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Chapter 05
A few weeks had passed since the dramatic battle with Hex, and life for the Tennysons had settled into an unusual but steady rhythm. The Rustbucket rumbled across the vast, sun-scorched desert landscapes of the Southwest, a stark contrast to the snowy terrain they had left behind. The heavy coats were long packed away, and the warmth of the sun was now the constant companion of their travels.
Ben Tennyson sat cross-legged on his bunk, his head bent over his phone as he intently watched a video on martial arts techniques. "Step into the strike, keep your center of gravity low…" the instructor on the screen explained.
Ben tried to mimic the moves in the narrow space of the RV, throwing an awkward punch that nearly sent him stumbling backward into the wall.
"Ugh, come on," he muttered, brushing his hair out of his face as he reset his stance. "How hard can this be?"
It wasn't going well. His punches were clumsy, his footing was unsteady, and there was no one around to correct his form. But he kept at it. If Gwen could transform into Four Arms and punch through walls, the least he could do was figure out how to throw a decent punch as plain old Ben Tennyson.
He straightened his purple leather jacket, which gleamed faintly in the dim light of the RV. It was part of his new look—black pants, a clean white t-shirt, and the jacket he'd bought back at Christmas. It was a far cry from his old striped shirt and cargo pants, and every time he caught his reflection, it reminded him that he wasn't a kid anymore.
Gwen had already taken up the spotlight again last week, thwarting a bank robbery with Four Arms while Ben had stayed behind to "watch the Rustbucket." She didn't outright mock him for not being able to join in, but the smugness in her voice when she recounted the event had been unmistakable.
"Just doing what heroes do," she had said with a shrug, her words dripping with superiority.
Ben had clenched his fists and smiled tightly. He didn't need her approval.
To distract himself, he'd thrown himself into whatever he could find. He'd finished his summer vacation homework weeks ago—a feat that shocked even Gwen—and now, when he wasn't reading the 'Genshin Impact' manga set he had won, he was learning sixth-grade math with Grandpa Max.
At the moment, he was sitting at the small table, pencil in hand, staring at a particularly tricky problem. "Alright, Grandpa," Ben said, pointing at the worksheet Max had printed out for him. "How am I supposed to solve this without my brain exploding?"
Max chuckled, adjusting his cap as he leaned over to look at the problem. "It's not that bad, Ben. Remember what I said about breaking it into smaller steps?"
"Yeah, yeah," Ben muttered, scribbling something on the paper. "Add these, carry that… Okay, but why is the answer a fraction? That's not fair!"
Max laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "Fractions are just numbers, Ben. They're not out to get you."
Ben rolled his eyes but couldn't help grinning. Spending time with Max like this felt… normal. It was a far cry from the chaos of fighting aliens and magic users, and for once, he felt like he was contributing something—however small.
Later that day, the Rustbucket pulled into a small town, the desert heat shimmering off the asphalt streets. Max parked near a diner, giving the kids a chance to stretch their legs.
As Ben stepped outside, he adjusted his jacket and glanced around the quiet town. It wasn't much—just a handful of stores, a gas station, and a park. But it felt peaceful, and for now, that was enough.
Gwen joined him, arms crossed as she looked around. "So, what's the plan? Are we just wandering aimlessly, or do you have something in mind?"
Ben shrugged. "I'm just here to relax. Not everything has to be a big adventure, you know."
Gwen raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "Relaxing? You? That's new."
Ben ignored her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he wandered toward the park.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the town, Ben found himself sitting on a park bench, flipping through one of his manga volumes. The quiet hum of life in the town surrounded him—kids playing, birds chirping, and the faint clatter of dishes from the diner.
Life was stable. Boring, even. But it was a reprieve from the chaos, and Ben wasn't going to complain.
He glanced up as Max walked by, carrying a bag of groceries from the local market. "Don't stay out too late," Max called over his shoulder. "Dinner's in an hour."
"Got it, Grandpa," Ben replied, turning back to his manga.
For a brief moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like if every day were like this—calm, simple, and free of villains trying to blow up cities.
But deep down, he knew it couldn't last. Something was bound to happen sooner or later. It always did.
—(~/\~)—
The Rustbucket hummed down the highway as Max leaned back in the driver's seat, a broad smile on his face. "Well, kids, you're in for a treat," he announced. "There's a circus in the next town, and I hear it's the best one in the state."
Gwen's face lit up with excitement. "A circus? Really? That sounds awesome!"
Ben, slouched in his seat with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "A circus? What are we, five?"
"Come on, Ben," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "It'll be fun. Acrobats, animals, probably some cool stunts. You could use a break from sulking."
"I'm not sulking," Ben shot back, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I just don't see the point. We could do something way cooler than sitting in a big tent watching people juggle."
Max chuckled, glancing at Ben in the rearview mirror. "Well, I'm afraid you're outvoted, sport. Two against one."
Ben groaned, throwing his head back. "This is the worst."
When they arrived in the next town, the circus was already in full swing. The sprawling grounds were packed with colorful tents and bustling crowds, the air alive with laughter and music. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air as performers in glittering costumes roamed the area, juggling, dancing, and interacting with the guests.
