DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters. All forty something of them. Just a warning, another of Trey's hidden personal issues is about to bite the dust.

More Negative Zero sightings. Six in the last week. I don't mean tabloids here, I mean from ZBC officials straight to my email under armored file transfer. Video, color and black and white stills, we even have audio. All these files were strewn out on the screen in front of me in Psy's cockpit, I was leaned back as usual reading through the pictures while Psy jogged to kill boredom. I had been taking a nap in there, actually. Just snoozing behind the handles of a Lightning Saix until my email tone wakes me up.

"…soo…Vega is currently playing stickball under a new name somewhere…Sarah is joining the PTA, Stroller is off at a bordello somewhere and you're not sneaking out at night. Who's piloting that thing now that Vegas left?"

…wow, he can talk and run at the same time. I sighed and pulled off my hat to scratch my sweat-drenched bangs.

"I'm not a zoid nerd, I can't tell who's in a zoid by the smell of their urine from a hundred miles away."

He snorted, rather odd actually. He's incorporating some quirks into his language. You can tell the difference between me and him when you eavesdrop on us.

"Well, you play Sherlock Holmes, I need some exercise."

He went back into sprint drills, I went back to my pictures. Why is Psy running alone? Well, I'd train like usual but this ZBC business has me up late at night.

After Psy finished up he turned on his four heels and started going toward the rising sun on the edge of this infinite, flat dirt cod called the desert. Soon enough we were leaning toward 600MPH, my torso leaning down over the controls just to satisfy my speed/velocity addiction. We had a long while before we passed by any populated areas, why not live it up? In the name of my ancestors, I say…

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"…yep…"

Isn't it great having a zoid finish your sentences for you?

"Yo, radar."

I looked left at the sky blue disc showing all major landmarks around us. One little colored shape hadn't been there a minute ago. Currently dozens of little canyons shapes were flying by. Well, a little red unidentified dot was underneath us and keeping up somehow. A fast zoid.

"…blades ready, probably some flyboy but be ready for a hit and run."

The air in the cockpit was tense as I watched the red dot rise up and as it entered scanning range a blank screen lit up with details. It probably wasn't a punk or Backdraft hit, but better safe then splattered. The scan screen showed a page of statistics, and next to it a rotating photo of a black cheetah zoid. We were being followed by another Lightning Saix.

"This guy after an autograph or we racing for pink slips?"

The cockpit speakers broke into Psy's snicker. Soon enough the red dot was next to us. I looked out the tinted glass to see a standard-paint job Saix jogging next to us at a fair pace. Wait…it wasn't going that…hold it!

"Um…if he's keeping up with us at that pace, that's a good damn pilot in there."

I nodded to no one and clenched the controls firmly. The mystery Saix just kept up next us. At six hundred miles an hour. No com-link window, no signals. Just the universal sign that when two fast zoids are next to each other, only one may prevail. In English, I'm gonna burn some rubber right into his slow-ass face, bitch.

"…three…two…"

"Now!"

I rammed the control handles forward and braced my midsection as the horizon lurched toward us and we charged into full sprint. Soon enough I was clinging to the control handles so we wouldn't wipe out, I would guess we had about 750 clocked on the meter. Jus a guess, after all when I coughed I didn't hear it. I didn't hear anything actually, once you break the sound barrier you literally are in a sound vacuum.

So here I was piloting for dear life, no sound, sweat pouring down my brow and guess who pops up in the corner of my twitching eye. Our little Saix friend. Same speed as us. Same movements, same pace. Well, I popped a hinged cover off a button on the right control handle and gunned it. I felt a vibration rock the cockpit, usually there was a dull roar of the boost kicking in, but we were too fast to hear it. The horizon blurred and I had to rely on bicep strength to hang onto the handles of my zoid.

Judging by the fact I could feel every vein in my sweat-soaked body pulse, I'm guessing we're close to 800. A new personal best. Well, I somehow knew that our buddy was up there next to us. Two minutes of full speed sprinting later I saw a panel flash, indicating a populated area was near. Well, I sighed mutely and eased back slowly toward my seat. Dropping ten miles a second until we were just power-walking through the packed-sand desert. I sighed, catching my breath and getting used to the sounds of the mortal world again.

"Eve…EVE! I'm coming to see ya!"

Psy had broken down panting, like he actually needed oxygen. I'm guessing him calling Eve was like saying he saw the pearly gates. I ignored this, staring out the side panel at the regular Saix that was mirroring our performance.

"…if those eyes were blue instead of yellow I'd say that was Cisco…"

"…then how come he didn't beat us?"

"Not su…Psy, you mean to say you're aware that Cisco could beat us?"

A pre-recorded grunt. I shook it off and stared back at the plain-looking Saix. It just kept walking next to us. Eventually my self-control broke and I banged my fist into the communication panel. I hailed the other cat zoid, and opened a hologram space. I had to see this guy's face.

