Hey everybody. I've got a quick note for you all about that last chapter. Don't think that Chani's going to do anything; I was just putting in some character developements so ya'll could get to know the bad guys. Sorry if there were any missunderstandings. I'm really proud of this chapter so I hope there will be a lot of reviews on it. take care, everyone, and enjoy.
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On with the story!
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Three hundred fifty two... PING! Three hundred fifty three... PING! Three hundred fifty four... Tired and growing increasingly annoyed as he pulled on the gear only to watch it pop back into place, Max suddenly snatched up the ever unfinished piece of gadgetry and threw it violently across the room. Whatever it would have been smashed loudly against the wall and springs, sprockets, and other small nuts and bolts exploded in every direction. Heaving loudly, he let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a dry sob, and he stormed out of the lab, blinking furiously to keep from breaking down and outright crying. Josh would never act like this, he thought. But he didn't feel like leaving Max-mode. Not until he could do something to get control of himself. Maybe work out in the rec room.
Ten days now. Ten damn, more stressful than he could image, days. Laura had called a few times, and he'd had to do a number of back-bending magic acts to avoid her at first, with his father's help of course. But the search had gone nowhere so everyone was finally notified and, routine procedure for any normal citizen, posters were put up, asking the inhabitants of Del Oro Bay to keep an eye out for missing person: Roberto Martinez, technician of Extreme Sports company N-Tek. Eighteen year old male, black hair, brown eyes, five foot seven, one hundred fifty pounds... there was a picture too. Max hated to look at it. It made his stomach knot up and his chest constrict. He felt guilty for letting something happen so easily. He felt hate toward whoever had done this. He felt helpless at not knowing what he could do. But, most of all, he felt worry and concern because he had no idea what was happening to his friend.
Max was still striding powerfully down the hall, toward his dad's office, when he suddenly felt weak and slowed before halting to lean heavily on the wall. He changed his mind. He didn't want to be Max right now. Max Steel was being ill tempered and unpredictable. Max Steel was too emotional right now and would probably end up doing something irresponsible. He poked at his wrist and turned into Josh McGrath, still leaning against the wall and feeling defeated. A drive, he thought. Maybe a drive would help. He turned the other direction and moved sluggishly toward the elevators to ground floor.
Once he was in his car, he pulled away and simply drove wherever his steering wheel took him. He concentrated on the feel of the wind, on his face and whipping his hair around. He took deep breaths and stretched his back out, and some time later, he wasn't even sure how long, he ended up outside of Laura's apartment building. He sat there, wondering how he'd gotten there, and a few moments later, Laura came out and walked over to his car.
"I saw you out my window." She said softly. There was concern in her eyes as she looked sadly down at him. "You want to come in?"
Josh looked at her, but couldn't answer so he shook his head as he turned his eyes back to the steering wheel.
"You want to go somewhere?"
Josh sighed. "Could we walk a bit?" He asked, getting out of the car. Laura nodded and took his hand firmly in her own as they made their way down the sidewalk at a grueling and slow pace. Neither said anything for a while. Josh was thankful that he had Laura. What if it had been her? What if it had been his dad? Or Rachel? Josh gripped Laura's hand tightly as a lump formed from his chest and swelled into his throat. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to look at Laura, searching her face. He felt helpless, and he hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable. His heart hurt. He felt lost. He missed his friend.
"Josh..." Brow creased with worry, Laura reached a hand up and touched his chest. It was then Josh realized his cheeks were wet with tears.
"I don't know what to do." He choked with a broken voice. Laura wrapped her arms around him and held him as he began to cry into her shoulder, muffling his noisy sobs as he clutched her to him as though for dear life. Her own eyes were moistening as she heard him cry again, "I don't know what to do!"
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Franklin Finer looked at the meager file on his desk. There was no information on Max Steel anywhere. He existed though; Franklin had witnessed him first hand, and he knew that Dr. Roberto Martinez was connected to him somehow.
