Be Reasonable

[mechgogo]

The day passed. On the surface, Max seemed to be taking it easy. He lounged in the hotel hot tub, had a massage, read a few comics. Some time was spent with his lawyer examining options to gain Brandon’s freedom through the courts. Usually when someone went into the system their friends and family had two weeks to raise the money to buy out their contracts. Once the grace period expired they were transferred to another state for sale to a stranger with the necessary wherewithal.

Max and Brandon’s case was exceptional. There were extenuating circumstances and the attorney was confident that, with time, they could free Brandon well before his scheduled release date. Max made all the appropriate sounds and told the lawyer to get things moving. Privately he had no intention of waiting that long. The song and dance with the courts was just a sideshow to make it look like he was doing what normal people would do under similar circumstances.

Charlize called around supper time. The website was ready to go she said. The problem coding had been sorted out and all it needed was Max’s word to launch. Max congratulated her on a job well done. He told her to take the new site live at ten the next morning and in the meantime to get some rest. She had worked like a dog and earned a break.

Bedtime came early for Max that night. At nine o’clock he put up the Do Not Disturb sign, called the front desk to let them know he was not to be bothered for anything less than a life or death emergency and lay down. Three hours later the alarm clock went off. Max silenced it immediately. He got up and proceeded to get dressed in what for most people would be the pitch dark of the room. It wouldn’t do for the cops to be asking why someone spotted a light shining under his room around midnight in a couple hours.

Max’s entire outfit for his late night excursion was black. Most of it would seem fairly innocuous to anyone who nosed around in his wardrobe . The pair of knee-high Minnetonka moccasins? Lots of people wore those. They looked great and were comfy as hell. Black cargo pants? Nice change of pace from jeans and khakis thanks.

The long sleeved black t-shirt and leather jacket were a nod to his recent illness and fondness for motorcycles. He didn’t want to get a chill and have a relapse. A pair of matched collapsible ASP batons might take some explaining as would the featureless black mesh mask and cowl but he had plausible excuses for those too. The two rolls of quarters tucked into his pockets were a departure from the array of homemade throwing knives and spikes he usually took with him on patrol but rolled coins were a damned sight easier to explain and just as effective in his hands.

When he was done Max glanced, as he always did at such times in the mirror. A little thrill surged through him as it did every time he wore what he thought of as his uniform. The batons and mask were taken from the outfit he wore at home when he went out on an op. He’d left the body armor, combat boots and SAP gauntlets behind as well as the police scanner. None of that could be explained away if and when the local cops went through his luggage. Well, maybe the boots but his public persona wasn’t generally known for wearing them so questions might get asked.

Max grinned behind the mask. He actually did most of what he considered to be his real work in everyday street clothes. Hanging out in places listening in on peoples thoughts, finding out where this or that criminal enterprise was stashing it’s dirty laundry. That didn’t stop him from getting a geeky rush as he saw himself. He knew it was silly. You’d think at thirty-eight years old he’d have outgrown that sort of thing by now. And you’d be wrong.

Max stepped to the balcony. It was dark outside. This part of town was not especially well lit after ten pm. That and the high level balconies were major reasons he had chosen this particular hotel. He hopped to the rail, took a look out into the dark and let gravity have its way with him.

Five floors down Max came out of freefall. He bit his lip behind the mask to keep from laughing out loud. Good God what a rush! He peeled off away from the building, high enough not to be noticed by the few people still up at nearly one in the morning but low enough to be either below radar or lost in the ground clutter. He kept his speed relatively low as he looped out and away in the direction of the Chastain home. When he was a few miles away from the hotel he compared his course to the aerial photos he had studied before coming out west, made a minor correction and hauled ass.

Normal drive time from Max’s hotel to Owen Chastain’s residence was thirty to forty-five minutes depending on weather and traffic conditions. Cross country travel for someone flying in excess of a hundred and twenty miles an hour was less than five. As Max tore through the sky he kept his personal force field up and his eyes open for any terrain features he might have missed when planning this part of his campaign against Owen Chastain. He had failed to do so once back home. A county-wide blackout and near-death experience had been the result.

Max was almost sorry to approach Owen’s neighborhood. Telekinesis and telepathy might be the most useful of his gifts but damned if flight wasn’t the most fun. He slowed to the pace of a car, then a bicycle and finally a walk. It took a little circling to find the right house but when he did Max grinned and stooped on the place.

A quick scan of the house showed that Owen and Brandon were both asleep in Owen's bed. Max said a silent prayer of thanks for that. If the kid had been kenneled it would have seriously complicated what came next. Max hovered a few feet above the roof. He kept low and prone despite a complete absence of lit windows or waking minds anywhere he could see or otherwise detect. Reaching out with his own mind Max went to work.

The first order of business was to make a small puncture in the hose that carried natural gas to the kitchen stove. If a forensics expert found enough of the hose to examine it the rupture would appear to be simple equipment failure. Several minutes of waiting followed then as Max let a quantity of gas build up. Next he disabled the nanny-cam covering the kitchen. Max wasn’t worried about what an investigator would find on the hard drive of the computer linked to the camera. Neither it nor most of the house would exist in a few minutes.

A quick dip into the utility drawer produced a “strike anywhere” kitchen match. A quick scrape across one of the burners produced what a certain Warner Brothers character would call “an Earth shattering kaboom”. The resulting explosion turned most of the first floor into an inferno. Windows blew out and several walls collapsed. Burning debris slashed through the attached garage which shared a wall with the kitchen and volcanoed up into the second floor. Fortunately Owen’s room was on the opposite end of the house.

