Chapter 103: Let You Experience Your Favorite Things
Williamsport, Pennsylvania, stood proudly as the undisputed birthplace of Little League Baseball in America.
On a crisp, sunlit morning, the familiar bulky frame of the Rustbucket rumbled down the streets, making its steady approach toward the grand baseball stadium.
Inside the RV, the atmosphere was buzzing.
Ben practically bounced in his seat, leaning over the table to excitedly chatter at Klein about one of the teams that had miraculously made it to the Little League Championship—the Cannon Team.
"Cousin, do you know?" Ben beamed, his eyes wide with pride. "I was originally on that team!"
Klein leaned back against the worn upholstery, resting his chin on his hand. He listened with half an ear, his gaze drifting out the window toward the unusually heavy security presence swarming the stadium's perimeter.
Hearing Ben's boasting, Gwen rolled her eyes and couldn't help but interject. "Dweeb, I bet you don't even know how to swing a bat properly, do you?"
"Hey! Of course I know how!" Ben shot back, his face flushing slightly. "It's just that I'm... you know, not that skilled yet. That's all."
He defended himself quickly, but deep down, he knew the truth. Ben could play baseball, sure, but his technique left a lot to be desired.
Just then, the Rustbucket ground to a halt. Outside, several stern-faced staff members in dark suits approached the vehicle, wielding metal detectors and inspection mirrors to sweep the undercarriage.
Only after a thorough, careful security check was the Rustbucket finally cleared to pass through the gates.
Gwen pressed her face against the glass, watching the guards. "Why are there so many security personnel around?"
Grandpa Max shifted gears, steering the heavy RV forward. "The President is a huge baseball fan," he explained with a knowing smile. "He's coming to the stadium today to cheer on the kids."
With that cleared up, the Rustbucket handled through the sprawling complex and finally pulled into a designated parking spot.
The doors hissed open, and the family stepped out into the fresh morning air. Max immediately noticed a cluster of baseball training fields adjacent to the parking lot. On one of the pristine green diamonds, a group of kids wearing crisp blue uniforms was busy running drills. It was the Cannon Team.
Max chuckled, patting Ben's shoulder and pointing toward the field. "Ben, look over there."
"Grandpa, I'm going over to say hello!"
Without waiting for a response, Ben sprinted off toward the diamond, his sneakers kicking up dust in his excitement.
Max smiled and wandered off in the opposite direction, heading toward another training field to watch some of the younger children practice their swings.
On the other side of the complex, Ben was only halfway to his old teammates when his feet suddenly left the ground.
A pair of hands grabbed him by the waistband of his pants, hoisting him violently into the air.
With a sharp yank, Ben was unceremoniously hooked onto the top of a nearby chain-link fence, left dangling by his underwear.
"Oh, no way?!" Ben groaned, struggling against the embarrassing wedgie.
Twisting his neck, he finally got a clear look at his attackers. Standing below him, smirking with absolute satisfaction, were none other than his hometown school bullies: Cash and JT.
Before the two could gloat further, a shadow fell over them. Klein strolled over, his expression completely blank. Without a single word, he reached up, unhooked Ben from the metal railing, and set him gently on the ground.
"Thanks, Cousin," Ben muttered, his face burning red as he hurriedly adjusted his clothes.
Klein remained silent. He simply gave Ben's shoulder a reassuring pat, turned on his heel, and began walking back toward the Rustbucket.
Cash crossed his arms, his smirk twisting into a scowl as he glared at Klein's retreating back. "Who is this guy? So arrogant."
JT, always eager to back up his larger friend, quickly chimed in. "Exactly. We should teach him a lesson."
A few paces away, Klein's footsteps suddenly stopped. He stood perfectly still for a fraction of a second. Then, without looking back, he quickened his pace and disappeared into the RV.
"Running away, are you?!" Cash hollered after him.
"Ah hahaha, just as lame as wimpy Ben!" JT cackled, clutching his stomach.
The two bullies burst into obnoxious, roaring laughter, thoroughly pleased with themselves.
"Hey, you guys are going too far!"
Gwen marched over, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring daggers at Cash and JT.
The boys ignored her entirely, continuing to laugh until they were practically gasping for air.
Ben, who knew his older cousin better than anyone, watched the door of the Rustbucket close. He swallowed hard and muttered instinctively, "Oh, you guys are in for it."
Cash wiped a tear of mirth from his eye, looking down at Ben in confusion. "What?"
"Uh, nothing," Ben backpedaled quickly, eager to change the subject before things got bloody. "How did you rascals... I mean, guys, get onto the team anyway?"
Cash puffed out his chest, his ego instantly taking the bait. "Skill! One hundred percent pure skill!"
"And four other guys accidentally caught chickenpox... Oh!" JT blurted out the truth without thinking.
Cash immediately whirled around and punched JT hard in the stomach, cutting off his loose lips.
Ben's jaw dropped. "That means I could have played then, too!" He slapped his forehead, his face twisting into an expression of deep loss.
"Alright, Dweeb, Grandpa is still waiting for us."
Gwen grabbed Ben by the sleeve, pulling him away from the two bullies before Ben could complain any further.
As they walked away, Ben leaned in close to Gwen, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Do you think Cousin won't go too hard on them?"
Gwen frowned, glancing back at the oblivious bullies. "It's good for Cousin to teach those guys a lesson. Besides, Cousin should know his limits."
Behind them, Cash cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at Ben's retreating back. "Wimpy Ben, you can't hide until school starts!"
Hearing that, Ben's fists clenched. He gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, "The harder Cousin hits, the better!"
Inside the quiet, dimly lit interior of the Rustbucket.
