Chapter 86: Who Decided That the Villain Must Always Be the Villain

At that moment, a car pulled up in front of Max.

"Hey, Max, need a ride?"

Max eyed the luxury car uncertainly and asked, "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Michael smiled. "Does it matter? Right now, I need you."

Michael thought to himself that there was something a bit unstable about this Max. Spider-Man had only said, "I need you," and Max had remembered it for months. Gwen had merely remembered his name, and he’d been over the moon about it.

Perhaps it was the isolation and oppression he had faced in this world that made being needed so precious to him.

Sure enough, the moment Michael said he needed him, Max became visibly excited.

"Really? Where are we going?"

"The ocean."

"The ocean?" Max repeated, puzzled, but he got in the car all the same.

Michael sped off, heading straight for the shore. Electro feared water; water could short-circuit him and temporarily strip him of his powers, though Michael wasn’t sure if enough water could kill him.

Long years of loneliness and repression had left Max warped and hypersensitive, easily pushed to extremes.

Even so, Michael felt guilty about the idea of killing someone who had done nothing wrong.

"I’m sorry, Max. I only just noticed you today."

Max glanced at Michael, an uneasy feeling stirring within him.

"It’s alright. At least you need me now. Are we friends?" he asked.

Michael looked at him, feeling even more guilty.

"My name is Michael. From now on, we’re friends."

Max looked at Michael, searching his memory until it dawned on him.

"Oh my God, you’re my boss, Mr. Michael."

"Wow, I’m friends with Mr. Michael now—that’s incredible. This is just like meeting Spider-Man; he told me he needed me too."

Hearing this, Michael’s guilt deepened.

He stopped the car and stepped out to breathe in the fresh air, trying to relieve his burdened heart.

Max got out as well, concern in his voice. "What’s wrong, Mr. Michael?"

"I just don’t know what to do, Max."

"Maybe you can tell me about it. Maybe I can help you. Did you know? I designed the city’s power grid," Max said proudly.

Michael, seeing Max’s earnestness, said, "If someone might make a mistake in the future, should we judge them for it now?"

"Why? If they haven’t done anything wrong, then they’re not guilty, right?"

Michael nodded. The Ancient One had taught him the same thing, spoken similar words.

Maybe, before you go astray, I should give you a chance.

As the saying goes, 'the pitiable must have something detestable about them,' but this did not apply to Max.

He was black, unkempt, from an unfortunate family, but he had never done anything wrong.

Talented yet treated unfairly, he had spent his life being looked down upon, never receiving the recognition he deserved.

Michael turned to Max and asked, "Max, do you want to be someone everyone notices?"

"I dream about it," Max replied, quivering with excitement.

Michael looked at him solemnly. "Then, from now on, you’ll do as I say."

"Yes! What should I do? I’m ready."

"First, you need to learn to control yourself. Then, we’ll make you a suit. After that, use your abilities to help people."

"Control myself? Help people?"

Max stared at his own hands, a flicker of fear passing through him.

Luckily, Michael interrupted his thoughts.

"That’s right. Not everyone is like me—I can withstand your electricity."

"Come on, let’s head back to the company."

Michael got into the car.

Max was a bit confused. Weren’t they going to the ocean? Why were they heading back? But he followed Michael without complaint.

At the New York Sanctum, the Ancient One watched the scene in her mirror and smiled.

Back at the lab, Michael, not wanting to alarm Max, didn’t immediately mention taking his blood or cells.

Instead, he first made a device for Max to absorb the excess electricity from his body.

Max’s electricity wasn’t self-generated; he had to absorb it from external sources to manifest his powers.

And there was a limit to how much he could absorb—beyond that, he’d explode and die.

Once the excess electricity was drawn out, Max looked like a normal person again; even the restlessness in his heart faded.

His appearance had changed dramatically: the missing teeth and the messy, thinning hair were gone, and even his nearsightedness had vanished—he no longer needed glasses.

Compared to before, Max now actually looked rather handsome.

He studied his reflection in the mirror for a long while and said, "Wow, I really like how I look now. I feel amazing."

"I think so too," Michael said from behind him. "I can’t solve your body’s absorption of electricity just yet, so consider it a gift from the heavens."

"Thank you, Mr. Michael. Otherwise, I really wouldn’t have known what to do."

Gwen walked in then. "Who’s this?"

"I’m Max," he replied immediately. "Don’t you remember? In the elevator..."

"Oh," Gwen recalled. "Max Dillon?"

"That’s right."

"You’ve changed a lot."

"Yes, I feel full of confidence now. I feel fantastic."

Gwen pulled Michael aside. "Are you bringing him into the lab?"

"Not exactly. I want Max to take charge of the power grid project. You know, Max designed the previous power grid, but his boss took credit for it."

"I see. Then you must punish the guy who stole his work."

"Don’t worry."

Michael turned to Max. "Yesterday was your birthday. I’ve decided to give you a gift. It may be late, but I hope you don’t mind."

"Not at all, not at all." No one had ever given Max a gift before. Michael’s promise left him overjoyed.

"Take some time off. I’ll make sure the person who stole your designs goes to court and you get back what’s yours."

"Thank you," Max said, nearly moved to tears.

Michael still felt guilty; he was only helping Max reclaim what was rightfully his.

After Max left, Michael dialed Peter’s number.

Back home, Max was so excited by the day’s events that he felt his luck had finally turned.

He rolled around on the sofa with excitement, as happy as a Samoyed basking in the sun.

"Hey, Max, how are you? My little informant."

Max looked toward the voice and saw Peter—Spider-Man—clinging to his window.

"Oh my god, you came to see me."

"A friend told me you’ve been through a lot and could use my help."

Hearing this, Max became even more excited.

"I knew it, I’m special. Out of millions, you helped me, and now you’re here for me again."

Max’s enthusiasm left Peter a bit flustered.

"Whoa, whoa, Max, can you tell me what happened?"

Michael had phoned Peter, telling him that one of his employees had undergone a mutation, gained superpowers, and idolized Spider-Man—he needed Peter to guide him properly.

After receiving the rest of the information from Michael, Peter hurried over.

Max explained everything to Peter.

After listening, Peter finally understood. He told Max, "Max, from now on, you’re an Avengers trainee. You’ll be learning from me how to use your powers to become a hero."

"Okay."

"Okay," Max nodded, tears in his eyes. "So are we partners now? Do I need a suit? What should I do?"