Max's heavy eyes fought against his attempt to open them. Bright lights blurred his vision, glaring in his pupils like explosions. He closed his eyes again when the pain seared through him. There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't screaming. Ice water splashed against his face, bursting his eyes open as he yelped. Straps kept him bound to his chair otherwise he'd have leapt to his feet.
"Wake up, Maxi Pad," Donny said, standing before him with a bucket in hand. He grinned. "Good. It's more fun with you awake."
Darin leaned in a corner of the white room, twirling a metal wand in his hand. Donny turned to join him. The two touched hands and stared at the wand. Their wicked grins widened when energy coiled around the wand and sparked at the tip.
"It's my turn to play," Darin said.
"Dad wants us to wait until he's had a chance to talk to him."
"Dad's going soft. Little shit should be dead already." Darin narrowed his eyes and pointed the wand at Max. Sparks pushed forward, but couldn't reach where Max was tied in a chair.
"Darin, Donny, there's something you should know." Even talking hurt Max. Pressure pushed on his chest and tightened air in his lungs. Both hands were bound tight to the armrests of the chair, dried blood speckled the straps digging into his skin. He didn't know if it was his blood or someone else's. "Dad experimented on you. It's why—"
"We're not pathetic Normies. Yes. We know." Darin pushed away from the wall. His boots were soundless against the white tile floor. Max screamed when the wand grazed his knuckles. Sparks seared his skin, the black webbing out along the back of his hand. Darin kept it there for only a second, but it might as well have been hours. Char marks climbed his arm before stopping at the elbow. "Like our new toy? We fill it with our energy and we can have days of fun with it. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
He touched the wand to Max's scarred cheek. It didn't matter how dead his flesh was on the right side of his face, he felt the touch, he felt it erupt through him. Both arms and legs thrashed against the bindings trapping them. Max couldn't scream he was too busy trying not to bite his tongue off. This time Darin let it rest on his skin longer, his smile widened with every twitch of Max's body.
Darin took a deep breath. "Barbequed Maxi Pad. It's what's for dinner."
"I thought I told you to wait?" Christopher Fosters voice echoed through the room when he entered, the door gliding shut behind him. Darin's smile faded as he stepped away from Max. Both arms fell limp to his side as he lowered his head.
"He was back talking me. I was teaching him a lesson."
Christopher slammed the back of his hand against Darin's face. The twenty-one year old crumbled to the floor. He looked up, glaring at Max, as blood dripped through a gash in his cheek.
"When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?"
"Yes father," Darin mumbled, still glaring at Max.
Max knew Darin blamed him for the hit. He always did. Whenever their father took anything out on Darin, it was always Max's fault. Always.
Christopher grabbed Max's chin and twisted his head back and forth. His deep green eyes traced every inch of Max's face, his thick lips rested in a firm line. When he released Max's face he tapped his cheek.
"I don't like hurting you Max. Why do you make me do this?"
"I don't make you do shit."
Christopher's lips bounced. He grabbed Max's arm and squeezed. Max screamed. His father didn't squeeze hard enough to break a bone with his super strength, but he'd make sure he left a bruise. It was his way of reminding Max who's the boss.
And right then, he was every inch the boss. All six foot two, two hundred fifty pounds of him wouldn't let Max forget it.
Max released a breath, closing his eyes. His fingers tapped against the armrest, willing his power to their tips. "Let me go." He ignored the pain in his arm and face; the burning sensation still emanating from where the wand touched his skin, there was only his power. "Let me go."
Christopher laughed. "That won't work in here."
Max opened his eyes. Both of his brothers stood behind their father, laughing and leaning on each other for support.
"This room is special. It's soundproof, so anything said, or screamed, in here won't reach the outside. However, that isn't what makes it truly special. That chair you're in is designed to stop superpowers." He leaned against Max, putting the full weight of his strength on Max's wrists. The youngest Foster bit on his tongue to keep from screaming. "You have two options, Maximilian."
Christopher squeezed one hand, Max thought he heard a snap in his wrist. His father's eyes narrowed above his wicked grin. Busy eyebrows knitted together in triumph when Max could no longer hold back his scream. The grip lessened almost immediately.
"You know your place in this world. Why do you fight it?"
Max vibrated his throat, gathering the biggest wad of snot and spit he could muster before spitting it onto Christopher's face. He knew that act of defiance wouldn't end well for him, but he no longer cared. There was nothing his father could do that would make him re-join the hell that was being a Foster. Even still holding that last name made Max sick to his stomach.
All those Supers they killed by delivering to the PC's. He'd never forget any of them. Never.
Christopher righted himself. One hand dragged against his face, wiping off the chunk of bodily fluid from his nose. The ends of his lips twitched. Both hands linked together, pushing outward with the soft crack of the air in his knuckles. Max thought about closing his eyes to brace for the impact, but that would give his father too much satisfaction. Instead, he smiled. He continued to smile even as the first fist pounded into his jaw.
Not even the pain throbbing from the impact erased the smile. Christopher's fist landed three more times and Max started laughing. His father stepped back, wiping Max's blood off of his hand. Max continued to laugh.
"Fine. Have it your way, son."
"I'm not your son." Max spit blood at his father. "You lost the right to call yourself a father when you experimented on your own fucking children! You're a sick bastard and I can't wait for the Super underground to release the tapes that prove how fucked up you and the PC's really are!"
Christopher didn't react. Max was a little disappointed his father kept his cool even with that revelation. He didn't expect tears or begging for mercy, Christopher would sooner die than beg, but he wanted something.
