*Hi everyone! I took my time so this chapter wouldn't be so short. I thought you might appreciate that*

*On with the story...*

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Rachel sat in a swivel chair, her shoulders slumped and her eyes gazing sadly at the large monitor. She'd seen the worry in Laura's face and heard Josh's painful cries before she hurriedly shut off the link, and now she sat there dejectedly, watching the black screen as it stared ominously right back at her miserable expression. She was sitting in Berto's seat; this was his usual station. It hurt to see it so empty, so Rachel had spent the last couple of days, occupying his chair and willing some sort of answer to make itself known.
The first thing they had done, she and Max, was to assume John Dread or one of his associates. It was somewhere to start... it was the only place they could think of to start.

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"What is he doing, Leon?" Rachel sipped hesitantly at her hot coffee, anger still tracing through her blood but beginning to thin out into consternation and... was it anxiety? Of course it was, she scolded herself; what else should she feel but worry? But she had to stay composed. For Berto's sake. Breathing in the stale smell of the living room she was in, she gazed over at the owner of the poorly furnished room. Her contact. She studied Leon, hoping from her very soul that he would have something, anything, some information that would give a clue to Berto's whereabouts.

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid. Mostly just scheming, I guess. You know my place, Rachel; I only know what my employer tells me. He only knows what Dread tells him." Leon could tell, though, that Rachel was starting to look haggard. Something was wrong, and she was stressed. "Why? What's going on?"

"One of our agents, our top scientist, is missing, and we're just assuming, for now, that Dread is behind it."

"And why would Dread abduct this certain agent, besides the fact that he or she is associated with N-Tek's technology?" There was no skepticism in Leon's voice, but Rachel thought she could hear uncertainty.

"Because this particular agent also happens to know, more than anyone, about Max Steel and what makes him tick. This particular agent would be a valuable asset to Dread." This made Leon widen his eyes in understanding and breath out an awed 'oh.'

"I'm pulling things out of the air, here, Leon. If there's anything you could give me... anything at all..." Leon could hear the plea in her voice. Obviously Rachel knew this agent on a personal level and was truly concerned for his or her well-being. He bit his lip, looking down at the coffee table in front of him with a creased forehead. Rachel watched him for a moment, willing herself to not grow impatient.

"Well..." Leon looked back up at her with a thoughtful frown. "The only thing I can think of is: there was a shipping deal about a month ago, and your man, Steel, busted it. One of the hired guys got away, but he never reported back to Dread, and when they looked him up, he was gone. They mostly think he got scared and probably ran off to Tahiti or something. But they've sent someone out to find him. I don't remember his name, he hadn't been with Dread very long, but one of the guys you put away might remember him. Try asking Rich Marlette. He's royally pissed at Steel and might've tipped the guy off, maybe gave some information he caught or something."

"But then that would mean that Marlette knows where to find this guy. You said he was missing." Rachel said with an annoyed tinge to her voice.

Leon shrugged and put his hands in the air, exasperated. "I don't know! Like you, I'm making random theories, here. How do you know whoever swiped your agent is after Steel, anyway? If he's such a smart scientist and all, how can you be so sure they didn't just nab him up because they need a guy of that quality?"

Rachel stood up abruptly, trembling with rage. "You think I didn't consider that option?! Dammit, Leon, I'm trying to find a lead I can get a grasp on! I can't just randomly pull up any terrorist or organized crime leader and ask them if they happen to be hording an associate of ours!" Her voice was breaking, and Leon could see that her breathing was heavy. "We just want our guy back."

"You just want your friend back." Leon said softly. There was a pause, and then Rachel suddenly heaved as though she were about to throw up. "Rachel..." Her eyes were wide, and she looked as though she had suddenly been slapped in the face. Slowly, she straightened, and there was a brief struggle as she fought to regain her equability. Leon stood and moved to reach out and touch her arm, but she turned away and indignantly dragged her feet toward the door. "Rachel wait." When she paused and looked back at him, he sighed. "Okay, how about this... there's this one fellow who works for Dread. Pitts, I think is his name, and he's completely obsessed with this loyalty toward his work. He'll do just about anything to make sure he's in Dread's good graces. He's been working independently lately. Maybe you could find something on him?"

