After visiting Dipter in juvie, Max's view of the situation had sharpened.
So after dealing with school politics... now it's a street gang, he thought as the car pulled away from the facility. I've never even heard of the Rejected Corps before. But then again, I spent most of my ti focused on the syndicates and organized groups. We never really bothered with street gangs we didn't use ourselves.
From Dipter's tone, his hesitation, his fear, Max could tell this gang was different.
We're not ready to take on sothing like that, he admitted silently. Not yet. Not without growing first. And definitely not without knowing what they're capable of.
Back in the car, Max leaned back in his seat as Aron drove. But instead of heading toward Max's apartnt, they were going sowhere else.
"Did you find out what you needed?" Aron asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Or was it more difficult than expected?"
He didn't wait for a reply before adding, "While you were inside, I was mapping out how easy it would be to infiltrate the place. If you want, I have several thods to... extract truth. Very effective ones."
Max sighed, shaking his head.
He'd seen this side of Aron before. Calculating. Cold. He always wondered if it ca from how he was raised, or what he'd been trained for.
"Please… it's fine," Max said. "He talked."
He looked out the window, voice lower now.
"The situation's more complicated than I thought. But I learned one thing for sure, "
He paused.
"The Stern family… including Dennis Stern… they're not going to help. They won't step in. Not for . Not for Chad. We're on our own, Aron."
The car eventually pulled to a stop just outside the main Bloodline Gym.
Max opened the door and stepped out. Before Aron could follow, Max turned and gave a short nod.
"Head back. I'll handle things from here."
When Max stepped into the gym, he was greeted by the sharp, rhythmic thud of gloves pounding into a heavy bag.
Steven was drenched in sweat, shirtless, locked in a relentless rhythm as he hit the bag again and again.
Eventually, he slowed, catching his breath, and spotted Max watching from across the room.
"You could've said sothing instead of creeping in like that," Steven said, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. "Kinda weird, you know. Watching a shirtless man work out in silence. But hey, if it's your thing, I won't judge."
Max cracked a smile. "Glad to see you're still in the mood to joke."
He stepped closer.
"Were there any students here today?"
Steven nodded, pulling off his gloves. "Fewer than usual. But so still showed up."
He tossed the gloves over to Max. "Put these on. Let's spar while we talk."
Max caught them and eyed the damp insides.
"Do I have to use these ones?"
He was already walking toward the shelf, swapping them for a fresh pair.
Steven scoffed. "Ah, right. Forgot you're royalty or sothing."
"No," Max replied, slipping on the new gloves. "I just prefer not to soak my hands in another man's sweat, no matter how much you might wish it was my thing."
Steven laughed under his breath, then lifted the pads.
This ti, he held them in specific angles, asured and precise. Max struck, again and again, but Steven would randomly swing back, forcing Max to dodge, react, stay on edge.
It was more intense than any session they'd had before.
And as it continued, Max began to realize sothing:
Steven was good. Not just experienced, disciplined. Sharp. Every move deliberate. Every swing controlled.
"Why are you so serious today?" Max asked between hooks. He dodged two quick jabs that ca in like lightning. "Feels like you're actually trying to teach sothing."
"When you're fighting, I've noticed sothing," Steven said, holding the mitts steady as Max fired punches. "You're good. Honestly, it's like you're a natural."
He nodded slightly, eyes following Max's rhythm.
"You pick things up fast, techniques, movents, you see them once and you start copying them. And it's not just boxing. You've got that instinct in other areas too."
Max kept hitting, keeping his form sharp.
"But," Steven added, "you've got no standout skill. No star talent."
The words hit harder than any punch. Max didn't react, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
"It works now, sure. But in the future, when you face soone with real talent, soone gifted, not just trained, you're going to struggle. Unless you figure out what your thing is. What makes you different."
Max gritted his teeth and slamd a punch into the mitt with everything he had.
Right after, Steven shot a jab so fast it nearly cracked Max in the nose, stopping just short.
Max froze.
"If you and I were to fight right now," Steven said evenly, "there's no doubt in my mind I'd win."
He lowered the mitts.
"And out there? There are people way stronger than ."
He dropped his arms completely, eyes serious now.
"I've heard stories. Monsters. Fighters who aren't even in official competitions. People who make professional athletes look like amateurs. Guys working for syndicates, hidden from the spotlight. Strength that doesn't make sense."
Max stayed quiet, but he knew Steven was right. He'd heard those sa whispers, ghost-like figures with superhuman ability. And back then, before everything had fallen apart, he'd been invited into that world too.
He just never got the chance to enter it.
Steven looked down, then back up.
"I just… I don't want to see you get hurt, Max," he said, softer now. "I can see it in your eyes. You and your friends, you're in sothing serious. Sothing bigger than this gym."
He gave a small, awkward smile.
"To , it's like watching the Power Rangers. And I'm just the guy on the sidelines, hoping they win. Hoping they don't get crushed."
Steven's words had been true.
Max knew that.
Even in his past life, he'd been a solid fighter, but he'd never quite found what made him special. And now, in a new body, even that foundation felt uncertain.
But Steven's concern, his honesty, it had reached Max. And it ant sothing.
So he made a decision.
"There was sothing I wanted to tell you before," Max said, pulling off his gloves, "but it didn't feel like the right ti. Not after everything that happened."
Steven raised an eyebrow, watching him closely.
"I want you on the board of directors for the Bloodline Gyms."
Steven blinked. "What?"
"You know people like you," Max continued. "Trainers. Fighters. The kind who can do what you do, teach, guide, protect. The other gyms are growing fast. More students are coming in every day. And I want what you've done here to be the blueprint for all of them."
Max stepped closer.
"You don't have to take the job. Or the title. But if you do… I'll tell you now: I'll clear every debt in your na. You'll be paid well. And you'll be in charge of sothing that matters."
Steven just stood there, stunned. Max had no idea the extent of his debts, how long he had them for, how long they had told on his mind, or the fact that they were the reason why he wasn't there in the first place, why it had stopped him from protecting the others
"All your debts… cleared?" he asked quietly. "Why would you do sothing like this for ?"
They had only known each other for a small amount of ti, and even if they had fought side by side, this was sothing big for the both of them.
Max gave a small, knowing smile.
"There is a catch."
Steven crossed his arms, waiting.
"I don't want you cheering the Power Rangers from the sidelines anymore," Max said. "I want you to be one of them."
He stepped forward, holding out his hand.
"You being on the board ans you're part of the Billion Bloodline. That's all I ask. So… will you join?"
For a mont, silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly, Steven dropped to his knees.
He bowed his head to the mat, lifted it, and bowed again, eyes clenched shut as the pressure in his throat swelled.
His hands trembled slightly at his sides.
"Max…" Steven's voice cracked as he raised his head, eyes shining, fists clenched against the mat. "You have no idea what you've just done…"
His shoulders trembled, but his voice grew stronger with every word.
"I swear to you, I swear, for this, I'll stay with the Billion Bloodline until the day I die. And those bastards… the ones who hurt us, who think they can break what we're building…"
He slamd his fist into the mat with a thud that echoed through the quiet gym.
"I'll make them pay."
Max nodded once, solid and steady.
"Then I officially welco you to the team," he said.
He extended a hand, his tone lighter, but his words carried the weight of sothing far bigger.
"You're our Red Ranger, Steven."
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