It was early July and the heat was at its peak. Maxwell's body was pouring sweat in the sweltering ninety-nine degree heat. It was two hours before noon and the temperature was supposed to go higher. He had no choice but to abandon his t-shirt as he worked. A kid his age should be at the beach or hanging with his friends at an air conditioned shopping mall. Instead, Maxwell was cooped up in a factory with poor air conditioning and air ventilation. It was something he was supposed to get fixed in Spring, but Maxwell kept putting off the repairs to work on Mettatron. His masterpiece, of what was now four years, was almost complete. Having started since he was fourteen, Maxwell was eager for the final results. He didn't want to put off his work for anything. Sandra had a sleeper sofa brought in for him at a point since he stopped coming home. With only the AI left to create, the only time he wasn't coding was when he had to eat or use the bathroom. Sleep only became a factor when Sandra visited. She had to make sure he didn't die from exhaustion, and for the last two months a heat stroke.
"This is it…" Maxwell muttered as he typed slowly on the keyboard, looking down at every key his fingers pressed down on. "Mettatron version zero point four point zero alpha-" He pressed the enter key. "-now running." Some twenty-seven feet away, the eyes of a towering white giant of circuitry and metal would emit a bright ruby glow. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Yes! YEEESSS!" Maxwell leapt from his seat raving like a madman. Ecstatic that years of hard work and sweat were finally paying off. Mettatron was finally complete. "Okay, okay. Let's not get carried away." He warned himself. "Let's make sure everything else is up and running."
The mechanical suit had a lot of moving parts, which he selectively powered on to check diagnostics. Everything seemed to be in working order, but before he could be a test pilot the mecha needed gas. What Maxwell desperately needed was an efficient source of energy for the machine, something self-sustaining beyond gasoline and lead-acid car batteries. Nuclear power was considered but not an option as of yet, though apparently the concept of nuclear powered engines was being explored at Symmetry Technologies. However, the issue of converting thermal energy to electricity efficiently was what stumped the idea now just as it did Ford in the late 50s. So nuclear reactors or batteries were not an option for fueling the mecha’s operations. Maxwell was smart but not smart enough to solve energy conversion issues (not to say he has not been trying). He inherited enough genius smarts from his father to program advanced artificial intelligence, but not enough to solve the inefficiencies of nuclear energy conversion.
Maxwell knew some folks that worked with his Dad that he could reach out to for help. However, he wanted to keep his work with Mettatron a secret for as long as he could. Even Sandra's involvement was slowly limited as he grew older. Not that she could not have access to the mecha or its information, she simply respected his privacy, chalking it up to him being a teen. Now returning to his energy crisis, Maxwell had some ideas for a solution. He had been browsing some shady forums for the past two years, where you could find all sorts of information on brokers selling stolen tech and anomalous items. Very recently, as if revealed by Fate itself, there was a new ore discovered in meteorites that crashed down around the world. In them were special crystals that could provide energy for as long as a radioactive diamond battery, and contained enough energy to power a city-block for 28,000 years. Coincidentally the crystals were no bigger than AA or AAA batteries. Researchers have dubbed the special crystal dunamite, originating from the Greek word dunamis meaning ‘power’.
Apparently some broker got their hands on one of these crystals, and was going to sell it to the highest bidder. Such a thing was dangerous in the hands of criminals, and Maxwell had to get his hands on it no matter what. So he would make plans to locate the auction and steal the dunamite for Mettatron. A job easier said than done. There was no doubt that the place would be crawling with supervillains and representatives of the less than honest elite. Maxwell was just a teen, one whose powers had not yet matured to boot. Granted he knew how to use them, he just did not have the skill and experience of a superhero. So what was the plan? To create a large enough distraction for him to steal the dunamite. He planned to leak information of this underground auction to the right ears at the Justice Creed. Maxwell would put back on his black t-shirt (a terrible choice of clothing for hot sunny weather but it was his style), and turn off everything before finally heading out.
He would only leave on the factory servers for Mettatron. It was the AI’s library or main brain for complex thought. The technology needed to make a mechanical brain the same size and superior function to our organic brain was still a long way off (as far as he was aware anyway). After closing up shop and leaving Maxwell would hop into his car and head home. His car was a 2017 Honda Civic Type R, that Sandra bought for him once he got his permit at sixteen. Since then he’s modified the car so as to give Mettatron access to the vehicle. Teaching the AI how to drive was the first step in his tests before teaching it how to operate a mechanized suit of armor. Though Mettatron could have driven him home, Maxwell preferred to do it himself long after the success of the self-driving tests.