Rachel forced a sad smile. "Thanks Leon. I'll look him up. Pitts?"

"Yeah. Pitts. Danny Pitts."

"Right. I'll check out Marlette and Pitts. See? There's two possibilities taken care of right there." Rachel walked back over and shook his hand. "You've been a great help." She let herself out, and Leon flopped back into his sofa chair, hoping that the information really had been useful.

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There was a loud crack, the sound of flesh on flesh, and then Rich Marlette flew across the room, crashing bodily into the bench that sat against the wall.

"You want to repeat that?" Came the sharp demand from Max Steel. His face looked almost maniacal as he advanced again toward Marlette, otherwise known as Prisoner 11487. "I dare you to say it again!" Rachel watched from the doorframe, half sullenly cheering him on, and half wishing he'd calm down. Knowing the cause of his wild fury made it hard to watch him. She waited a moment or two, though, before interrupting. A part of her wanted to throw a few punches at Marlette too, just to satisfy herself, even though there was still the probability he had nothing to do with anything they were here to see him about. Still... to have a reason to release.

"Max." She finally said calmly, though she didn't feel calm. She felt the way Max looked. She watched him reluctantly back away, his jaw clenched. It was strange. Usually he did this kind of stuff with humor, a twinkle in his eye, and Rachel would sometimes role her eyes before amusedly calling him off like a dog. But today was different. Today a friend was likely in danger.

Max jabbed a finger in Marlette's direction where the cringing fellow was pulling himself up off the floor into a sitting position. "Just answer her questions, or I'll break both of your legs!"

"Okay, okay! What do you want to know?" Rich rubbed at his sore cheek, looking fearfully at Max and seeing the menace that seemed to radiate from him. Yeesh! What was wrong with this guy?

Rachel snorted. Marlette was too weak. He wouldn't be let back in to Dread's team anytime soon. Arms crossed over her chest, she stood next to Max and looked down at the mousy looking prisoner who peered back up at her through beady little eyes. "You were involved in a transaction that entailed the shipping of equipment a few weeks ago."

"Duh. You were the ones that busted it." Marlette began to retort further, but the threatening look of his interrogators shut him up right quick. "So what about it?"

"One of your companions got away and has been missing since. Do you know who I'm talking about?" Rachel ignored his sneer.

"Yeah. I remember the guy."

"What was his name?"

Rich Marlette's face grimaced in thought. "Fred or Frank something. Finnish, I think. Yah. Frank Finnish. The yellow bastard just took off running or something. Coward." He made like he was about to spit for good measure.

"What can you tell us about him?"

"Why don't I just tell you all about Dread and his whole organization while I'm at it?" Marlette snapped defiantly. "You can just go and piss off!"

This is about the point that Max would usually chuckle, making a show of being malicious and sadistic. Today, however, his face turned red, and before Rachel even had the chance, he snarled and then rushed Marlette, shoving him aggressively against the wall and grasping his shirtfront in tight fists. "Tell us, dammit, or I swear you'll wish you were never even a twinkle in your mother's eye!"

Maybe Rich Marlette saw the intensity in his eyes, or maybe he was just a wimp. Either way, he was put in his place, and he finally agreed to tell what he knew. "Okay, okay, man. Let me go!" Rachel finally convinced Max to loosen his grip, and Rich, red faced, sank back onto the floor, pulling on his collar. "All I know is Frank's only been with us a few months and seemed more concerned with learning about the way we operate than anything else. He only made himself useful and got off his lazy ass when we were doing something real important. I remember once I heard him mention something about plans for the future. He was going to have the latest of everything, be rich, you know, stuff like that. He didn't talk much else besides that. He was a real weird one; if he wasn't so damned polite and pleasant all the time, I'd say he was real cold, you know?"

