Chapter 46 – Photo Jump - Friday 18th 8:30 pm

Max, having reached the car, sped through the streets of Arcadia Bay disregarding the occasion car horn and better judgement in effort to reach her destination as quickly as possible. At the same time, Jefferson stepped off the DJ stand after announcing the contest winner, frustrated by inability to take the blonde due to the level of attention it would have drawn. Dismissing the complication as a momentary setback as he exited the building, confident that he would take her eventually, the professor checked his phone to see that he had received three texts from Prescott.

Prescott: Bitch got the jump on me! How the hell did she get loose?

Prescott: She took off through the woods; I got her cornered in the junkyard.

Prescott: Get your ass out here!

The revelation of their captive's escape stopped the professor in his tracks with disbelief before a state of panic began to set in. Frozen in place, Jefferson's mind raced through the potential implications of the brunette escape. Struggling to process the turn of events, in the subsequent moments, his state of mind transitioned from that of dismay, to one of rage. With his phone in one hand, Jefferson clenched his fists while his anger seethed before unlocking his phone to send off a response. Caught off guard by the news, the professor's mind was more fixated on that the brunette escaped, rather than the how of the matter. In accordance with his inflated ego, the notion that Prescott had somehow fumbled the situation proved to more than sufficiently believable as it played into the notion that he was the superior man.

Working out the details of the ambush during the drive, Max decided to park Prescott's car in clear view of the entrance to American Rust, as to make it clearly visible when Jefferson arrived. The idea being that the sight of the vehicle could potentially give her pursuer the level of confidence needed to enter the junkyard itself should his own be lacking. Venturing further into the junkyard, the hipster's felt a surge of anxiety after the phone vibrated, serving as an indication that Jefferson had replied and suggest that Prescott, and to quote, "not fuck this up."

Wowser, what a douche, Max thought. You're the one who tied my restraints... it's your fault to.

Afforded a few minutes prior to Jefferson's arrival, Max worked out the logistics of the plan in anticipation of any potential complications. While tracing the anticipated steps through the area, the sight of two headlights appeared over the horizon on approach to American Rust. Realizing the moment of confrontation was at hand, the hipster quickly scrambled to evade the lights before taking cover behind a large piece of scrap to await the arrival of her nemesis.

Let's do this fucker, Max thought, summoning every bit of resolve she could muster.

Slowing pulling past the interior gate of the junkyard, the professor's black sedan came to rest alongside of Prescott's vehicle. Leaving the headlights on as he exited the car, Jefferson began to venture forward, casting a large shadow in the light over the junkyard. Tracking the man's movements, the hipster's breathing became more intensive as her anxiety level jumped with each subsequent step by the professor. Advancing toward the center of the yard, the man's pace slowed, as he scanned the shadows in every direction for any sign of disturbance. Nearly shaking from the anticipation, Max toppled over a pile of debris as a means of luring the professor in the direction she desired, before retreating to the next designated hiding spot. Taking the bait, Jefferson's focus completely diverted, he quickly dashed toward the source of the noise. With her target in position, Max stepped out into the open to confront Jefferson face to face.

"Hi Mr. Jefferson," Max said as coyly as she could.

"Max!" he exclaimed in response, surprised by the sudden appearance. Scrambling to regain his composure, he turned in the direction of the noise. "Decided to give… What the hell is that? You turn to the dark side?"

"Oh no," Max replied dismissively. "I want to see the look in your eyes the moment you realize you've been beaten."

Unable to contain himself over the brazenness of the hipster's notion, the professor burst out laughing before finally replying. "How do you figure that, Max?"

Ignoring the question, Max continued, her voicing shifting from chiding to bone chilling, "It's over Jefferson... you're finished."

Jefferson, clearly no longer amused by the situation, drew his gun before replying, "Alright, enough of this shit, put this on and walk over to my trunk." In the midst of barking his orders, he casually tossed a zip tie meant for Max to fashion around her wrists, while keeping his gun trained in her direction.

Again, ignoring his words, Max continued on, "You're going to pay for everything you've done; to Rachel… to Chloe… to Kate… and to every woman in those binders, everyone that you hurt."

With the rage simmering inside Max clearly visible in her eyes, Jefferson couldn't help but feel a sense of intimidation. Nevertheless, he wasn't about to show that to the girl standing before him.

"Yeah…I don't think so," Jefferson replied trying to maintain his smug demeanor. "I'm good with how things are."