Both Owen’s SUV and the sedan he mostly kept around for Brandon to run errands in went off like bombs. Wreckage from the blast was no respecter of property lines . Flaming shrapnel punched through a window of the Carmody residence while more embedded itself in their roof. Max had really taken a dislike to Mrs. Carmody during their brief encounter.

Upstairs, Brandon and Owen were both hurled from bed. They woke to the roaring of flames and the bite of smoke already in their lungs and eyes. The house smoke detectors were screaming their little electronic heads off. Thanks for the heads up guys.

The floor was already hot under their feet. The two stumbled to the door on all fours. A quick check showed that it felt warm but not the kind of hot which meant the area immediately outside the room was on fire. They opened the door into Hell’s waiting room. Smoke filled the hallway and flames were climbing the walls and ceiling. Most of what was left of the stairway was covered in fire. More fire was erupting through a hole in the far end of the hallway above where the kitchen had once been. A window exit was their only real chance at getting out alive.

Back into the bedroom, coughing and hacking, lungs and sinuses streaming. Between the smoke and the heat it was getting impossible to breathe. The window opened with ease. Max made sure of that. The screen was punched out and Brandon went out first. Max would always give Owen points for that.

Brandon slid out the window feet first. He dangled at the end of his reach, pushed off from the blazing hot wall and landed on the lawn below. He picked up a couple bruises and got a little singed but nothing serious. When Owens turn came he wasn’t so lucky. Flames punched through the wall, searing his skin and when he fell he landed wrong. One leg took most of the impact and something tore loose in his knee. He screamed and rolled off to the side.

In the distance sirens could be heard coming on fast. Every light in the neighborhood was on now. Up on the roof Max was having an increasingly unpleasant time as well. The roof was getting griddle-hot. Angry red fangs of fire were stabbing up through the shingles and a choking smog of soot and embers was playing hell with his breathing. As soon as he saw that Brandon was clear and not seriously hurt he took off into the night sky, careful to hide amid the billowing smoke. That presented its own share of discomfort but nothing close to what being caught on camera would do.

A few minutes later Max was back in his room. He had sprinted most of the way back to the hotel and was sweating from the exertion. The possibility he might reek of smoke to some observant cop or hotel employee was a non-issue. Spend a couple minutes winging through the sky at NASCAR speeds and the only thing you’re going to smell of is fresh air. He stripped, packed his flying clothes, got back into bed and waited.

The room’s phone rang first. He ignored it. Answering the phone on the first ring or even first series of rings would look suspicious under the circumstances. After five rings the phone shut up only to restart again a few seconds later. This time he got it on the third one.

“It’s one in the fucking morning!” He snapped into the receiver. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Krier,” said the person on the other end “but this is the front desk. The police are here. They need to speak to you right away.”

“The cops?” Max asked muzzily. “Fuck for?”

“It seems there was an explosion at the home where your nephew is…um… staying and…”

Max’s tone changed instantly. “An explosion?!? The hell didn’t you say so! Omigod! Is Brandon ok? Shit! Get my car! And my bag from the safe! And…. Shit!”

Max dropped the phone and went into “panicked relative freaking out trying to get dressed after being woken up from a sound sleep” mode. He literally ran into the two uniforms on his way to the elevator. He was the very picture of disarray. His shirt was on inside out, pants buttoned but not zipped and while his tennis shoes were on the right feet they weren’t tied. One of them wasn’t even all the way on . The back part of the shoe hand caught on his foot heel and he was gimping along at a job to the elevator.

“Are you Max Krier?” The lead cop asked. He was a big guy, built like a linebacker . His partner was a wiry little Asian dude. Neither one looked pleased to see Max. A nervous looking hotel employee hovered behing them.

“Yeah.” Max said. “Nice to meet you.” He went to dodge around them. “’Scuse me.”

The officer took him by the arm. “We have some questions sir.”

Max shrugged the hand off and rounded on the guy. He jabbed an angry finger up into the direction of his face. The officer had a foot in height and a hundred pounds or more of muscle on Max . The overall affect was like watching a Min-Pin try to dominate a Rottweiler.

“I just got woken up from a sound sleep to hear that my dead twin sister’s only kid has been blown the fuck up officer! You wanna talk? Talk on the way to my car. Otherwise arrest me. Then get ready to explain yourself to my attorneys!” He turned and tried to continue down the hall only to be put in a joint lock and shoved face-first into the wall.

Max struggled. “Get your fucking hands off me goddamint!”

“We can do this here or I can take you in for questioning sir.” The officer said calmly. As an added incentive he grabbed Max by the belt and lifted him up off the floor until his feet dangled a few inches in the air.

Max squirmed a little more before giving up. “Fine! Just put me down! But as soon as we’re done I’m going to my nephew!”

The officer set him down and Max turned to face the guy. He straightened himself out and glared up, craning his neck .

“What d’you wanna know?” Max demanded.

“Um, excuse me.” The night staffer , who’s nametag read ‘Jeremy’ said nervously “Is there any way we could do this in Mr. Krier’s room? The other hotel guests might n…”

Max lasered Jeremy with a look. “Fuck the other guests! I don’t see any of them with blown up family!” The poor kid paled at the assault and seemed to shrink a little. Max sighed. “Fine! This way!”

When they got to Max’s room he discovered that he’d left his key behind. Jeremy used a master key to let them in. The police looked around at the state of the room. The balcony doors were open and the place was about as tidy as could be expected after the occupant had been woken up in the wee small hours to be told his only remaining relative had been in an explosion. While the Asian guy poked around, the linebacker produced a notebook and pen.

