A couple of days later the road trip had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The Rustbucket rolled into the parking lot of Planetary Studios, a superhero‑themed amusement park that smelled of popcorn and ozone. Max hopped out, shouldered a bag of snacks, and waved them off. "You kids go on ahead. I've got a few things to take care of," he said, voice warm but distracted.
Ben tore a poster from a nearby stand and ripped it in half with theatrical disgust. "It's bad enough I'm a kid's show," he grumbled, eyes flashing. "But did they have to make me a total dweeb?"
Gwen laughed, dry and amused. "As if you need help in that department."
Fred rolled his shoulders, smiling at the banter. "Don't start. You'll give the mascots ideas."
They wandered deeper into the park, past neon signs and cardboard cutouts. A life‑size Kangaroo Commando grinned from a display. Gwen cocked an eyebrow. "I don't get the appeal. A guy who hops around in his underwear to fight crime?" Her tone was teasing, but curious.
Ben leapt into a showy kick, landing in a flurry of karate punches. "You wouldn't understand. I watched his shows when I was a kid. He's the reason I wanted to be a hero." His voice warmed with nostalgia.
A mascot in an Irish brogue ambled by—HandyBuddy, a Fourarms‑style character with a ridiculous grin. "You alright there, kid?" he asked, extending a padded hand.
Ben blinked. "Wait—Fourarms doesn't sound like that."
HandyBuddy puffed his chest. "Who, Fourarms? I'm HandyBuddy, mi boyo! Shake!"
Ben slapped the mascot's hand away and stomped off, cheeks flushed. Gwen and Fred exchanged amused looks and followed.
They found themselves at the Super Alien Hero Buddies autograph line. Tim Dean, the show's creator, sat behind a table signing posters with a practiced smile. Ben pushed through the crowd, face tight with irritation, and yanked a freshly signed poster from the stack—then ripped it in half.
"Hey! That's a Tim Dean original!" Tim snapped, voice sharp.
Ben's retort came out hot. "Original? You totally stole those from—" He nearly blew his cover, then recovered. "From those alien heroes in the news." His tone was defensive, wounded.
Tim's smile froze. "Prove it." He barked to a nearby mascot, "Take him away, Fiery Buddy."
A bulky mascot in flame‑themed armor grabbed Ben and hauled him toward the exit. Ben ranted all the way—"Heatblast? Fourarms with a Scottish accent? This is nonsense!"—until he was tossed out of the booth and onto the pavement.
Gwen approached, voice level but amused. "Something tells me Dean doesn't like creative criticism."
Ben's eyes flashed. "Maybe it's time for some creative criticism." He slammed his Omnitrix and began to transform—then a distant explosion cracked the air.
"Ben?" Gwen's voice was sharp with alarm. "That wasn't you."
Fred's head snapped up. "Nope." He jogged toward the sound, calling, "I'll get snacks later—go!"
They arrived at the Kangaroo Commando section to find a live stunt set in chaos. A rigged building smoldered; smoke curled into the sky. Kangaroo Commando dangled from a prop ledge, harness frayed, crowd scattered in panic.
Ben didn't hesitate. He launched himself into the air, flames coiling around his legs. Wide shot: a fiery comet arced across the park. Close‑up: Ben's jaw set, eyes bright with purpose.
He shaped the fire into a mini tornado, a spinning column of heat that wrapped around the stuntman and lifted him gently from the ledge. The twister deposited Kangaroo Commando safely on the stage, then dissipated into a shower of harmless embers.
Kangaroo landed, hands on hips, breathless but theatrical. "Who are you?" he demanded, voice booming.
Ben puffed up, grinning. "Your biggest fan." He stretched, absorbing the residual flames into his palms like a kid showing off a trick.
Kangaroo's face hardened. "So you're the one trying to ruin my stunt show." He pointed at a giant banner: Kangaroo Commando Stunt Spectacular. Ben's grin faltered. "Sorry. I can fix this." He fired a fireball at a damaged rig—only for it to ricochet off a metal beam and arc toward a small cluster of spectators.
Gwen moved before anyone could think. She blinked and teleported behind the crowd, voice calm but urgent. "Hold still." She flung a tiny mana circle into the path of the fireball. Impact: the fireball exploded into pink sparkles, harmless and glittering. The crowd gasped, then applauded.
Gwen's face softened with relief. "Phew." She wiped her brow.
Kangaroo, still in showman mode, lashed out—two swift kicks that sent Ben tumbling into the empty raked seats. Ben popped up, laughing. "Special effects, huh?" he called, breathless.
Fred strolled up, casual. "So what'd I miss?" he asked, grinning. Gwen shot him a look that said everything—reckless, but effective.
The staged tussle turned into a spectacle. The crowd loved it; Kangaroo's autograph line swelled. Tim Dean stormed over, face red with fury. "That was low—using my Fiery Buddy to sabotage my show!" he accused.
Kangaroo blinked, indignant. "Me? Sabotage?"
Tim pointed at Kangaroo. "You sent him to wreck my set!"
Kangaroo bristled. "Listen, old man—my Super Alien Hero Buddies will bury your show." He stalked off, dramatic and offended.
Ben puffed his chest, triumphant. "See? People liked it." His voice was bright, a little breathless from the adrenaline.
Ben folded her arms, amusement and exasperation mingling. "He's just stressed. Come on—let's go ride the Kangaroo Commando coaster. Bet the line's packed now."
Ben's grin was wide and unapologetic. "Race you there."
They melted into the crowd—three friends, a little singed, a lot exhilarated—leaving behind a park that smelled of burnt sugar and excitement, where the line between staged heroics and real courage had just blurred in the most spectacular way.