Max parked the Rustbucket in a nearby lot and turned to the kids. "Alright, you two explore for a bit while I grab us some tickets. Meet me back here in thirty minutes."
"Got it!" Gwen said eagerly, already hopping out of the RV.
Ben followed reluctantly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as they made their way into the chaotic crowd.
Gwen's excitement was infectious as she darted from tent to tent, marveling at the elaborate decorations and stopping to watch street performers. Ben, meanwhile, trudged along behind her, unimpressed.
"Come on, Ben," Gwen said, nudging him. "At least try to have some fun. Look, they've got a fortune-telling tent over there!"
"Hard pass," Ben muttered. "I'll stick to reality, thanks."
As they turned a corner, Ben froze.
There, plastered on a large poster outside one of the tents, was the grinning face of Zombozo. The clown's bright makeup, wide red smile, and exaggerated features stared back at him, larger than life.
Ben's heart sank, and a familiar wave of unease washed over him. He took a step back, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "No way. I'm out. I'll just stay in the RV."
Gwen noticed his reaction and smirked. "Seriously? You're scared of a clown?"
"I'm not scared," Ben snapped, his voice defensive. "I just… don't like them, okay?"
"Uh-huh," Gwen said, crossing her arms. "Let me guess. It's because of that audiobook you listened to when you were, what, eight? The one about the killer clown?"
Ben stiffened, glaring at her. "That's got nothing to do with it."
"Sure it doesn't," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Ben. It's just a clown. You're not seriously going to hide in the RV because of some childhood fear, are you?"
"It's not just some fear!" Ben said, his voice rising. "Clowns are creepy, alright? And that guy"—he pointed at the poster—"looks like the worst of them all."
"Ben," Gwen said, her tone softening slightly, "you can't let stuff like this control you. It's just a show. And who knows? Maybe Zombozo's actually pretty cool."
Ben stared at her, unconvinced. "Cool? Yeah, right. More like nightmare fuel."
"Look," Gwen said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're supposed to be the brave one, right? The hero? Well, heroes face their fears. So, how about you stop being a chicken and give it a shot?"
Ben hesitated, glancing back at the poster. His stomach twisted at the thought of sitting in a tent with Zombozo's grinning face looming over him. But he also knew Gwen wouldn't let this go, and the last thing he wanted was for her to hold it over him.
"Fine," he muttered reluctantly. "But if I get traumatized, it's on you."
Gwen grinned triumphantly. "Deal."
At that moment, Max returned, holding three tickets in his hand. "Got 'em!" he said, waving them in the air. "The night show starts in a few hours. For now, let's grab some food and relax."
"Great," Ben muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they headed back toward the Rustbucket. "Can't wait."
Max raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," Gwen said cheerfully, nudging Ben. "Just working on Ben's clown phobia."
Max chuckled, patting Ben on the back. "Don't worry, sport. Zombozo's all smoke and mirrors. You'll be fine."
Ben didn't reply, staring at the ticket in his hand with a sinking feeling.
—(~/\~)—
The Tennysons sat around a small table at a cozy diner just outside the circus grounds, the tantalizing aroma of burgers and fries filling the air. The faint sounds of circus music and laughter could still be heard from the distance, blending into the din of conversation and clinking cutlery in the diner.
Ben picked at his food absentmindedly, his thoughts lingering on the creepy Zombozo poster. Gwen, in contrast, was animatedly talking about all the things she wanted to see at the circus. Max sipped his coffee, chuckling occasionally at Gwen's enthusiasm.
As Ben finally bit into his burger, the door to the diner jingled, drawing everyone's attention. Three peculiar individuals walked in, their appearance immediately turning heads.
The first was a tall woman with long, curly, braided orange hair that fell over her shoulders in thick coils. Her pale skin gleamed unnaturally under the fluorescent lights, and her eyes were sharp, scanning the room as if she were evaluating everyone inside.
Behind her was a hulking man, nearly seven feet tall and built like a gorilla. His bald head gleamed, and his pale, muscular arms were almost too large for the tight-fitting circus uniform he wore. He stomped heavily, his movements animalistic as he sniffed the air.
The third member of the group was a slender man wearing a sleek black suit. His face was concealed behind a mask, the edges of which seemed to blend unnaturally with his pale skin.
The trio ordered their food quickly and moved to sit in the farthest corner of the diner.
"They look like they walked straight out of a horror movie," Ben muttered, his voice low.
"Definitely part of the circus," Gwen said, leaning closer to the table to get a better look. "Probably performers or something. That hair looks fake."
Ben snorted. "Yeah, and that guy looks like he eats raw steak for fun."
As they watched, the gorilla-like man tore into his burger with ferocity, crumbs flying everywhere as he devoured it in massive bites. It was almost hypnotic, the sheer brutality with which he consumed the food.
"Geez, he's eating like he hasn't seen food in weeks," Ben whispered.
But it was the masked man who truly captured their attention. As he removed his mask, everyone in the diner gasped. The food on his plate began to rust before their eyes, decaying into a pile of ashen, crumbling matter.
"What the…?" Ben said, his eyes wide.