This unnerved Rachel. Maybe they could go find the Pitts guy instead. Of course, that was just stupid. She reminded herself that anybody that worked for Dread, loyal or not, might sound upsetting. This Finnish sounded like a psycho, though. Rachel might have even preferred to hear that he was brutish and mean. You could never tell with a psycho. Sometimes they were capable of things far worse than brutality.


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She wasn't sure what she had expected to find. She had even reminded herself that the possibilities they were exploring were long shots and they shouldn't get their hopes up. Getting back to N-Tek headquarters, though, and searching any and all available files on Pitts, Finnish, Marlette, anything even remotely related, proved to be grim and gut-wrenchingly unsuccessful. Unable to stop herself, Rachel had felt completely frustrated, like tearing her skin away from her bones, and she had spent a good four and a half hours in the work-out room, releasing only a fraction of the pent up anger and aggravation that filled her mind. Too many questions, too many mysteries... where the hell was Berto, who the hell took him, and what the hell was she supposed to do?!

Finally, she took a half-hour long, scalding hot shower and, having nothing better to do, headed for the monitor room that was the home operations consol for Max's life functions, his stats, his vital signs, everything there was to be seen on Max Steel... and Josh McGrath. The room wasn't empty; Jefferson Smith stood behind the unoccupied swivel chair, his mighty form drooped pitifully as he watched the screen. Stepping up quietly beside him, she laid her hand on his arm and looked at the visual. A knee was in view and beyond it, the floor. She could also see a hand holding an unidentifiable contraption, one of Berto's uncountable experiments, and a finger was pulling back on a spring, letting it snap back into place, then pulling again.

"Sometimes I think that Dr. Martinez has gotten closer to my son than me," came Smith's soft voice, deep and smooth. "I'm thankful for that, though I wish that I could have more time for him. At least there are people who can be personal with him. Sometimes I think... that I could have been a better father."

"Don't say that. You're a wonderful father, and even Max... Josh knows that. He loves you. He knows that you're always there for him when he needs you."

Smith gestured toward the screen with his head. "What do I do for him now? All we've come up with is empty handed results and more questions than we started out with." He turned to look at Rachel, his eyes filled with unhappiness. "I can't stand to see my son so troubled; he's a wreck. And I'm concerned for Berto too. He's exceptional and intelligent, but he's just a young man. He has a worried family, worried friends, and God knows how he's feeling right now." Smith looked back toward the consol helplessly. "We need him. There's a piece of N-Tek that is dependent on him... and Max Steel is, to a degree, dependant on him too." Jefferson then sighed softly. "We need him," he repeated.

Rachel watched as Jefferson Smith worried and struggled and racked his brain for an answer, any answer. "We won't stop looking." She tried to assure him. "We never give up."

Smith nodded. "You're right. I'm going to my office." He patted her on the hand. "I'm doing this for Josh too."

After he'd left, Rachel had finally sat, feeling somewhat encouraged, though not much, and she let herself slump downward a bit after watching Max toy, almost robotically, with the gadget. At some point, heaving a sigh, she switched on the audio link, not sure what she was going to say, but whatever it was, the words died in her throat as she heard the cry of rage and saw the scrap of machinery fly into the wall. Stupefied, she gazed in ghastly wonder as Max stomped out of the room and down the hall heading... where? Then he slowed and then slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. Rachel wanted to say something, but she didn't know what to tell him, and part of her wanted to just let him be. Let him blow off steam. He was frustrated too. So she sat, and she watched. Max turned into Josh, Josh got into his car and drove all over Del Oro Bay and finally ended up in front of a building. He sat there until his girlfriend came out, and they walked down the street a ways. Then he began to cry, and Rachel couldn't watch anymore. She shut off the link, hit the power to the screen, and now she sat, listening to the silence thunder inside her ears and feeling her heart grow heavier and heavier.

I don't know what to do, he had cried. Did no one have any ideas? Were they all at a loss? Did anyone know what to do? Rachel clapped her hands over her face. Damn this situation! Damn it!

