New Season Premiere Episode soon! Can't Wait!
But in the meantime, my brain's saying; "Hurry and publish before it all becomes non-canon compliant!".
Hopeful to update tomorrow, too.
Sorry if it gets a little sappy in the middle.
-Crow
Max woke up on a small couch. He blinked confusedly. His last clear memories were the swarm of squirrels carrying him into the woods. Then… that one squirrel with the eyepatch waved something that smelled vaguely sweet in front of his nose…
"Good evening, Maxwell."
He sprung out of bed, wildly searching the dimly lit room. From what he could tell, he was in some ornate library or laboratory. Shelves upon shelves were dedicated to books and "specimens". But tables took up most of the center with journals, experiments, and dissected animals still pinned open.
His attention centered on a dark shadow collected in the corner of the room. The shadow grew taller and unveiled a pristine-white and coldly-smiling Daniel before sinking back through the cobblestone cracks.
"I see you're awake."
"And I see you're still an asshole." Max shot back.
Daniel 'tsk'd' disappointed. "Now, now, I'm sure we can come to an agreement, Max."
"Like Hell! You just want my f*cking soul! Well I'm not giving it over."
"That's alright." Daniel replied, still calmly grinning, "I'm sure you can be… persuaded."
Max's arms erupted in goosebumps and he involuntarily shivered at the unnerving tone.
"Come here," The Warlock turned on his heel and waltzed Max over to a wide, stone basin. The object was filled to the brim with a smoky, gray liquid that slowly swirled around constantly in the bowl without being touched.
"Do you like it?" Daniel asked politely, "It's something I use in my free time to catch up on things around me. Even Earth. Oh, yes!" He added, seeing Max's surprise, "I know about your precious little 'home'. Trust me, the floating dentures have an easier wish to grant than you do, let me tell you. You're a pretty looooong ways from home."
He pointed in the depths. Max cautiously followed his finger and saw the image inside swirl turbulently before settling into a mirror-like surface that had shapes and colors slowly coming into focus.
He saw-
Himself?
It was a smaller Max standing quietly somewhere extremely familiar.
"I do my research, believe me," Daniel continued, simpering almost hypnotically "I've seen so many things. So many awful things…"
Max was 5.
"Momma? I've gotta go ta Kindagard'n."
The woman at her laptop sighed, and lowered the monitor. "Max? Now is not the time, okay? Go ask your father."
Max gave a tiny whimper that she didn't hear over re-immersing herself in her work.
He slowly approached the slightly ajar door. The smell of the gross funky-stuff wafted out. His Papa always drank it. He tried it once when he was hungry and Papa was away for a night. It tasted super gross. He didn't know why anyone would drink that.
The man in the recliner glowered at the glowing television.
"P-Papa? M-momma says-"
"I don't give two shits what she says." He grumbled, taking another swig.
"B-but I gotta-"
"Max! You have thirty seconds!"
Max scampered out of the TV room as fast as he could. He walked out the front door. It was raining. Of course it had to be.
He grabbed an umbrella from the front closet. He had to learn where they were on his own.
He walked under the umbrella to the nearby park. He huddled under the tiny play-place in his school clothes. Momma would be mad he got'em dirty, but he didn't care right then.
It was too far away to walk to his Kindergarten.
He'd have to miss it… again…
Momma'd be mad when they called.
…
It was Music Day, too…
…
He huddled in on himself as he quietly cried.
Max was 7.
"Why not?!"
"Max! We are not having this discussion again! I have to work to keep this house standing! Your father's as drunk as always! You just have to miss the recital!"
"But it's not fair!"
"No, it's not! But life's not fair, Max! Okay?" She stormed out of the house, her portfolio under one arm and purse slung over the other shoulder.
Max stared out at her as the sound of their car backed out of the driveway.
His father made his presence known with an obnoxious belch and some stumbling as he opened the fridge for another bottle. He took one look at Max, "… Ya gonna cry?"
Max silently shook his head.
"Good." He popped the cap off of the bottle on the countertop and started upending the drink as he stumbled back to his lair.
