Dark Clouds

Max Steel no Chishiki Baiten

General disclaimer: Max Steel belongs to many companies, Kids’ WB!, two different computer animation companies, and a whole mess-o corporate executives. This story is my personal work derived from my inner child getting hold of an uzi and obliterating my good side.

Max hit the floor with a thud, and a loud grunt. Rachel looked down at him condescendingly, then offered her hand.

“Honestly, Mr. Steel. We’ve been through this a hundred times. Keep your guard up,” she scolded. With a sigh, he took the offer, and was on his feet in a second. He faced the small man a few feet from where the two agents stood.

“Ah, you boy. You ready for more discipline?” the elderly karate master questioned. Max looked down at his opponent, whom he had at least a two foot height advantage on, and wondered how he’d been beaten.

“I think I’ve had enough for one day,” he grumbled, rubbing his right hip, where he was sure a nasty bruise was going to form. Immediately, the small figure smashed him back to the ground. Despite the beating he’d just taken, Max couldn’t help feeling less than intimidated by the tiny Japanese man, and bit back a chuckle at the attempt at being menacing on the sensei’s part.

“Never can have enough discipline. You no forget that,” the man growled in his difficult accent.

“Sure, sir. I’ll remember that,” Max replied, plucking his opponent off his chest, and getting up. Rachel frowned at him.

“Max. We came here to get some extra training, not so you could get a Japanese curse placed on your head,” she scolded. The younger agent matched her glare.

“Really? I kinda figured it was so you could check out those import boys, and because this place is close to your apartment,” he snapped in reply, gesturing to the dozen Japanese men training on the other side of the room. The youngest wasn’t more than 21. He turned back to see something he’d never expected to see from Rachel Leeds: tears. She bit her lip, then turned away from him abruptly, heading for her bag. Immediately, he was cracked in the back of the head by a hard object. Wincing, he turned to see the sensei standing behind him, a handful of small candles in his right hand. Obviously, the same as what he’d been hit with.

“Never insult pretty girl. They carry worst curse,” the small man warned, then chucked the rest of the candles at the young man. Max dodged one, was hit by the rest, and turned back to Rachel, who by this time had packed her bag back together. She was still in her white sparring uniform. His hand slipped behind his head as he walked up to her.

“Rachel, about what I said...” he started. She straightened up, and turned to face him.

“You don’t need to explain, Mr. Steel. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she replied coldly. Max was taken aback. He’d gotten her angry, but this was something new. Yelling at him, and criticizing him were her usual methods of handling this kind of situation.

“Well, can I at least offer you a ride? This isn’t exactly a friendly part of town,” he stuttered, referring to the ten blocks between the dojo and her apartment. She shook her head.

“I can handle myself perfectly well, Max. I’ll see you later,” she grumbled at him coolly, then spun on her heel, and left him with a hanging jaw. Another candle struck the back of his head.

Rachel stalked down the street, still seeing a shade of red. He was completely out of line with that remark! she hissed to herself. The comment was even worse, coming form him. She still loved him. Maybe she had the rest of Team Steel convinced, though that was an unlikely possibility, but she couldn’t convince her heart. No matter what he said, what he did, she still had to see his face everyday. It was almost like an addiction.

“Hey there, preety babe!” a voice called to her. Rachel paused, and turned to see a gang of about four tough-looking young men standing around on the opposite side of the street. The one that had called to her held a cigarette in one hand, and wore a seductive grin. His buddies chuckled.

“Hey, you got her to look at you, Kyle!” a small, imp-like one piped, then burst into high laughter. The other two guys added their own less than flattering remarks.

“Shut up, Dinky,” the first scolded, then crossed the street, the smile on his face turning into a leer as he closed the distance between himself and the blonde N-tek agent. Rachel wasn’t worried. She dealt with morons like this everyday, the only difference being that those morons were usually packing high-tech weapons and wanted to destroy the world.

“Nice night out, isn’t it?” she commented, suddenly almost hoping that he’d try to steal her bag. The desire to beat someone into unconciousness rose suddenly, but Rachel never fought without reason. Judging by this guy’s look, she would have reason to beat him up in a moment.

“Oh, yeah. But not nearly as nice as you look. Tell me, honey, are you nice?” he asked, bracketing his hands on either side of her body. The female agent frowned irritably.

“Not if you keep pestering me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get home,” she retorted smartly, and ducked out from under his arms, walking away. A hand grabbed hers, arresting her departure. The guy spun her around, and held her close to his body.