“Can you tell us where you were at aproximiately one o’clock this morning?” He asked.

Max glanced at the clock. “What, you mean twenty minutes ago? I was here, asleep! Where else would I be?”

“And can anyone else confirm that?”

Max gave an exasperated sigh. He gestured to the room. “You see anybody else here? I was asleep. Alone. I’m recovering from a critical illness and I was worn out so I crashed early, told the desk to not wake me for anything but an emergency.”

“And was there some particular reason you anticipated an emergency tonight?”

“No! But I don’t anticpate a car crash either. I still buckle up. Look, is this going somewhere? What the hell happened? Is Brandon ok? Is he hurt? That asshole who owns him goes to what is it, Saints Pacific? Jeremy, get me the fastest route to Saints would you please?”

The cop could have been a golem he was so unflappable. “You were involved in a confrontation with Mr. Chastain Monday evening weren’t you Mr. Krier? And another one over the phone at approximately eleven am? You also were present when he was hospitalized with burns and head trauma Tuesday morning.”

Max sighed and clenched his fists. It wasn’t hard playing the part of the pissed off, keyed up relative. All he had to do was let his natural emotions from the past few days out while pretending he didn’t know anything about a bunch of stuff he knew everything about.

“Yes, I showed up at his home looking to buy out Brandon’s contract. I admit, I timed it initially so he wouldn’t be there. I wanted to see my nephew alone so I could assess his condition without Chastain exerting any undue influence. He got wind of my visit, started zapping Brandon with his chip, called to tell me to get lost and I did so. I came back at six pm with a suitcase full of cash. It’s in the hotel safe. Jeremy can show it to you if you like. I offered him half a million in cash for a seventy-five thousand dollar contract. He refused. I told him to think it over and said I’d be in touch. Then I left. At seven the next morning I returned. I…”

“And the purpose of that visit?” The officer interrupted. “And what exactly did you mean by,” he checked his notes “I’ll explore less expensive solutions?”

“And can you explain this?” The bulldozers partner was holding out Max’s file on Owen.

“I meant I’d take his ass to court. My attorneys tell me I’ve got a pretty solid case for Brandon’s release. Especially if I’m willing to cover the cost of his contract. Which I am obviously and then some. Thing is the courts take time and I’d rather my dead sisters kid not spend one more minute getting fucked in the ass by some middle-aged faggot than is absoloutely neccassary. So I came out here and made an offer.

The purpose of the visit was to see if he had changed his mind or if I should just start suing his ass. I was as surprised as anyone when I found out he’d got hurt. And what’s up with trying to tie my presence to him falling in the shower anyhow? I never even set foot in the house!

The file, I got an anonymous note in the mail not long after I tried to get Brandon’s location through normal channels. I hired a team of investigators, told them to get everything they could on Brandon’s owner and the conditions he was living under. I’m not responsible for somebody in the Chicago Bureau breaking the regs and there’s nothing illegal about hiring a PI firm. Anything else? Because I’d really like to get going.”

“We just need to verify your whereabouts Mr. Krier. I’m sure you can see how this looks.”

“Yeah, it looks like all the family I’ve got in this world might be dead and I’m sitting here with my thumb up my ass when I should be on my way to see if he’s ok!”

The cop glared at him. “Mr. Krier, you need to calm down sir.”

“Tell me that when it’s your kid getting blown up pal! Lets see you get woke up at one am to ‘Hey guess what somebody you love just got set on fire!’ and see how fucking nonchalant you are!”

Bulldozer moved to take hold of Max again but this time Jeremy intervened. “Actually, the hotel security cameras can verify Mr. Krier’s presence all night. And doesn’t your car have GPS sir?”

Without waiting for a response, Jeremy got on his two way and had hotel security check to see if Max had left his room after putting up the DND. The response quickly came back that Max had stayed in from the time he closed the door to the time he almost trampled Jeremy and the cops.

“There,” Max said testily. “Now can I please go? And while we’re at it, I’ve cooperated fully with you. Can you at least tell me if Brandon is alive or not?”

“Your nephew and his employer made it out alive Mr. Krier.” The Asian officer said. “They both suffered some minor injuries and smoke inhalation but they should be fine. You’re free to go but we’d advise against leaving town. The DA may want to interview you if this turns out to be arson.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I’m gonna go through all this bullshit and offer some degenerate bastard six times the value of my nephew’s contract and then blow up the house he’s sleeping in when I don’t get my way.” He shook his head and stalked out.

“Un-the fuck-believeable!”

[mechgogo]

Max found Owen and Brandon in the waiting room of the Saints Pacific ER. Both were sitting in chairs looking shocky. Someone had found them hospital pajamas and slippers to wear. Both had been sleeping naked as was the rule under Owen’s roof and hadn’t had time to put anything on. Brandon spotted Max and ran to him.

Brandon wrapped his arms around his uncle and just held on. He shuddered and cried into the top of Max’s head. Max returned Brandon’s hug. It was always a little weird getting embraced by him these days. He had carried Brandon around on his hip as a baby and now the boy loomed over him.

“You ok kid?” Max asked. “You hurt?”

Brandon shook his head. “I’m ok. We were in bed and there was a…”

“Brandon! Get over here!”

Max and Brandon both turned to see Owen limping over. “I’ve told you before you’re not to speak to that man without my permission!”

Brandon lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry Master,” he said “I just..”

Owen glared at Max. “This is your fault isn’t it?” Owen demanded, ignoring Brandon.

Max affected a confused expression. “The hell are you talking about? I was asleep in bed when the cops showed up at my hotel saying your house blew up.”