The mystery pilot accepted and his image popped up in front of me as both Saixes slowed to a stop, barely a few hundred yards from each other. I let go of the sweat-slick control handles to cross my arms over my tee shirt-constricted chest. Before me floated the face of our challenger. He had a strong jawline, straight off of the comic book superheroes. His jaw floated up into thin but toned cheeks, rounding off into a flattened haircut. His chin and upper lip was covered in a salt and pepper goutee that accented his contrasted dark green eyes. Which currently cut into me calmly, like a stereotypical martial arts sensei with a better tan.

Above those cutting yet soft eyes was a gelled back head of black/white peppered hair cut to a decent length. Overall, in shape, clear of mind but seasoned with experience. And here he was staring at me like he was judging a piece of meat. I returned his gaze with a near-identical look. This went on for a few silent seconds before I cleared my throat.

"Well…"

He softened his glare slightly.

"…you're pretty fast…"

Yeah, we get that a lot.

"Back at ya. Must be heck in a standard Saix."

The head shifted its off-screen shoulders, shrugging.

"It's reliable enough."

I nodded slightly.

"…I thought you were going after an Ultimate X…"

The mystery pilot broke into a smirk. So did I. In fact the two cocked smiles were near identical, a learned trait.

"Trey, I got it."

I looked over my shoulder at the plain Saix, then back at my mentor's face.

"…Max, you ditch me at a public Hanger and leave me on my own for nearly a year, and come back with nothing but an LS Saix to show for it?"

Max broke into a soft laugh.

"Good to see you too, Kid."

Our rival glare had melted into a father figure catching up with his estranged son. Psy suddenly chose to make himself known.

"Dad! How ya doin'?"

Both student and teacher laughed at Psy's wisecrack.

"Well, my last zoid kind of attached itself to some punk who crashed in my old place."

Both Psy and I snorted at the same time, acting like twins addressing their father.

"Max, I get the fact you kept up with us but that's no Ultimate X."

My mentor raised an eyebrow with a matching smirk. Actually, I give that same look to people before explaining my zoid creations. Creepy. The teacher was about to stump the student.

"…check the ID number on my license data."

My eyebrows twitched as I shrugged and checked the screen showing his scan data. His license number was…blank.

"…Ho…Ly…"

He nodded sagely.

"…yep, it is."

I took a minute to take it all in then shook it off like a boxer after a knockout uppercut.

"…that's…the Saix?"

I felt Psy jerk his head at the other zoid.

"WHAT!"

Max kept nodding.

"…the very same…"

"What the hell is going on!"

Max and I shared a look, I waved a hand.

"I got this."

I looked away from the hologram to address my zoid directly.

"Psy, that Saix there isn't a freak zoid or an evolution. That's the original Lightning Saix."

"…as in…the first one. Irvine's Saix…?"

Max and I nodded. Then I felt the cockpit bounce up and down, Psy was trying to blend in.

"Well…it's an honor to even be seen near that thing, let alone keep up with it."

Max's face looked over my shoulder, as if Psy were standing behind me and not all around me.

"Speaking of zoid honor, this thing is obviously alive. Won't give me a hint though. I figured I needed some psychology, and I happened to know a couple guys in this area who speak zoid."

I blinked.

"…um…you mean me or Psy?"

"…either way."

I shrugged, as did Psy. I took another glance at the relic of the Big War hat had just paced my zoid past the sound barrier. Max saw this and seemed a bit proud of his catch.

"…I found it in the storage room of a museum going out of business. My friend told me about it a few weeks before we left that little suburban hell. Took me a while to get it in paper though, when I wasn't trying to help me nephew through his neurotics I was on the line talking to the curator about it."

I nodded slowly, imagining the paper trail you'd have to rig.

"So did you have to restore it?"

The holo-head shook back and forth.

"It was in prime battle shape sitting in that storage room. Must have been there for years. Amazing, centuries old and it sill runs, even has that new car smell."

"…six decades."

My mentor and I just stared. Max asked before I could.

"…pardon?"

My zoid didn't seem amazed.

"He just corrected you, he said he was stuck in there sixty years after some private collector keeled over."

Max stared at me through the wireless hologram network, asking if his eyes if we were serious. I slowly nodded, telling him my zoid was partially sane. He rolled his eyes at himself and sighed.

"…well, that's exactly why I needed you two. Trey, you could try to update this thing a bit so the ZBC doesn't disqualify it for a technology clause. And eh…"

"…I go by Psy, short for Psyscho."

Max didn't seem reassured. His old, trusted zoid was now…eh…Psy.

"…Psy…I need you to just talk things out with this guy, bring him up to date on the times, convince him I'm a nice guy."

"…you mean tell him, it's not like a lying jerk would restore an old war clunker and get him to the big-time."

I went blank, as Max slowly cracked his aged face into an even smile.

"…yep, you're my zoid alright…"

I nodded, agreeing for a few seconds before he cut in again.

"…well, now you're still Chase Brand's zoid, just the younger one."

My solemn sensei burst out laughing like a college kid at my new nickname, I sat there and pulled my hat brim over my eyes. Psy laughed too. If only I could mute his speakers. These two go from heartwarming reunion to Max's college antics. By now everybody knows about Max's young days. He makes Team Reckless look like a bunch of girl scouts.

2 Hours Later

"…and this is where we expect the blades deployed."