“Not the answer I was hoping for,” he told her, as his hands drifted down to her uniform belt. The second she felt his hands start to undo the knot, Rachel’s knee met his groin sharply. With a squeaked groan, her tormentor fell over, wincing and moaning.

“H-hey! She took out Kyle!” Dinky exclaimed in shock. Rachel looked up from her handiwork to see the young man’s friends advancing on her. Setting her bag down, she took a stance.

“Let’s make him feel better and have her waiting when he gets up,” the tallest thug suggested, grinning maliciously.

“I’ll give you one more chance to walk away,” Rachel warned. They came faster. With a shrug, she jumped into the fight, easily beating all three men in under two minutes. Leaving the semi-coherent would-be attackers on the sidewalk, she dusted off her hands, and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“People these days,” she sighed, taking off again. She’d barely gone five yards, when a hand reached out of a darkened alley, and ripped her into the shadows. Rachel gasped when she felt a knife at her throat.

“You pass first test, girl. Now try challenge,” a Japanese voice growled in her face before she was released. A tall man, dressed in a black karate uniform similar to hers, stood before her. In his right hand was a blood-stained knife. A black mask covered all but his eyes. The knife was replaced in it’s pouch at his hip, and suddenly, his foot was flying at her head. Rachel ducked away, and heard brick shatter as her attacker stuck the wall. A hand caught her shirt collar, throwing her back into the alleyway on her rear.

“Mmm, mmm, girl. Neither leaves until one falls,” the mugger growled. Rachel was on her feet in a second, in a stance.

“If those are your rules, fine,” she said primly, confident in her ability. The fight started for real. Punches, kicks, it was intensely fast. The female agent felt herself tiring out. She willed the exhaustion away, and focused on knocking out her opponent so she could go home and get some sleep. But he wasn’t going to tire out so easily. More of his attacks were landing, less of hers. Her radio had been kicked off her belt and shattered at the beginning of the fight. She was alone.

“Give up, make this easier on you, girl,” the man scolded, throwing a punch. Rachel shook her head, blocking the blow at the same time.

“I’ll say the same to you,” she responded, just before a hard kick landed against her stomach. She was thrown into the wall full force, and slumped to the ground, holding her middle. Immediately, her opponent was before her, kneeling down. He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

“I tried to reason,” was all he said, before picking her up and slamming her violently into the brick wall again, and throwing her to the ground. Before she could regain her senses, he was on top of her, straddling her waist, pinning her body down to the gritty cement. He grabbed her hands, and pinned them against her chest. She could feel a hard bulge between his legs pressing against her stomach. At this point, she was getting scared. She tried to scream, and was cut off by a sharp slap. Turning her head, she shut her eyes, trying to block out the pain. A hand at her belt startled her.

“W-what are you doing?” she demanded, trying to fight him around the blackness edging her vision. She felt dizzy, but not so much that she didn’t realize what kind of danger she was in.

“You lost. This is the price,” her attacker said simply, then whipped her belt off. The white halter top she was wearing was exposed as he stripped the jacket off her body. The concern she’d felt before was nothing to what she felt now. Using the belt she’d previously been wearing, the man tied her wrists together, so that he had her on a leash. In a quick move, he removed his own jacket. He, however, had no undershirt.

“I’m giving you one more chance. Let me go, now,” Rachel warned. In response, he flicked out the knife, and stabbed it into her right leg, a couple inches above her knee. Her cry was smothered by his mouth over hers. Tears of pain glistened in her eyes as he removed the knife and took his face away from hers. Blood was rapidly spreading across her leg, flowing over the sides of her thigh, soaking into her uniform pants. A moment later, those were gone as well. She was left with her underwear. He stood long enough to remove his own pants, then settled back on her. Rachel cringed, and struggled to free herself. The knife appeared again, and slashed a shallow cut across her flat stomach. She bit back another scream.

“Pretty little girl,” he said, in a soothing tone. As if that could calm her now. Tears were beginning to run down her face. Delicately, the man cut her top straight down between her breasts, and ripped the two halves away. She winced as his hand touched her, tracing around her chest, before he pinched her left nipple, hard. She yelped weakly, and saw the mask shift as he smiled. He did the same to her other breast, then placed his finger at the slight depression on her neck. Slowly, it could have been sensually had this been someone she knew, trusted, and loved, Rachel felt his finger glide down her body. Between her breasts, over the cut in her stomach, over her navel, and stopped at the top of her panties. He hooked his finger on the edge of the cotton band. His victim cringed, to his pleasure. A quick rip, and the blonde felt the cold air rush over her formerly covered regions. Her humiliation by this time was incomparable to anything she’d ever felt before in her life. While being careful to keep her pinned, he raised himself slightly, and stripped off his remaining garment. She saw his arousal, already covered in a condom. Rachel froze, her worst fears confirmed. He was going to rape her. She started screaming as loud as she could.

