"We need more people." Lee growled.

Max looked up, glanced between the two speakers, her uncle Lee and John Smilee, and dropped her attention back to the clips she was reloading; this was an old argument, and Max had never liked reruns.

Smilee shook his head. "No, we have enough with the twins now."

Her head still tipped forward, Max smiled. As a young child, her twin brother, Gage had shown a real aptitude for computers and so Thorn, the Expendables resident computer genius/hacker, took him under his wing and started teaching him everything he knew; then Lee had started instructing Max on how to handle knives. As the twins grew, and it became obvious that Gage was going to grow as large as their dad, additional training was added. Toll and Caesar taught Gage combat, explosives and heavy weaponry. Luna trained Max in her Judo-style fighting techniques and Galgo added his own parkour-inspired moves. Mars worked with both twins on their boxing, and Gunner made sure both his children were more than proficient with a sniper rifle. Now, at nineteen, the twins were deadly and the newest members of the Expendables.

Lee shook his head. "Nah, Thorn and Luna are retiring; and I'm leaving too." Lee had retired before the twins were born, but, citing boredom, declared himself only semi-retired, and started accepting jobs again.

Smilee opened his mouth to reply, but Lee wasn't finished and, crossing his arms over his chest, he frostily delivered his coup de grace. "And you still haven't replaced Mars and Galgo."

Max snapped her head up and stared at her uncle with wide, disbelieving eyes. Just over a year ago, on a job that started out bad and only got worse, Mars was killed; shot through the heart by the very man they'd be sent to take out. The aim had been true, and Mars had been dead before he'd hit the floor. That same job, only a few minutes later, Galgo was forced to leap out a window to avoid a concussion grenade. He'd missed his landing and plunged two stories to the ground below, shattering his pelvis and most of his left side and effectively ending his career with the Expendables. Defying the doctor's predictions, Galgo had lived and could even walk again, but he had a hellacious limp, his left leg a full two inches shorter than the right, and his body was now riddled with arthritis. Even now, months later, this was a subject you didn't speak about flippantly in the shop.

Biting her trembling lower lip, Max lowered her gaze again, shaking slightly, her eyes tearing up. Unable to deal, Max had turned to drugs and like everything Max did; she jumped in with both feet. She fell hard and fast, and within weeks was a ghost around the Family, as the team often referred to themselves. Eight months ago, the uncles had intervened, dragging Max quite literally kicking and screaming to Gunner's cottage on the bayou, lived in for years by Thorn and Luna until their family had outgrown it, and now rented by Smilee. For three days Max shivered and shuddered and sweated on rubber sheets, curling into a ball on her side as much as the restraints would allow. She'd finally settled, and began her recovery.

Although she had both the Family's forgiveness and trust again, Max still had not forgiven herself, and worked hard everyday to prove to herself that she was worthy. She hadn't even touched a Tylenol in the last eight months, and took on the most mundane chores at the shop as penance.

Smilee opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "I'll see if Gun's got any new names." His voice was edged with pain. Turning on his heel, he left the tattoo shop.

Blinking rapidly, Max tentatively looked back up at Lee. He was watching her with sympathy, sadness and anger in his eyes and Max realized just how strongly he felt about building up the team, how he'd not wanted to bring up those names in front of Max, but felt he had no choice.

"It'll be alright kid." Lee said roughly, and then followed Smilee out.

Max dropped her head again, breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. Fuck, she wanted to get high. She fought the cravings daily, but this was something else. She knew if she got up and left the shop, climbed in her Scout and drove twelve blocks away over the river, stopped at the Palms Apartments and knocked on 2B that a guy named Smith would answer, and he was always good for a gram. That would stop the pain, start her floating and forgetting. Dimly she heard the man door open again and glanced over, biting back a groan as she saw her father, Gunner Jensen walk into the shop. Since Max's fall into drugs, her relationship with her dad, always so good; she'd always been Daddy's Little Girl, had soured. They fought whenever they were together now, Max forever defensive and on edge, sure that her dad was judging her and finding her lacking, embarrassed that she hadn't been strong enough to resist the siren song. Kenzie, her mom and Gunner's wife, tried to mediate, explaining to Max that her and her dad were so much alike, and that was why they now butted heads, but Max had had enough, and a few weeks ago had moved out, now rented Smilee's old apartment above the shop. Gage followed a few days later, renting Mar's old rooms, not out of any tension with their parents, but because he'd always tried to protect Max and keep her safe. A large part of Max's continued guilt, she was coming to realize, was because she felt she'd disappointed her brother.

Unwillingly, Max looked up and met her father's eyes. He was watching her carefully. The look on his face said he knew exactly how badly Max wanted to get loaded, and he understood all too well. Max felt something let go inside of her, suddenly wanted nothing more than to stand up, run to her daddy's arms and cry against his chest, feel his arms strong around her, his hand stroke her hair as he murmured that everything would be okay. He'd always been her rock, the one she'd ran to as a child when she'd gotten hurt or scared and it came crashing down on her like a cold wave just how much she missed that. Max opened her mouth to speak when a terrific crash came from the stairwell and both Jensens reacted instantly.

Gunner pulled a knife from his belt, not the machete-like Bowie he'd carried before, but a nasty little pig sticker all the same. Max, stepping instantly into shooter's stance, yanked her handgun from her thigh holster and waited.

A string of curses, mingled Spanish and English, reached their ears and, with a sharp exhalation and a wry glance at each other, the Jensens relaxed, replacing their weapons. Max smiled at her new toy, a matte black .45 Kimber with an 'MM' for Mad Max engraved at the bottom of the hot pink grips before she holstered it. It was a birthday gift from the Family and Max loved it.

Galgo, still swearing heartily, emerged from the stairwell and stopped, swaying slightly when he saw Gunner and Max standing there.

"Aww, Mr. Gunner and Mad Max. I tell you, I could be a weatherman. This puta can always tell when it's going to rain." Indifferently, he thumped his leaden left leg and Max winced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her dad looking at her again, but the moment was gone and Max turned away.