Max glared at them.
Then, he did something he never did before.
Quietly, so quietly.
He mumbled.
"F*ck you."
Max was 7, almost 8.
He woke up in the middle of the night to loud shouting. He wanted to just pull the covers over his head and try to smother the noise out, but an unignorable dryness in his mouth meant he needed to sneak to the bathroom for a drink of water.
He tiptoed his way down the hall-
"WELL I DON'T GIVE A F*CK!"
He froze in place, worried he'd give himself away, but it only made him listen in.
"Oh, don't you even start with me, Krishna! I'm the one working all day to put food on the table. Meanwhile, look at you; sinking our savings in cheap beer and bets!"
"Don't you even start with that-"
"No! I will bring it up! You're still just so f*cking deep in your pity party you don't do jack-shit around here! 'Oh, I'm so sad. I didn't get into the Engineering School my family wanted. I didn't get a high paying job like I'd always wanted. It's not right for the woman of the family to work.' Well that's just how far it's come to!"
"Shut the hell up, Ilana!"
"I don't give two solitary fu-"
*SMACK!*
Max flinched back, not just at the loud sound of flesh on flesh, but the dragging, deafening silence that followed.
…
A set of footfalls started walking up the stairs. Max quietly scampered his way to his room and hid under his covers.
The footsteps fade to his parents' room.
Seconds later, a second set of heavier footsteps were heard settling in the living room. Dad was on the couch again.
It was vindictive, yeah, but Max didn't care. The bastard deserved it.
…
He ignored his thirst, he could wait until morning.
For now, he had to sleep in the dark silence.
Max was 9.
He was pushed down by the hulking figure of an 8th Grader in the middle of the lunchroom. None of the f*cking monitors even glanced up from whatever trash they were reading.
"Pay up, whimp. I want my lunch." The bully snarled.
"Seriously?" Max coughed, getting back up. "That's just stupidly cliché. Bullying for lunch money? You're the brightest f*cking bulb in the box, aren't you asshole?"
The bully blinked at hearing that coming from a 4th grader of all people, but recovered and resorted back into rage. He sent a punch straight at Max's face and knocked his head right into to the side of the table.
The monitors got involved then.
'Of f*cking course, they would.' Max thought as his vision started clouding with black fuzz. 'They'd get involved after the kid gets the shit gets beat out of him. Now they're liable.'
He couldn't be sure if he blacked out or not, but the next conscious thoughts occurred on the bed in the nurse's office.
The school sent him home early to recover. The bully got a couple detentions, but aside from that… Max knew this wasn't the end. Not by a long shot.
"Max? What are you doing back home?" His mother asked, upset. She lay on the sofa, nursing a headache with an icepack. She got those more often these days.
"I got sent home for fighting."
"WHAT?! Oooh!" She grimaced at her own voice as she shifted to look through the bleary headache at him. "… Why is your jaw bruised."
"If you listened, you'd know I got beat up at school."
"You're picking fights?!"
"You're picking fights?" They both turned to see Max's dad stalk out of his lair.
"No, he was the one who started it."
Max's dad let out a bark of laughter, "That's what they all say."
"Krishna!" Max's mother scolded. "Not. Helping."
Max's father grumbled as he leaned against the wall. Max's mother looked back, "Max. We will discuss this later. For now, go to your room."
"But-"
"Room! Now!"
Max was 10.
"How long do I have to be here?"
"Until the end of summer, Max."
"What day are you supposed to you pick me up?"
"I'll figure that out, Max." His mother responded irritably before picking up her vibrating phone and raising the window as she began her business call.
Max watched the car rumble down the gravel-dirt road.
He stood there, stunned.
His suitcase at his side.
Footsteps approached and a shadow appeared next to him.
He looked up.
"Helloooo, Mr. First-Camper-Here! Now, you're a few days early, but I'm sure we can have a swell time! My name is David, and welcome to Camp Campbell!"
…
"F*ck."
The liquid clouded over and turned silvery like mercury as it started swirling again. Max stared at the swirling fluid that briefly gave a highlight reel of a couple of the shittier points of his life. If they wanted the whole story, they'd be there for the next week… maybe two.
