Disclaimer: Max Steel, and associated characters, do not belong to me in any way, shape or form. There's a list of companies that this awesome show does belong to, but at this point I think they've changed hands so much, I'm not sure who it is. Anyway, I'm not on the list. Sad.
Author's Notes: So, like 6 years ago, I re-read the original Team Steel Maximum. And I was mortified. I was all like, so this girl drops out of the sky like a daisy with a parachute, and is like "Hi, I'm Josh McGrath's twin sister! Just call me Mary Sue!" And Xam had some sort of dysfunctional, rebellious, mind-changing problem. Over all, reading it reminded me of Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl. If you haven't seen that, it's basically six hours of puppies romping deliriously around on a miniature football field. It's a very good analogy for TSM. So, I started working on a re-write, back then. Then real life got in the way, and I forgot about it for... 6 years? ^_^ Then the notebook turned up during a cleaning mission (I mean that literally. I'm not a tidy person.) and I read what I'd come up with. And decided Xam was a moron, even though reading about him eating an entire jar of doctor's office suckers made me laugh. So then I set about figuring out how to bring this motley crew up to my standards. And lo and behold, I had a brain hurricane! Maxy and Xam have new, improved pasts and behaviors, and what I've got of this is looking really good so far. There will actually BE a plot, and other fun stuff! I'm excited, and I hope everyone else enjoys this little journey as well! Oh, one more thing: this chapter is set... in season 1, between the episodes Sharks and Sabres. The infamous "submarine kiss" episode, and the episodes when Nez sent Smiley spinning off into space.
Team Steel Maximum: Recharged
Prologue
By:
Detonator Stera
The night was clear, the brilliance of the stars and serenity of the vast open sky dimmed by the hustle and bustle of the city below. The sight was little comfort to the group of people trapped on the roof of one of the tall buildings, surrounded by guards dressed in red and black armor. Menacing black laser rifles gave even the braver of the prisoners second thoughts about heroics. The base of the building was surrounded by police cars, the officers were held at bay by more henchmen. A helicopter had been circling the roof, but it had been downed by the leader of the group, and a replacement had yet to arrive.
"Please! We've already said we'll cooperate! Just let us go!" a woman, her nerves frayed by desperation, pleaded with the blond man standing a few yards away from the group.
"Take whatever you want!" added another woman frantically. The man ignored them both, gazing to the west as if searching for something in the dark skyline.
"What do you want with us, anyway?" one of the men demanded angrily. At that, the man chuckled, then turned to face the group with a faint mechanical whirr. The lights of the city reflected off the polished metal that composed his face. One of the men whimpered.
"I'm just extending an invitation to a friend. You're the invitation," he explained in a threatening rasp, eyes flashing a hell-fire red, bringing the laser in his arm up to bear at the man who'd spoken. One of the women screamed, and the entire group cringed. Psycho chuckled to himself, then glanced west, considered the timing. He gestured to one of his men.
"If anyone tries any heroics, deal with it," he ordered, then headed for the stairwell.
Hawk cut through the night sky with barely a ripple, the rush of the engine the only indication of the stealth-cloaked jet.
"Target's in sight. ETA: five minutes," Berto Martinez reported from base, fingers dancing over keys, eyes flickering between a dozen different monitors. Inside the jet, Max shifted to study the building.
"Indications are Psycho has taken hostages, stolen equipment from the lab, and has planted a bomb in the basement of the building," the blond agent commented from her place with the rescue team.
"Just some of Smiley's usual fun and games," Max noted in return. Rachel hmm-ed agreement.
"Your task, Mr. Steel, will be to deactivate the bomb, with Berto's help. Detain Psycho, if possible, as well. I'll secure the hostages," she ordered briskly.
"Same old, same old, Rache," the super-agent chuckled. Rachel was quiet a moment.
"Be careful, Max. Psycho is unpredictable," she cautioned. Max nodded sagely.
"You got it, Green-Eyes. Now let's earn our paychecks," he grinned. Rachel scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes.
"Max; quickest, non-detectable way into the building is through the sewer system at the back of the building. We're near the entrance now," the Hispanic agent piped.
"Joy," Max muttered under his breath, unhooking his safety harness. He flashed a grin at Rachel, activated stealth mode, then flipped open Hawk's cockpit, and slipped out like wraith, landing with a light thud on the stained concrete. He approached the bars meant to deter entry into the tunnels, and with a quick flex of nano-tech enhanced muscles, bent the bars. After sparing a final glance around for unwanted company, the super agent squeezed through the space, and headed down the long tunnel at a jog.
