All three of them slept late Wednesday. It had been a stressful night for everyone to say the least. Max woke first and sat watching Brandon. He thought about the last few months and everything his nephew must have gone through. It would be easy to experience it firsthand. Just take a little stroll down a few neural pathways and really get a slaves-eye view of life under the yoke.

He decided to pass. Brandon deserved his privacy. It was enough for Max to peek a little to determine whether or not Brandon actually wanted to be rescued. Sometimes indents bonded with their owners. It wasn’t unheard of. If that were the case he’d have to rethink his plans. It wasn’t though. Brandon had resigned himself to his new life but he wasn’t happy in it and he damned sure wasn’t in love with Owen Chastain. So unless Mr. Chastain wanted to find out what else Max could take from him he’d do the right thing and sign the boy over before day’s end.

Max treated everyone to a late breakfast at a nearby restaurant and then they all adjourned back to the hotel. Owen was still trying to figure out what he was going to do next and none of his friends were being very helpful. After the previous night’s events they were keeping him at arm’s length, at least until he resolved things between himself and Max. Brandon was still a little rattled but he was handling it better than his owner. It made sense really; his life was about to finally get better for the first time since his parents died.

After breakfast Max sent Brandon to go play in the hotel pool while he and Chastain talked. The two men sat in chairs at a table nearby watching him and sharing a pot of coffee. They both loved him in their own way and both wanted what they thought was best for him. It was simply a matter of the two ideas being irreconcilably opposed to one another.

“He’s a great kid isn’t he?” Max asked.

Owen nodded. “Uh-huh. Real sweetheart. Well behaved, obedient, polite. Your sister did a great job raising him.”

Max glared at him. “My sister would stab you in the balls if she were here Owen.” He said coldly. “And probably whip my ass for not just shooting you.”

Owen shivered and felt his bladder loosen. Three days ago he would have shrugged and rolled his eyes at threats from some militant or talk of all the horrible things Max would do to him when he got the chance. Three days ago his bank accounts had been full and his home hadn’t been a pile of smoldering wreckage.

Max produced a quarter and started walking it back and forth across the backs of the fingers of his left hand. There was no power behind the action. It was a simple dexterity exercise he had mastered years ago.

“You need to take a hard look at where you are Owen.” He said. “You’ve got obligations to that kid that you just can’t meet anymore. It ain’t all one way you know. How long do you think it’s gonna take my lawyers to ramrod through the paperwork to get him free now that you’re homeless and broke huh?”

“I’ve still got my place at FanTan. And my job. I can rebuild.”

Max shrugged. The quarter continued its trip back and forth across his hand. “For now you do. What happens if you suddenly don’t? You know what happens to former contractors who find themselves in the system? It ain’t pretty let me tell you.”

Despite how beaten down he was Owen couldn’t help bridling at that. “You keep denying you had anything to do with what happened to me and yet you talk so casually about the idea I might lose my job and my bungalow. How can you be so cavalier about ruining a person’s whole life? It’s like you don’t even care.”

Max sipped at his coffee and nodded at Brandon. “I could ask the same of you; how you can sleep at night when day after day you rape that kid you claim to care so much about?”

“That’s different! The law says I’m within my rights! And I’m good to him! Ask him yourself he’ll tell you so!”

Max rolled his eyes. “You keep him in a fucking dog kennel Owen.”

“Only sometimes.”

Well gee that made it all better didn’t it just? Jackass. “Look Owen we can sit here all day listing one another’s moral shortcomings. God knows I’ve got my share. But it’s not gonna change anything. You’re broke. You’re homeless. You’ve got no car and no medical insurance. Jesus Christ man! You couldn’t even pay for the clothes you’re wearing right now! And I’ve got a suitcase full of money and only one thing to spend it on. Now why don’t you stop pretending you’ve got a chance in Hell of winning this thing, cut your losses and let him go? Walk away while you’ve still got a few scraps of your life left.”

Owen didn’t answer right away. As much as he hated to admit it Max was right. The bungalow at FanTan was almost two hundred miles away. He didn’t have any money for accommodations in town and the one or two friends that would actually take his calls couldn’t help him. Noone wanted to risk having his bad luck rub off on them. He hated what he’d been reduced to and he placed the blame squarely on Max Kriers wiry little shoulders.

“You know,” he said finally “you claim to want what’s best for Brandon. Have you ever bothered to ask him? For all you know he’s happy here. Maybe you’re taking him away from where he really wants to be because you can’t bear the idea of what we do together.”

