Chapter 107: Dr. Viktor, Little White, and Little Black
Morning sunlight spilled through the dusty windshield of the Rustbucket as it cruised down a quiet suburban highway.
Inside, the usual morning routine was already in full swing.
"Listen here, Dork, you— Oh!"
Ben's insult was cut short by a sharp thwack. He recoiled, rubbing a rapidly reddening spot on his forehead.
Klein casually lowered his hand, not even bothering to look away from the small CRT television mounted above the dashboard. "Stop arguing. Keep it down."
Ben grumbled under his breath, massaging his head, before his attention drifted toward the television screen.
A news anchor stood in front of a massive launch pad, struggling to keep his hair in place against a howling wind. "Today's launch of the Novan spacecraft has been indefinitely delayed due to a bizarre, localized lightning storm. I've reported on severe weather events all over the globe, but I have never seen anything quite like this purple lightning!"
Gwen leaned across the table, her eyes shining as she looked at Klein. "Did you notice the purple lightning right away, Cousin? Your observation skills are so sharp!"
Klein took a slow sip from his cup, his expression entirely deadpan. "No. I just thought the weather reporter looked familiar. Pretty sure that hair is a toupee."
Gwen's enthusiastic smile froze. She blinked, letting out a dry, awkward laugh. "Uh-huh..."
In the driver's seat, Grandpa Max stroked his chin, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Purple lightning... I remember seeing that exact phenomenon back in New Mexico. Right when that werewolf showed up."
Ben snapped his fingers, his eyes widening. "Yeah! And it happened when the mummy attacked the farm, too!"
"There's no such thing as a coincidence in our line of work," Max said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He shifted gears, the engine groaning in protest. "Next stop, Cape Canaveral!"
The Rustbucket roared down the highway, kicking up a trail of dust as it sped toward the Florida coast.
At that exact moment, deep inside the sterile, high-tech corridors of Cape Canaveral.
Dr. Viktor stood over a holographic projection of the spacecraft, his massive, broad-shouldered frame casting a long shadow across the room. He pointed a thick finger at the schematics, his voice a low, grating rumble. "These modified designs are to be applied immediately. The structural integrity must be absolute."
A technician across the table raised a hand, looking nervous. "But, Dr. Viktor, the payload weight—"
Viktor slammed his fist onto the metal table. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "No 'buts'! You lack the qualifications to issue me orders! Do as you are told!"
Another man in a sharp suit cleared his throat, stepping forward cautiously. "Uh, Dr. Viktor... you might have forgotten, but he is the project director. Technically, he's your boss."
Viktor paused. His cold, pale eyes shifted toward the man in the suit. His expression remained entirely flat. "Oh. Right. Correct."
Without another word, Viktor turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his heavy boots thudding against the floor tiles.
The director let out a long, exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That guy is impossible to deal with. But his engineering modifications are flawless. No wonder you hired him."
The man in the suit frowned, looking confused. "I thought you hired him."
The Rustbucket hissed to a halt just outside the main security gates of the Cape Canaveral facility.
Inside the RV, Ben leaned over the front seats, punching his palm with a wicked grin. "Okay, Cousin, here's the plan. You dial up Humungousaur, I go Four Arms! We smash the gates, jump the guards, and sneak right in! Flawless stealth. How about it?!"
It was glaringly obvious that spending so much time with Klein had completely warped Ben's definition of 'stealth'.
Max chuckled, resting a heavy hand on Ben's shoulder. He shot his grandson a mysterious, knowing smile. "Hold your horses, Ben. I think I know a guy who can get us through the front door without the property damage."
Ben blinked, his grand plan deflating. "Really? Who?"
"Oh, just an old friend." Max popped the driver's side door open and stepped out into the humid Florida air, gesturing for Ben and Gwen to follow.
Klein hung back for a moment. He walked over to a secure storage crate tucked beneath one of the rear benches and popped the latch. Inside rested the ancient Egyptian pharaoh's headdress.
Klein leaned down, his voice barely a whisper. "Little White. Sneak in quietly. Find Little Black. See if he's here."
From outside the RV, Gwen's voice called out. "Cousin! Come on, hurry up!"
"Coming," Klein called back.
He turned and walked out, pulling the RV door shut behind him. The moment the latch clicked into place, the hollow eyes of the pharaoh's headdress flared with an eerie, pulsing purple light.
Inside the bustling visitor center of Cape Canaveral.
"Max! Long time no see! Where have you been hiding these past forty years?"