“And you had something to do with it! Same way you’re behind everything else that happened to us tonight!”

Max turned to Brandon. “Brandon, what is he babbling about?”

Max knew exactly what Owen’s problem was. His conversation with Charlize about the website had been camouflage in case anyone was listening in. When the paramedics had taken them to the hospital, Owen had expected to be fast-tracked into treatment. He was financially well off and heavily insured. Or so he thought.

Instead Owen found himself destitute. Someone had reported his credit cards stolen, completely gutted all his financial assets and killed every scrap of insurance he had. As he stood there in his hospital issue slippers and pj’s his total personal holdings consisted of a bungalow at FanTan naturists resort and Brandons contract.

“I said don’t speak to him!” Owen snapped. Forty-eight hours earlier he had had a good life. A nice home, plenty of money and the affection of a cute and, if not necessarily willing, at least obedient houseboy. Now his home was destroyed, most of his wealth gone and he couldn’t even pay for an aspirin to cut the pain of his injuries. He snapped and went for Max.

Max let the idiot grab him. He needed people to see that what he was about to do was self defense. As the other hand came in at his face he ducked and twisted free. The incoming fist whiffed over his head as hospital security and a couple cops came hurrying over. Max handled the problem himself before they ever got within range.

As he evaded the badly aimed punch, Max kicked Owen in the side of his already injured knee as hard as he could. Owen screamed like a stabbed infant and started to go down. A right to the side of the jaw finished things. Owen lay there in a daze. Everyone else in the room, including the various security officers just stared in disbelief. Owen had six inches and an easy hundred pounds on Max. By most people’s reasoning the only way Max should have been able to take him out was with a baseball bat.


That kind of reaction always baffled Max .People were always underestimating him because of his small stature. It never occurred to them that a guy who had always had a tiny body and a big mouth might need to know how to throw his hands. Toss in a lifetime obsession with spandex-sporting weirdoes who solved most of their problems with their fists and it should have come as no surprise that Max Krier had been studying unarmed combat most of his life. Besides, who ever heard of a superhero who didn’t know how to throw a decent punch?

Max stood over the downed man. “You put your fucking hands on me you piece of trash?" He demanded. The anger in his voice and body language lit up the room and were no act. If anything, it was taking a supreme act of will to restrain himself from not just spreading Owen across half the waiting room with his mind.

"I’m not some helpless kid you can beat the shit out of or force yourself on because of some bullshit law that never should got passed! You try it again and I’ll whip your ass!”

Security separated them and everybody got calmed down. More or less. Owen sat in his chair glaring at Max as Brandon filled him in on what he already knew.

“So basically the holdup is due to you not having any money or insurance.” He said. “No problem.”

Max walked over to the admissions desk. The nurse on duty was a cute little bespectacled thing named Brittany. He brought the bag of clothes he had picked up for Brandon with him.

“Hi Brittany.” He said, smiling. “Max Krier, nice to meet you. Look, I understand there’s a little wrinkle with getting that idiot I just decked in to be seen. Normally I’d let the prick cool his heels til Hell froze over but my nephew’s with him too and I can’t leave until he gets treated. So, this is for you.”

Max pulled a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her. The girl made a token attempt at refusal and then made the money disappear.

“This is for them.” Max pulled two ten thousand dollar bundles from the bag and pointed over to where a young mother with a sick little girl about the age he had been when he floated a quarter for the first time sat.

“And this,” another twenty k in cash was piled onto the counter. Brittany’s eyes got wider with each deposit. The security gaurds drifted over as well. “is for Mr. Chastain and my nephew. Now, could you please call Dr. Hydecker and let him know that if he doesn’t get his lazy ass down here in the next twenty minutes the unpleasant little man who has been plaguing his patient like a bad case of the crabs is going to locate and publish every last indiscretion he’s had in the last twenty years?”

Max gave the girl his best smile. “I’m rich and unprincipled you see.”

Dr Hydecker didn’t quite make the twenty minute deadline Max had arbitrarily picked but he did arrive in short order. After that Owen and Brandon were whisked into a room. Tests were run, scans were done. Bandages and ointments were applied and a brace was found for Owen’s bad knee. Max tagged along. The doctor tried to get rid of him but Max calmly and politely pointed out that this was his dime and he was the only living blood relation of one of the patients. So the staff tolerated his presence as long as he kept out of the way. While the medics did their thing Max called the hotel and made arrangements for Owen and Brandon’s accommodation.

When everything that could be done had been done an orderly rolled Owen out towards the exit in a wheelchair. He and Brandon were both still in the pajamas Max had found them in. Both were yawning their heads off and Max couldn’t blame them. He was wiped out himself and he hadn’t had anywhere near as rough a day as they had.

Several of Owen’s friends were waiting for them when they came out. All were male and larger than Max . He knew from both his file on Owen and scans of Brandon’s mind that every single one of them had made use of the boy since he came home with Owen.

Mark Bergstrom took the initiative. Max particularly disliked Bergstrom. He had a fondness for bathroom play and rough lovin’. Brandon shrunk into himself at the sight of the man.

“Owen! Are you alright?” He asked. Then he spotted Max. “What are you doing here?” Apparently Max’s reputation preceded him.

“Checking on my nephew and paying your boys medical bills because something happened to all his money and insurance.” Max said.

The guy tried to crowd Max. “Yeah,” he said, jabbing a finger into Max’s chest. “you happened.”