Using a different computer, a VPN, and a café in the next city over from his own, he would send information regarding the auction to the Justice Creed Headquarters. Once that was complete he would prepare himself for the trip ahead to New Jersey. Considering Sandra was a semi-active member of the Justice Creed, she would hear of the dunamite auction. It was to happen in the state of New Jersey, in the city of Camden after 1AM, six hours from now. Considering the big name villains that might be attending, Sandra would undoubtedly be invited by the Creed to come. The Scarlet Centipede after all was one of the most formidable heroes on earth, having worked alongside Symmetry as an equal. Maxwell would have Mettatron keep tabs on her internet use, so he could be notified when she was buying plane tickets. Of course this meant he had to go home. Maxwell hadn’t been there in two weeks since the final phase of Mettatron’s creation.
Maxwell’s home was deep in the heart of Arlington City. He had been living with Sandra at a thirty-something story residential building for the past six years since his father’s passing. It was nice and all but he wished they lived in a shorter building, since he hated having to take an elevator to go to his own home. Granted it was a private elevator he still didn’t find any pleasure in having to take it. Prior to living here, his father had a small mansion built that he used to live in. However, Maxwell couldn’t bring himself to live there without either of his parents. The only people that live there nowadays are the housekeepers, two maids and a butler. Maxwell would open the door to Sandra’s home, the light scent of cinnamon welcomed him to her penthouse. Her home had all this fancy furniture from Touch of Modern, so her home looked kind of futuristic to Maxwell. It was nice and all, but he didn’t care for aesthetics when it came to furniture. In fact he didn’t care for furniture at all if you would believe it.
He checked the fridge to figure out whether or not he’d eat the leftover Thai food from yesterday or the Chinese food from four days ago. Sandra wasn’t much of a cook as one could guess. Which was to be expected since she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She could just pay to have people cook for her. His mother wasn’t much of a cook either, however his father knew how to from his grandmother. She ran a small restaurant back in the day and of course his dad worked there. Though his dad did impart some basic cooking skills to him like how to cook rice, eggs, and simple stuff like that, he hasn’t done much to build upon them. All he and Sandra did was either eat out or order in.
“I miss it.” Maxwell mumbled to himself.
Nothing beats a home cooked meal. There was a fulfilling passion in it that just can’t ever be found in dishes bought or microwaved. Maxwell wanted to eat his father’s cooking again. He grabbed the chicken and egg thai rice in the plastic bowl and put it in the microwave.
When Sandra did come home Maxwell could inquire about the trip to New Jersey when she eventually mentions it. When the microwave sang, Sandra's keys jingled beyond the apartment door. She opened the door with an exhausted sigh rolling from her lips as she entered. Being rich was easy, remaining rich was the hard part. Had to work
“Hey Sandra! Didn’t hear you come in.” Maxwell said quickly.
"Hey darling, how was your day?" Sandra asked.
"It was alright, I made some progress with my Mettatron project." He replied.
"Oh really? Can't wait for you to show me some time-" She paused. "You will show it to me will you?" She said in her sweetest motherly voice, her auditory equivalent of puppy eyes.
"Sure Sandra, you'll be the first to see it once all is done." He promised. Maxwell knew immediately that she was prepping to head out, for the moment she came home she took out her small travel suitcase from the hall closet. It was the case that held her suit for hero business. She always tried to be discreet so as to avoid Maxwell harassing her to tag along, but he had set everything in motion so this time he knew. Not even a moment passed after taking out the suitcase did Maxwell spontaneously appear. Sandra stopped in her tracks and gave him that look.
“No.” She said flatly.
“Yes.” Maxwell contested.
“For the love of God, can we not do this?” Sandra groaned.
“We can do this, and we will.” Maxwell replied. Sandra marched past Maxwell and into the kitchen to grab something to eat, or rather drink from the fridge. She left her suitcase on the kitchen table and opened the fridge to take out a cup of dark green liquid. It was a juice of shredded vegetation for some weight loss diet she read about online that she was trying out. Sandra was pretty self-conscious about her weight having been pretty chubby in her childhood and thus the butt of quite a few jokes. Though as an adult her self-esteem was too robust to be shaken by silly jabs at her weight, the damage done before her emotional and mental maturity still had an effect. As she drank Maxwell removed the suitcase off the table as it was just not sanitary to leave it there.
“I’m not even going anywhere special either, just going to New Jersey to investigate something with the Creed. It’s not as interesting as when I went to LA, there won’t be any fighting this time.” Sandra reassured him. Though whether or not there would be fighting was left to be seen. The mission in Los Angeles escalated into a fight despite their best efforts. Sandra, as Scarlet Centipede had gone with the Creed to investigate the emergence of a criminal that had recently become a superhuman.