"So the bitch daughter does have data," he said. "No matter. Provisions are in place should that information ever hit the Internet. Here's something you should learn now, Maximilian."
Christopher adjusted his sleeves, brushing hands against his massive arms like he might wipe the blood off without issue. He released a breath and looked to where Donny and Darin stood behind him. With a single nod, he looked back to Max.
"The Pharmaceutical Companies are Gods. This world doesn't piss without their say so. If you think some pathetic resistance is going to stop that, you're naïve. It would be best you forget any foolish notions Corin and his miscreants put into your head."
"Don't worry, Father," Darin said, twirling his shock wand. "He will."
Max sat up as straight as the straps of the chair would allow. He took a deep breath and said, "I'd rather die than re-join you!"
"Death isn't an option," Christopher said. "You're telekinetic ability is far too valuable to waste. However, your mind has no such value."
The elder Foster turned back toward the door. As it slid open he glanced back. Both Donny and Darin licked their lips, staring at Max like a hungry animal. Their hands twitched against their legs, sparks flickered off the tip of the shock wand.
"Remember, we need him alive. Make him obedient, but keep him alive."
"Yes, father," the twins said.
The door slid shut after Christopher stepped through it. Donny rubbed his hands together, looking at Darin.
"Have you ever heard of electroshock therapy, Maxi Pad?" Darin asked.
Max didn't answer. His brothers touched hands, the sparks exploded from their tips. Lights flickered above them, the shock wand in Darin's hand brightened, glowing red with heat. Max swallowed hard when his brothers took a single step forward, smile wide on their faces.
Even if he hadn't known what electroshock therapy was, he was about to learn.
Nothing worked in his body. Spasm's continued to make his muscles thrash otherwise he couldn't move anything. Even a simple thought hurt. Max wanted to open his eyes, but they wouldn't listen. He wanted to speak, but words wouldn't form. It was like he was a shell and couldn't react.
Water dripped before something touched his face. It dragged over his forehead and along his cheeks before water dripped again. The cool cloth moved to his arms next, dragging slow and deliberate.
Finally his eyes opened, slow, like the cracking of a can lid. He blinked a couple of times before his vision cleared to the once raven-haired beauty kneeling before him. In his younger days, he idolized her and the way people stopped in their tracks just to glimpse her. She used to have a smile on her face and a hug for Max when he came home from school. Now the woman was nothing more than a faux beauty created by science.
The woman dragging the wet rag against his skin was his mother.
Everything about her was fake, from the caked on makeup to the hair dye keeping the gray at bay, even the breasts pushed up by her bra were a lie. Christopher preferred it that way. No woman of his was going to age. Never could, never would. Kaitlin Foster was no longer the loving mother Max knew as a child, he couldn't remember when it had changed. It was sudden. A blink and you miss it moment. Now he almost didn't recognize her.
Surgery removed any scars or blemishes almost the second they appeared on her skin. Christopher dressed her like a doll, picking out the tightest, gaudiest clothing he could must. Looking at her, a person would think she was a trollup looking for her latest sexual score. As he grew older and became aware of his father, he never understood how Kaitlin stayed with him. Near forty years she put up with his fists to her face and the occasional visit to the hospital. She watched in silence at the abuse toward her eldest sons.
As far as Max was concerned, she was as guilty as the asshole that laid the punches. Did she know about the experiments? Had she agreed to them? Max wanted to believe she wasn't capable of turning a blind eye to that.
Kaitlin dipped the cloth in a bucket, ringing out the water before she dragged it against Max again. Dried blood wiped away with every wipe, leaving behind the swollen skin of the fresh burn markings decorating Max's body. He was a painting of his brother's enjoyment.
"Mom." Max's voice cracked. "Please. Help me."
She said nothing. Her hands continued to wipe away the blood. Bloodshot eyes were empty, her thin bright red lips steady. It was as if a robot had replaced her. Black hair perfectly braided behind her shined under the light.
"Please. Untie me. He doesn't have to know you helped me. If I'm free of this chair, I can make us both disappear as we walk out the door."
Again she said nothing. Her rag was stained red with Max's blood as she continued to mop up the remains of her eldest sons enjoyment. Max couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his mom speak aloud. Often she stood by Christopher's side like a dutiful puppy waiting for its treat. He focused on her eyes.
Please, Mommy. Help me, he thought. Kailtin's telepathic ability would let her hear his thoughts. They had to. Surly the chair wouldn't block them from her. He won't know. I promise.
She sighed and dropped the rag in the bucket before standing up. Her slender form was another act of science and pills forced down her throats. Once she had dared to put on a measly five pound and Christopher had sent her to the hospital as a result. How could she still be with him? She looked at Max. One hand brushed against the left side of his face. It was less than a second before she drew her hand back, but it was enough to make Max think she would help him.
Until she turned around. Kaitlin walked, head bowed, toward the door. She stopped when it slid open, again raising Max's hopes.
Mommy . . .
I can't help you. Her words invaded his mind, echoing as if spoken.
He won't know. I can block us from him if I'm freed from this chair! I can. I know I can.
Her shoulders jerked when she looked back, a single tear rolled off her cheek.
He always finds us, Max. Always. We belong to him.
Kaitlin stepped through the doors. She turned back as they started to slide shut. One hand touched her lips, sending a kiss blowing toward Max. He jerked in his chair.
"Mom! Please! Help me."
The door silenced his screams. There was no help coming from the woman who gave him life. No help coming from anyone. Max closed his eyes when the door opened again to a smiling Darin twirling his shock wand.