The masked man calmly slid his plate aside, apparently unbothered by the ruined food, and took a sip of water instead. His pale skin seemed almost translucent, and his eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
Gwen leaned closer to Ben. "Did you see that? How does food rust like that? Is that even possible?"
Ben whispered back, "That's definitely not normal."
He turned to Max, hoping for an explanation. "Grandpa, did you see that? What's the deal with these guys?"
Max took a sip of his coffee and shook his head dismissively. "Publicity stunt. Circus folks are all about theatrics. Probably some kind of trick to draw people to their show."
"Trick?" Ben asked, incredulous. "You think turning food into dust is just a trick?"
Max waved it off, clearly uninterested. "Don't read too much into it, Ben. They're performers—it's their job to be weird."
The trio finished their meal quickly and stood to leave. As they walked out, the woman glanced briefly in Ben's direction, her piercing gaze sending a shiver down his spine.
"Okay, that was creepy," he muttered under his breath.
The group exited the diner, disappearing into the growing twilight outside.
As Max got up to pay the bill, Gwen followed him to the counter, still chattering about the circus. Ben, however, stayed behind, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I'm gonna go explore the town," Ben said casually, standing up and heading for the door.
Max glanced over his shoulder. "Don't wander too far, Ben. We've got the show later."
"Yeah, yeah," Ben muttered, waving a hand as he stepped outside.
Once outside, he spotted the trio walking down a side street, their figures illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights. He hung back, keeping his distance as he followed them.
"Let's see what you're up to," Ben whispered to himself, his heart pounding with both fear and excitement. Something about these people wasn't right, and he was determined to figure out what it was.
Ben crouched low behind the tent, the coarse fabric brushing against his purple jacket as he peered through a small hole in the material. Inside, it was dark, the only illumination coming from a few dim lanterns hanging from the support beams. The faint murmur of voices reached his ears, and he leaned closer, straining to hear the conversation.
Three figures stood in the center of the space: the same trio he'd seen at the diner.
The woman with the braided orange hair was speaking first. Ben remembered how her piercing gaze had made him shiver back at the diner. "Zombozo gave us this chance when no one else would," she said, her voice a mix of pride and bitterness. "We owe him everything."
The hulking man—Thumbskull, as she had just called him—nodded, his deep voice rumbling through the tent. "Yeah. People look at us like freaks. But Zombozo? He saw potential."
The third figure, Acid Breath, leaned casually against a support beam, his mask glinting faintly. "All we have to do is make sure nobody messes with the show. Easy enough."
Ben furrowed his brow as he listened. They didn't sound malicious or dangerous. If anything, they seemed like outcasts, grateful for someone giving them a chance to belong.
"I get it," Ben thought to himself, his gaze softening slightly. "They're just trying to prove themselves."
But then, a new figure entered the tent, and Ben's stomach dropped.
Zombozo.
The clown strode in, his bright red hair wild and his oversized shoes squeaking slightly on the floor. His painted face twisted into an unnervingly wide grin, and his eyes gleamed with a manic energy that made Ben's skin crawl.
Zombozo threw his arms wide, his booming voice filling the tent. "Ah, my loyal friends! The time has come!"
Ben froze, his throat tightening as the clown's laughter rang out, echoing in his ears. His fear of clowns surged to the surface, a chill running down his spine.
"The time has come," Zombozo continued, "to make the world laugh like never before! To gather their joy, their happiness, their laughter! And all they'll need to give up is…" He paused, his grin widening. "…everything else."
Ben's gut twisted. Something about the way Zombozo spoke set off every alarm bell in his head. Was it just his fear of clowns playing tricks on him? Or was there something truly sinister in the clown's tone?
Zombozo turned to the trio, his grin never faltering. "You know your roles, my friends. Make sure no one interrupts my masterpiece. The world will soon see the brilliance of Zombozo!"
Ben's gaze flicked to the center of the tent, where a tall, cylindrical machine loomed in the shadows. It was covered in pipes and wires, its surface glowing faintly with an eerie, multicolored light.
"What is that?" Ben whispered to himself, leaning closer to get a better look. It didn't look like any circus equipment he'd ever seen. The machine hummed softly, almost as if it were alive.
Zombozo stepped closer to the device, his manic laughter filling the air. "Behold my ultimate creation for gathering laughter! My—"
SNAP.
Ben's heart stopped as his foot landed squarely on a dry twig. The sound cracked through the quiet tent like a gunshot.
All eyes turned toward the source of the noise.
"WHO'S THERE?!" Zombozo roared, his grin twisting into a snarl. He pointed toward the tent wall. "Get them! Now!"
The trio didn't hesitate. Frightwig's orange braids unfurled like living whips, snapping through the air as she stormed toward the tent entrance. Thumbskull cracked his knuckles, his massive frame barreling forward with thunderous steps. Acid Breath followed, his mask hissing as he exhaled a faint green mist.
Ben's instincts kicked in.
"Shit!" he muttered, pushing off the ground and breaking into a sprint.
He darted away from the tent, his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his veins. He could hear the thudding footsteps of Thumbskull behind him, accompanied by the sharp crack of Frightwig's braids slicing through the air.
