Chapter 137: Calling in a Subordinate to Hold the Fort
Klein poked Ben's ribs with his elbow.
Ben rubbed his side, turning his head with a confused scowl, only to meet Klein's signature playful gaze. The message clicked instantly. A silent agreement passed between them. They pivoted on their heels, ready to slip away into the shadows and investigate the strange happenings around the estate.
A pair of heavy, calloused hands clamped down on their shoulders, freezing them in their tracks. Max Tennyson loomed behind them, reading his two grandsons like an open book.
"No," Max warned, his grip firm. "Not until the wedding is over!"
Klein and Ben exchanged a defeated glance, letting out synchronized, helpless sighs.
"Oh, Uncle Max, this is an absolute nightmare." Joel rubbed his temples, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. "It is bad enough that the families are at each other's throats, but now the wedding dress is missing, the photographer's camera is smashed to pieces, and every single flower arrangement has withered into dust... Everything is falling apart."
Hearing the sheer despair in the groom's voice, Klein actually felt a rare twinge of restraint. Causing trouble right now felt a bit too cruel, even for him.
Max placed a comforting hand on Joel's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, son. I believe everything will work out in the end."
"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt." Gwen stepped forward, practically vibrating with excitement. "I am Gwen, your flower girl. I just have a few small questions. Is the flower girl's dress going to match the other bridesmaids? Who designed the gown? And what is the exact color scheme for the bouquet?"
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Joel offered a strained, apologetic smile. "Uh, I am sorry, Gwen. Did no one tell you? Camille's little cousin, Lucy, is going to be the flower girl after all. But thank you so much for being willing to support us."
The rejection was delivered with the utmost tact, but the bottom line hit like a ton of bricks: she had been replaced. Gwen's shoulders slumped, the light completely draining from her eyes.
"Well, at least the ring bearer got replaced too," Ben muttered, a massive grin spreading across his face as he stretched his arms.
"Oh, by the way, Joel." Max suddenly remembered his original intention and pulled Klein forward by the collar. "This is the other grandson I told you about. Klein."
"Hello there. Thank you very much for stepping in to be our ring bearer." Joel squatted down slightly to meet the boy's eye level, extending a hand. "Uncle Max has told me so much about you. He said you are an excellent young man, incredibly obedient, and always eager to help out. And seeing how handsome you are, you are definitely going to charm a lot of girls when you grow up..."
Klein blinked.
'Very obedient? Helpful? Who? Me?'A beat of silence passed in his mind before he mentally nodded.'Yes! That is exactly right! That is me!'
The lavish praise stroked Klein's ego perfectly. He puffed out his chest and declared, "I will hold down the fort at your wedding! I guarantee no one will dare ruin a thing while I am around!"
He had heard plenty of polite compliments in his life, but a string of praise this long and varied was a first. To be completely honest, Klein actually enjoyed playing the protector role when it suited him. If he disliked the person, no amount of flattery would move him an inch. But Joel had played his cards right.
Seeing that his buttering-up had worked flawlessly, Joel stood up and revealed the trap. "Excellent. So, I imagine you must also be very good at dancing."
Klein froze. "Dancing? What dancing?"
There was absolutely no mention of dancing in the damn verbal contract! This deal was a total scam!
Klein slowly turned his head, locking a death glare onto Ben. Ben flinched, immediately pressing his palms together in a desperate, silent plea for mercy.
"Alright, fine," Klein grumbled, accepting his fate. 'At worst, I will just wipe everyone's memories after the reception.'
"Well, I need to get back to work," Joel sighed, turning around and hurrying off to manage the next crisis.
Klein watched Joel walk away, his gaze slowly drifting toward a dense patch of bushes a short distance away. He had noticed it a while ago—someone was hiding in the foliage, secretly watching their every move.
He did not plan to drag the spy out and eliminate them just yet. After all, what was the point of holding down the fort if no one showed up to cause a little chaos?
Later that night, inside the Rustbucket.
Max stood by the small closet, carefully ironing and organizing the tiny tuxedo Klein was supposed to wear for the ceremony. Gwen lay on her stomach on the fold-out bed, flipping through a thick hardcover book.
"Strange, it is way too quiet," Gwen murmured, sitting up and looking around the empty cabin. "Where are Klein and Ben?"
"Your cousin said he needed to make a phone call," Max replied without looking up from the suit collar. "As for Ben, he mumbled something about heading down to the lake to cool off."