Max laughed out loud at that. He’d been inside Brandon’s mind seeking out the answer to that very question. If Owen had the first clue what the boy thought or felt for him he’d have sold him already. But what the Hell, if couldn’t hurt to play along.

“Fair enough. We’ll let him decide. If he wants to stay he can stay and I’ll see what I can do to get you back on your feet. If not, you quit being so obstinate. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They called Brandon over and explained the situation to him. It was only fair really. He wasn’t a child anymore and deserved a right to some say in his future. If he decided he wanted to stay things would remain as they had been between him and Mr. Chastain in most ways. Max would visit from time to time and send packages at Christmas and his birthday and probably other times as well. Owen even offered to let Brandon have some say in whether or not he served anyone but him intimately.

If Brandon decided he wanted to go with Max Owen would sign off immediately. The two of them would go back to Chicago and Brandon would go to school in the fall just like every other free kid his age. He’d have a curfew and chores and help out at the store a few hours a week for some pocket money. There’d be rules he had to follow just like when his parents were alive. But he’d be free and living with Uncle Max, not a piece of property subject to the sexual demands of some stranger .

Brandon didn’t even have to think about it. “I wanna go home.” He said. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what he meant.

Owen felt himself crumple inside. He knew Brandon hadn’t liked most of what they did together in bed but he had been kind to him as long as he behaved. The affection he felt for Brandon was real and he had hoped that at least some of it had been reciprocated.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Owen asked. “We’ve been together three months son. We had some good times together. Remember last month when we went deep sea fishing? I really thought we’d bonded.”

“I’m not your son you fucking old pervert!” Brandon snapped. “I’m just some kid you bought and fucked in the ass whenever you wanted to. You wanna share a memory?” He was shaking now and stepped towards the table. His fists were clenched and he was starting to cry.

“How about our first night at your house huh? Remember that? Remember telling me you knew I didn’t like having sex with you and that that was part of the turn-on for you? Remember putting me on my knees in the middle of a circle of your fucking friends and you all giving me a come bath you sick fucking faggot motherfucker!!!”

Brandon threw himself at Owen then. Max did nothing to intervene. The kid needed to get some payback after what he had been through. He just grabbed the coffee carafe and got out of the way. The table went flying as Brandon went through it on his way to his soon- to- be- former owner. Brandon got his hands around Owens throat. He rode the older man to the ground and landed a few solid , cursing hits before Max grabbed him from behind and lifted him up off his feet.

“I wish you’d fucking burned to death you motherfucker!” Brandon screamed. “You hear me faggot? I wish you’d burned!”

Max carried the shouting, swearing teenager over to the pool and threw him in. It was even money whether the people staring were doing so because of Brandon’s outburst or because of how effortlessly the much smaller Max had manhandled him.

“Cool off!” Max said when Brandon came sputtering to the surface.

He walked back over to where Owen was reclaiming his chair. Brandon had done some decent work on him. A split lip and bloody nose now joined the list of the battered mans injuries.

“Well,” Max said, grinning “guess we’ve got our answer.” He gestured to one of the hotel employees who had been nearby. When they came over he asked them to bring his bag from the safe and the hotel concierge.

While they waited other employees righted the table and got a first aid kit for Owens hurts. When the concierge arrived Max explained that they needed a witness to the transfer of Brandon’s contract and she agreed to serve in that capacity. The story of the previous night’s events had flashed through the hotel grapevine in record time. It wasn’t every day they had a guest get questioned at one am over suspected arson and attempted murder. For her part, the well dressed young woman thought Owen was getting off easy. She had a brother Brandon’s age and only her sense of professionalism kept her from spitting on the battered contractor.

Max took the transfer forms from the suitcase along with a pen. He left the case open so he could access Owen’s payment easier. The amount of the transfer fee had intentionally been left blank. Max got in one final twist of the blade when he counted out fifty one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Owen.

Owen just looked at the relatively tiny pile of money in front of him. “That’s, that’s not what we agreed….” He stammered and gestured at the cash. “You’re offering me less than…”

“Less than what you paid in taxes when you initially purchased Brandon’s contract.” Max finished for him. “Yes, I am. And yes, I know; Monday I offered you one-hundred times that. Monday you had a chance to be reasonable. You decided to show me your ass instead.”

He made his own gesture at the money. “So that’s the new offer. You can take it and have me out of your life for good or you can continue to be an unreasonable asshole and see what happens.” He locked eyes with Owen, silently daring him to be stupid and reject the offer.