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There was the hiss of burning flesh followed by a stifled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a snarl, but Franklin could hear the pain behind it and the agonized frustration. "Well if you'd answer the questions..." He grumbled. He surveyed his handiwork. Martinez had his wrists bound together above his head and was suspended from the ceiling, his toes barely holding his weight on the ground. He was stripped of his shirts and there was a shine of perspiration on his dark skin. It made Franklin feel delightedly authentic. The burning fire in the fireplace and the dim lights, and his prisoner squirming with pain and severe discomfort almost made him giddy. Almost... he was an explorer, an experimenter, not a heathen for pity's sake.

So he scrutinized, with a studious eye rather than a malicious one, what he'd done so far. To his prisoners back, the area high on his sides, the triceps area of his arms; they were tender areas to heat. Now they were covered in bleeding welts, most of them cauterized the instant the iron poker was pressed to the skin. Bleh, they were pretty gruesome. Franklin decided he wouldn't want to be the doctor right then, and then an idea struck him.

"I know," he exclaimed. "What if I let you ask me a question or two. I'll bet you I at least have the decency to answer. What do you think, Martinez? Is there anything that you would like to know?" He came around to look the young man in the face. Martinez was looking at him skeptically through a pain-filled haze. "No really. I'm going to let you ask me anything you want. I know you've got something twisting and turning in your head somewhere. There is, isn't there?" After a long, tedious pause, the kid gave a small nod. "See, I knew it. Go ahead; what is it?"

(A.N. This part goes to Andrea. Thanks for the notes; I used them as reminders) It took a moment for Martinez to get his dry mouth to work, and then his voice came out, barely there, breathy and scratchy. "Why go to all this trouble. How come you don't just use truth serum or something and save time?" It took a deal of effort to ask, forcing the words through a raw throat.

Franklin grinned good-naturedly. "You really are a smart one. Well truth be told, I'm just old fashioned. Plus, I wanted to see if this method would work for this day and age. People in old times must have had some sort of tolerance for brutality and affliction. These days, though, people are more tender, a lot weaker. It's interesting to experiment, don't you think?"

"Not when you're on the receiving end." Came the frail response, as though Martinez was getting tired. Franklin cocked his head and smirked.

"Aw, come on now. You just answered a question back. Now don't you feel better now that we're having a halfway lucid conversation? I know that I feel tons more sentient. C'mon, give me another question."

There was another brain-dulling silence as Martinez scrutinized the floor, seeing if the linoleum had anything to offer. Finally he looked up. "What gave you the idea that my watch had a communication device on it?"

Franklin suddenly looked sheepish. Giving an embarrassed chuckle, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Actually, I thought it was your glasses. I thought I'd just syke you out or something. I don't even know what the hell I thought, just that I'd get rid of anything that may have had some kind of tracking signal or something. I was incompetent; sue me. So anyway... was I right?" He received a withering glance in return and shrugged instead of feeling silly. "Well a guy can never be too careful, now can he? What else?" But he noticed he was loosing Martinez. His eyes looked droopy, and his head was nodding. "No, I don't think so. Stan..." He gestured to the large man who sat by the fireplace, quiet up until now. Stan got up and reached for a familiar looking bucket that sat behind his chair.

"You're not done yet." He bellowed in a low voice, and then he dumped the icy water right over the young man's head, eliciting a sharp gasp and then a hitched breath, as the action had aggravated the broken ribs.

"Hey, careful now. Look at me, Martinez." Franklin grabbed his prisoner by the chin. "You're going to answer questions for me now, right? Your turn."

Blinking rapidly and trying to find some resemblance of composure, Martinez finally said gruffly, "I already did."

Ander suddenly laughed from the doorway, and Franklin looked at him in annoyance. "What?"

Stan was also snickering and answered. "He's right. No, you weren't right about the watch, and no, he don't think the torture's an interesting experience. He answered your questions."