“Shut it,” he growled, slapping her again. The tears flowed freely as she fought to escape. He slapped her again, then pressed, hard, on her leg wound. She silenced, and bit her lip, trying to stop the pain. Without warning, she felt his member at her entrance. Her entire body tensed. He grinned, and placed one hand on her cheek, leaving a smear of her blood. His hand quickly covered her mouth as he plunged into her body. Scarring her for the rest of time. She screamed against his hand over and over. His thrusts seemed to rip her apart each time. Her body was jerking from the violence of the attack. She couldn’t stop him, even as his other hand moved to her chest, roughly groping her breasts.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked cruelly between thrusts. She shook her head rapidly. But a part of her knew he was right. Even if this was wrong, even if she was probably going to die after, she felt her climax building. She threw her head back as much as his grip allowed, and let out a muffled scream as her orgasm hit. Her chest heaving with from the amount of energy she’d used up, she looked up at him. Praying that he’d let her go. He thrusted a few more times, grunting louder each time. A long, loud groan signaled his own peak. For a moment after, he simply laid on top of her, catching his breath. Sharply, he pulled out of her, making the young woman wince. He untied her wrists, and pointed at her bloodstained clothes. Taking the hint, Rachel all but ripped on her pants, pulled the jacket on, tied it as tightly as she could manage, snatched up her bag, and fled. Behind her, she could hear her rapist laughing. She rushed the last three blocks to her apartment, and into her room as quickly as possible.

The second she had the door closed, Rachel slumped to the floor, drew her knees to her chest, and began to sob uncontrollably. She wanted to stay right where she was, or, preferably, be in Max’s arms, but common sense told her that she was injured, and needed to clean herself up. Slowly, she dragged herself to her feet, heedless of the bloodstain where her leg had been, and staggered to the bathroom. Looking at her reflection, she knew there was no way she could face work tomorrow. One of the red marks on her cheek was already turning into a bluish bruise. Opening her jacket, she saw that her chest was going to be bruised for sometime as well. The slash in her stomach wasn’t deep. Not even requiring of stitches. She dropped the bloody top on the floor, and wriggled out of her pants. The stab in her leg had stopped bleeding, and, considering she could still walk reasonably well, hadn’t done severe damage. Turning abruptly, she stepped into the shower. First things first: get clean. As the hot water washed over her, as she scrubbed, Rachel couldn’t get his feeling off her. Especially out of her. She could still feel his touch on her body. The cloth worked harder. Her skin was turning red from the abuse. She washed herself three more times before deciding enough was enough, for now. She found, to her disgust, that the cuts had both opened. Using the gauze in her cabinet, she patched the wounds up, and, leaving the clothes in the bathroom, she walked to her room. Weariness struck her hard. She forced herself to pull on an old white shirt, and a pair of sweats, then collapsed onto her bed, pulled the blankets around her body, and cuddled a pillow close. She began to sob.

The next morning, Max was surprised to find that Rachel hadn’t shown up yet. He poked into her office, nothing. Searched the other rooms she frequented, and still didn’t find her.

“I don’t get it, bro. She said she’d be here today,” the brunette agent was saying to Berto. The younger agent shrugged. No ideas from him.

“Why are you so worried about her all of a sudden?” the Spanish boy asked, a little impishly. Max shot him a good-natured glare, then dropped the look.

“I said something pretty rude last night. I wanted to apologize for that,” the boy explained, just as Kat came into the room. She nodded at both boys in greeting.

“Funny, I just heard Rachel called in sick this morning. I didn’t know she got sick,” the female brunette said casually.

“She’s probably trying to avoid me,” Max sighed, clapping a hand to his head. Kat started laughing. The super agent shot her a look of irritation.

“What’d you do?” the female agent asked after a moment with a grin. The younger agent shot her a raised eyebrow, and folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s none of your business, but we had a fight at the dojo she dragged me to last night,” he said coolly, earning another round of chuckles from his female partner.

“Come on, Steel. If she was mad at you, then she’d come to the office, call you in, and scream her lungs out at you. Rachel doesn’t avoid people,” Kat said knowledgeably.