Less than five minutes later, Max had found a service entry into the building. As quietly as possible, he tore the door off, and slipped up into the darkened basement, keeping a cautious ear out for movement other than his own.
"Sensors indicate an unusual energy reading close by," Berto reported, studying the building specs. "Head straight, then take the first left," he continued.
"Let's hope it's either the bomb or Smiley," Max commented, keeping a wary eye out as he made his way down the hall.
"Had enough of motorized mummies, hermano?" the hispanic agent asked, amusement coloring his tone.
"I'll take those over Infinity Ice any day, bro," Max replied in a low tone, pressing up against the wall, and peeking cautiously around the corner. Not seeing anything, the super agent headed down the hall. A faint glow shimmered farther down.
"You should be right on top of it... about now," the younger man announced, as Max rounded a final corner, and found himself in a large room. Numerous large, tall containers lined the walls. They were covered in blinking lights.
"Those look like the lab's data storage units. A bomb going off in here would probably bring the building down, hard," Berto observed.
"No sign of Psycho, though. Yet," Max returned, beginning to search the room. He found the bomb a moment later, strapped to the front of one of the units. He crouched in front of it, studied the device.
"We got five minutes, bro. Start talking," he announced. In his quick and efficient way, the hispanic agent ran an analysis on the device, and talked his partner through disabling the explosive. Max had full confidence in his techie friend, but he still blew out a heavy sigh of relief when the timer went black, swiping a hand over his slightly sweaty brow.
"Nice job, bro. Now let's go meet up with-" the super agent commented, starting to rise. Stars exploded in his vision as a metal hand connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling. He was up fast, looking for the assailant.
"How nice of you to come, Steel," Psycho greeted, eyes flashing. Max touched his jaw gingerly, glad that the nano-tech also made it harder for his bones to be shattered.
"Smiley, was wondering when you'd join the party," he replied, a taunting edge coming into his voice. Psycho growled at the nickname, and lunged. Max nimbly flipped onto one of the storage units, out of reach. "Going turbo!" he announced, tapping his bio-link. A grin caught the corner of his mouth as the green-ish energy flooded his system, and he dove off his perch, rolled back to his feet, and shot a kick at the cyborg's face. Psycho responded by grabbing Max's ankle and swinging him into one of the machines. Getting quickly to his feet, the younger man ducked to avoid losing his head to a swipe of Psycho's metal hand, then swept his leg out, knocking his opponent to the ground. Psycho was up a second later, gesturing tauntingly at the super agent. A little too confidently, Max charged. A well-timed kick to the ribs had him sprawling on the floor. A sharp click registered in his ears, and he caught the gleam of silver, brighter than Psycho's arm, in the cyborg's hand. He rolled; not fast enough. The rip of cloth and flesh was thunderous to his enhanced hearing, and white-hot pain radiated up his arm. Max came up on one knee, Berto's panicked voice dim in his mind, a hand clamped over the wound made by the blade Psycho had thrown at him. The weapon had no grip; the force of the pitch had sent it through Max's arm and into the wall at his back. Blood stained the floor in splatters around the super agent.
"Damn it, Smiley, what the hell? Your over-grown flashlight run out of batteries?" the super agent demanded irritably. Psycho chuckled, then turned and jogged away. Max took a few deep breaths, then cautiously moved his hand to check the damage. The white gleam of bone and fresh spurt of blood did not improve his mood.
"That's a bad hit, Max," Berto observed. The older agent snorted humorlessly, casting his gaze about for something to staunch the bleeding. A discarded lab jacket was the best he could find. He decided not to ask what it had been doing there, and just be thankful it was handy.
"Understatement of the year, bro. I'll make sure to pay Smiley back for it," he ground out, tearing up the garment. With his teeth and free hand, he tied a quick field dressing and got to his feet.
"Max, Rachel and the rescue team have the hostages. The bomb's been diffused. You need medical attention, and fast Get out of there," Berto ordered, knowing exactly what his partner intended on doing.
"No worries, bro. Max Probes are already on it. Can't let Psycho get away," the brunette teen argued. Berto opened his mouth, then sighed. Max was as tenacious as a terrier when it came to Psycho. The hispanic agent instead called a medical team to standby, and after a moment of hesitation, updated Rachel.