“So just stay home, I’ll be back pretty quickly.” Sandra would take the suitcase from his hands and take off a small black device, a black dot no bigger than three centimeters in diameter. It was a tracking device planted by Maxwell. She gave him a look that said ‘Seriously?’ and Maxwell shrugged his shoulders in response.
“I had to give it a try.” He said in defeat. Sandra let out a loud sigh, and took a long hard look at Maxwell. He had grown quite a bit, but she was still worried about him. Worried about what Sandra could not say for sure, but the ability to keep the boy safe was part of it most likely. She felt that task getting harder and harder with every year as the adolescent grew more reclusive. He spent long hours at that factory to make what she assumed to be his entryway to becoming a superhero. There was so much that concerned her that she just could not place her worry on any one thing. The best Sandra could do right now is make sure he did not follow her.
“Just behave yourself, okay?” She gave him a tender kiss on the forehead and left. Sandra had no clue what else to really say. Sandra was not the parenting type. She had no plans to have a kid of her own, because she was not really the best with them. Having to watch after Maxwell was the greatest challenge in her life. It was a lifetime of babysitting for her friend, Maxwell’s father, who only trusted her to look after him. His death was so unexpected. There was no way Sandra would have thought that she would ever have to fulfill the role as Maxwell’s legal guardian. Being the cool aunt was more her lane than being the mother figure. Waiting for Sandra in the lobby would be Calvin Rawlings, otherwise known as Stargate. Their superpower was the ability to create “star gates” portals to other places he’s been to or have seen (even seeing them in pictures counted).
Maxwell had his computer linked to the building surveillance camera, watching closely for when Sandra departed before mobilizing. He put a tracker in her suitcase beforehand so he could be made aware of the general location of the Justice Creed team. The Justice Creed had well over six hundred heroes, and often dispatched them in small teams to handle situations. If things were really dire the founding or senior members of the Creed would lead whatever team was dispatched for a mission. Sandra, believe it or not, was a founding member of the Creed, and considered one of its strongest members. One of the few people who could ever fight Optimus Dread toe-to-toe alongside Maxwell’s father, her physical strength and speed was matched by only a handful of other heroes and villains. For her to be called upon for this mission meant there must be some big players involved.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Maxwell was glad Sandra was transported by Stargate, which meant that he was free to use the private jet! Their pilot was Michael Rawlings, a retired war veteran who was Maxwell’s buddy. Usually Sandra would forbid Mr. Rawlings from flying Maxwell anywhere when she’s going out of town, but Mr. Rawlings was off today so she did not think to do so. Which was why Maxwell called him beforehand and asked Mr. Rawlings to fly him to New Jersey. Mr. Rawlings was not the type to come in for work if he was off, never was the type before the army. His off day was HIS off day. Getting him to come in for work on his off day was like pulling teeth, and he would make it his business to make sure everyone knew he did not want to be at work. But he had a soft spot for Maxwell who reminded him of his son, both were smart and mischievous, but never in a malicious way. They were hard headed to succeed in what they wanted to do the way they wanted to do.
Mr. Rawlings would be waiting for him at the hangar. His reading glasses on, occasionally glancing over them as he scrolled through a news article on his phone, cursing politicians under his breath as he did. He would look over to his left at the sound of Maxwell’s swift footsteps. Behind him he was dragging (or more accurately rolling) two large cases of luggage. Mr. Rawlings knew at least one of those two cases was a bunch of computers (or one big one).
“Alright let’s go!” Maxwell ordered.
“Better not get me fired kid.” Mr Rawlings jokingly warned. He helped Maxwell put his luggage on board the jet, and the two would arrive in Hoboken, New Jersey at 10PM. What Sandra did not know was that Maxwell had placed a tracking device in her suit prior to her coming home. The one he put on the briefcase was a red herring, as would the tracking device in Sandra’s suit be a red herring for Maxwell. After he set up a base of operations at a motel ten miles from the auction site, he would ping the tacking device in Sandra’s suit. She was not too far, being five times the distance away from the site. The second he got her location it changed in the blink of an eye, she went from being miles away to being right on top of him, or more accurately right outside knocking on his door.