Daniel clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. "Oh, poor Max. Poor, poor Max. Adults against you. No real friends… barely whatever constitutes a real family."
Daniel circled the boy, still staring into the depths of the basin, "Alone, afraid, and without any help at all. That is definitely human society right there."
He leaned in closer, "But Zeemuug can help."
Max scoffed.
"No, no, really! I mean, Zeemuug himself isn't going to change anything. In all honesty that's more metaphorical. But the community of Zeemuug is what matters!"
"Still not interested, cult-man." Max sneered, still not looking his direction.
"But don't you understand? A community. A place where we look after each other. Where everyone is everyone's parents and brothers and sisters. Where we love each other like family. One enormous family."
He circled around the quiet boy.
"Where someone is always there to take you to school.
"Where someone is always there to hold a shield against the storm.
"Where someone always has time for things that are important to you.
"Where no one needs to bully one another.
"Where everyone is there to help tend your wounds and tell you it'll all be better and it will be better.
"Where children can be children.
"Where adults don't drink.
"Where people care. Really care!"
He stared Max eye-to-eye. "That is what we offer."
Max was silent.
"Don't you want that, Max?"
…
"I want to see something." Max finally mumbled.
Daniel's eyebrows raised, but acquiesced and stepped aside to let Max walk up to the swirling basin of potion. He watched as Max used some of his less-important books as a stool to get a better view of the basin itself. "Just focus on where, when, or who you want to see." He instructed.
Max concentrated on the bowl and it slowly swirled.
Camp Campbell faded into view. It looked God-awful in the wake of the tornado. He recognized bits and pieces of the camp strewn around, but so much was demolished it would be a miracle if penny-pinching Campbell sank a cent into repairing it.
He kept looking and it shifted.
David stood in front of the Campers, smiling, but with a somber solemnity to it. "Okay, campers. We did great today looking for your things. Since evening's coming, let's all head to the Counsellor's Cabin for tonight! It'll be like one, big sleepover!"
He grinned at the assembled campers, who looked disheveled and miserable with a few bits and pieces of their stuff in baskets David probably weaved himself after the accident. They quietly walked towards the cabin.
Gwen stayed behind, "Well, I can't say I'm going to enjoy sharing my room with 10 other brats."
"Oh, come on, Gwen," David tried, "It'll be fun."
"Yeah, until the paperwork comes in."
"You see?" Daniel said, leaning in at Max's side. "They don't really care. You're gone to them and they've already moved on. That's all you really are to them; a name and more work for them. Life goes on for them, don't you think you deserve the same?"
Max stood silently in front of the basin. He didn't care. He didn't. They were all shitty human beings, same as him. Expecting anything else was pointless.
They didn't matter, anyway.
No one did.
He tried talking, probably something with copious swearing and cynical uncaring, but he had to swallow a couple of times to dislodge something in his throat.
Probably just… dry mouth from whatever the squirrels used to gag him.
"Max? Don't you see?" The Warlock continued, smiling warmly, "There is hope for you here. There's family here. There are people who care here… Why don't you see reason?"
Max glanced up.
The offer… sounded slightly less shitty than before.
"You know, souls are tricky things." Daniel elaborated. "They're the center-point of our being, but not our consciousness or awareness, but our emotional connection with things. If you get rid of that, everything just becomes… blank. Like those artistic, emotional-vomit paintings are just whitewashed over. The canvas and frame remain, but the emotional turmoil… just… fades…"
…
Max…
…
Max didn't know what to feel right now.
Or if he wanted to feel at all.
Emotions are just shitty baggage we carry around. It hurts and that's all it does… Why would anyone willingly let something like that just… eat at them?
Daniel unfurled a long piece of parchment in front of him, offering another jet-black quill.
He held up his hands. "No mind-powers this time. Promise."
Max felt numb as he took the quill in his hands. It seemed almost too easy. He brushed the ridges along the feather. It was soft, but prickly, too.
"Just sign."
…
Max raised his hand up towards the contract…
…
A glint caught his attention.