"Max! Are you insane? Get out here before you drop from blood loss!" the blonde agent's voice was sharp in Max's head.
"Tattletale," he muttered, peering around a corner. "I'm fine, Green-eyes," he assured louder, frowning at the way the room seemed to spin slightly. The probes might have already been on it, but repairing extensive damage was taxing. His arm burned, from both the injury itself, and the rapid healing it was being subjected to. No, Max really wasn't in the mood to leave without giving Psycho a couple revenge shots.
He was in the stairwell, about midway up the building, when the explosion happened. The ground beneath him shook violently, and the super agent barely managed to grab the railing with his good hand to steady himself.
"Berto? I thought we got the bomb!" he yelled, wincing as chucks of plaster were dislodged from the wall by the quaking, one of them hitting him squarely in his wounded arm. The result flash of agony brought him to his knees.
"We did! Psycho must have had a secondary we weren't aware of," Berto replied, wincing in sympathy, fingers flying over the keys as he made a quick study of the building, trying to figure out the safest place to direct his partner so that Hawk could catch him before the structure finished collapsing. "Max, go up two more floors. There's a service entrance that leads outside. Hawk will meet you there," the Hispanic agent instructed. Gritting his teeth, Max complied, hauling himself up and hurrying up the stairs.
He was halfway up the second flight, when a violent rumble shook the building. And the stairs under his boots crumbled away. The super agent lunged for the railing, clasping it with his good hand. With a tortured scream of bent metal, it came loose from the concrete, and dropped the injured teen down the destroyed stairwell.
"MAX!" Berto yelled, coming up out of his seat in a panic. He watched, helpless, as his friend dropped down five flights of stairs to land with a bone rattling thud amid the broken rubble. Max let out a pained groan, and the bio-link screen faded to gray static.
"Berto! The building's coming down! Where's Max?" Rachel's voice was sharp, barely controlled over the speakers. The young scientist didn't answer for a moment, rapidly tapping keys to ascertain his partner's condition.
"The stairwell dropped out from under him, Rachel. He's back at the bottom. Vitals are, well, not what I'd like them to be, but not critical. Yet," he replied at length, already checking the building's schematics in anticipation of Rachel's next question. "You should be able to get to him from the northeast entrance, if it's not blocked by rubble," he added. Rachel acknowledged, snagged an agent off of hostage baby-sitting duty, and hurried around the building.
Plink. Plink. Plink. Something was dripping on his face. As he clawed his way back up to the unpleasant reality of consciousness, Max was aware of a steady drip of water, right over his left eye. His first thought was that if he was trapped in this position, he was going to scream before too long. Opening his eyes to the dim, vague light, he saw the broken water pipe, which had already spent most of it's load, and was the reason why he was completely soaked and laying in 2-inch deep water. Cold water. Max tried to push up, and discovered that he was indeed trapped under a slab of concrete. Fantastic. He gave screaming a thought, but Max Steel tended to exhaust all other options, into the ground, before resorting to such measures.
"About time you woke up," Berto's voice scolded over the bio-link, the younger man almost managing to hide the relief in his voice.
"Sorry, Ma. My alarm clock didn't go off," Max replied, grunting as he tried, experimentally, to shove the concrete slab off. It didn't budge. He signed irritably.
"Hang tight, hermano. Rachel and Grange should be at your location in a couple minutes," his partner assured. Any sane person in Max's condition would have accessed their injuries, and settled in for the wait. Patience, however, simply wasn't part of the Max Steel Way. Besides, he'd go insane from the water drip before they arrived. Max frowned a moment, then twisted his wrist, and used the underside of the stone chunk pinning him to push a button. Berto jumped in his seat when the stats on his monitors spiked, and the view screen in front of him exploded in green-yellow light.
"Going turbo!" Max announced, then gave the slab pinning him a mighty heave. This time, it moved. To the other side of the caved in room. The super agent used the momentum of the push to propel himself to his feet, then swayed as the room spun in a fashion he was, unfortunately, becoming rather used to.
"Max!" Berto snapped, more out of worry than anything else. "Your T-juice levels were way too low for that!" he scolded. Max shut off the turbo function, barely resisted going down on hands and knees.
"I'm fine, bro," he grumbled, looking around the space he'd landed in for possible escape routes. Any halls leading out were piled high with huge chunks of debris.
"Well, stay put now, and wait for back-up. Rachel's almost there," Berto ordered firmly. Max moved to one of the walls, tapping it experimentally.
