*Note: This story takes place about 3 and a half years after the show ended (I'm factoring that Max was 12 when the show ended). SkullMaster has since bit the big one, along will all of his forces from the center of the Earth.*

Mighty Max 2.0

Blonde hair, long, flowing. Azure eyes, piercing, deadly. Full, pouting lips, hard, golden, immaculate, skin. Muscle and curve in perfect unison. Taunt, ready, deadly. In every rise and fall of a flawless chest, sensual grace. The curve of her hips, the small of her back, the rise of her head, perfection. Pride, strength, exotic lust. She slowly inhales, her bare throat flexes slightly by the motion. As always, she knows he is there, watching her.

With a shake of her head, honey colored tresses caught by the jungle breeze, she leaps from the boulder and into the trees. Like a gazelle, graceful, quick, she runs.

Not knowing why, the warrior follows, running through the foliage, leaping anything in his path. Roan colored hair, streaming behind him, brambles ripping at his solid, bronzed flesh, he follows. He is feral, primal, yet his mind echoes with other worlds, lives only whispered in his memories.

He can smell her, feel her in the air like electricity, she likes to run… he likes to hunt. The warrior growls, deep, ageless. His speed increases, coffee colored eyes narrowing, focused. His muscles ripple with arousal and adrenaline. He ceases to notice the brambles ripping at his skin.

Sweat drips from his tanned flesh as he enters a small clearing surrounded by tall cliffs. The warrior can hear the rushing of water from a waterfall as it thunders down from high atop one of the cliffs. He feels the spray from it's cascading falls on his defined face. This is her place; this jungle her kingdom, these cliffs, her throne.

Then she is there. Leaning upon a boulder clad in an almost non existent tiger skin. Her blue-green eyes alive, ready. She is waiting. The woman parts her lips and beacons him with a breath, stretching her head longingly to the side.

The warrior needs no more invitation, his hunger is already at it's peak. With long strides he comes and kneels before her, his pray, that has become his master. Grabbing her delicately around the waist he pulls the woman slightly forward and gently kisser her stomach. Her flesh is hot and he can taste the salt from her skin.

She intertwines her fingers through his hair as she lowers shelf to the ground and lightly pulls back the warriors head. Her piercing, clever eyes meet his hard, lust filled ones and for a moment, they are as all were meant to be. Alive, unmasked, feeling…

He grabs her in his chiseled arms and roughly kisses her tender mouth as she returns his lust with soft moan. This is it, the moment he has burned for, at long last… he will have her…

"Norman!!!" Virgil yelled in a slightly irate tone, "Wake up!!"

The roan haired warrior's eyes flew open as he sat bolt up right, sweat covering his body. "Huh… Wha?" He asked confused as he looked, wild eyed around the cave.

With a deeply disapproving sigh, Virgil walked to the other end of the cave, "that was the fifth time that I tried to wake you, Norman."

"Yeah…Sorry," the guardian mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. That damn dream again, it was haunting him! Even as he stood and stretched, the dream, the images were vivid in his mind as though etched there for all eternity.

Poking at the small fire that Norman had made before he had gone to sleep, Virgil looked at his friend with concern. "Norman," Virgil asked seriously, "is there… perhaps, something on your mind?"

At his comment The warrior took a deep breath. After ten thousand years there was not much Virgil didn't know about him, nor was there much that he was able to hide. However, this was different, this was more personal. "I'm just tired," Norman said darkly, which was not exactly a lie. He had been having this dream every night for the last two months and though he had kind of enjoyed it at first, it was beginning to get to him. In an attempt to evade the dream, Norman had tried to stop sleeping and had been doing pretty well at it until tonight.

"Indeed," said Virgil allowing his tone to convey that he was not convinced.

The guardinan looked harshly at Virgil, as if to say let it go.

The Lemurian sighed, and changed the subject. "We will need to speak with the Mighty One tomorrow, this time has almost come."

Norman only nodded and walked towards the fire, picking up a bowl of Virgil's home made stew on the way.

"I hope he is ready," Virgil stated with severity and genuine concern, "for we cannot afford anymore time."

"He's ready," mumbled Norman through mouthfuls of Stew.

Virgil sighed and stood up, "I only wish there was a way to be sure. This is a most important time in young Max's life and his future as the Mighty One depends on it." The fowl lowered his voice then added, "all of our futures depend on it." Picking up the ancient text that he was never without, Virgil gently placed the book down upon a rock and flipped it open.

Located inside of the book were ancient passages and prophecies along with information on almost every evil in existence. The tome had once only been a small piece in a collection of volumes so vast that it had spanned several libraries, however, that was centuries ago. Now this book was the only piece of literature that remained of a once proud and highly advanced race of beings known as the Lemurians.

"Max'll do fine," said Norman as he placed the bowl down near the fire and yawned, "we'll make sure of it."

Looking up from the Arcana, Virgil nodded, "We will do our best, Norman… however I still think that he should be here, training with us instead of on a field trip!"

'Here it comes' Norman thought to himself as he leaned back against a cool stone wall. Norman was referring to Virgil's promise to the Fifteen year old Max. The Lemurian had told Max, albeit reluctantly, that he could go to Chicago with his high school class, and that he and Norman would not bother him for the duration of the trip. There would be no world saving for Max, and he could have the life of a normal teenager for one week.

Virgil sighed and closed the book, "we must go to Chicago and acquire Max."

The guardian grunted in disdain and set about the business of grabbing his hulking sword and a sharpening stone. "You gave your word, Virgil."

"I'm aware of that, however…"

"And we WILL NOT break our word."

Sniffing in indignation, Virgil looked at Norman and narrowed his eyes. "Very well, Norman. We will not intervene with The Mighty One's vacation… unless, that is, necessity warrants." That said, the fowl picked up his book and, with an air of decorum, strode out of the cave.