Max leered the scenery of Carston City through the car window as his dad drove in a steady pace. The city’s atmosphere was how it had always been: bustling, crowded, with a dose of normalcy. 

But for Max, this life wasn’t normal. Technically.

Since as far as he knew, the East Coast didn’t have a metropolis named Carston.  

He was sure of it because he had been a man in his thirties, who settled himself in one of NYC's many apartments.   

And yet, that wasn’t the case. Because the him right now―was by no means Rob Hickins. Not anymore. 

It’s been fifteen years since then, and currently―he could only don the name Max Truman―son of Adam Truman. 

“Well, we’re here,” said Adam. The man parked the car outside the perimeter of the crowded school grounds, just how Max preferred it to be. He tapped the steering wheel twice, before giving out a stare towards his son. 

The man, in many regards, was quite the looker, even to his 40s. With brown hair of a darker shade and dashing charisma, even the ladies took second glimpses when both of them had gone shopping. A trait Max had luckily inherited, unlike his old plain self in his previous life. 

“Freshman year of highschool, nervous?” he asked. 

Max took a long absent-minded pause before shaking his head. He straightened up the wrinkles of his long-sleeved blue shirt, causing both father and child to smirk. “Why would I be?” 

“Good, that’s how my son should be, confident. Just like what Uncle Bob used to say: you know what you know, you don’t know what you don’t know―”

Max continued on.“So screw all fears and just face’em head on!” 

They chuckled. Uncle Bob had been their next door neighbor for more than a decade or so, at least, until he passed away last summer. He was a veteran, having served in the army for almost two decades before then retiring. 

Max remembered the adventurous flames burning inside his eyes, as he recounted his tour around the world after retirement. By the time Uncle Bob had seen enough of the world and purchased the house next to them―he was akin to a treasure box filled with nuggets of wisdom. 

As the years went by, they routinely visited each other, and every bit of time together had been nothing short of good memories. To Max, he was the closest figure to a grandfather. 

‘And perhaps a father figure for you too,’ Max mused as he eyed Adam. 

Their smiles waning, Max figured that it was time to get out and attend class―but the loud ping from Adam’s phone managed to distract the father-son duo. 

“Is it her?” Max murmured. 

Adam picked up the phone and turned it on silent. His complexion―a mix of complications.

“Well, uhh, you know―” 

“Dad, you don’t have to go all sneaky on me.” 

“...” 

Max opened the car door. The soles of his feet touched the ground and he shifted his shoulders to carry his school bag. 

His hands halted from closing the car door, Max lowered his head, as he met eye-to-eye with his dad. 

 “It’s okay...I’m not stopping you or anything, matter of fact, I’ll even support you.”

“...”

“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?”

Before Adam could even respond to that playful suggestion of his, Max had already skedaddled as far as he could, leaving a trail of laughter. Though he did manage to hear Adam’s voice lagging behind, of which his ears caught the two distinct words: cheeky punk.

The bell had not yet rung when Max arrived. He must admit though, finding his classroom within the school building was a tad bit confusing, especially when the hallways were filled with students roaming about.  

He looked around and had found out that some of the seats were filled, with cliques already being formed. The latter was probably an effect of these kids coming from the same middle school, so their community appeared to be well established ones.  

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Not too long into his search, Max noted that there was an empty seat at the corner of the classroom. Sitting beside the seat was a lanky boy that seemed uninterested with his surroundings, he appeared to be busy scrolling through his phone. 

But upon further inspection, Max noticed that the boy would at times pull his gaze away from his screen and instead glanced around the cliques and kids who had surprisingly struck it well off on the first day of school. The glint in his eyes shone like an open book. 

At this, Max let out a small smile and walked towards the boy. 

“Hey, may I sit here?” 

The boy was startled at his appearance, nonetheless, he nodded slowly after sizing up Max. 

Max too, did the same after settling down. 

The boy had a black shirt with white stripes. His sleeves were covered by a button shirt worn on top. His jeans, though may look tight at first glance, seemed to be more comfortable than what one might have guessed. 

It didn’t take much for Max to pick on the fact that the stuff the boy had been wearing were branded goods. He figured this out since he had―even up to this moment―busied himself in dealing with the print-on-demand industry on the side. 

To make his endeavor succeed, he had taken the time to study both the materials and design of not only clothing―but other wares that were crushing the markets as well. So he had a pretty good sense in sizing up the value of a person’s wear.

Lavish he may be, Max must admit that the kid still appeared lowkey and off the radar.

“Name’s Max by the way, and you?” 

“Ben, are you from around here?” 

“Not quite,” Max replied as both boys shook hands. “At least I don’t recognize anyone from this class.” 

Ben nodded. His eyes lighten up. “Me too.” 

“So, where were you in middle school?” Max asked.

The moment he asked that, Max noticed the sudden awkwardness that permeated from Ben’s body language. 

“I was homeschooled this entire time,” he answered.

“Is that so,” Max twisted his brows. An unexpected answer.“You mean during middle school only or―”  

Ben instantly shook his head. “No-no, I meant it literally, preschool, elementary, middle school, you name it.” 