Ben ducked low, narrowly avoiding a braid that whipped past his head and struck a nearby pole, leaving a dent in the metal.
"Don't let him get away!" Frightwig snarled, her braids snapping furiously.
Ben zigzagged through the maze of tents, dodging performers and onlookers as he ran. He could feel his fear bubbling to the surface, threatening to paralyze him. But he forced himself to keep moving, his breath coming in short gasps.
"You're not getting away, kid!" Thumbskull bellowed, his massive frame smashing through a wooden crate that had been in his path.
Ben glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw the trio gaining on him. He had to think fast. Spotting a narrow alley between two tents, he veered sharply to the left, slipping into the space just as another of Frightwig's braids lashed out, missing him by inches.
The alley opened up into the main thoroughfare of the circus grounds, and Ben bolted toward the crowd, hoping to lose his pursuers in the chaos.
As he disappeared into the throng of people, Zombozo's laughter echoed faintly in the distance, a chilling reminder that this was far from over.
—(~/\~)—
Ben skidded to a stop in front of the Rustbucket, panting heavily from his mad dash through the circus grounds. His chest heaved as he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
"Grandpa? Gwen?" he called out, stepping inside. The interior was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the RV's systems.
There was no response.
Ben's stomach twisted uneasily as he glanced around. His eyes landed on Gwen's tablet sitting on the table, its screen glowing faintly. Picking it up, he saw a message from her that had been sent half an hour ago:
'Show's about to start soon. Don't be late, cuz.'
Ben furrowed his brow. The words felt normal enough, but something about the timing unsettled him. He hadn't been gone that long, had he?
His mind raced as he pieced together what he'd overheard from the tent. Zombozo's words, the strange machine, the freaks being told to ensure no one interrupted the show—it all felt wrong. And now, Gwen and Max were already at the big top, unaware of what might be happening behind the scenes.
He grabbed the tablet tightly, staring at the glowing screen as the sense of dread grew heavier in his chest.
"I don't know what's going on," Ben muttered to himself, his voice shaking slightly, "but something's not right. I know it."
He stuffed the tablet into his pocket and stepped back outside, scanning the brightly lit circus grounds. The big top loomed in the distance, its striped exterior illuminated by colorful spotlights. The faint sound of carnival music reached his ears, mingling with the chatter and laughter of the crowd.
Ben clenched his fists, steeling himself. "They're in there. I have to go. I don't care how creepy clowns are—if Zombozo's up to something, I'm not letting him get away with it."
Without another moment's hesitation, he took off running toward the big top. His legs burned as he pushed himself forward, weaving through the crowds and past the smaller tents.
The closer he got, the louder the music grew, accompanied by the occasional cheer from the audience inside. The sight of families and kids excitedly making their way into the big top only heightened his urgency.
"This isn't just some show," Ben thought grimly, his breath coming in short bursts as he reached the entrance. "Something's wrong. I can feel it."
He slowed to a stop just outside the main entrance, his heart pounding. A massive, grinning cutout of Zombozo loomed above the doorway, its painted eyes seeming to follow him. Ben swallowed hard, forcing down his fear as he stepped inside.
The laughter of the crowd echoed around him, but all he could focus on was the growing sense of unease twisting in his gut.
—(~/\~)—
Ben entered the big top cautiously, his nerves on edge, expecting something sinister. Instead, he was greeted by the sound of roaring laughter and the sight of flashing lights. On the stage, Zombozo stood in full clown regalia, performing what appeared to be a series of standard magic tricks. He pulled impossibly long scarves from his sleeves, made a bouquet of flowers appear out of thin air, and twisted balloon animals into impossible shapes.
The audience was in hysterics.
But it wasn't normal laughter.
Ben frowned as he looked around. People were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Some clutched their sides, tears streaming down their faces. It wasn't even funny! The tricks were mundane at best—certainly not worth this level of hilarity.
"Something's off," Ben muttered under his breath, but he knew better than to stand out. He quickly blended into the crowd, ducking low as he made his way toward Grandpa Max and Gwen, who were seated a few rows from the front.
"Grandpa?" Ben whispered, nudging him as he slid into the seat next to him. "Do you notice anything weird about this show?"
Max barely acknowledged him, his face split in a wide grin. "Weird? Nah, it's perfect! Hahaha! Zombozo is hilarious!"
Ben's heart sank as he turned to Gwen. "Gwen, come on, you have to see it. This isn't normal—"
But Gwen waved him off, laughing just as hard as everyone else. "Ben, you're such a buzzkill! Just enjoy the show!"
Ben sat back, his unease growing. The audience was completely enthralled, their laughter unnatural, almost robotic. And yet, no one else seemed to notice.
As the show continued, Zombozo upped the ante, performing increasingly absurd stunts—a flaming unicycle ride, juggling swords while blindfolded—but none of it explained the hysteria. Ben looked around the crowd again, and that's when he noticed something alarming.
People's faces were pale, their complexions ghostly under the bright lights. They were clutching their sides, some gasping for air as they continued to laugh uncontrollably.
"This isn't healthy," Ben realized, his heart pounding. "They're laughing too much—they're going to hurt themselves!"
