Max gripped Mo's fist tightly, his own arm trembling from the strength he was using to hold it in place.
"What the hell are you doing? Let go! Have you gone crazy?" Mo shouted, panicked now.
Just as Mo reeled his other arm back for a punch, Max struck, his free hand snapping forward in a sharp, heavy slap that cracked across Mo's cheek. The blow was so strong, it left Mo stunned, his vision wobbling like the world had tilted.
"Who's going to whose funeral?" Max growled.
Then, without warning, he brought his knee up and drove it right into the center between Mo's legs. Mo let out a strangled cry, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap.
"A blow that could take out Harry Potter," Max muttered coldly.
He didn't stop. He raised his hand again and struck Mo across the face with the back of it, a second slap that sent spit flying from Mo's mouth.
"What… what's happening…?" Mo groaned, barely able to form the words. His vision was darkening, his lips swelling, his whole body frozen in place.
"I'm not done!" Max snapped.
Clenching his fist, he drove it forward, full force into Mo's face. A sickening crunch followed as his knuckles slammed into Mo's nose, sending his head whipping backward. Blood sprayed, and Mo's body hit the ground with a dull thud, completely still.
"This punishment, the one you used to laugh at, the one you handed out every single day to Sam and Max, this is nothing compared to that!" Max shouted, his voice raw with fury.
And it was in that moment, Mo realized, he didn't stand a chance. This wasn't a fight. This wasn't even a beating. He wasn't facing the Max he knew. He didn't know who he was up against now. This version of Max… was a monster.
Panicked, Mo scrambled off the ground and turned to run. But he barely managed two steps before Max grabbed him by the collar, yanked him back, and slammed him down hard onto the concrete.
"Can you feel it?" Max asked, his voice low and venomous. "Can you feel the pain? Because of you, Sam will never feel this again. He'll never feel anything."
Max flipped Mo over and grabbed the tie hanging loosely around his neck, the same one from his funeral suit. In one motion, he wrapped it tight around Mo's throat and started to pull.
Mo's hands shot up instantly, clawing at his neck in desperation. He scratched at the tie, at his own skin, his fingers slipping uselessly. His nails tore into his flesh, drawing blood, but he couldn't get under the fabric. He couldn't breathe.
"And for the rest of their lives," Max seethed, "his family will carry this pain you left behind."
"I... I... I'm sorry!" Mo barely managed to choke out.
Max loosened the tie instantly, and Mo collapsed onto the ground, gasping desperately for air. His chest heaved as if the oxygen was thick and heavy, and his body trembled uncontrollably. His eyes were bloodshot, tears welling at the corners, and his scalp prickled like his head had nearly burst from the pressure just moments ago.
"'Sorry' is just a word," Max said coldly. "It fixes nothing. And you… you've gone beyond fixing. No apology can undo what you've done." His voice dropped as he reached down. "You wanted to play the wannabe gangster? Then you deal with the consequences."
Grabbing the tie that had just nearly choked the life out of Mo, Max wrapped it tight around his knuckles, the fabric biting into his skin. With a single hand, he lifted Mo by the scruff of the neck, like he weighed nothing.
"I'd suggest you don't show your face at school on Monday," Max warned, winding his fist back. "No one's going to believe the weak Max Smith was the one who did this to you."
Before Mo could plead, before he could say yes or no, Max's fist came flying forward, slamming into the side of his jaw.
Mo dropped like a stone, completely unconscious.
Max let him fall to the concrete with a heavy thud. His fist still clenched, his breathing steady, he stood over him for a moment longer. Then, without a word, Max turned his back and started walking, back toward the funeral service, back toward what was left of the day.
Back toward Sam.
Walking back slowly, Max kept his head down, his thoughts running circles around his mind. He barely noticed where he was going until he bumped into someone, solid, like he'd just walked straight into a wall.
"You seem to have a lot on your mind, young master."
Looking up, Max saw Aron standing before him, umbrella still in hand, holding it like it was a part of him.
"It's barely raining," Max muttered.
"Don't you think your clothes have absorbed enough water for one day?" Aron replied, his gaze drifting down to Max's knuckles.
They were raw, red and scraped. Obvious signs of a fight.
He's been fighting, Aron thought. So that look I saw earlier… I was right. But for Max Stern to get personally involved?
Then his eyes narrowed slightly. At least he doesn't look injured. If anyone had dared lay a hand on the young master…
"Let's go home, Aron," Max said softly, the weariness in his voice undeniable. "I think I need to rest."
"I do have some good news to share," Aron replied as they began walking. "I've received confirmation. They signed the contract. It seems they decided to place their trust in your words, after all."
"Good job… at least the money's being put to some kind of use, right?" Max said, though his voice lacked any real enthusiasm.
They walked in silence on the way back to his apartment building. Neither said much, the weight of the day hanging heavy in the air. Aron didn't know everything about Max's life, but based on what he'd witnessed today, it felt like maybe Max had lost someone close. Maybe even a friend from school.
Eventually, Aron gave a small nod and stepped toward the door. "I don't do this often," he said, "but it seems like you'll be staying in your apartment for the rest of the day. I'll take my leave, and see you tomorrow."
With that, he gently closed the door behind him.
Max didn't move for a long while. He stayed in the quiet of his room, staring blankly at the wall. He wasn't in the mood for the gym, not tonight. His body needed a break anyway. His knuckles were still raw, his muscles stiff from the tension.
Instead, he picked up his phone.
"It's time I stopped messing around," Max muttered under his breath. "None of it got me anywhere in the end."
Unlocking his screen, he scrolled through the notes until he found the one he was looking for.
"I'm going to deal with the first person on this list." His eyes narrowed, full of quiet resolve. "Ko… you're up next."