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.”