Klein crouched in the corner of the RV, pulling open a heavy storage box. Inside lay a massive pile of ancient, weathered white bandages. Resting atop the linen was a heavy, ornate crown belonging to an ancient Egyptian pharaoh.
To be completely honest, if they had been anywhere else—anywhere Ben and Gwen weren't currently watching—Klein probably would have just walked over and twisted Cash and JT's heads off their shoulders on the spot.
He harbored a deep, inherent disgust for bullies. The fact that they were targeting his own little cousin only fueled the cold anger simmering in his chest. Add to that the sheer audacity of those two punks provoking him directly, and their fate was sealed.
Klein reached out, his fingers brushing the cold gold of the crown.
"Little White," Klein commanded, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Bring those two rascals to me."
As soon as the words left his lips, the empty eye sockets of the pharaoh's crown flared to life, glowing with an intense, piercing purple light. The bandages beneath it began to shift and slither like a nest of waking vipers.
Meanwhile, in the dense, shaded woods bordering the baseball stadium.
Cash and JT were taking a casual stroll away from the fields, chatting loudly and laughing about their earlier triumph.
But as they ventured deeper into the trees, the temperature seemed to drop. The ambient noise of the stadium faded away, replaced by a suffocating silence.
Cash stopped walking, rubbing his arms as an eerie, crawling sensation crept up his spine. "Hey, JT... don't you think it's a little too quiet out here?"
JT swallowed hard, his bravado instantly evaporating. He looked around at the towering trees, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the dirt. "How about we just leave?"
"Yeah. Yes, let's go. Quickly, quickly..." Cash stammered, his eyes darting at every rustling leaf.
Having reached a mutual, panicked agreement, the two boys spun around to head back to the safety of the crowds.
The moment they turned, their breath caught in their throats.
Standing directly in their path, towering over them in the gloom, was a massive, hulking Mummy wrapped in decaying white bandages. Purple light burned ominously from beneath its golden crown.
Cash and JT screamed.
They turned and bolted, sprinting through the underbrush in blind terror. They scrambled over roots and tore through bushes, constantly throwing panicked glances over their shoulders.
They ran until their lungs burned and their legs felt like lead. Finally, seeing no trace of the bandaged monster behind them, they slowed to a halt, gasping for air.
"I think... I think we lost it," JT wheezed, resting his hands on his knees.
Cash let out a ragged sigh of relief.
Then, they looked up.
The Mummy was standing right in front of them, silent as the grave.
Deep in the heart of the small forest, the shadows were thick and unforgiving.
"Please let me go! Wuwuwu..." JT sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he dangled in the air.
"Don't eat me! I'm not tasty!" Cash shrieked, thrashing wildly. Desperation clawed at his mind, and he threw his oldest victim under the bus without a second thought. "Oh, right! That wimpy, wimpy Ben is tasty! How about I take you to him? Just eat him instead!"
The two bullies begged and pleaded for mercy, their previous arrogance completely shattered.
But the Mummy ignored their cries. It simply held one boy in each massive hand, carrying them effortlessly as it marched deeper into the woods.
Soon, the Mummy's heavy footsteps came to a halt.
Cash and JT whimpered, slowly lifting their tear-streaked faces.
Standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a tree with his arms crossed, was Klein.
"It's you!" Cash gasped, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized the older cousin they had mocked earlier.
"It's you who called it?!" JT squeaked, the horrifying reality of the situation instantly crashing down on him.
Klein didn't bother answering. His face remained an unreadable mask. He simply raised a hand and gave the Mummy a dismissive wave. "Put them down."
Obeying the command instantly, the Mummy opened its hands.
"Oh no—!"
With a heavy thud, the two boys plummeted, crashing face-first into the dirt.
Cash scrambled up awkwardly, spitting out leaves. He saw Klein taking slow, deliberate steps toward him and opened his mouth, preparing to yell some empty threat.
He never got the chance.
Klein's fist lashed out in a blur, burying itself fiercely into Cash's face.
The sickening crack of impact echoed through the trees. Cash cried out in agony, his feet leaving the ground as the sheer force of Klein's punch knocked him flat on his back.
Groaning, Cash tried to push himself up, his head spinning.
A heavy boot slammed down onto his back, pinning him to the earth.
Cash struggled wildly, clawing at the dirt, but it was entirely useless. Facing Klein—a guy whose physical strength and combat reflexes far exceeded any normal human, let alone a teenager—he was utterly helpless.
"You like bullying, do you?" Klein's voice was soft, devoid of any heat, which only made it infinitely more terrifying.
With a brutal shift of weight, Klein fiercely stomped his boot down, grinding Cash's face directly into the loose soil. "Then let me help you personally experience the bullying you love so much."
Cash choked and gagged, accidentally swallowing mouthfuls of dry dirt as Klein's boot pressed down without mercy.
Satisfied for the moment, Klein pulled his foot back and delivered a sharp kick to Cash's ribs. The bully was sent tumbling, rolling several times across the forest floor before coming to a groaning halt.
"Cash!" JT yelled, his voice cracking with panic. He looked at his beaten friend, then at Klein, and made his decision. "I'll find someone to save you!"
JT spun around, desperately trying to run away.
A thick, heavy bandage shot out from the shadows, wrapping tightly around JT's waist. The Mummy yanked him backward, instantly shattering his pathetic fantasy of escape.
Lying in the dirt, Cash widened his eyes, staring in absolute terror as Klein slowly walked toward him again.
The corners of Klein's lips curled upward slightly. It was a beautiful, flawless smile, but in Cash's terrified eyes, it was a visage more horrifying than any movie monster.
Facing arrogant little bullies like Cash and JT, the usually inarticulate Klein reluctantly chose his favorite method of communication: acting with his hands, not his mouth.
Beat them first, then talk!
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