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!”