Franklin looked back at Martinez in bafflement and exasperation. "You tricky little weasel!" He sounded more amazed than angry, but there was a monstrous light in his eyes. "I suppose that means you won't be saying much else, though, huh?" At that, the prisoner gave him a glare that dared him to assume otherwise. Suddenly, Franklin felt he'd been had, and it irked him in the form of a little niggling at the back of his neck. Face twitching slightly, he went to the fireplace and snatched up the red, glowing iron rod.

"You know," Franklin said loudly, almost sounding annoyed. "I could just stick this thing right on your sly tongue, and you'll never talk again!" He held the poker dangerously close to Martinez's lips, a threatening look on his face. When he saw a flash of fear in the younger man's eyes, though, Franklin suddenly felt like he had gained a small achievement. But then Martinez turned his frightened gaze from the glowing end of the stick to Franklin's face, and Franklin saw a bright spark of anger in those dark, shining eyes. Lowering the poker for a moment, he thought he would stare his prisoner down, but suddenly there was spit in his eye. Backing away, he rubbed at his face to remove the offending saliva.

"Ah Geeze! I wasn't really going to stick it in your mouth, you little snipe!" He almost sounded like a kid... like a kid who had threatened to make a younger sibling eat a worm or something, then backed out of the threat with annoyance when the sibling began to cry. Franklin was no kid... but he was feeling just as indignant at the moment. He stormed around to Martinez's back, harshly grabbed him by the arm, and then jabbed the poker into his ribs, hard. He almost flinched back again when a scream hit his ears. He blinked in amazement, watching as his captive writhed desperately about.

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Berto shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't believe he had wailed like that. But it had come so involuntarily... that maniac had stabbed him for crying out loud! Close... he was so damned close to doing something as desperate as pleading for his life. *Madre de Dios!* His mind cried out. *Santos me preservan!* He couldn't stop trembling. How could something like this happen? A person only read about this kind of torture in books and saw it in period movies and things of the like. Lord, how his body hurt! It was frightening and disturbing to feel such an extent of physical pain. It clouded the mind and set steam in his eyes. It made his joints quiver and his skin swelter. It made him send out wild prayers for mercy. Berto never thought he'd feel so frantic for his own life.

Franklin was talking again, but Berto could barely hear him. He felt his head drop forward like a puppets, and as his chin touched his chest, his body went numb and everything around him blinked out into a black void. His last thought was, "until tomorrow, Mr. Finer." And then, as he floated into the beginnings of a dream, there was the sound of a whinnying horse and hoofs beating on the ground.

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Ever since her husband, Amor, lost his life to the wild jungles of his travels, Anani Martinez was strained to be the best mother she could to her five children, four daughters and one tiny baby boy. She was a strong mother, and she was a kind mother. She made sure that her children were smart and courteous and that they could take care of themselves and each other. Ena, the oldest, was always there to help with the little ones, but things would still be hard sometimes. So each night, to chase their troubles away, Anani would sing to her children and tell them stories. Even Ena, with her beautiful voice, would create lovely music to soothe her younger siblings. The girls liked the fairy stories and the romantic tales their mother told, but Anani's youngest, Isabelle and Berto, liked the story of the traveling caballero best. It was an adventure, their favorite. They'd sit in her lap, a seven year old girl with long black hair streaming down her back, and a four year old boy with big eyes peering out through a set of round-rimmed glasses. Anani would take them in her arms and tell them of the young man who journeyed across the desserts of Mexico and South America to save his brother who had foolishly eloped with the daughter of a witch.

Alonzo had fallen in love with a beautiful woman named Rosario. She had taken a liking to him, seduced him, and convinced him to come away with her to a city far away. So, one night, they snuck away from their village and disappeared into the darkness.

The next day, Alonzo's brother Philippe went out on his horse, looking for him when he came upon a witch, the very witch who's daughter was Rosario. The witch told him that Rosario cast a spell on Alonzo in their wedding bed and now he slept, never to wake. There was a way to break the spell though. The witch told Philippe to ride his horse across the desserts to El Salvador where Rosario and Alonzo were. Along the way, he was to collect three things for the witch: a golden snake, the head of a magical mule, and the antennas from Rocha, a large cockroach the size of a dragon.