He turned back to Max and Gwen, shaking them both by the shoulders. "Grandpa, Gwen, snap out of it! This isn't normal! You have to stop laughing!"
Max waved him off, still grinning ear to ear. "Relax, Ben. It's just a show! Lighten up a little!"
"Grandpa, you're turning pale! Gwen, you too!"
But neither of them listened.
Ben stood, the panic rising in his chest. He wasn't sure what to do, but he had to do something. As he moved toward the aisle, trying to figure out his next step, a shadow loomed over him.
Thumbskull.
"Is there a problem, brat?" the hulking man growled, crossing his massive arms.
Ben hesitated, glancing between Thumbskull and the stage. "N-no, I mean—uh, ahem," he stammered, his mind racing for an excuse. "I just… I need to get some air."
Thumbskull narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, Zombozo's voice rang out, cheerful and sinister all at once.
"Ah, such a nice, eager boy!" the clown boomed, his grin widening unnaturally as he pointed a gloved finger at Ben. "But wait—why aren't you laughing, my boy? How come? Come here! Let me fix that!"
"No, n-no, that's okay, I—"
Before Ben could finish, Thumbskull grabbed him by the arm, his grip like a vice.
"Come on, kid," Thumbskull said with a sneer, dragging Ben toward the stage. "You've got a front-row seat now."
"Wait! No! Let me go!" Ben protested, struggling against Thumbskull's iron hold, but it was no use. The hulking man was far stronger, and Ben was forced onto the stage as the audience erupted into cheers and applause.
Grandpa Max and Gwen were among them, clapping and laughing with the rest of the crowd as if nothing were wrong.
Ben's heart sank further. He was alone in this.
Ben was dragged to the center of the stage, where a large chair sat waiting. Its metallic frame glinted under the bright circus lights, ominous in its simplicity. Thumbskull shoved him into it, and Zombozo cackled as he stepped closer, his gloved hands producing thick leather straps that he used to tie Ben's arms and legs securely to the chair.
"Let me go!" Ben yelled, struggling against the restraints. His voice was lost in the roar of laughter from the audience, their collective hysteria drowning out his protests.
Zombozo leaned in, his painted face uncomfortably close. "Oh, don't be such a sourpuss, kid. You're in the 'Circus of Laughter'! Everyone's supposed to laugh!" He straightened and clapped his hands, producing a long, feathered contraption.
Ben's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Tickling? That's your big plan?"
"Oh, you'll laugh," Zombozo said, his grin widening unnaturally. "Everyone does."
The clown began running the feathers along Ben's ribs, under his arms, and across the soles of his feet. The audience howled with delight, their laughter echoing through the big top. But Ben refused to give in. He squirmed and twisted in the chair, his face set in a scowl.
"Stop it!" he yelled. "This isn't funny! Let me go!"
Zombozo's grin faltered slightly, his patience thinning. He tickled faster, more intensely, but Ben clenched his teeth, refusing to so much as crack a smile.
The crowd continued to laugh, unaware of the sinister edge creeping into the performance. Zombozo straightened, glaring at Ben with an expression that no longer carried any pretense of humor.
"You're a tough one, aren't you?" he said, his voice lower now, his grin more menacing. "Well, I've got other ways to make you laugh."
Ben's stomach twisted as Zombozo reached into his oversized coat and pulled out a gas mask, strapping it securely over his painted face.
Ben's eyes widened in terror. "No… no, no, no! You can't do this!"
Zombozo ignored him, stepping back as a hissing sound filled the air. A pale green mist began to seep out of vents beneath the stage, swirling around Ben in a suffocating cloud.
The audience cheered and clapped, oblivious to what was happening.
Ben held his breath as long as he could, his lungs burning as the gas surrounded him. But it was too much. He gasped, inhaling the sickly sweet mist.
At first, he felt nothing but dizziness, his head swimming. Then the edges of his vision began to blur. Zombozo leaned closer, waiting for the inevitable laugh to escape Ben's lips.
But instead of laughing, Ben's head lolled forward as he passed out in the chair.
Zombozo's grin vanished, replaced by a scowl. "Unbelievable!" he snarled, slamming his hands against the armrests of the chair. "The kid's as stubborn as a mule!"
He turned to Frightwig, his voice sharp. "Grab him and tie him up somewhere out of sight. We'll deal with him later."
Frightwig's braids snaked forward, untying Ben from the chair and hoisting his limp form effortlessly. She carried him offstage, disappearing into the shadows.
Meanwhile, Zombozo straightened, brushing off his coat as he turned back to the crowd. His smile returned, wider and more sinister than ever.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, spreading his arms dramatically, "now that the interruptions are out of the way, it's time for the grand finale!"
He gestured toward the center of the stage, where a massive cylindrical machine had been wheeled into place. Its surface gleamed under the lights, covered in intricate pipes and glowing panels.
"My masterpiece!" Zombozo declared, his voice dripping with triumph. "The ultimate tool for collecting laughter! Who here can laugh the loudest?"
The audience erupted into wild laughter, their cheers filling the tent.