His eyes flicked back to the basin, the quill lowering just a bit.
The swirling mercurial substance wasn't done.
Gwen watched the kids file into her and David's cabin. There were some mild murmurs over who wanted to sleep where, but no one had the energy, emotional or physical, to make their usual battle over anything.
She heard a tiny sniffle.
David quickly wiped his eye as he noticed her looking, "Sorry Gwen, I-I've just got some tornado dust in my eye."
…
She put a hand on his shoulder, "David… We'll find him, okay?"
"You don't know that!" He cried, losing composure. "This is like Jasper all over again! Everyone looked all over for him after that stupid, stupid Spooky Island bet!"
"Max will be fine!" Gwen insisted. "Look, given all the shit that happens here on a daily basis and no one's died, I'm starting to think no one can die. Max is a pain in the ass, but he's resourceful and damn it all if he's not going to pull through this."
"But-"
"But, nothing! You spent all day looking as far as Sleepy Peak Peak for any trace of him! We've got half the state troopers on the lookout, too. You need to take a load off before your head explodes. We're doing everything we can, but do you think Max wants to see you worry like this?"
…
"Scratch that, he probably might."
['You're wrong.' A tiny voice waaay in the back of Max's brain replied]
"You're working as hard as you can, David. We'll find him. I mean, how can an entire house just disappear?"
David didn't laugh, but he lost the teary-eyed air of defeat. He stood up with quiet, stoic determination and looked around, "I haven't checked across the Lake. There's still 20 miles up North that Neil calculated the Mess Hall might've landed. I'll start there. Keep the campers occupied. Maybe move up the 'makeshift shelter' activity for tomorrow."
Gwen sighed, but smiled. "You want to take the QuarterMaster, too?"
"No, keep him here to help with repairs. I'll keep the two-way and radio in every half hour, alright? I'll show you the route I'm planning tonight."
Gwen nodded and walked back to the cabin, picking up some spare sleeping bags and a cooler of supplies on the way there.
David stayed and looked out at the horizon, planning the route he'd take.
"Don't worry, Max. We'll find you."
…
They didn't matter.
None of them did.
None of them mattered to him.
…
Max wiped his eye with his shoulder, gruffly. Stupid potion fumes were irritating his eyes.
Stupid potions.
Stupid warlocks.
Stupid David.
…
Stupid everyone…
…
He set down the quill and looked the warlock square in his icy-blue eyes. "Yeah, hard pass, cult-man."
The warm, calm smile melted into an enraged snarl. He grabbed Max's hoodie by the collar but roared as his hands started smoking. Max was shoved backwards into the table as Daniel stumbled back, glaring at his red, burnt hands.
His snarl quirked into an unpleasant grin, "Fine, Maxwell. We tried my 'nice' way. Now, we'll see how well you handle my little 'playroom'. I'm sure the Iron Maiden would just love to make your acquaintance."
He cackled as Max felt his face flush pale. The warlock waltzed out of the doors to the laboratory, slamming them shut behind him.
Waiting only a second for the evil laughter to fade, Max leapt at the doors, but they were stuck fast. He tried the windows, but they were unbreakable, even when he threw a chair straight into the pane.
He was trapped.
AN: I read a fic about Max's parents that made a lot of sense or was at least really interesting; the theory was that he's one of those 'oh-how-awful babies' from a third world or somewhere in a bad situation that you hear rich/famous people adopting for the good publicity. Then, they pretty much don't bother with the kid outside of basic necessities or 'buy-away-the-problem' tactics.
But, I didn't want to steal their thunder and I'd already written up the scenes. I thought it'd be a shame to waste them.
I had some background in mind. I was thinking Max's dad would be like a kind of 'let-down' kid in his own parents' eyes (maybe he's second-gen in the US). Where he didn't be as successful as his other siblings, where he didn't measure up for some prestigious University, where he gave up and sort-of spiraled out of control. I don't know if this actually happens or not, but it seems plausible. Whereas his mom is more obsessive to provide for the family, is over-stressed and over-worked and underappreciated.