A middle-aged man in a crisp suit hurried over, grabbing Max's hand and shaking it vigorously.
Max offered a practiced, evasive smile. "Oh, you know. Here and there. Same old, same old." He tried to gently pull his hand away, eager to brush past the pleasantries.
The man wouldn't let it go. He clapped Max on the shoulder, his eyes full of genuine disbelief. "What exactly happened to you back then? One day you were the top candidate in the program, and the next you just vanished. You let Armstrong take your small step for mankind!"
Ben's jaw practically hit the floor. "Armstrong?! You mean Neil Armstrong?! Apollo 11?!" Even Ben, who slept through history class, knew that name.
Gwen stared at her grandfather, utterly bewildered. "Grandpa... you were supposed to be the first man on the moon?!"
Klein leaned against a nearby railing, entirely unfazed. Being the first man on the moon was a neat parlor trick for humanity, but considering Grandpa Max had set foot on dozens of alien worlds across the galaxy, a dusty rock in Earth's orbit wasn't exactly a crowning achievement.
The man smiled down at Gwen. "Of course! Max was the absolute best astronaut we had at the time. It's a real tragedy he didn't get to make that landing."
Max shrugged helplessly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, well... I couldn't help it. Something came up."
"Right, right." The man finally let go of Max's shoulder, his expression turning professional. "So, is there anything I can help you with today, Max?"
"Just came to look around," Max said smoothly, patting Ben on the shoulder. "Thought I'd bring the grandkids to reminisce about the 'past glories'."
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Dr. Viktor strode into the lobby, his white lab coat billowing behind him.
Viktor's cold eyes swept over the Tennyson family. He dismissed Max, Ben, and Gwen in a fraction of a second, but his gaze locked onto Klein.
Black hair. Blue eyes. A terrifyingly calm demeanor.
A chill ran through Viktor's mind. Could this boy be...?
Viktor stepped up to the suited man, his voice a low, reproachful growl. "You are aware that bringing unauthorized outsiders into the restricted sectors of the base is strictly prohibited."
Without waiting for a response, Viktor turned and stalked away, his heavy boots echoing down the hall.
The man stared at Viktor's retreating back, his brow furrowing. "If I'm not mistaken, I'm the one who runs this facility." He shook his head and turned back to Max. "Listen, Max, I have a mountain of paperwork to handle with this launch delay. You can visit properly another day. You still remember the way to the exit, right?"
"Sure do," Max nodded.
The man offered a quick wave and hurried off in the same direction Viktor had gone.
The Tennyson family stood in silence, watching the man until he completely disappeared around a corner.
Max slowly turned back to the kids. A sly, triumphant grin spread across his face. He jerked his head toward the restricted corridor.
Moving as one, the grandfather and his three grandchildren slipped quietly into the shadows, heading deeper into the base.
Meanwhile, deep within the dark, complex ventilation shafts of the facility.
The Mummy—Little White—slithered through the metal grating, its bandages shifting silently. It dropped into a dimly lit storage bay, its glowing purple eyes scanning the shadows until they landed on a hulking, hunched figure.
The Loboan. Little Black.
The werewolf alien spun around, baring its fangs. Roar! Roar?! (Where have you been?! Did you betray us?!)
The Mummy narrowed its eyes, immediately going on the offensive. Hiss! (Me?! I should be asking where you ran off to! Did you betray the master?! Little Black!)
The Mummy wasn't taking any chances. It was terrified the werewolf might snitch to Klein later, so even in private, it had to establish its absolute, unquestioning loyalty to the terrifying human.
The werewolf tilted its head, its ears flattening against its skull. Roar...? Roar! (Little Black?! Wait... could it be you too?! If you're here... is he here too?!)
The werewolf scratched its snout, visibly conflicted. Whimper. (But... what about the boss?)
Clearly, Little Black wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
The Mummy slapped a bandage against the floor in exasperation. Hiss! (What boss?! We only have one boss now!)
After a brief, highly animated exchange of growls and hisses, Little White and Little Black reached a perfect understanding. They decided their best course of action was to track down their third "former companion"—Dr. Viktor—to see if they could warn him and save his miserable life.
As for what they would do if Viktor refused to submit, or worse, thought he could actually defeat Klein?
The Mummy and the werewolf exchanged a look.
Were you kidding?! Did that Frankenstein knock-off really think hunting a natural apex predator like Klein was a joke?!
If their old buddy didn't know what was good for him, they wouldn't hesitate. They would just join Klein and beat him to a pulp themselves!
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