“Dang boy,” Max let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the bummer.” 

Ben smiled alongside Max. Somehow, he managed to loosen himself even more as his shoulders took a slight drop in motion. “Tell me about it.” 

“Anyways, forget about me, it’s mostly filled with the same old, how ‘bout you Max?” Ben asked as he switched the topic. 

“Me? What do you want to know? I like anime, do a bit of sports here and there, laze around on my bed checking online stores and oh―I hate metal music. The stuff struck a nerve with me.” 

“Really now?” Again, Ben took another look towards him. “Seems like we have more in common than I thought.” 

Max smirked, somewhat amused by Ben’s assessment. “And what does that mean, exactly?” 

“The anime part of it,” Ben further detailed. His eyes then wandered for a bit before he focused back on the discussion. His voice hissed with a passion.“[Platonic Me] Season Two―sucks. Big time.”

Max was in full agreement to the boy's statement. His expression even took a serious turn.

“The director messed up. He shouldn’t have derailed from the plot like that. Even the mangaka reacted poorly,” he threw in. 

“Right, I knew I had a bad feeling about this when Studio V-Kit was announced to pick-up the series after Zeppit dropped it,” Ben concluded. 

“I get what you mean,” Max rolled his eyes. “Though Zeppit got their hands tied, nothing they could do about it. ”

Ben shrugged, smiling. “I guess, they did say [Interwoven Lies] and [Taka-san’s Love Comedy] exhausted the staff.”

“Yeah, so all we can do now is just quietly support the mangaka by rejecting the anime.”

“Hear-hear, let’s pretend that crap never happened.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Now with that now out of the way, both boys then decidedly chattered to no end as it would seem that there was still some time left before the first period.

“...So what were you looking at so intently on your phone when I got here? Being so serious and all,” Max ultimately asked. Out of his expectations, they had easily hit it off. A surprise for sure, but not an unwelcome one. 

Ben halted as he racked his brains on what Max was hinting at, before finally replying. 

“Ahh you mean this,” the boy grabbed his phone before furiously typing and scrolling the heck out of it. By the time he got what he intended to show, he stuck his hand out. 

“May I?”

“Sure, go ahead.” 

Max politely received his friend’s sleek phone, which also had a branded name stuck onto the device. 

Though Max’s focus was more on the content that showed on the screen.

It so happens that the boy had opened his Kinsta account, and the content in which he highlighted had been a particular post uploaded yesterday that managed to garner over almost a million likes. 

It was apparently a short clip, about 15 seconds in duration, and it showed the sight of a construction worker that stood on dangerous grounds. The man was working on high elevation, an estimate of around 10 to 15 stories high. 

Suddenly, the man showed signs of experiencing issues with balance as his body swiftly tipped outwards. Max then heard gasps from the onlookers, including from the one who recorded this video. Many turned hysterical even, as people feared the worst out of this situation. 

Their expectant fears seemed to have been met, as the construction worker began his steep descent. 

His attempt at roaring for help echoed throughout the surroundings. The fall was inevitable. 

But then― 

A glimmer of shine whizzed by. From what limited vision the footage was able to capture, Max saw a figure moving in blurs. It navigated itself with ease through the wind and tall buildings. 

Carrying great momentum, but not menacing, the moment the blurred figure approached the falling victim, it then slowed down for a moment, causing the reveal of more information on this supposed mystifying, and stunning figure. 

It―no, her appearance of ocean blue and jet black, combined with her fabulous obsidian hair whipping about, invited another round of gasps as she took hold of the falling man, before then aiming for touchdown. 

The video was cut short as it didn’t reveal the two individuals stepping on hard ground. Instead, all one could see and hear was of the person recording screaming “No freakin’ way” on multiple accounts with the camera now facing the sidewalk. 

“Is this...Starlet?” Max blinked as he gave Ben his phone back. 

“Yeah,” Ben affirmed. “It’s her.”

“You’re a fan?”

“Sure am. Who wouldn't?” 

This brings another aspect that hit Max hard in the head: that this world was not Earth at all―not the one he knew at least, despite the uncanny similarities these two worlds share. 

Starlet. She was what you call an icon of sorts. A representation of hope for countless people. A superhero. Even though her appearance dated back to a mere half a year ago, the fact that she captured the hearts of many was undisputed. 

Clearly she wasn’t the first of her kind, not at all, there were others. But the light of her shine had shimmered in a way that was uniquely hers.

“Where did this take place?” Max asked. He sensed some familiarity when observing the surrounding area within the captured frames.

“It’s here, Carston City, just near the banking complex, you didn’t know?” 

“I’m not updated when it comes to the supes, besides―” 

Superhero niches in print-on-demand business are oversaturated, not worth the research, was what Max had probably intended to say, but apparently he’d been cut off from his speech as a new entrant stole his thunder. 

“Max, is that you?”

The boy heard an intimate voice. It came like the cool breeze of summer, added with a touch of sultry playfulness. 

Max turned his head, then suddenly, he gawked. 

“...Alyss?”