As Zombozo activated the machine, it hummed to life, its panels glowing with a sickly yellow light. The laughter in the tent seemed to take on a physical presence, shimmering and coalescing into streams of glowing energy that flowed toward the machine.
One by one, the audience members began to slump in their seats, their laughter fading into weak gasps. Their faces paled, their skin tightening as if they were aging rapidly.
Zombozo grinned maniacally as the yellow energy was funneled into the machine, swirling inside a glass chamber at its center. The life force of the audience was being drained, their joy turned into fuel for the clown's sinister contraption.
"Ah, such beautiful laughter!" Zombozo cried, spinning in delight. "And all for me! With this, I'll become the most powerful entertainer the world has ever seen!"
The crowd's laughter grew weaker and weaker, the yellow light dimming as more and more people fell unconscious. Their once-cheerful faces were now hollow and gaunt, their bodies slumped lifelessly in their seats.
Zombozo's grin stretched wider, his painted face illuminated by the glow of his machine. The big top was filled with the hum of his masterpiece and the faint, eerie echoes of laughter long gone.
—(~/\~)—
Ben's body ached as he slowly regained consciousness, his head throbbing and his limbs heavy. When he tried to move, he realized he couldn't—his arms and legs were bound tightly to a cold metal pillar. The rough ropes dug into his wrists and ankles, leaving him feeling completely powerless.
The yellow light glowing from the center of the tent was nearly blinding, and the sound of Zombozo's manic laughter echoed through the space, filling it like a suffocating cloud. Ben turned his head slightly, his vision still blurry, but what he saw made his heart drop.
Rows upon rows of people in the audience sat slumped in their chairs, their faces pale and hollow. The glowing yellow energy, their very life force, streamed from their bodies into Zombozo's cylindrical machine. It pulsed with power, lighting up the big top in an eerie, golden glow.
"No…" Ben whispered hoarsely. Somehow, he didn't know how, but he 'knew' what Zombozo was doing—he was sapping their life force. Their laughter wasn't joy, it was stolen. And sitting in those seats were Grandpa Max and Gwen, both as lifeless as the rest.
Ben's breath quickened. He struggled against the ropes, his wrists burning as he twisted and pulled, but they didn't budge. "I have to stop this," he muttered, panic setting in. "I have to save them!"
"Stay still," a sharp voice snapped, and Ben flinched as a heavy braid struck him hard across the chest.
Frightwig loomed over him, her orange hair slithering and twisting like living snakes. One of her braids coiled back before slamming into him again, this time hitting his shoulder.
"Be quiet," she ordered, her violet eyes cold. "You don't want me to get angry."
But Ben couldn't stay silent. His voice cracked as he yelled, "Let me go! You have to stop this! He's killing them!"
Another whip of her braids landed on his side, knocking the wind out of him. "I said, 'quiet!'"
Ben's struggles only intensified, his body screaming in protest as he fought the ropes. "Please! You don't understand—he's draining them! You have to stop him!"
Frightwig rolled her eyes. "You're annoying, you know that?" She hit him again, harder this time, her braids leaving a bruise on his ribs. "Shut up already."
Ben froze, his head dropping forward as a deep, overwhelming frustration washed over him. He was powerless. Weak. Tied up like some useless kid while Zombozo drained the life from everyone—'from his family'.
His breathing slowed. His heart pounded against his chest as despair tightened its grip on him. "Why?" he whispered to himself, barely audible. "Why am I always so useless?"
Frightwig paused mid-swing, raising an eyebrow at his sudden silence. She studied him for a moment, but when he didn't move, she shrugged and stepped away.
A moment later, Zombozo sauntered over, wiping his gloved hands with a pristine white napkin. His grin stretched unnaturally wide, the paint on his face cracking slightly as he chuckled.
"Well, well," Zombozo said in a sing-song voice, tossing the napkin aside with a flourish. "Look who's finally quiet. Ready to embrace laughter, my boy?"
Ben didn't answer, his head still low.
Zombozo frowned, clearly offended by the lack of response. He leaned in closer, his painted smile faltering. "Come now, don't be rude. Everyone in the gallery is so happy now—fast asleep, their lives full of laughter! Your family is there too, isn't it? Parents? Siblings? Maybe cousins? They've embraced it. Why not you?"
Still no response.
Zombozo's patience snapped. His grin twisted into a snarl as he grabbed Ben by the collar of his purple leather jacket, yanking him forward and giving him a firm shake. "What's wrong with you? I've 'fixed' everyone! They're happy! And now it's your turn!" He tilted his head, his voice dropping into a mocking tone. "Or… are you too weak to understand?"
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, Ben's body tensed.
"You…" he whispered.
Zombozo's brow furrowed. "Huh? What was that?"
Ben's head snapped up, his jade-green eyes blazing with fury. "'You… BASTARD!'"
A sudden pulse of energy ripped through the air, blinding and violent. A brilliant pink light engulfed the tent, forcing Zombozo to release Ben and stumble backward, shielding his eyes. The burst of power hurled him across the stage, sending him crashing into the gallery.