Forgoing a response, Max simply flashed a sadistic grin at the man in front of her before reaching out with all of her strength to pause the forward trajectory of time at that moment. Fortunately, in accordance with the plan, the professor hadn't moved from the designated position next to the abandoned boat as the plan wouldn't be nearly as satisfying without the proceeding exchange. Seizing the opportunity, the hipster raced forth before summoning all of her strength to dislodge one of the support beams keeping the boat elevated. Stepping back, with the boat still hung in midair, Max released her grip on time.

With time returning to its accustomed pace, the professor's expression shifted from confusion over the apparent disappearance of the hipster, to one of abject fear as the downward trajectory of the old fishing boat became evident. Relegated to the role of spectator, Max enjoyed the demonstration of gravity subject on her adversary as the expression on Jefferson's face proved to be even more satisfying than she could have ever imagined. For It was in that moment that the man realized that he had in fact been defeated.

Never one to pass up a good photo op, Max paused time again as she reached for her Polaroid camera she had collected from her dorm room. In fact, she could think of no better way to commemorate this moment than to honor the number one rule of the man she once held with such admiration.

Always take the shot.

Looking for the perfect shot, the hipster slowly rewound back looking for the perfect shot. Finally finding the exact moment in which the professor realized the boat was collapsing on top of him, his eyes widened and mouth dropped opened reflecting the man's state shock. Having captured the look on his face in that moment perfectly, Max proclaimed that the photo was definitely worthy of being included in the photo wall. Setting the image aside for safe keeping, she returned her attention to the scene before her. Filled with a sense of euphoria over the idea the ordeal was finally over, the hipster decided to savor the moment after all she had been through to that point. Rather than completely releasing her grip on time and let the moment pass, the hipster would watch through the impact of the crash before rewinding back to witness the sequence repeatedly. While the notion that the behavior was sadistic had occurred to her, she'd be damned if she wasn't going to savior this moment of triumph. During which, taking particular pleasure in two moments; the initial realization of what was happening, and the initial moment of agony after the boat had landed on him. After deciding the sequence had been fully committed to memory in every detail, the hipster finally released her grip on time.

When Max walking through the anticipated sequence for the ambush, one aspect of uncertainty involved how the boats trajectory would impact Jefferson. After all, math wasn't exactly her strongest subject. The boat hadn't killed him; rather it had crushed his legs, in a manner akin to the inverse of the house crushing the Wicked Witch of the East. The side of the boat had come down above the knees likely crushing everything beneath it. Inflicting further damage was a thin bar of steel that had broken off and pierced his upper left thigh directly below the waist effectively pinning the man in place between the boat and the ground. As Jefferson lay before her, screaming in agony for help, Max realized she had one final choice to make.

"AHHHHH! Max... you gotta help me,"" the helpless man pleaded in desperation. ""Max... you can't leave me like this... Max!""

With Jefferson's plea's falling on deaf ears for the moment, Max could either call for an ambulance, thereby giving the man a chance at survival or… walk away, and leave him to his fate.

With the fate of her nemesis in her hands, weighting her options, the hipster was plagued with conflict over the choice. In her mind, Jefferson deserved a painful, agonizing death for all of the pain he inflicted on his victims, but was that a matter for Max to decide? The hatred for the man within her burned more intensely than anything she had ever experienced previously. Throughout his reign, the professor had left a staggeringly amount of victims in his wake, in addition to killing Warren right in front of her, and being indirectly responsible for Chloe and Rachel's deaths. Abandoning Jefferson in the junkyard felt like justice to the hipster, the kind of justice that Chloe would want, and everything she had done up to this point had been for her. Also warranting consideration, in the event the professor survived, he would have to go through the American Justice systems. From what Max could tell, there didn't appear to be a strong case against him, this created the possibility that a proficient legal defense would be able to negotiate a reduced sentence, if not a dismissal of the charges all together. In that event, he would be a free man, and everything she had sacrificed to that point would have been in vain.

Jefferson deserved to be left here to die alone, but at what cost to Max? From the beginning she had been willing to sacrifice anything, but would leaving him to die come at the expense of what remained of her humanity?

Max took a moment to consider her choice; would she risk the possibility of Jefferson escaping justice or would she risk what remained of her humanity? In the end, what would she choose; Call for help, or walk away?

For call for help, continue to ch 47, for walk away, skip to ch 49

Author Notes: Alright, here we are, the second reader choice. So what will Max do? Call for help? Or leave Jefferson to his fate? Ideally, you are at least somewhat conflicted on the answer. Let me know. Comment below. Also, please share your thoughts on the confrontation. Was it tense? Satisfying?