Max rolled his eyes. “The fuck am I gonna carpet-bomb his,” Max twitched his head at Owen “insurance and finances and then go and pay cash to cover his medical bills for? Makes more sense for me to let him twist in the wind, get up to his nuts in debt so I’ve got more leverage to buy Brandon’s contract. And get your hands off me right now.”

“Or what?”

Max smiled. “Find out.”

Max turned to Owen. “Your friends wasted a trip Mr. Chastain. I took the liberty of setting you up with a room at my hotel. Nice luxury suite, everything you want. All on my dime. I thought we could get some sleep and talk business after we’ve rested and had a bite to eat.”

“That’s very generous of you Max.” Owen said. “And I appreciate you covering my care but I think we’re going to stay with my friends instead.”

Max shrugged. “Have it your way.”

Max turned to Owens crew. “You guys know what a cooler is?” He asked.

Before anyone could answer he enlightened them. “It’s a guy who sucks the luck right outta any space he’s in. Casino’s employ ‘em to help kill a hot streak. Somebody’ll be up fifty, sixty grand, cooler’ll sit down beside them and bam! Next thing you know they’re so deep in the hole they’re looking at a ride in a white van and a chip in their neck.”

Max took a sip of his vending machine coffee. It was awful stuff with a rotten flavor and so hot just sipping it gave his tongue that scalded “white” feeling. But it had caffeine in it and he wasn’t in the mood for a soda.

“Now personally, I respect loyalty. Few traits in this world are more admirable to me. But if I had a daughter spending the summer backpacking through Europe,” He looked at Paul Antrim, the man to Marks left.

“Or a wife undergoing chemo.” Sam Reynolds opened his eyes a little at that.

“Or a house currently undergoing extensive remodeling Mr. Bergstrom, I wouldn’t be real quick to bring a cooler into my home. Never know what could happen. And Bergstrom, seriously; take your fucking hands off me.”

Mark ignored him. “Are you threatening us you sawed off little jerk?” he asked. The other two had fanned out, surrounding them.

Max shook his head. A look inside the guys mind told him how the next few minutes were likely to play out. Oh well, if they didn’t want to be reasonable.

“Nope. Just making an observation. I mean let’s look at the facts for a second. Owen’s life is in ruins right now. Cops questioned me about my involvement but they can’t touch me.”

Mark grabbed Max by the front of his jacket and lifted him off the ground. “How about I touch you you little runt?”

Max thumbed the lid off his coffee cup and threw the contents into Marks face. Most of the scalding liquid hit him in the eyes. He dropped Max, grabbed his face and screamed. He recovered quickly and made a grab for Max, intent on getting some retribution.

Max landed lightly and stepped in. Mark’s assault was all the legal justification he needed to hammer the prick. Two fast jabs up under Marks ribs played havoc with his breathing. When the bigger man doubled over Max hit him again, this time in the temple. Two hundred-plus pounds of Pacific coast beef hit the floor out cold.

Max felt an electric surge as Antrim moved in. Max scanned him, saw where the blow was aimed and let it appear to land. A forcefield absorbed the impact when the punch hit him across the back of the head. On camera it looked like he’d been rocked by a cheap shot from a much bigger man rushing in to blindside him.

Max staggered a little, shook his head. He dropped and spun, seeming to lash out blindly. The back of a hard little fist caught Paul directly over the fly of his pants. Paul gagged and started to fold. As he went down Max, still seemingly dazed, appeared to stumble into him and straightened up suddenly. The back of his head caught Paul in the teeth. He went down hard and didn’t get up.

“Uncle Max! Look out!”

Max was already aware of the incoming rush from Reynolds. Brandon didn’t know that however. He threw himself at the older man and the two went down in a tangle as cops and security guards came rushing over. There was a brief scuffle, the sounds of two people hitting one another and then a particularly loud cry as Sam gained the advantage and mounted Brandon.

He sat there straddling the boy’s hips. His lip was split and one eye was starting to puff up. Brandon had the beginnings of his own shiner and a bloody nose. Sam hauled back his fist.

“You uppity little shit! I’ll teach…”

Max pivoted . The move served two purposes. First, to improve his position relative to the two combatants on the floor. Second, it added momentum to the kick whipped into the vast acreage of ribcage left exposed by Reynolds upraised hand. A quick peek under the skin confirmed what a lifetime’s experience had already told him; two broken ribs and a bruised lung. Max contemplated using a little push of power to fracture his sternum too but the courts might find such an injury excessive.

The uniforms were in range now and Max saw what they intended. As Reynolds folded around his injury, Max snatched him up by the crotch and front of his shirt. On camera it looked like he was holding a grown man four inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than himself up by sheer brute force .
It certainly felt to Sam like his balls were being squeezed in Max’s painfully strong little hand. In actuality it was all telekinesis. Not that Max couldn’t have lifted someone Sam’s size. He just didn’t want to be in contact with the bastard for what came next.

Max turned as the first guard on the scene pulled is taser. He held Sam up like a shield as the electrified darts launched and Reynolds took them in the back. Sam screamed as thirty-five thousand volts surged through his body.

One of the cops had his sidearm out and pointed at Max, finger inside the trigger guard. Max dropped Reynolds and raised his hands. He started to bend his knees, clearly intent on getting on the ground. Then he sent a little twitch of power to the officers trigger finger. Not much, just enough to cause the weapon to discharge twice while pointed at an unarmed and apparently compliant civilian.

Max dropped to the ground as the gun roared. He covered his head with his hands. People screamed and dropped to the ground. Another telekinetic nudge guided the bullets so that they didn’t actually hurt anyone. The first round passed through a recently vacated chair and hit an unoccupied gurney. The other stopped when it went into a wall and hit a support beam.