It was when Franklin had worked for Dread. He was introduced to this Max Steel doing a job for the old man. He was one of the lowest ranking in his team and had been left with the simple task of guarding the door of a large warehouse full of crates of all sizes filled with equipment. Given his job description, no one bothered to inform Franklin of their contents. Needless to say, Franklin got tired of the job in its entirety and began to devise a way to get out of it. It was something he did habitually. He liked to call them experiments. Just things and hobbies he took up to explore. Mostly they involved goals that rendered him sometimes money and sometimes power...or both if he was lucky. If the projects didn't work out, he casually set them down to try again some other time or simply turn toward another path. Being the patient man he was, his experiments sometimes involved nothing but lots of book studying, and sometimes the experiments called for simple job applications to explore the world of learning, taking orders and, most importantly, gaining. One could gain most anything. And Franklin Finer was slowly gaining assets of his own. Not to mention he managed to study his opponents and their behavior. Everything ended up working to his benefit.
He'd gone behind one of the giant crates to lazily smoke a cigarette when he'd heard a scraping noise followed by a soft thud. Ever cautious and always practicing suspicion, not to mention never the one to jump into a scene - if that were the case - Franklin hastily threw down the unlit smoke and pressed up against the crate. Creeping his way toward the edge, he peeked around the corner in time to see the notorious agent that Dread was always talking about take out one of Franklin's team. The guy didn't kill him. Just knocked him out. How endearing.
Curious, Franklin continued to watch as the agent scouted the area, waiting for someone else to jump out and attack as most every one of Dreads idiots had a habit of doing. Franklin knew better, though. He stayed hidden as, sure enough, about a half a dozen or so of the fools from his team came storming in upon hearing the warning of a wandering goon just before he, too, was put down for a nap. This agent was good. What happened next, though, is what sparked Franklin's interest.
The men all had guns. The agent ducked behind a smaller crate as they all opened fire on him. He disappeared for only a moment, and when he leapt back out, there was a strange yellow glow around his body, as though his very skin was sparked with electricity. He jumped an astonishing twelve feet into the air and landed behind two of the men, easily taking them out by knocking their heads together. Then he flipped and performed a number of acrobatic maneuvers down the middle of the crowd, causing two more men, the imbeciles, to shoot each other down. He grabbed another's gun and shoved the barrel toward the ground, delivering a kick to the man's head. Still holding the gun, the Superman used the butt end to smash it into the face of a guy who was attempting to rush him. Franklin grinned. He was absolutely amazing. Just remarkable. What was his name? Steel? Eight more seconds found the rest of the crew lying on the floor. Steel looked around himself with a satisfactory nod. Then he put a finger to his ear.
"Max Steel does it again. These guys are ready for you, Raech. Steel out." Then he began knit-picking his way over the bodies. "Yah, I hear you, Berto. How do my vitals look?" A moment later, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. No more turbo mode." He touched one of his wrists, and the yellow glow disappeared. Was that the source of his power? The look on his face looked somewhat distanced, and Franklin figured the guy on the other end was saying something. Sure enough, Steel responded in a thick voice, "Yes Madre. Yeesh, Berto. You're worse than Rachel sometimes, you know that?" A second later he laughed. "Roberto Martinez, you kiss your computer with that mouth?" He proceeded to open one of the crates to see what was inside.
Franklin, in the meantime, stored the name into the back of his mind for later use. No way he was going to try and take on THE Max Steel. Maybe that Martinez fellow knew how Steel was getting that extra power he displayed. Plus... Steel's vital signs? The guy was obviously monitoring the agent's use of energy and probably that glow too. Perhaps the glow was what caused the extra feets of strength. Maybe Steel was wearing some kind of sensors or something that relayed information back to a computar... a computar attended by the Martinez guy?
