Chapter 104: The Gentlemen Team Aren't Human
"You like to bully people, huh?"
A dull thud echoed through the secluded alleyway.
"You like making others lose face, don't you?"
Another sharp smack rang out.
"Arrogant, aren't you? Let's see you try acting arrogant now."
Klein delivered the physical reprimand with ruthless efficiency, his expression entirely bored as he systematically dismantled Cash and JT. He maintained a strict sense of proportion with every strike. While his hands were undeniably heavy and the impacts bruised the two bullies thoroughly, he carefully avoided breaking any bones or causing permanent damage.
After all, Cash and JT still had to play in the upcoming baseball game. It would be entirely too troublesome if Grandpa Max and the others started asking questions about why the star players mysteriously failed to show up.
Only when Klein had vented the majority of his irritation did he finally step back, letting his hands drop to his sides.
By this point, Cash and JT were a miserable sight. Their faces were bruised and swollen, their uniforms dirtied, and they groaned in pain with every slight movement. Seeing Klein step forward again, the two boys flinched violently, immediately throwing their arms over their heads and squatting down against the brick wall in pure terror.
Klein looked down at them, his voice cold and indifferent. "If I catch you bullying anyone again, you had better be prepared to run naked down the middle of the street."
Cash frantically nodded his swollen head, his voice cracking in desperation. "I swear! I swear on JT's life that I will never do anything like this again! If I ever do, may JT drop dead on the spot without a good end!"
Hearing this, JT's eyes widened in sheer outrage. "Cash, you jerk! Fine! I swear on Cash's third leg! If I ever bully anyone again, Cash's junk will shrink into a negative length!"
Klein paused, his eyebrow twitching slightly.
'Damn. That is just ruthless.'
Cash slowly turned his head, staring at JT with a look of absolute, horrified disbelief.
Watching the two idiots gear up for a screaming match, Klein simply waved his hand in dismissal, signaling them to get out of his sight. Cash and JT scrambled to their feet, hastily stammering out their thanks before turning and sprinting out of the alleyway as fast as their bruised legs could carry them.
Klein watched them flee in a panic. He wasn't the least bit worried about them running their mouths. If they dared to breathe a word of this to anyone, he would be more than happy to help them fulfill those creative little vows.
By the time Klein casually strolled back into the stadium stands, the baseball game was already nearing its final innings.
"Cousin! Over here!"
Spotting him walking up the steps, Ben and Gwen immediately stood up, waving frantically from their seats. Klein handled through the rows of spectators and slid into the empty space right between the two dweebs. Grandpa Max sat solidly on Ben's other side, his arms crossed over his chest.
Klein leaned back against the plastic seat, glancing down at the diamond. "How is the game going?"
"If the Cannon Team drops this game, their shot at the championship is completely over," Grandpa Max muttered, his brow deeply furrowed as he watched the pitcher wind up.
Hearing the grim assessment, Klein simply shrugged. To him, who won or lost a middle school baseball game meant absolutely nothing. The only thing that mattered was whether the game was actually entertaining to watch.
But as the innings dragged on, Klein narrowed his eyes. Something was fundamentally wrong with the field down below.
The Cannon Team's opponents—the Gentlemen Team, clad in pristine brown uniforms—were moving with an unnatural, eerie perfection. Every single difficult catch, every impossibly fast sprint, every perfectly calculated swing came to them with zero effort. Their physical output wasn't just good; it felt significantly stronger than his own base human limits.
Was this reasonable?
Reasonable, his foot. Even a team hopped up on experimental steroids couldn't dream of producing those kinds of flawless, mechanical reflexes.
Despite realizing that the Gentlemen Team was hiding something massive, Klein had no immediate intention of exposing them to the crowd. It was just that... watching a completely one-sided, mathematically perfect baseball game was incredibly boring. Feeling deeply cheated out of a good afternoon of entertainment, Klein decided it was time to level the playing field.
Klein stood up, brushing off his pants. "Grandpa, I am going to grab a chili cheese dog. I will be right back."
Ben immediately shoved a massive, chili-slathered mess of bread and meat toward him. "Cousin, wait, I still have an extra one right here."
Klein stared blankly at the soggy bun. "Your backwash disgusts me."
Without another word, he turned and walked up the concrete stairs.
Ben blinked, looking down at the hot dog in his hand. He sat in silence for a long moment before muttering to himself, "I haven't even taken a bite yet..."
Down beneath the bleachers, in a quiet, shadowy corner completely devoid of foot traffic, Klein tapped the faceplate of the Another Omnitrix.
A wash of faint blue light illuminated the concrete walls, and the sleek, blue-and-black feline form of Fasttrack stood in his place.
"A baseball game is only fun when it is evenly matched."
The moment the words left his mouth, Fasttrack vanished, leaving behind nothing but a distorted afterimage and a rush of displaced air.
Bursting onto the sunlit field, Fasttrack's super speed kicked into overdrive. To his enhanced perception, the roaring crowd, the flying dirt, and the players themselves ground to an absolute, frozen halt. The world became a still photograph.
'Let me think,'Fasttrack mused, pacing casually around the frozen batter.'I need to do something completely unnoticeable to the normal eye, but it needs to severely handicap the Gentlemen Team. This should work perfectly.'Having made up his mind, Fasttrack stepped directly in front of the nearest Gentlemen Team infielder.'Hehehe... Do not worry, boys. It will not hurt too much.'