"Which way is Rachel coming from?" he asked conversationally.
"You're facing it, hermano," Berto replied without thinking. He paused, remembering who he was dealing with. "Why?" he added warily.
"Unless she's got dynamite, they're not gonna get far. This room's blocked on all sides," Max observed. His amplified hearing could pick up the two agent's footsteps, nearly to his location. "Do me a favor, bro. Tell Rachel to stay back for a sec," he told the Hispanic agent.
"Max..." Berto warned, knowing the threat fell on deaf ears. With a sigh, he toggled Rachel's comm line open, relayed the message, and then linked her to Max without being asked.
"Max, whatever it is you're planning, don't you-" the blonde agent started to admonish, then ducked reflexively as the concrete wall 15 feet away exploded outward. She and Grange looked over to see Max standing in the hole he'd created, powering down his turbo mode. In short order, the turbo agent's eyes rolled up white in his skull, and he collapsed in a heap.
"Idiot kid," Grange muttered, as Rachel bolted forward. She dropped to one knee beside her downed partner, turning his bio-link so she could see the read out, and grimaced.
"Let's retreat before the rest of the building comes down on us. I'll flog him when he's awake," Rachel decided, as Grange hauled Max's limp form into a fireman's carry.
Max awoke, hours later, in the med-bay, feeling decidedly better than the last time he'd been conscious. He thanked the max probes and the shot of T-Juice he'd no doubt gotten upon arrival for that. He laid still a moment longer, taking stock. His arm was down to a dull, easily ignored throb, and all the bumps and bruises from battling Psycho were gone.
"Feeling better, are we, Mr. Steel?" Rachel's dry tone brought the super agent out of his reverie, and he looked up to see the blonde standing in the doorway, hand on hip in that "disapproving senior agent" pose he found so oddly enticing.
"She asked me to tell her when you woke up," Berto's voice came over the bio-link.
"And you couldn't have warned me?" Max muttered.
"Nope," the younger agent replied cheerfully. Rachel cleared her throat to get Max's attention, by this time well-used to the quirks of having a partner who "heard voices in his head," so to speak. The super agent looked back at her, and pushed up to a sitting position.
"There was no sign of Psycho in the rubble, so it's safe to assume he escaped, along with the equipment he'd procured. But as there weren't any casualties, we're still calling the mission a partial success," she explained, crossing the room.
"Didn't stop Smiley, didn't kill the bomb... yeah, this was a real good one for me," Max sighed, absently reaching up to touch the bandage on his arm.
"You got the one that would have gone off while the hostages were still on the roof, so cut the pity party, hermano," Berto interjected.
"Be that as it may, Mr. Steel, I'm more concerned by your reckless actions after the first bomb was disabled," Rachel replied, knowing that Berto was good for the pats on the head, so to speak. Her job, as senior agent, was to discipline. When Max scowled, opened his mouth to protest, she pressed on. "Chasing a known, dangerous, terrorist operative, alone, with no back-up, severely injured..." she wound up, saw the combative look in her partner's eyes. An image flashed in her mind. In the ruined building, Max lying, so still, she'd had a heart beat to fear the worst. The bloodied bandage around his arm, the bruise forming on his cheek, possibly from Psycho, possibly from the rough landing. The anger she'd coated thickly over the fear evaporated, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Brought a hand up, unthinking, to touch his cheek.
"Max, this fixation you have with Psycho is dangerous. It blinds you. It is going to get you killed," she finished quietly, holding his gaze. Max was silent. Berto had a moment to wonder if he shouldn't turn off the bio-link for a few minutes. Then Max let out a heavy sigh, looking away, knowing she was right, but loathe to admit it. Rachel slowly lowered her hand, rested both in her lap for a moment. The air was heavy with things unsaid, but neither of them could find the words. At length, Rachel got to her feet.
"I need to finish the mission reports," she explained, turning for the door. Max still had no words, and so just nodded, watching her go out the door.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Soooo... this was supposed to be a little, couple paragraph prologue, maybe a page. Team Steel had other ideas. And I'm crawling at what feels like a snail's pace, because the stuff that happens later, once the other kids are in the mix, is what's really clear in my head, not the "boring starter stuff," as Xam puts it. However, I did want this to flow better, and that involves taking a little longer to get people in. The next part's already on the fryer, so hopefully it'll be done soon! Catch ya later!
-Det