Franklin paid no more attention to anything Steel was doing. He began to concentrate on how to get a hold of that technology, if that's what it was. But Franklin was almost positive that it had to be. Did Dread know anything about it, marking the guy his archenemy and all? If he did, Franklin decided, he was not the guy to see. Besides... Franklin grinned. Here was another experiment in the making. He stayed hidden until he found a chance to make an escape.
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"Hey boss?" Ander startled Franklin awake. He realized, blinking his eyes, that his reminiscing had caused him to dose off. He looked at Ander who was standing over him with a questioning look. Chani must have gone back to his apartment for a bit. That was fine. Ander was better company anyway, more like Franklin himself. And he had a nicer looking visage than Chani too... less creepy. "Sorry, Frank. I was just wondering if you wanted to get the fire going soon. It's near one o'clock, and Stan will be coming around any minute now."
Franklin stretched in his swivel chair and yawned. "Yah, wait till he gets here. That pyromaniac won't want to miss a minute of it, I'm sure." Getting up, he went to the hall and opened the door to the prisoner's room. Ander had followed him but leaned against the doorframe in a bored manner as Franklin stood next to the gurney and put his face right up to Martinez's. "Time to wake up, amigo. It's a beautiful day, eh doctor?" When Martinez slowly opened his eyes and then squinted in an attempt to focus, Franklin smiled down at him. "That myopia's a bitch isn't it? So what's going on?"
With dry, cracked lips, Martinez responded in a voice that was no more than a whisper, raw and husky from disuse. "Usted tiene aliento malo."
Franklin creased his brow and frowned, blinking a moment in confusion. Then he straightened and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you said, but I guess bringing in a translator wouldn't help because I'm pretty sure you just insulted me and *didn't* just give me a vital piece of information." Martinez only looked at him steadily. "Anyway, I hope you're ready for another fun day of trying to break you. I've got so many different things lined up. I'm hoping that most of it will not have to be taken out because it's always such a mess to clean up later. Wouldn't you rather make this all really simple?" He raised his eyebrows at Martinez hopefully then sighed when he found he was going to be answered by silence YET again. Always like he was talking to a wall. A wall that, on rare occasion, would give a short retort in Spanish just to spite him. But Franklin Finer didn't mind too much. The kid had to give in at some point.
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On with the story!
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Three hundred fifty two... PING! Three hundred fifty three... PING! Three hundred fifty four... Tired and growing increasingly annoyed as he pulled on the gear only to watch it pop back into place, Max suddenly snatched up the ever unfinished piece of gadgetry and threw it violently across the room. Whatever it would have been smashed loudly against the wall and springs, sprockets, and other small nuts and bolts exploded in every direction. Heaving loudly, he let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a dry sob, and he stormed out of the lab, blinking furiously to keep from breaking down and outright crying. Josh would never act like this, he thought. But he didn't feel like leaving Max-mode. Not until he could do something to get control of himself. Maybe work out in the rec room.
Ten days now. Ten damn, more stressful than he could image, days. Laura had called a few times, and he'd had to do a number of back-bending magic acts to avoid her at first, with his father's help of course. But the search had gone nowhere so everyone was finally notified and, routine procedure for any normal citizen, posters were put up, asking the inhabitants of Del Oro Bay to keep an eye out for missing person: Roberto Martinez, technician of Extreme Sports company N-Tek. Eighteen year old male, black hair, brown eyes, five foot seven, one hundred fifty pounds... there was a picture too. Max hated to look at it. It made his stomach knot up and his chest constrict. He felt guilty for letting something happen so easily. He felt hate toward whoever had done this. He felt helpless at not knowing what he could do. But, most of all, he felt worry and concern because he had no idea what was happening to his friend.
Max was still striding powerfully down the hall, toward his dad's office, when he suddenly felt weak and slowed before halting to lean heavily on the wall. He changed his mind. He didn't want to be Max right now. Max Steel was being ill tempered and unpredictable. Max Steel was too emotional right now and would probably end up doing something irresponsible. He poked at his wrist and turned into Josh McGrath, still leaning against the wall and feeling defeated. A drive, he thought. Maybe a drive would help. He turned the other direction and moved sluggishly toward the elevators to ground floor.