Fasttrack clenched his right fist, calculated the exact trajectory, and delivered a precise, rapid-fire punch directly to the space between the player's legs. He used just enough force to guarantee blinding, agonizing pain without causing any permanent structural damage.
"Perfect! Plenty to go around!"
With a sharp grin, Fasttrack blurred into a streak of blue and black lightning, instantly replicating the exact same crotch-shot on every single member of the Gentlemen Team currently on the field.
His mission accomplished, Fasttrack zipped off the diamond, finding a comfortable, secluded corner near the dugouts with a perfect view of the field. He crouched down, peeking out to watch the impending chaos.
The world snapped back to normal speed.
Fasttrack waited for the screaming. He waited for the entire brown-uniformed team to drop to their knees in synchronized agony.
Instead, absolutely nothing happened.
The Gentlemen Team players smoothly fielded the ball, threw it to first base, and jogged back to their positions. Not a single muscle twitched. Not a single drop of sweat formed. Their expressions remained entirely blank and focused.
'Are these guys really that tough?'Fasttrack thought, his eyes widening slightly in genuine admiration.'Taking a direct, high-speed hit to the jewels without even blinking?'
Even though he had already suspected they were not human, seeing them completely ignore that kind of targeted strike was impressive.
Realizing his sabotage had failed, Fasttrack decided to just leave. If they were willing to endure that kind of phantom pain just to stay in the game, they clearly needed that plastic trophy more than he did. More, Fasttrack was now genuinely curious about what this group of anomalies actually wanted. A bunch of non-human entities infiltrating a middle school sports league could not possibly be doing it just for a cheap piece of hardware.
Just as Fasttrack pivoted on his heel to dash back to the shadows, a sudden gust of wind hit his face.
Another blur of blue and black skidded to a halt directly in front of him.
The two Fasttracks locked eyes. The air in the secluded corner instantly grew incredibly thick and awkward.
"Cousin?!"
'You are here to cheat too?!'
Although both speedsters knew exactly why the other was currently hiding behind a dugout, Fasttrack (Ben) was still far too young and inexperienced to handle the psychological pressure of getting caught.
"Ben, you came down here to help the Cannon Team cheat, didn't you?"
Fasttrack (Klein) immediately went on the offensive. Striking first was the golden rule. By accusing Ben directly, he would force the younger boy into a defensive panic, completely shifting his attention away from the glaring fact that Fasttrack (Klein) was also currently hiding in the exact same spot for the exact same reason.
"No! Cousin! I..." Fasttrack (Ben) stammered, his hands waving frantically as the nervous sweat practically radiated off him.
"It is fine," Fasttrack (Klein) interrupted smoothly, taking the opportunity to pivot the conversation entirely. "After all, there is a serious problem with the Gentlemen Team."
The gaslighting worked flawlessly. Fasttrack (Ben)'s panic vanished, his attention instantly hooked by the new topic.
"A problem?!" Fasttrack (Ben) asked, tilting his head in confusion.
Fasttrack (Klein) crossed his arms, leaning against the concrete wall and nodding toward the field. "That is right. Those guys out there? They are not human."
"Not human?! Wait, so they are aliens or some kind of weirdos?!" Fasttrack (Ben) gasped, his eyes widening as the pieces finally clicked together. It completely explained why the opposing team had felt so unnervingly strange to him all afternoon.
Fasttrack (Klein) shook his head slightly, his tone entirely casual. "They feel a bit too hard to the touch, and they make a hollow, metallic sound when you tap them."
"Wait, when did you touch them?" Fasttrack (Ben) asked, his confusion returning in full force.
"Do not worry about the details," Fasttrack (Klein) dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The point is, since these guys are clearly not human, it is only right and fair that we help the Cannon Team level the playing field."
By framing it as a noble crusade against non-human infiltrators, Fasttrack (Klein) successfully boosted Ben's confidence in the plan. Now, if they somehow got caught manipulating the game later, Ben would probably be too fired up to deny it, and Klein could easily pass it off as Ben's brilliant idea.
Fasttrack (Ben) nodded firmly, readily accepting the logic. After all, cheating for justice was exactly what he had come down here to do in the first place.
Meanwhile, back up in the sun-drenched stands.
Grandpa Max and Gwen leaned forward against the railing, their jaws slowly dropping as they witnessed an utterly beyond understanding scene unfolding on the diamond.
The baseball had seemingly developed a mind of its own.
Just as a Gentlemen Team outfielder leaped perfectly to catch a pop fly, the baseball abruptly jerked in mid-air, curving violently to the left and dropping harmlessly onto the grass.
A few moments later, a Cannon Team batter swung wildly at a pitch, missing the ball by at least a foot. Yet, defying all known laws of physics, the baseball sharply altered its trajectory, flying directly upward to smack dead-center into the swinging bat.
The sheer absurdity peaked when it was Cash's turn at the plate. The pitcher threw a fast strike, but the ball violently hooked sideways, bypassing the strike zone entirely to nail Cash squarely in the rear end.
Watching the bully yelp and rub his backside, Gwen and Grandpa Max slowly turned their heads to exchange a deeply suspicious glance.
"Grandpa, did you just see that?" Gwen whispered.
"Amazing," Grandpa Max muttered, a knowing, tired sigh escaping his lips.
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