“So you think she’s actually sick?” Berto piped suddenly. Kat shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she said lamely. Max sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Miss Helpful. Well, either way, I think I’ll stop by her place after work. I need to talk to her anyway,” the young man decided, just as Jefferson signaled all three of them.

Max looked disgusted as he tried to settle more comfortably on the hard ground. Which was slick with rain, and muddy. Beside him, Kat shifted a little herself.

“Tell me again why we’re hiding out in a mud puddle?” the latter grumbled.

“Because this is one of the chief advisors to the President, and his life is currently being threatened by terrorists over some policy he’s trying to implement,” Max recited, grinning. Whatever Kat was about to say was cut off by movement near the house. A black clad figure was moving swiftly for the window.

“There’s our boy. Come on, Steel,” Kat whispered, getting up. Max nodded, and was on his feet in a moment. The two agents scurried across the lawn, and found their target busily picking the lock on the basement doors.

“You have a permit?” Max asked, almost laughing at the look on the man’s face as he spun around, obviously not expecting company. It was over in a moment. The panicked assassin grabbed his gun, and fired blindly at the two agents. Kat yelped as a bullet caught her right leg, below the knee, and she hit the ground. Max knocked the guy out with a well-placed strike to the face. Security guards were already rushing over, alerted by the shots. The male N-tek agent picked up his partner, and stepped back to let the guards handle the terrorist. One of them came over to the agents. He frowned worriedly at Kat.

“Thanks for the help. You might want to go have that looked at,” he said.

“Yes, sir. You’re welcome,” Max said simply, then turned around and headed for Hawk. He shot Kat a scolding look as he put her in the jet.

“And I’m the one who’s always being told to be more careful,” he chuckled. Kat grimaced, and stuck her tongue out.

“Just have to rub this in, don’t you?” she asked between gritted teeth. Max nodded as he dropped into the cockpit, and the small plane roared to life.

Back at N-tek, Kat was taken to the medical bay to have her injury treated. Max cleaned up, put on a fresh uniform, and found himself in the control room. Berto was busy playing with another gadget, currently in the process of taking the thing apart.

“Nice job today,” Max commented, almost to himself as he leaned against the side of the console. Berto looked up, and set down the mechanical object.

“Well, you stopped the shooter,” he offered reasonably. Max chuckled softly.

“Yeah, at the cost of Kat’s walking ability for the next couple weeks,” he noted. Right then, the brunette agent he’d just been talking about came in, a cast covering the lower part of her leg, and on crutches. For the most part, she didn’t look too bad.

“Three weeks! They said I’m stuck with this for the next three weeks!” she complained bitterly. Both boys chuckled.

“Aw, come on, Kat. It can’t be that bad,” Max chuckled. The female agent shot him a look of irritation, and adjusted herself.

“Yes, it can. You’re not the one on the crutches, Steel,” she told him primly, then left the room. Max just shook his head, then checked his watch.

“I’m outta here. See you tomorrow, bro,” he said, reaching out quickly to mess up his younger partner’s hair, then bolting out the door before Berto could retaliate.

Max’s blue convertible pulled up into one of the spaces outside Rachel’s apartment. He scanned his memory for what her apartment number was. By-passing the mailboxes, he ascended the stairs, and wandered down the hallway to her room. So intent was he on finding her apartment, the young man didn’t even notice the minute blood stains on the cement. Coming to what he hoped was her door, Max reached out and rapped his knuckles on the wooden frame.

“Mmm?” Rachel came partially out of her daze, hearing the soft knock. She didn’t move. Her heart stopped when she heard the sound of a key in lock. Oh God... she thought, forgetting that anyone who had a key to her home had to be a friend. The only thing on her mind was that it was that man. Her hand shot up to the headboard of her bed, and pulled her N-tek issue from it’s place. She shut her eyes, praying that whoever it was would just leave.

“Rachel?” Max called, opening the door. A slight coppery odor caught his attention. Looking down, he gasped, seeing the red puddle at his feet.

“Rachel!” he called again, closing the door, and entering the comfortably small apartment. More blood trailed to the bathroom. He went in there, and saw the blood-soaked clothing. Now considerably more freaked out, he spun around, and down the hall to her bedroom.

“Rach? You here?” he asked softly, placing one hand on the doorknob. Rachel’s eyes shot open as she heard her bedroom door opening. Her grip tightened around the gun. Slowly, the door swung open. She saw the tall figure in the doorway, screamed, and fired in the intruder’s general direction. However, her aim was still fairly good. Max saw the metal projectile hurtling at his head. God, no! he thought wildly.