Max felt bad about scaring everyone, not to mention all the grief he’d just caused the cop. But he needed leverage to make his assault charges on Reynolds either go away or at least be reduced. The prospect of avoiding all manner of legal and media headaches should make the local authorities much more reasonably inclined towards him.

After the screaming stopped and Owen’s friends were taken off to be treated other officers took statements from Max and various people who witnessed the fight and attempted shooting. Max agreed not to press charges if no one else did and promised not to sue the department if they’d just quit hassling him. With his friends out of the equation Owen really had no choice but to accept Max’s offer of help.

The three of them piled into Max’s car and drove back to the hotel. Brandon rode shotgun so Owen could stretch out in the back. A hotel employee very kindly pushed Owen along in a wheelchair to his room. The room was down the hall from Max’s and every bit as nice as the one Max was staying in. When Owen gestured for Brandon to join him Max vetoed the idea.

“It won’t do anyone any harm for him to stay a night with me Owen.” He said. “My couch pulls out so there’s plenty of room. And with your bad leg I’m guessing you might want the extra space in bed.” He expected an argument but Owen just nodded his head and complied. He was too tired and worn down from the events of the day to fight anymore.

Max pulled out the hide-a-bed in his rooms couch and let Brandon have the main bed. He wondered how long it had been since the boy had done more than nap in a bed without someone else joining him. Max sat on the edge of the bed beside his nephew and felt a surge of love for Brandon pulse through him. He really was a great kid. It was too damned bad Melissa wouldn’t get to see what kind of man he’d grow into. The thought of his sister made Max’s eyes well up and he thumbed the moisture out of them before it could spill over.

“Uncle Max?” Brandon asked.

“Yeah buddy.”

“Am I going to go home with you soon?”

Max shrugged. "That’s up to Mr. Chastain. I think he might be coming around though.” He grinned down at Brandon. “Might be getting the idea you’re not exactly good luck to have around y’know?”

“I hope so.” Brandon said and yawned. “You um, you didn’t have anything to do with the fire did you?”

“I’d set myself on fire before I put you in harm’s way Bran.” Max said. And it was true. The entire house could have fallen in on them and while Owen might not have made it out alive, Brandon would have emerged without a scratch.

“Ok. I didn’t think so. It was just a really weird coincidence you know?”

Max nodded again. “Yeah, I can see that. Still, works in our favor doesn’t it? He’s gonna be desperate now. The money I’m offering him for your contract will get him back on his feet. Oh, speaking of which, thanks for having my back tonight. That Reynolds guy woulda had me if you hadn’t jumped him.”
That last was pure bullshit of course but after four months of being completely helpless Brandon needed something to make him feel like less of a victim.

“You ended up pulling him offa me Uncle Max.” Brandon said. Then he grinned. “Still, it was pretty badass the way you picked him up and used him for a shield.”

Max chuckled. He’d had fun and wouldn’t deny it. Over the years he’d caused quite a bit of mayhem. It never got boring either. But there was just something more deep down satisfying about beating up on a person who had done terrible things to someone you loved .

“I wouldn’t have been on my feet of you hadn’t intercepted him Bran.” Max said. He bumped the side of his fist against the boys shoulder. “You did good. I’m proud of you. Now get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Brandon yawned and turned over, closing his eyes. “Night Uncle Max.” He said. “Love you.”

“Love you too buddy.”

[mechgogo]

All three of them slept late Wednesday. It had been a stressful night for everyone to say the least. Max woke first and sat watching Brandon. He thought about the last few months and everything his nephew must have gone through. It would be easy to experience it firsthand. Just take a little stroll down a few neural pathways and really get a slaves-eye view of life under the yoke.

He decided to pass. Brandon deserved his privacy. It was enough for Max to peek a little to determine whether or not Brandon actually wanted to be rescued. Sometimes indents bonded with their owners. It wasn’t unheard of. If that were the case he’d have to rethink his plans. It wasn’t though. Brandon had resigned himself to his new life but he wasn’t happy in it and he damned sure wasn’t in love with Owen Chastain. So unless Mr. Chastain wanted to find out what else Max could take from him he’d do the right thing and sign the boy over before day’s end.

Max treated everyone to a late breakfast at a nearby restaurant and then they all adjourned back to the hotel. Owen was still trying to figure out what he was going to do next and none of his friends were being very helpful. After the previous night’s events they were keeping him at arm’s length, at least until he resolved things between himself and Max. Brandon was still a little rattled but he was handling it better than his owner. It made sense really; his life was about to finally get better for the first time since his parents died.

After breakfast Max sent Brandon to go play in the hotel pool while he and Chastain talked. The two men sat in chairs at a table nearby watching him and sharing a pot of coffee. They both loved him in their own way and both wanted what they thought was best for him. It was simply a matter of the two ideas being irreconcilably opposed to one another.

“He’s a great kid isn’t he?” Max asked.

Owen nodded. “Uh-huh. Real sweetheart. Well behaved, obedient, polite. Your sister did a great job raising him.”

Max glared at him. “My sister would stab you in the balls if she were here Owen.” He said coldly. “And probably whip my ass for not just shooting you.”

Owen shivered and felt his bladder loosen. Three days ago he would have shrugged and rolled his eyes at threats from some militant or talk of all the horrible things Max would do to him when he got the chance. Three days ago his bank accounts had been full and his home hadn’t been a pile of smoldering wreckage.

Max produced a quarter and started walking it back and forth across the backs of the fingers of his left hand. There was no power behind the action. It was a simple dexterity exercise he had mastered years ago.

