaning back against the counter with a relaxed slouch. "I can fix it anytime anyway. Besides..." He paused, letting a wicked glint flash in his eyes. "This is interstellar travel. Don't tell me you don't want to go?"
The panic draining from their faces was almost comical. The gears turned in Ben's head. Gwen's eyes widened, not with fear, but with sudden, dawning comprehension.
They looked at each other. A silent, telepathic conversation passed between the two cousins. The fear of imminent vaporization vanished, instantly replaced by the intoxicating thrill of a cosmic road trip.
They turned back to Klein, grinning like a pair of absolute lunatics.
"Awesome!" Ben pumped his right fist into the air.
"Count me in!" Gwen agreed, bouncing on her heels.
Interstellar travel. It was the ultimate adventure. With their reckless, adrenaline-junkie personalities, there was absolutely zero chance they would ever refuse.
For Klein, the allure wasn't just the destination. He could already traverse the stars on his own. He could tear through the fabric of the multiverse if he really wanted to.
But this? This was different. This was a structured interstellar journey complete with a high-stakes mission, a ticking clock, an artificial sense of impending doom—which he had to mentally force himself to care about—and a party of companions.
It felt exactly like booting up a massive, open-world RPG, except the graphics were hyper-realistic and the NPCs could actually talk back.
Naturally, there was a secondary, far more petty motivation lurking beneath his calm exterior.
The moment Diamondhead mentioned tracking down Azmuth, Klein's inner troll had awakened, stretching its claws with malicious glee. He desperately wanted to see the look on the legendary, arrogant Galvan's face when his own ultimate creation—the Omnitrix—started verbally abusing him. The sheer comedic value of that encounter was worth a trip across the galaxy.
Their conspiracy finalized, the trio marched out of the Rustbucket, their expressions perfectly schooled into masks of grim determination.
"Diamondhead," Klein called out, his voice grave and completely devoid of deception. "As you can see, the Omnitrix has indeed reactivated its self-destruct program. We have no choice. Please, take us to Azmuth."
Right on cue, Ben thrust his left arm forward, displaying the pulsing, ominous amber light of the watch.
Grandpa Max blinked, his bushy eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. He stared at the glowing device, then shifted his gaze to his three grandchildren. He knew that look. They were plotting something entirely ridiculous.
He opened his mouth to question the sudden reversal, but before a single syllable could escape, Gwen stepped close. She subtly tugged at the hem of his Hawaiian shirt, shooting him a desperate, wide-eyed plea.
'Please, Grandpa! Don't say anything.' Her expression screamed.
Max paused. He looked at Gwen's pleading eyes, then at Ben's poorly concealed excitement, and finally at Klein's utterly impassive, yet entirely guilty face. A warm, nostalgic amusement bubbled up in his chest. He had been young once, too. He knew the intoxicating pull of a grand adventure.
The old Plumber offered Gwen a subtle, reassuring wink and a small smile, sealing his lips.
Diamondhead, completely oblivious to the fact that he was currently functioning as an escort NPC in Klein's personal video game, remained the only genuinely serious person in the clearing.
His crystalline brow furrowed beneath his helmet. "Then, without further ado. Ben, follow me."
Ben offered a stiff, solemn nod, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the massive grin from splitting his face in half.
Klein crossed his arms over his chest, planting his feet firmly in the dirt. "We're going too."
"Yeah!" Gwen chimed in, stepping up beside Klein. "Ben is super clumsy sometimes. We really aren't comfortable letting him go into space all by himself."
Grandpa Max stepped forward, his posture straightening as the seasoned veteran replaced the retired grandfather. "If my grandchildren are all going, then as their grandpa, I'd be uneasy staying behind."
Diamondhead looked at the assembled group.
He didn't dare object to Klein. The lingering phantom pain from their previous encounter was enough to keep his mouth firmly shut on that front. The kid was a monster.
As for Gwen, he had witnessed her wielding that strange, pink celestial energy. Even if she wasn't a frontline brawler, she possessed more than enough power to keep herself alive in a firefight.
Then there was Max. Diamondhead would never dream of doubting the combat prowess of the legendary Plumber. However...
"I apologize, Max," Diamondhead said, his gravelly voice laced with genuine tact. "But it is highly probable that someone out there in the cosmos will recognize your face. The risk is simply too great..."
If this were a genuine, high-stakes galactic crisis, Max would have instantly focused on the greater good and stayed behind. But this wasn't a crisis. This was a joyride. And Max Tennyson was no dusty old relic content to sit on the porch while his kids explored the stars.
Hearing the Petrosapien's logical rejection, a flash of disappointment dulled the excitement in the old man's eyes. Still, focusing on his grandchildren's safety, he offered a slow, reluctant nod.