Once he was in his car, he pulled away and simply drove wherever his steering wheel took him. He concentrated on the feel of the wind, on his face and whipping his hair around. He took deep breaths and stretched his back out, and some time later, he wasn't even sure how long, he ended up outside of Laura's apartment building. He sat there, wondering how he'd gotten there, and a few moments later, Laura came out and walked over to his car.
"I saw you out my window." She said softly. There was concern in her eyes as she looked sadly down at him. "You want to come in?"
Josh looked at her, but couldn't answer so he shook his head as he turned his eyes back to the steering wheel.
"You want to go somewhere?"
Josh sighed. "Could we walk a bit?" He asked, getting out of the car. Laura nodded and took his hand firmly in her own as they made their way down the sidewalk at a grueling and slow pace. Neither said anything for a while. Josh was thankful that he had Laura. What if it had been her? What if it had been his dad? Or Rachel? Josh gripped Laura's hand tightly as a lump formed from his chest and swelled into his throat. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to look at Laura, searching her face. He felt helpless, and he hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable. His heart hurt. He felt lost. He missed his friend.
"Josh..." Brow creased with worry, Laura reached a hand up and touched his chest. It was then Josh realized his cheeks were wet with tears.
"I don't know what to do." He choked with a broken voice. Laura wrapped her arms around him and held him as he began to cry into her shoulder, muffling his noisy sobs as he clutched her to him as though for dear life. Her own eyes were moistening as she heard him cry again, "I don't know what to do!"
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Franklin Finer looked at the meager file on his desk. There was no information on Max Steel anywhere. He existed though; Franklin had witnessed him first hand, and he knew that Dr. Roberto Martinez was connected to him somehow.
It was when Franklin had worked for Dread. He was introduced to this Max Steel doing a job for the old man. He was one of the lowest ranking in his team and had been left with the simple task of guarding the door of a large warehouse full of crates of all sizes filled with equipment. Given his job description, no one bothered to inform Franklin of their contents. Needless to say, Franklin got tired of the job in its entirety and began to devise a way to get out of it. It was something he did habitually. He liked to call them experiments. Just things and hobbies he took up to explore. Mostly they involved goals that rendered him sometimes money and sometimes power...or both if he was lucky. If the projects didn't work out, he casually set them down to try again some other time or simply turn toward another path. Being the patient man he was, his experiments sometimes involved nothing but lots of book studying, and sometimes the experiments called for simple job applications to explore the world of learning, taking orders and, most importantly, gaining. One could gain most anything. And Franklin Finer was slowly gaining assets of his own. Not to mention he managed to study his opponents and their behavior. Everything ended up working to his benefit.
He'd gone behind one of the giant crates to lazily smoke a cigarette when he'd heard a scraping noise followed by a soft thud. Ever cautious and always practicing suspicion, not to mention never the one to jump into a scene - if that were the case - Franklin hastily threw down the unlit smoke and pressed up against the crate. Creeping his way toward the edge, he peeked around the corner in time to see the notorious agent that Dread was always talking about take out one of Franklin's team. The guy didn't kill him. Just knocked him out. How endearing.
Curious, Franklin continued to watch as the agent scouted the area, waiting for someone else to jump out and attack as most every one of Dreads idiots had a habit of doing. Franklin knew better, though. He stayed hidden as, sure enough, about a half a dozen or so of the fools from his team came storming in upon hearing the warning of a wandering goon just before he, too, was put down for a nap. This agent was good. What happened next, though, is what sparked Franklin's interest.