Owen looked away before Max did. He gave a resigned sigh. Max looked inside his head and had to restrain himself from giggling like a little kid. The bastard was completely broken! There was actually a room inside his skull where he was curled up, hugging himself and crying. Served the fucker right after everything he had put an innocent kid who had never done him a speck of harm through.

Owen took the money. Max filled in the transfer amount and all three of them signed in the designated spaces. Then Max informed Charity, the concierge that Owen would be checking out of his room immediately.

“Could you please have a car and driver take Mr. Chastain wherever he wants to go so long as it’s very far away from me and my nephew?” Max requested. “Just bill it to my room. Oh, and this is for your trouble.” He passed Charity seven one hundred dollar bills. “Please give two to the driver and keep the rest for yourself. Mr. Chastain will be along directly. He and I just need a minute alone.”

Charity disappeared and the hotel employees who had been hanging around after straightening up the mess Brandon’s tantrum had created found other things to do. Over in the pool Brandon was watching the proceedings intently. He floated in the water with his elbows and forearms on the edge of the pool. He had seen the money change hands and wanted to cheer and punch his fist in the air. Uncle Max had done it! He was going home!

Max held out his hand for Owen to shake. Their business was concluded. There was no reason to be uncivilized now. Owen nervously took the proffered hand and Max clamped down on it. He reached inside Owens head and helped himself to the man’s nascent plans for rebuilding what was left of his life. Max had plans of his own. He just wasn’t sure yet if he was going to follow through with them or not.

When Owen tried to let go Max held on. He leaned in close and pulled Owen down so that his face was next to his ear. “If you ever so much as send my nephew a Christmas card,” he whispered “I will find you and I will make a lampshade out of your skin. Then I will kill you. Understood?” A little extra grind on the nerve cluster at the base of Owen’s right thumb punctuated the remark.

Owen nodded nervously and Max let him go. “Good. Now; fuck off.”

Max turned his back on Owen then. He picked up Brandon’s contract and waved it with a grin. “So what d’you think kid? Welcome home bash with all your friends this weekend at the house?”

Brandon and Max spent the rest of the day relaxing. Max had wanted to take Brandon clothes shopping but the boy explained that Owen had done the same thing the first day after bringing him home. He didn’t want any kind of connection between how his despised former owner and his beloved uncle did things if it could be avoided. Max agreed that made sense so instead they hung out for awhile, talked, had lunch and took the Impala out to see a movie.

Max spent a few minutes on the phone updating his lawyer and getting things in motion to have guardianship of Brandon transferred over to him. It wouldn’t be difficult. Melissa had been adamant that if anything ever happened to her and Tony Max would get sole custody. Tony hadn’t thought much of his generally good-for-nothing brother-in-law but even he agreed that after himself and his wife Brandon simply did not have a more devoted champion than Max.

At one point Max inquired of Charity about the driver she had arranged for Owen. Another little green portrait of Mr. Franklin bought him an introduction to the man. Max tipped him again and grilled him on where he had taken Owen. True to the plans Max had gleaned from the defeated slaver’s mind he had asked to be taken up to FanTan, the naturist resort where he owned a bungalow and had first acquired Brandon.

It made sense really. Owen didn’t really have anywhere else to go. The resort was distant enough that Max shouldn’t bother him and there were plenty of cute indent kids around to comfort him if he decided that was what he needed. Max thanked the driver for his help and reviewed the idea he had been chasing around since first becoming aware of Brandon’s circumstances several month’s earlier.

At Max’s insistence Brandon was in bed at 11 o’clock. He had had a rough couple of days and needed his rest. There’d be plenty of time for celebrating later. Max sat up awhile watching his nephew sleep. Memories filled his mind and not just of the boy. A lifetime of always being there for his sister, always using his powers to her benefit. Whether it was looting a poker table for a years tuition money or sending some idiot with more hands than brains to the emergency room it didn’t matter. She was his little sister; two minutes his junior and the most important person he had ever had in his life.

Brandon’s birth hadn’t changed that. It had simply meant that sixteen years ago the world had acquired a second person that no rational human being wanted to harm while Max Krier lived. He sighed. Some things are just inevitable really.

Max ran a small, calloused hand over the boys hair and kissed his sleeping forehead. “You get your rest buddy.” He said quietly. “Uncle Max is gonna make it right.” Then he went to the closet and got into his flying clothes.