Klein caught the subtle droop of his grandfather's shoulders. He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"I seem to recall that spacesuit Grandpa pulled out earlier," Klein remarked smoothly. "As long as you keep the helmet sealed and stay careful, no one is going to see your face."
As for whether anyone could recognize the legendary Magister purely by his silhouette... Klein mentally scoffed. Honestly, Max had enjoyed his retirement a bit too much. The man's current waistline was a perfect disguise all on its own.
And if, by some miracle, someone did manage to identify the retired Plumber? Well, Klein would just have to accept it.
And then he would immediately initiate Plan B: Erase the poor bastard who recognized him from existence.
This exact brand of ruthless pragmatism would eventually become one of the core tenets of Klein's terrifying future reputation across the galaxy. It created a very specific, unspoken rule among the cosmic underworld: If Klein is wearing a disguise, you better play along and pretend you don't know him. Otherwise... he will violently beat the recognition right out of your skull.
Those who eventually grew familiar with the anomaly knew the truth. Klein didn't hide because he feared anyone. He hid because dealing with people was exhausting, and he was deeply lazy.
Back to the present.
Max's eyes lit up at Klein's suggestion. He stroked his chin, the disappointment vanishing instantly. "That... actually sounds completely feasible."
Without missing a beat, he spun around and marched right back into the Rustbucket. A moment later, he emerged carrying several sleek, palm-sized metallic discs and a heavy-duty energy rifle.
Max slapped one of the discs directly onto the center of his chest.
Hiss—Clank!
The disc activated instantly. Metallic plating and reinforced synthetic fabric rapidly expanded outward, spiraling over his limbs and torso until he was fully encased in a high-tech, pressurized spacesuit.
He hefted the heavy laser rifle in his right hand, the weapon humming with lethal energy. Beneath the tinted visor, his eyes burned with the fierce, unyielding battle intent of a man decades younger.
"Let's go," Max declared, his voice booming through the suit's external speakers. He felt a rush of adrenaline he hadn't experienced since his active duty days.
Diamondhead opened his mouth to protest, caught Klein's deadpan, unblinking stare, and immediately snapped his jaw shut.
Let the record show: Tetrax Shard, hardened Petrosapien warrior, was absolutely not bowing to threats. He was a professional. He was simply making a tactical concession. It had absolutely nothing to do with the unbelievably dangerous, yet infuriatingly handsome teenager glaring daggers into the side of his head.
Seeing the alien warrior swallow his objections, Klein offered a satisfied, close-lipped smile and finally looked away.
Gwen tilted her head, looking up at the towering alien. "So, how exactly do we find Azmuth? Space is kind of big."
"The tracking equipment aboard my ship is highly advanced," Diamondhead explained, his tone shifting back to business. "It can isolate and detect Azmuth's specific DNA signature embedded deep within the Omnitrix's core programming. Think of it as a product's registered trademark. Once the mark is found, it will scan the entire universe until his exact coordinates are located."
He knelt down, his heavy crystalline knees thudding against the dirt, and gently lifted Ben's left arm to inspect the glowing dial. "The important thing is how much time the Omnitrix has left before it explodes."
'As long as I give the mental command, it could self-destruct right this second just to entertain me,' Klein mused silently, watching the pulsing amber light.
Destroying Level 20 universal technology just for a loud bang—no one else but Klein could possibly harbor such an absurd thought.
Of course, it was merely a passing, intrusive idea. If the Omnitrix actually detonated right now, even in its uncharged state, Ben would be instantly reduced to subatomic ash.
Granted, bringing Ben back from the dead would be as easy as breathing for alien heroes like Alien X, Clockwork, or Ditto.
"As it stands, there are less than four hours left until the Omnitrix reaches critical detonation," Diamondhead stated grimly, rising to his full, imposing height. "We had best leave immediately."
The Tennyson family exchanged one final, collective glance. The shared thrill of the unknown sparked between them. They turned back to the Petrosapien and nodded in unison.
"Awesome! Interstellar travel, here we come!" Ben cheered, breaking into a dead sprint toward the sleek, angular ramp of the alien spacecraft.
Klein shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled after him at a much more leisurely pace, with Gwen and the fully armored Grandpa Max bringing up the rear.
VROOOOM!
The spacecraft's thrusters ignited with a deafening roar. A violent shockwave of displaced air blasted outward, flattening the surrounding tall grass and sending the nearby trees whipping wildly in the artificial gale.
In the blink of an eye, the dark vessel shot upward, transforming into a brilliant, piercing streak of light that tore through the atmosphere and vanished into the starry horizon.
Silence slowly reclaimed the empty clearing, leaving only the solitary, parked RV behind.
[The Rustbucket: That's enough! Max Tennyson, you absolute scumbag! When I'm useful, you call me your 'Beloved Car,' but the second a shiny spaceship shows up, you just abandon me in the wilderness?!]
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