Unfortunately for Maxwell, she had gone to the Tower of Justice prior to coming to New Jersey. The security of the building was above top notch, and that tracking device was discovered the instant she arrived at tower grounds. Despite this Sandra decided to keep it on to trick Maxwell. The purpose? To scold him and force the boy to go right back home after all that work to get here. She already had a talk with Mr. Rawlings over the phone before Maxwell met him at the hangar. He was busted before his operation could ever truly begin. Timidly Maxwell crept to the room door and looked into the peephole, Sandra would be standing there with a harsh scowl, the hero Stargate stood behind her indifferent to the situation. Likely wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Maxwell purposefully made a loud sigh of exasperation, enough for Sandra to hear him on the other side of the door.
“I know you did not just sigh.” Sandra said with a loud and stern voice. The restraint she was trying to exercise to not break down that door was audible. Afraid that she just might Stargate spoke up,
“Max buddy, please open up before we gotta pay damages.” Stargate pleaded.
Had it been anyone else Maxwell would have just said no and let Sandra break down the door, because he was upset right now too. He needed that dunamite for Mettatron to properly function. If it was not for the fact Stargate would come over often to hang out, play games, and take him to wild car meets, things would have escalated between him and Sandra. Moment he opened the door just a crack she stormed in and inspected the room from top to bottom. Stargate decided to stay out in the hallway and gently closed the door, leaving the two alone.
“What are you up to Maxwell?” Sandra was not as stern as she seemed when she was behind the door. Seeing Maxwell’s face always made her lose steam which made disciplining him hard as one might have guessed. He looked just like his father, though he shared the hair and eye color of his hylæon mother. She missed him.
Maxwell’s mind raced to decide an answer to give her. He could lie and say he came to see her and the Creed in action, or that he wanted to join and help them on the mission. The first reason was unlikely as lately he dropped any activity in favor of working nonstop on Mettatron. For the second reason he did not expect a better result. Telling the truth was the best option, because no matter how he looked at it, the chance of her sending him back home was ninety-nine percent. So he confessed.
“I came to steal some dunamite.” He bit his lip after saying that, upset with his choice of wording. It was what it was, he came to steal the dunamite for himself. However, he was saying that in front of the founding member of the Justice Creed. It was the equivalent to telling the police chief that you plan to steal money from the drug cartel. Besides the fact you are planning to commit a robbery, you are planning to rob a ruthless criminal group.
“Oh my god Maxwell, that is a terrible idea.” She groaned, covering her face with both hands as she did. “You understand how god awful an idea that is?”
“Well I had a plan.” He defended.
“A plan? Oh I’d love to hear it.” Sandra crossed her arms waiting for him to explain his grand plan that will not result in a gruesome death, or worse. Maxwell kept his composure and laid it all out for her.
“I gave you guys the anonymous tip for this auction.” Sandra opened her mouth to speak but Maxwell was not having it. “You want to hear my plan, then listen to it from start to finish thank you.” She did not like his tone but for the sake of peace she complied. “I did that so the Justice Creed could run in and stop the auction, since more than just dunamite is going to be auctioned tonight. In the chaos I planned to sneak my way in and steal at least one dunamite crystal for myself. If I can get my hands on one I’ll have the perfect power source for Mettatron and I cannot pass that up. I’m certain dunamite will not be hitting the public markets anytime soon. Even on the off chance they do, I’m certain it will cost a lot more than what I’ve spent building Mettatron, and he costs TENS OF MILLIONS! I have a lot of money left behind for me by my father but I’m certain the rarest material on earth that can solve the energy crisis is going to cost billions Sandra. Which dwarfs my net worth and yours!” Maxwell was breathing heavily after the lengthy explanation, having barely breathed during the whole rant.
“Stargate.” The hero walked into the room through his portal to stand beside Sandra. “Take him back home please.” Maxwell would have had no chance to protest. A portal took the place of the floor, and beneath him would be their home in Arlington. The drop was not that bad, having only fallen maybe six feet onto the floor. Though it still hurt he was fine. The portal closed after he passed through and Maxwell would be left frustrated and alone. He desperately wanted to break something but held back the urge. It would just make things worse for himself. It was nine o’clock, four hours until the auction started. With four hours until the opportunity of his lifetime would disappear, Maxwell decided to leave home and work on Mettatron at the factory. He was so angry that he did not sleep until the early morning.