"What—what was that?!" Zombozo sputtered as he scrambled to his feet, brushing off his bruised head. He turned toward the pillar where Ben had been tied, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Hovering a few feet above the ground was a glowing humanoid figure, its form bathed in radiant pink light. It had no defined gender, its body sleek and ethereal, almost translucent with swirling patterns of energy coursing through its frame. Its elongated limbs and graceful, angular features gave it an otherworldly presence, and its eyes burned like molten starlight.
Zombozo's jaw dropped as he staggered backward. "What… the hell 'is' that?!"
The figure's voice echoed through the tent, layered and otherworldly. "You will pay," it said, its tone low and menacing, reverberating like a chorus.
Zombozo's manic grin faltered as a chill ran down his spine. For the first time, he felt something he wasn't used to: fear.
The tent seemed to tremble as Zombozo stumbled backward, his clownish confidence fading with every passing second. The pink-violet humanoid creature floated closer, its ethereal form glowing with an intense light that seemed to radiate pure power. Its long, shimmering pink hair flowed as though caught in an invisible breeze, adding to its terrifyingly regal presence.
"You… stay back!" Zombozo yelled, his voice cracking. His painted grin twitched nervously as he reached into his oversized coat and pulled out a deck of enchanted playing cards. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying toward the creature like razor-sharp blades, each one glowing faintly with magic.
The cards sliced through the air with lethal precision, but as they approached, they slowed and disintegrated into harmless sparks before even touching the figure.
The creature didn't flinch. Its glowing eyes remained fixed on Zombozo, cold and impassive.
"Fine, let's see how you handle this!" Zombozo bellowed, pulling out a bouquet of flowers from his sleeve. He threw it forward, and as it left his hand, it exploded into a swirling storm of fire and smoke. The flames roared toward the creature, crackling with raw energy, but they dissipated on impact, unable to leave even a scratch.
"You've got to be kidding me," Zombozo muttered, sweat beading on his painted face.
Behind him, his circus freaks sprang into action.
Thumbskull charged forward, his massive frame barreling toward the glowing figure like a freight train. "You're not taking him down!" he roared, his fists clenched tightly.
The creature barely spared him a glance. With a wave of its hand, a burst of pink energy erupted from its palm, slamming into Thumbskull like a tidal wave. The sheer force sent him flying backward, crashing into a stack of crates with a loud 'boom'.
Acid Breath was next. The masked man stepped forward, ripping his mask off to release a hissing cloud of toxic green gas. The mist spread quickly, filling the area around the creature, but it didn't react. Instead, the creature raised its hand again, and the gas was swept away by a flicker of pink light, dissolving into nothingness.
"Impossible…" Acid Breath muttered, before being hit by another pulse of energy. The blow sent him spiraling across the stage, where he landed in a crumpled heap.
Frightwig growled, her braids snapping like whips as she circled behind the figure. With a furious scream, she lunged, her hair coiling around itself to form a massive noose. "Let's see you deal with this!" she shouted as her braids shot forward, aiming to choke the glowing being from behind.
But just as her hair was about to reach its target, it froze mid-air, stopping a few inches from the figure's neck. Frightwig's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?!"
Before she could react, an invisible force slammed into her chest, sending her flying backward. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, her vision blurring as she passed out from the shock.
Zombozo stood alone now, his knees trembling as the creature floated closer.
"Fine, fine! You want to play rough?" he yelled, his voice shaking. He stumbled toward the cylindrical machine, slamming his hand down on a lever. The machine whirred to life, and the glowing yellow energy collected from the audience surged into Zombozo's body.
The transformation was immediate. His pale face glowed with power, his painted grin twisting into something even more grotesque as the energy coursed through him. His eyes burned with a sickly yellow light, and his entire form seemed to radiate raw magic.
"You're finished now!" Zombozo roared, raising his hands and firing a massive energy beam at the creature. The golden light streaked toward the figure with destructive force, tearing through the air.
The beam struck the creature, but… nothing happened. The figure remained still, its glowing eyes unblinking as the energy dissipated harmlessly against its form.
"What?!" Zombozo yelled, firing another blast, and another. Each one hit the creature squarely, but none of them had any effect.
The creature continued to float closer, its expression unchanging.
"No, no, no!" Zombozo screamed, his voice cracking as he fired a flurry of beams, pouring all of his stolen power into the attacks. Each shot fizzled out before it could even touch the figure, leaving him utterly defenseless.
By now, Zombozo was visibly trembling, his manic grin replaced with pure fear. The creature loomed over him, its long hair swirling like a living force of nature.
"Stay back! I'm invincible!" Zombozo shouted, his voice desperate. "You can't beat me! I've got all their laughter—all their life! I—"
The creature raised its hand, and with a simple flick of its wrist, the yellow energy inside Zombozo drained from his body in an instant. He froze, his glowing eyes dimming as the stolen life force was ripped from him and sent hurtling back toward the unconscious audience.
The golden light returned to its rightful owners, their pale faces slowly regaining color as their breathing steadied.
Zombozo staggered, his body suddenly weak and frail. "No… this can't be happening…" he whispered, his legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, his once-grand presence reduced to a pathetic, crumpled heap.
The glowing figure remained, silent and unyielding, its ethereal form towering over the defeated clown.