The men all had guns. The agent ducked behind a smaller crate as they all opened fire on him. He disappeared for only a moment, and when he leapt back out, there was a strange yellow glow around his body, as though his very skin was sparked with electricity. He jumped an astonishing twelve feet into the air and landed behind two of the men, easily taking them out by knocking their heads together. Then he flipped and performed a number of acrobatic maneuvers down the middle of the crowd, causing two more men, the imbeciles, to shoot each other down. He grabbed another's gun and shoved the barrel toward the ground, delivering a kick to the man's head. Still holding the gun, the Superman used the butt end to smash it into the face of a guy who was attempting to rush him. Franklin grinned. He was absolutely amazing. Just remarkable. What was his name? Steel? Eight more seconds found the rest of the crew lying on the floor. Steel looked around himself with a satisfactory nod. Then he put a finger to his ear.
"Max Steel does it again. These guys are ready for you, Raech. Steel out." Then he began knit-picking his way over the bodies. "Yah, I hear you, Berto. How do my vitals look?" A moment later, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. No more turbo mode." He touched one of his wrists, and the yellow glow disappeared. Was that the source of his power? The look on his face looked somewhat distanced, and Franklin figured the guy on the other end was saying something. Sure enough, Steel responded in a thick voice, "Yes Madre. Yeesh, Berto. You're worse than Rachel sometimes, you know that?" A second later he laughed. "Roberto Martinez, you kiss your computer with that mouth?" He proceeded to open one of the crates to see what was inside.
Franklin, in the meantime, stored the name into the back of his mind for later use. No way he was going to try and take on THE Max Steel. Maybe that Martinez fellow knew how Steel was getting that extra power he displayed. Plus... Steel's vital signs? The guy was obviously monitoring the agent's use of energy and probably that glow too. Perhaps the glow was what caused the extra feets of strength. Maybe Steel was wearing some kind of sensors or something that relayed information back to a computar... a computar attended by the Martinez guy?
Franklin paid no more attention to anything Steel was doing. He began to concentrate on how to get a hold of that technology, if that's what it was. But Franklin was almost positive that it had to be. Did Dread know anything about it, marking the guy his archenemy and all? If he did, Franklin decided, he was not the guy to see. Besides... Franklin grinned. Here was another experiment in the making. He stayed hidden until he found a chance to make an escape.
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"Hey boss?" Ander startled Franklin awake. He realized, blinking his eyes, that his reminiscing had caused him to dose off. He looked at Ander who was standing over him with a questioning look. Chani must have gone back to his apartment for a bit. That was fine. Ander was better company anyway, more like Franklin himself. And he had a nicer looking visage than Chani too... less creepy. "Sorry, Frank. I was just wondering if you wanted to get the fire going soon. It's near one o'clock, and Stan will be coming around any minute now."
Franklin stretched in his swivel chair and yawned. "Yah, wait till he gets here. That pyromaniac won't want to miss a minute of it, I'm sure." Getting up, he went to the hall and opened the door to the prisoner's room. Ander had followed him but leaned against the doorframe in a bored manner as Franklin stood next to the gurney and put his face right up to Martinez's. "Time to wake up, amigo. It's a beautiful day, eh doctor?" When Martinez slowly opened his eyes and then squinted in an attempt to focus, Franklin smiled down at him. "That myopia's a bitch isn't it? So what's going on?"
With dry, cracked lips, Martinez responded in a voice that was no more than a whisper, raw and husky from disuse. "Usted tiene aliento malo."
Franklin creased his brow and frowned, blinking a moment in confusion. Then he straightened and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you said, but I guess bringing in a translator wouldn't help because I'm pretty sure you just insulted me and *didn't* just give me a vital piece of information." Martinez only looked at him steadily. "Anyway, I hope you're ready for another fun day of trying to break you. I've got so many different things lined up. I'm hoping that most of it will not have to be taken out because it's always such a mess to clean up later. Wouldn't you rather make this all really simple?" He raised his eyebrows at Martinez hopefully then sighed when he found he was going to be answered by silence YET again. Always like he was talking to a wall. A wall that, on rare occasion, would give a short retort in Spanish just to spite him. But Franklin Finer didn't mind too much. The kid had to give in at some point.