“You need to take a hard look at where you are Owen.” He said. “You’ve got obligations to that kid that you just can’t meet anymore. It ain’t all one way you know. How long do you think it’s gonna take my lawyers to ramrod through the paperwork to get him free now that you’re homeless and broke huh?”

“I’ve still got my place at FanTan. And my job. I can rebuild.”

Max shrugged. The quarter continued its trip back and forth across his hand. “For now you do. What happens if you suddenly don’t? You know what happens to former contractors who find themselves in the system? It ain’t pretty let me tell you.”

Despite how beaten down he was Owen couldn’t help bridling at that. “You keep denying you had anything to do with what happened to me and yet you talk so casually about the idea I might lose my job and my bungalow. How can you be so cavalier about ruining a person’s whole life? It’s like you don’t even care.”

Max sipped at his coffee and nodded at Brandon. “I could ask the same of you; how you can sleep at night when day after day you rape that kid you claim to care so much about?”

“That’s different! The law says I’m within my rights! And I’m good to him! Ask him yourself he’ll tell you so!”

Max rolled his eyes. “You keep him in a fucking dog kennel Owen.”

“Only sometimes.”

Well gee that made it all better didn’t it just? Jackass. “Look Owen we can sit here all day listing one another’s moral shortcomings. God knows I’ve got my share. But it’s not gonna change anything. You’re broke. You’re homeless. You’ve got no car and no medical insurance. Jesus Christ man! You couldn’t even pay for the clothes you’re wearing right now! And I’ve got a suitcase full of money and only one thing to spend it on. Now why don’t you stop pretending you’ve got a chance in Hell of winning this thing, cut your losses and let him go? Walk away while you’ve still got a few scraps of your life left.”

Owen didn’t answer right away. As much as he hated to admit it Max was right. The bungalow at FanTan was almost two hundred miles away. He didn’t have any money for accommodations in town and the one or two friends that would actually take his calls couldn’t help him. Noone wanted to risk having his bad luck rub off on them. He hated what he’d been reduced to and he placed the blame squarely on Max Kriers wiry little shoulders.

“You know,” he said finally “you claim to want what’s best for Brandon. Have you ever bothered to ask him? For all you know he’s happy here. Maybe you’re taking him away from where he really wants to be because you can’t bear the idea of what we do together.”

Max laughed out loud at that. He’d been inside Brandon’s mind seeking out the answer to that very question. If Owen had the first clue what the boy thought or felt for him he’d have sold him already. But what the Hell, if couldn’t hurt to play along.

“Fair enough. We’ll let him decide. If he wants to stay he can stay and I’ll see what I can do to get you back on your feet. If not, you quit being so obstinate. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They called Brandon over and explained the situation to him. It was only fair really. He wasn’t a child anymore and deserved a right to some say in his future. If he decided he wanted to stay things would remain as they had been between him and Mr. Chastain in most ways. Max would visit from time to time and send packages at Christmas and his birthday and probably other times as well. Owen even offered to let Brandon have some say in whether or not he served anyone but him intimately.

If Brandon decided he wanted to go with Max Owen would sign off immediately. The two of them would go back to Chicago and Brandon would go to school in the fall just like every other free kid his age. He’d have a curfew and chores and help out at the store a few hours a week for some pocket money. There’d be rules he had to follow just like when his parents were alive. But he’d be free and living with Uncle Max, not a piece of property subject to the sexual demands of some stranger .

Brandon didn’t even have to think about it. “I wanna go home.” He said. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what he meant.

Owen felt himself crumple inside. He knew Brandon hadn’t liked most of what they did together in bed but he had been kind to him as long as he behaved. The affection he felt for Brandon was real and he had hoped that at least some of it had been reciprocated.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Owen asked. “We’ve been together three months son. We had some good times together. Remember last month when we went deep sea fishing? I really thought we’d bonded.”

“I’m not your son you fucking old pervert!” Brandon snapped. “I’m just some kid you bought and fucked in the ass whenever you wanted to. You wanna share a memory?” He was shaking now and stepped towards the table. His fists were clenched and he was starting to cry.

“How about our first night at your house huh? Remember that? Remember telling me you knew I didn’t like having sex with you and that that was part of the turn-on for you? Remember putting me on my knees in the middle of a circle of your fucking friends and you all giving me a come bath you sick fucking faggot motherfucker!!!”

Brandon threw himself at Owen then. Max did nothing to intervene. The kid needed to get some payback after what he had been through. He just grabbed the coffee carafe and got out of the way. The table went flying as Brandon went through it on his way to his soon- to- be- former owner. Brandon got his hands around Owens throat. He rode the older man to the ground and landed a few solid , cursing hits before Max grabbed him from behind and lifted him up off his feet.

“I wish you’d fucking burned to death you motherfucker!” Brandon screamed. “You hear me faggot? I wish you’d burned!”

Max carried the shouting, swearing teenager over to the pool and threw him in. It was even money whether the people staring were doing so because of Brandon’s outburst or because of how effortlessly the much smaller Max had manhandled him.

“Cool off!” Max said when Brandon came sputtering to the surface.

He walked back over to where Owen was reclaiming his chair. Brandon had done some decent work on him. A split lip and bloody nose now joined the list of the battered mans injuries.

“Well,” Max said, grinning “guess we’ve got our answer.” He gestured to one of the hotel employees who had been nearby. When they came over he asked them to bring his bag from the safe and the hotel concierge.