"HUH?" Maxwell was shocked out of his sleep by Sandra knocking a bunch of stuff off his desk onto the floor. He was barely registering what was going on and thought she was about to chew him out, but instead she dropped a small gray pouch on the desk. It fell with a clunk and clink that gave no real hint as to what might have been inside. Sandra said nothing, looking tired and beaten, she turned around to go home. Maxwell rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took a deep breath to start his heart. When he opened the bag his heart skipped a beat. “No way. . . ” He doubted what he was looking at. Not one, but several, no, there were at least twenty dunamite crystals in the bag! “No way!” Maxwell’s excitement bounced around the factory walls, reaching Sandra’s ears as she met up with Stargate outside. It was his idea for a few crystals to go missing at the auction, because as expected chaos erupted once the Creed had pulled up to put a stop to things. In all the fighting and chaos some villains could have stolen some dunamite or some may have been accidentally destroyed in combat.
Maxwell immediately got to work on creating the Dunamite Core, spherical device designed to draw power from the twenty dynamite crystals he was given. After creating the device he had to unplug the wires that currently powered the mecha and create an appropriate socket to plug the core into. Engrossed in making his plans for the mecha, Maxwell did not hear Sandra approaching from behind, and did not notice her over his shoulder until she spoke.
“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.” She said
“Oh gah!” Maxwell jumped in his chair, getting a good laugh out of Sandra.
“I should have given you the crystals after breakfast, because you missed breakfast and lunch.” Sandra would take a better look at the blueprints he was drawing up for the Dunamite Core as Maxwell collected himself.
“I’ll eat once I’m done, and I’ll be done faster if I had a little help.” Maxwell said.
“Oho, you want my help?” She teased. It had been awhile since Maxwell and her worked on Metatron together. As he got older he made it a private matter, so to suddenly want her help was a surprise. Though it was a welcome one.
“Yes, I need your help.” Maxwell not so reluctantly insisted. Sandra could see he was pretty much almost done with the five meter tall white and gold machine. The dunamite was all that was needed to animate the giant into a functioning weapon for battle. The idea of Maxwell operating a mobile tank was worrisome but it was his path to becoming a hero. Plus she would much rather him fight behind steel than fight bare, as he did not have a strong enough telekinetic ability to fight safely. Plus it seemed like he did not inherit any of his mother’s abilities. Maxwell’s abilities were rather underdeveloped for a superhuman his age. By eighteen the abilities of most superhuman children had matured to be near or half way near the level of their parents. Building the mechanized suit was better for the fearless boy in the long run.
“Sure, but first go eat something and shower, because you stink.” Sandra said, holding her nose. Maxwell obeyed without protest, showing Sandra how serious he was about finishing Mettatron. When he came back fed and clean, the two went to work on preparing Mettatron for his awakening. After hashing out the design of the power core, they had to wait a day or two for it to be built and delivered to them. Once they got the spherical unit that would be the core, they inserted all the dunamite crystals, and then plugged the dunamite core into Metatron’s power socket.
“Ready?” Sandra asked, as Maxwell stepped into Mettatron’s cockpit.
“Always will be.” He replied, strapping himself before pushing the power button.
Sandra would monitor the vitals of the machine as it powered on. Diagnostic data flooded all three computer monitors of Maxwell’s desktop supercomputer. Everything looked to be running as it should, so she gave Maxwell the thumbs up, signaling it was time to put the machine in action. The cockpit doors in the chest slowly sealed shut, and inside would be lit with green and white light, and Maxwell would put on the Cerebral Autonomic System Helmet (CAS Helm) and assume control. The CAS Helm is a device that allows one to control Mettatron through thought, however this was not done by having a device implanted in the brain or spinal cord, but through technopathy.
In exchange for having telepathy that controls minds he instead developed technopathy. Maxwell can mentally interface and interact with electronic devices. However, his technopathy was contact based so he could not command machines from afar (which would have been borderline technokinesis). The CAS Helm is designed to amplify and complement his technopathy by reading his synaptic signals, resulting in efficient mental control of Mettatron. Plus having a device directly in contact with his head makes transference of information between himself and the mecha a lot easier versus having connectors on his body. It was a lot like a Virtual Reality set but without the need for any other accessories beyond the headset. Once he put on the helm he could see through the eyes of Mettaron, he would try flexing the fingers of the machine. There was a delayed response at first but slowly the lag would diminish with each flex, until the response was immediate and seamless.
Maxwell moved every limb by itself a little at a time, with Sandra watching both him and the screens closely with every movement. Paying special attention to the heat level of the machine, as they had yet to put the cooling system to a stress test after putting in the core. Something they should have tested in hindsight, but if there was danger she would put a stop to everything right then and there. After “stretching” every part, Maxwell had Metatron step off the docking bay and do a little shimmy, getting a laugh out of both him and Sandra.
“I think we did it!” Maxwell’s voice booming from inside the giant.
Finally his greatest work was complete, his path to being the hero humanity needed had finally opened.