At that exact moment, Klein was perched high up on a thick tree branch, a fair distance from the Rustbucket.
"Omnitrix, contact Vilgax."
With his unique soul and absolute control over the system, Klein could bypass any technological barrier. He could pull up anyone's contact frequency or track down any entity in the galaxy with a mere thought.
The Another Omnitrix on his wrist hummed, emitting a faint, pulsing blue light.
A moment later, the deep, gravelly voice of the galactic conqueror echoed from the dial. "Who are you?"
"Long time no see, I—"
Click.
Before Klein could even finish his sentence, Vilgax terminated the connection.
Light years away, Vilgax stared at his console. 'Damn it! What the hell was that?!'
Back in the tree, Klein let out a dry chuckle. Helpless to the conqueror's temper tantrum, he dialed the frequency again. This time, Klein did not bother with pleasantries. "If you hang up on me again, I will come find you personally."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the line. Vilgax's hand hovered over the disconnect button, trembling slightly with suppressed rage.
"..."
After a long, agonizing pause, Vilgax slowly forced the words through his teeth. "How did you contact me?"
"Never mind that," Klein dismissed the question entirely. "Anyway, I am just calling to deliver some good news."
"Good news?" Vilgax sounded genuinely bewildered. What good news could this monster possibly have for him? Was he finally going to hand over the Omnitrix?
"That is right," Klein announced, his tone bright and elevated, clearly finding his own joke hilarious. "Congratulations on successfully being promoted from a temporary subordinate to an official subordinate! How about it? Are you thrilled?"
'Do you think I am happy?!'Vilgax roared in his mind.'I am a fool. I should have known better than to expect anything of value from this absolute scoundrel.'
Vilgax remained dead silent for a long time. He took several deep breaths, forcing his blood pressure down. Finally, he spoke, his voice dripping with venom and forced compliance. "I am so... happy."
"Very good. Then get over here tomorrow."
Click.
Klein cut the connection instantly, completely unconcerned with whether Vilgax actually agreed or not.
And so, on a distant warship, dozens of mechanical repair drones met a tragic end, smashed to scrap metal by the fists of a furious galactic warlord.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the estate.
Ben strolled down the dirt path toward the lake, wearing nothing but a pair of floral swimming trunks and a towel draped over his shoulder.
As he walked, he spotted a large catering truck parked near the kitchens. The back doors were swung wide open, revealing dozens of pristine white boxes stacked high, filled to the brim with gourmet wedding desserts.
Ben's eyes lit up. He sneaked up to the bumper, popped open a box, and immediately began stuffing small, frosted cakes into his mouth.
Unfortunately, by his fourth cake, a shadow fell over him. He froze, frosting smeared across his cheeks, as the head chef glared down at him.
"Uh..." Ben swallowed hard. "I am the official taste tester! Invited specifically for the wedding! Yes! That is right! Uh... I am leaving now!"
After delivering the clumsiest excuse in human history, Ben bolted, leaving a trail of crumbs behind him.
The chef shook his head, too busy to chase down a greedy kid, and turned back to moving the heavy food crates.
He did not notice the puddle of thick, bubbling purple slime creeping out from beneath the truck tires.
Suddenly, the slime lunged! It violently wrapped around the chef's ankles, shooting up his legs and binding his arms before he could even scream. The gelatinous mass dragged the struggling man backward into the dark grove of trees.
A few moments later, the bushes rustled.
The chef walked back out into the moonlight. He smoothed down his white apron, his face entirely expressionless. However, his eyes now glowed with a sickly, luminescent purple light.
"Now," the imposter muttered, its voice wet and distorted. "I will present them with an unforgettable wedding gift."
Back to Ben.
He finally reached the edge of the lake. In the distance, the circular river gleamed under the moonlight, wrapping around the elegant pavilion set up for tomorrow's ceremony.
Ben's goal was simple: a midnight swim.
He dropped his towel, ready to dive in, only to freeze. A massive wooden sign was planted right at the water's edge.
NO SWIMMING.
"No swimming?!" Ben threw his hands up in the air, his beautiful fantasy shattered. "Then how am I supposed to have any fun around here?!"
CRASH!
A deafening explosion of splintering wood echoed across the grounds.
Ben whipped his head toward the sound. Through the darkness, he saw the exact same catering truck he had raided earlier. It had just smashed straight through a set of heavy double wooden gates in the distant wall. The engine roared as the massive vehicle barreled down the grassy slope, heading on a direct collision course with the wedding pavilion.
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