While they waited other employees righted the table and got a first aid kit for Owens hurts. When the concierge arrived Max explained that they needed a witness to the transfer of Brandon’s contract and she agreed to serve in that capacity. The story of the previous night’s events had flashed through the hotel grapevine in record time. It wasn’t every day they had a guest get questioned at one am over suspected arson and attempted murder. For her part, the well dressed young woman thought Owen was getting off easy. She had a brother Brandon’s age and only her sense of professionalism kept her from spitting on the battered contractor.

Max took the transfer forms from the suitcase along with a pen. He left the case open so he could access Owen’s payment easier. The amount of the transfer fee had intentionally been left blank. Max got in one final twist of the blade when he counted out fifty one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Owen.

Owen just looked at the relatively tiny pile of money in front of him. “That’s, that’s not what we agreed….” He stammered and gestured at the cash. “You’re offering me less than…”

“Less than what you paid in taxes when you initially purchased Brandon’s contract.” Max finished for him. “Yes, I am. And yes, I know; Monday I offered you one-hundred times that. Monday you had a chance to be reasonable. You decided to show me your ass instead.”

He made his own gesture at the money. “So that’s the new offer. You can take it and have me out of your life for good or you can continue to be an unreasonable asshole and see what happens.” He locked eyes with Owen, silently daring him to be stupid and reject the offer.

Owen looked away before Max did. He gave a resigned sigh. Max looked inside his head and had to restrain himself from giggling like a little kid. The bastard was completely broken! There was actually a room inside his skull where he was curled up, hugging himself and crying. Served the fucker right after everything he had put an innocent kid who had never done him a speck of harm through.

Owen took the money. Max filled in the transfer amount and all three of them signed in the designated spaces. Then Max informed Charity, the concierge that Owen would be checking out of his room immediately.

“Could you please have a car and driver take Mr. Chastain wherever he wants to go so long as it’s very far away from me and my nephew?” Max requested. “Just bill it to my room. Oh, and this is for your trouble.” He passed Charity seven one hundred dollar bills. “Please give two to the driver and keep the rest for yourself. Mr. Chastain will be along directly. He and I just need a minute alone.”

Charity disappeared and the hotel employees who had been hanging around after straightening up the mess Brandon’s tantrum had created found other things to do. Over in the pool Brandon was watching the proceedings intently. He floated in the water with his elbows and forearms on the edge of the pool. He had seen the money change hands and wanted to cheer and punch his fist in the air. Uncle Max had done it! He was going home!

Max held out his hand for Owen to shake. Their business was concluded. There was no reason to be uncivilized now. Owen nervously took the proffered hand and Max clamped down on it. He reached inside Owens head and helped himself to the man’s nascent plans for rebuilding what was left of his life. Max had plans of his own. He just wasn’t sure yet if he was going to follow through with them or not.

When Owen tried to let go Max held on. He leaned in close and pulled Owen down so that his face was next to his ear. “If you ever so much as send my nephew a Christmas card,” he whispered “I will find you and I will make a lampshade out of your skin. Then I will kill you. Understood?” A little extra grind on the nerve cluster at the base of Owen’s right thumb punctuated the remark.

Owen nodded nervously and Max let him go. “Good. Now; fuck off.”

Max turned his back on Owen then. He picked up Brandon’s contract and waved it with a grin. “So what d’you think kid? Welcome home bash with all your friends this weekend at the house?”

Brandon and Max spent the rest of the day relaxing. Max had wanted to take Brandon clothes shopping but the boy explained that Owen had done the same thing the first day after bringing him home. He didn’t want any kind of connection between how his despised former owner and his beloved uncle did things if it could be avoided. Max agreed that made sense so instead they hung out for awhile, talked, had lunch and took the Impala out to see a movie.

Max spent a few minutes on the phone updating his lawyer and getting things in motion to have guardianship of Brandon transferred over to him. It wouldn’t be difficult. Melissa had been adamant that if anything ever happened to her and Tony Max would get sole custody. Tony hadn’t thought much of his generally good-for-nothing brother-in-law but even he agreed that after himself and his wife Brandon simply did not have a more devoted champion than Max.

At one point Max inquired of Charity about the driver she had arranged for Owen. Another little green portrait of Mr. Franklin bought him an introduction to the man. Max tipped him again and grilled him on where he had taken Owen. True to the plans Max had gleaned from the defeated slaver’s mind he had asked to be taken up to FanTan, the naturist resort where he owned a bungalow and had first acquired Brandon.

It made sense really. Owen didn’t really have anywhere else to go. The resort was distant enough that Max shouldn’t bother him and there were plenty of cute indent kids around to comfort him if he decided that was what he needed. Max thanked the driver for his help and reviewed the idea he had been chasing around since first becoming aware of Brandon’s circumstances several month’s earlier.

At Max’s insistence Brandon was in bed at 11 o’clock. He had had a rough couple of days and needed his rest. There’d be plenty of time for celebrating later. Max sat up awhile watching his nephew sleep. Memories filled his mind and not just of the boy. A lifetime of always being there for his sister, always using his powers to her benefit. Whether it was looting a poker table for a years tuition money or sending some idiot with more hands than brains to the emergency room it didn’t matter. She was his little sister; two minutes his junior and the most important person he had ever had in his life.

Brandon’s birth hadn’t changed that. It had simply meant that sixteen years ago the world had acquired a second person that no rational human being wanted to harm while Max Krier lived. He sighed. Some things are just inevitable really.

Max ran a small, calloused hand over the boys hair and kissed his sleeping forehead. “You get your rest buddy.” He said quietly. “Uncle Max is gonna make it right.” Then he went to the closet and got into his flying clothes.