Philippe was frightened, he hated snakes, and no one ever dared to venture near the cave where Rocha lived. But he thought of Alonzo, and he decided that he had to save his brother. So he steeled his nerves to the best of his abilities, and he rode away from his village and ventured south toward El Salvador.

Along the way, he came across the golden snake, who tried to eat him. He ran away at first, fearful for his life, but remembered Alonzo and strived to come up with a plan. He convinced the snake that a herd of cows were coming and would trample the snake unless it hid. He lured the snake into a sack and then tied it up, continuing on his way. The snake, of course, was angry and threw many harsh words at Philippe, attempting to dishearten him. The words stung, and the young caballero came close to leaving the snake and going back home. But he kept his purpose in mind and pressed on.

Next, he came upon the magical mule. It was extremely hard to gain the mule's trust, and then even harder to sneak up on it and use his sword to chop it's head off. To his horror, after the body fell to the ground, the head did not die. It berated Philippe and vowed revenge. Philippe, shaken to the core, forced himself to put the mule's head into another sack and took off once again.

As he rode, the snake and the mule kept on with their rantings and horrible insults, making Philippe more and more miserable, frightening him with their threats and verbal abuse. He believed they were capable of there claims, and as he came upon a river, he felt scared enough, that he threw the sacks into the water and raced away. Then Alonzo came into his mind. He stopped to rest and sat on a rock, crying with the fear of having to go back and retrieving the snake and the mule, and crying with shame for running away. He had to rescue his brother. Gathering his wits, Philippe went back and rescued the sacks from the water.

The snake and the mule had been frightened into silence for they'd thought that the caballero had meant to leave them to drown, and they behaved for the rest of the journey. Philippe came to a large cave, but he did not go in. He waited and trembled, and he tried to come up with a plan to kill the giant roach, or at least find a way to cut the antennas off and get away alive. He was still sitting there, wondering what to do, when Rocha came out of his cave and looked down at Philippe. Philippe was so terrified that his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fainted.

When he woke up, he found that he wasn't dead, and the cockroach was still sitting there, chuckling at him. "Why does everyone think I'm an evil monster that will gobble them up the first chance that comes along?"

"You're not going to kill me?" Asked the young caballero.

"Of course not. I'm guessing that you've come to request something of me."

Eventually, Philippe told Rocha of his plight, and the giant cockroach nodded his great head. "Is that all? I would gladly give over my antennas for your brother. I can grow more." So he plucked the antennas from his head and handed them to Philippe who thanked him and promised to return the favor some day. He continued his journey and finally came to El Salvador, where he found Rosario sitting beside Alonzo who lay in their wedding bed, lost in a very deep sleep. Philippe showed her the sacks and the antennas, and told her what her mother had said. Rosario scoffed.

"My mother is too possessive. I love Alonzo, and no one will keep us apart." She took the items from Philippe, and put them into a pot of boiling water. They were the ingredients for the spell to wake Alonzo. What the witch did not know was that her daughter was practiced enough in the art of witchcraft to do the spell herself. She woke Alonzo from his slumber and all three rejoiced in the reunion. Alonzo told his brother that he had been so brave to do all the things he did. Philippe shook his head though, said that he had been too much of a coward, almost forgot the whole thing and went home... more than once even.

"But you didn't, and here I stand before you, no longer under the witch's spell. I have no one but you to thank, for your bravery, Philippe."

The moral of the story, of course, was courage, sticking it out to the end. Anani liked all her stories to have morals; it taught her children good ethics, and it helped them to grow up in a good way. Most of all, she wanted them to be able to do what they knew to be right, no matter what happened. Little did she know that one day, one of her own little children would one day be put to a test far more drastic than she would have imagined.



*So what does everyone think? I got bored with writing the caballero story and that's why he gets out of the roach ordeal so easily. Please send me some reviews and tell my your opinions so far. Isn't everyone glad this part is so much longer? We're getting close to the end now. Keep reading!*