The pink-violet glowing figure loomed over Zombozo, radiating a force so overwhelming it made the air feel thick and suffocating. The clown trembled, sprawled on the ground, his oversized shoes scuffing against the dirt as he tried to scoot away.
"Please…" he stammered, his voice barely audible. His painted face was pale beneath the makeup, and sweat poured down his forehead, mixing with the smudged paint to create streaks of grotesque colors.
The figure floated closer, its glowing white hollow eyes fixed on him. Its voice rang out, layered and echoing, like the voice of a vengeful god.
"If you 'ever' think of harming my family again," it warned, the words sharp and venomous, "I will 'kill' you."
Zombozo's entire body quaked as it continued, the voice growing darker, more menacing.
"I will tear your limbs off, one by one. Then I'll rewind the process—put them back—just so I can tear them off 'again.'" The figure leaned in closer, its ethereal hair flowing wildly as if fueled by its rage. "And you will beg for mercy. But I won't give it."
Zombozo whimpered audibly, his eyes wide with terror. His painted grin had faded completely, replaced by a trembling mouth and chattering teeth. His clownish bravado was gone, stripped away by the sheer intensity of the creature's words.
"I—I—please—" he stammered, unable to form coherent words. A faint, rancid smell filled the air, and it didn't take much to realize that Zombozo had literally soiled himself in fear.
The figure's glowing eyes narrowed. "Pathetic."
Without lifting a hand, the figure unleashed a series of invisible blows. Each one struck Zombozo with brutal force, sending him rolling across the stage like a ragdoll. His pained yelps echoed through the tent as he tried to shield himself, but it was useless.
The creature raised its hand, and with a flick of its wrist, a final, powerful blast slammed into Zombozo's chest, sending him crashing into the ground. The clown let out a wheezing groan before falling silent, unconscious and utterly defeated.
The tent grew quiet except for the hum of faint pink energy lingering in the air. Slowly, the rows of unconscious people began to stir. Murmurs and groans filled the space as the crowd came to their senses, their pale faces regaining color.
The glowing figure, still floating, turned its attention to two particular people.
Max was the first to wake, groaning as he rubbed his temples. "What happened? My head hurts…" His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the radiant figure hovering on the stage. His breath caught in his throat.
"Ben…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Gwen stirred awake beside him, blinking as her vision cleared. When her eyes locked on the glowing figure, she gasped, her jaw dropping in awe. "Whoa…" she breathed, her voice filled with excitement. "Is that… is that an alien, Grandpa?"
Her gaze darted to the Omnitrix on her wrist. "Do you think my Omnitrix can unlock 'that' alien? It's so… beautiful!"
But Max didn't share her enthusiasm. His face was pale, his expression grim as he stared at the figure. "...Ben…?"
Gwen froze. Her excitement evaporated instantly, replaced by confusion and disbelief. "What?" she whispered, her eyes darting between Max and the figure.
The glowing creature's hollow eyes widened as if struck by a sudden realization. It looked down at its hands—sleek, ethereal, and glowing—and then at its radiant, semi-transparent body.
"No…" the figure whispered, its voice losing its ethereal quality and becoming shaky, panicked. "No, no… what?"
The voice was unmistakable. It was Ben's.
Gwen's mouth fell open, her heart racing. "It… it's Ben?" she whispered, horrified.
The crowd, still regaining their senses, began to murmur as they pointed at the glowing figure. Some reached for their phones, snapping photos and recording videos. The whispers grew louder, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
"That glowing thing… it's an alien?"
"No way…"
Ben's glowing form turned toward the crowd, his gaze darting to the phones and cameras being pointed at him. His breathing quickened as panic consumed him.
"Stop it!" he yelled, his voice reverberating with power.
Instantly, every phone and camera in the tent short-circuited, sparks flying as the devices were fried. The nearby stage lights flickered and went dark, and the hum of the tent's machines fell silent as they too were overloaded by the sheer force of Ben's energy.
Ben turned back to Max and Gwen, his glowing eyes filled with a mix of fear and sorrow. He didn't say a word.
Then, with one final glance, he shot upward, his glowing form bursting through the top of the tent in a trail of pink light.
He was gone.
The crowd erupted into hushed murmurs, their voices filled with confusion and fear.
"That was a fairy, right?"
"What's going on?"
"Was that… a monster?"
Gwen turned to Max, her face pale and her voice barely a whisper. "That was… Ben?"
Max didn't answer immediately. He stared at the torn opening in the tent roof where Ben had disappeared, his face etched with worry and sadness.
"Yes," he finally said, his voice heavy. "That was Ben."
—(~/\~)—
Author Note: Hello!
Imagine Verdona or Sunny in their anodite forms— except for the feminine curves and a bit shorter due to being younger— got a mental image? Ah, there you go, that is Anodite!Ben. And yes, he has the same long hair as Veedona and Sunny.
What do you want next? Do tell.
I plan on using some elements from Alien Force and Ultimate Alien in the future but nothing from Reboot or Omniverse.
Thanks for reading this. The next chapter will be released soon.
Drop your thoughts in the review section. Your words motivate me to write better, larger and with more depth.
Till next time!