Max examined the 3D model of the Negative Zero I'd drawn up on my desk screen. We were both standing next to each other, leaning toward my desk as there was a shortage of chairs. I was showing him my recent work as Psy dealt out his trade with the ancient Saix in the Hanger.

"…Trey, I honestly have no clue where you got this mechanical quirk…"

My eyes shot from my computer model to my blank-faced teacher. He had caught me like an uppercut with that remark. I simply told him what flashed into my head as a reflex.

"…you taught me everything."

Max kept looking at the model on the screen.

"…I taught you everything I know about piloting and zoids…but this engineer thing…I've never been able to even draw up a blueprint for a zoid."

I stared back at the model, not reacting.

"…Chase, you all here?"

I jerked my head slightly, shaking it off.

"Yeah…yeah, fine."

I felt his hand touch down on my shoulder as I kept staring at the model I knew I had memorized. But it wasn't the model I was examining, it was the reflection of myself in the screen.

Oak brown eyes shone out from under matching dark bangs that I needed to trim back. While I had a slightly thick jawline and strong, comic book reflecting features Max and I couldn't pass off as relatives. He was a good looking guy back in his prime, still is, in a more sophisticated way. I critiqued our reflections that hung over the Liger blueprint like a mountain range over a city. His weathered hand still rested on my shoulder.

"…this is a gift, Kid. You tell the press and your friends that you're just a student of mine. A prodigy at best."

I stayed silent, wondering what he was getting at.

"I didn't take you along in my life out of pity."

I turned to look at him, suddenly alert and responsive. Acually, i later found out I was defensive.

"Max, we both know I'm just some punk you molded after yourself. You pitied me out there. Took me in and helped me by giving me a role model."

Max returned my alert gaze, but his green eyes were flat with solemn doubt.

"…I took care of you because your parents didn't. That much is true."

I nodded in silent victory.

"I let you stay the days at my place so you wouldn't have to be hurt by them. I told you about zoids because one long day I wished for the old times. But you showed interest. You wanted to see them. Pilot one. And mixed in with the curiosity and determination was something else. You showed the ability to be a pilot."

I stared in silence. Now we had gone from leaning on my desk to standing before each other, shoulders back and backs straight in identical posture. This wasn't an argument. Or a lecture. In my case it was an awakening.

"Trey. You're not a charity case. You're not a piece of dirt I polished into a precious metal. You were the only good person in that town. A diamond in the rough. I didn't 'make' you like the press says. I found you."

I stayed stoic throughout his speech. Not a single reaction. I was a statue.

"…Max…one thing you should know about…"

He nodded, not realizing I was changing the subject.

"…it's Sarah."

1 Hour Later

I was perched on a ledge on the front porch of a very nice modern-designed house. It was a nice suburban neighborhood, dogs, kids, families. Just like the time I was invited into that house to talk zoids with the fans. Kids walked home from school as I sat cross-legged atop the small wall. The kids chatted with each other in groups with their slumping backpacks over one shoulder. Soon enough one walked on a beeline for this particular house, clad in average kid clothes, but his slicked down black hair making him stand out slightly. After he saw me sitting in front of his front door he ran up, dropping his backpack on the porch as he jogged up to see me.

"Uncle Trey! Mom was wondering why you guys didn't visit yet."

He stopped to catch his breathe, I smiled under my hat at the kid. Vega was now passing off as an average kid under a new name, and Sarah's ZBC-altered paperwork claimed she was a single mother who worked from home.

"Your long-lost grandpa finally came up here to see me. I brought him over here after a little race. I've been out here an hour, they're having a father-daughter reunion thing. It'll be a while."

After one final pant he began asking questions again like the kid he was, dark eyes smiling up at me on my stone perch.

"…Sarah's dad isn't mad at her anymore?"

I shook my head.

"Loneliness sorts out domestic issues very well. How about we go kill time until your mom wants you to meet Max?"

He agreed within a millisecond, flash forward a little and we've staked out a sunny spot near a tree in the park, the same park I saw when I was living in the Molga and fixing up the old Saix. Except now I was part of the picture instead of a lonely spectator, with my newfound nephew. I was doing one-armed push-ups on the grass, explaining to Vegas how to do them. After fifty reps I got up and admired the scenery on my knees for a few seconds.

"…you seem different."

I looked back at Vega quickly.

"Huh?"

He tilted his head a bit.

"…usually you're quiet. You're smart and kind of big, but you act like a little dumb guy."

I blinked at his metaphor. Actually, I did have a self esteem issue. You may have noticed the fact I'm a tad modest. To tell the truth, I have a have a rather serious complex concerning self image because of the child abuse thing. I think I'm a piece of dirt, really. Max's intervention today was chipping away at the bulk of that. While I'd changed the subject before I broke down in emotion, his act of concern was starting to boost my image to a healthy level. Now, how do I explain this to an eleven year old?

"…a girl said she liked my hat."

Author's Notes

This will be directly continued next chapter. And weird thing. I created Max as a new character, completely original. But for some reason I can't think of him and not picture Paul Newman. This is like 'The Color of Money' with Zoids. Heh, seriously, thanks for the reviews.