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-- that the true reason Maximos ever let him touch it was revealed.

Tomorrow had measured his strength against normal mortals before, he knew what it felt to dwarf the average man. He knew the experience that was lifting up the every day human being and knowing he could toss them like a rag doll.

And that was exactly the feeling he would experience here and now.

The very moment his fingers curled around the weapon it back lashed. The initial pop was like that of touching a piece of metal after rubbing ones feet across carpet. Only this was a bolt of jet black lightning, a lightning bolt in every sense of the word. As if it had come down from the Heaven's itself and struck John, and then with that same weightless effort with which he lift and hefted the average man, the power of the hammer literally threw John backwards down the hall.

In a moment, the Aesir would be soaring backwards wildly, likely into a wall or door near the opposite side of the hall. Said surface would buckle and crack, but not break. Shadow Island was, after all, constructed to house and weather the Destroyer, and friends. The speed of his flight and the movement of his mass huffing out the blue fire lanterns that lined the hallway leaving John tumbling in blackness.

His last sight before being sent soaring away was Maximos, standing completely calm with that same grin on his face. It was easy to blame Maximos for using shadowy tricks and magic, but the truth was that smiling in such a way so as to take that blame was the Shadow's kindness. In truth, he had nothing to do with the explosive reaction, the weapon acted of its own accord not even disturbed from his grip. Moljinir refused to be grabbed by Johnathan Tomorrow. In the blackness Tomorrow would hear absolutely nothing, but he would see flashes of blue energy arching across the weapon like flickers from some slow and taunting strobe light. With each flash, Maximos came farther and farther down the hall. With each flash, Maximos seemed to only be walking but covered great distances and appeared at random places along the hall, even so far as to appear to be walking on the ceiling at one point. It seemed so low, but it happened so fast.

"When you kill a boar, and mount its tusks on your viking helm, do you return those tusks to the next boar you see? When you slay a beast of the wild and carve daggers from its bone and cloth from its hide, do you return those items to the beast when it begs and whines?" And then John would land, and he would hear the Shadow's voice echoing from all around him. Broadcast through the shadow in one of his simplest but most unnerving tricks.

"This weapon was forged from your greatest moment of shame. The moment a barbarian god ran from Death. It is born of an arm you lost, and then abandoned, and now whine for me to return my rightful prize? Is that the Norse way?" Silence, a crackling flash and Maximos was right in front of him, hammer held overhead as if about to crash down. And he was gone before in an instant.

"You should have it. You can have it." Crackle. It is said that no man knows the exact hour death will come from him. To this end, the agents of Death may, only in conflict with the divine vanish from all senses save for a man's two eyes. And this room was pitch black. It was for that reason alone that Johnathan would not feel a build up of electrical energy until the hammer it was being placed beside his head from behind. Not touching. But threatening with all the malice that was absent from Maximos' deathly calm voice. "When you take it from my broken and defeated fingers. And not a moment sooner."

And he was gone. It stood to reason, Maximos could have moved fluidly in the shadows even if Tomorrow decided to interrupt him before he could finish. But try as the Aesir might, he was not taking Maximos' spoils unless he earned them in the same way his very culture would have demanded. He may foil as many of the theatrics as he wished, or rage as hard as he like, but there was no changing that one simple fact.

A flicker, and Maximos was a few feet ahead of Tomorrow. He snapped his fingers and the blue flame reignited, filling the hallway again. Maximos flicked his hand to the side and the weapon dissolved into nothing in the same way it appeared. And he was simply walking away, back toward his lab. "Save me your wounded pride John. Your assumptions will be the death of you. Do you really think that I would construct a weapon that I myself was unable to use with anything short of complete lethal efficiency?"

The intelligence of attacking a man like Maximos in his own self constructed home was greatly lacking. But, if he had not been attacked or interrupted up to this point, Maximos would turn around, shaking out his right hand as if trying to flick water from it. The glow of his tattoos would gently fade, and the shadow would speak in the same relaxed tone he had before this ever even started. "Now, if your too upset or afraid and you want to run off then fine. But run as you may at some point, we are going to meet again, and our natures will demand that you remember who you are. If not, I dont imagine replacing a whole limb will be easy but I do love a challenge, so we should probably get to work. What will it be Tomm?"

Assumptions.

Again.

Johnathan Tomorrow was in a house absolutely flooded with and comprised of the very element the man before him wielded. A man with copious amounts of enemies, who was employed in a job dispatching lives and creating more supernatural enemies. A man who, with a snap of his fingers could have sent the room into darkness. A man who could have turned every inch of that darkness into a substance as solid as stone, or sharp as blades, or open as any doorway, or worse. Johnathan could have impaled himself on a myriad of shadow knives, or once airborne been flung around like a rag door, or just teleported outside Shadow Island. And those were just the things Maximos could have done without turning around. The Shadow had swords and knives and blades and magic attack spells all his own. Simply put, Tomorrow could and should have been dead a thousand different ways before he ever met Maximos.

But none of that happened. If Maximos meant that as a challenge, he would have fought, not turned and walked away.

Maximos did not mount a powerful defense, he did not perform a last minute dodge. It was about the time that Johnathan reached the wall, that Maximos simply turned around and looked at him.

It wasnt anger on his face, it wasnt hatred. It was just disappointment.

He had accepted Tomorrow into his home. Fed him. Shown him the secrets of his past which he personally had shared with no one else. And now had offered to help him replace a limb, a gesture that the barbarian clearly had no appreciation for. And now because he was unwilling to part with a single weapon that did not want Tomorrow, he was being swung on. Granted, the weapon was made from his arm, but Maximos was offering to replace the arm. Eye for an eye, arm for an arm. Tomorrow wanted the weapon. And despite everything, he was willing to attack Max for it.

No, it was worse. Without any form of honor, he was swinging on Maximos with his back turned. Through the lightning and the tempest, he looked John dead in the eyes, and just held up his arms at his sides and waited. He was going to be attacked while trying to help his brother, for not helping him by giving him exactly what wanted, which happened to belong to its creator, Maximos. Otherwise it would just be a decayed lump of flesh in the Dead Forest by now. As if Maximos did not literally make a living making items like that hammer and better. As if all that mattered in the world was what John wanted. He simply was not going to fall to the occasion and be lead into this stupid dance again.

"Attacking a man from behind, is that the norse way too? Bullying your brother for his things even as he tries to help you? Is this what you've become?" He didnt move, he didnt even try to defend himself, something even a rage-drunk Tomorrow should be able to recognize. "Do this, and we will never be brothers again..."

And with just those few softly spoken words, Maximos turned around and continued walking towards his lab. If Tomorrow was going to strike him, he was going to do it with his back turned knowing full well Maximos had no intention of engaging in this stupid conflict. And, "...and she will cry. As the two men she loves go to war, as you try to kill me, one of her best friends, over a nifty hammer and your bruised ego."

Max was still, he was pushed and pulled and absolutely still. Mismatched white and black eyes looked directly into the large pools of blue perched in the other man's skull. His gaze never twitched or faltered. Through slamming, banging, or dust. He just looked. Disappointment melted into calm, and silence. And it became less about Max controlling himself and more about listening, listening to every word until John was done.

And when John stopped, Maximos could honestly say he understood.

"So you try harder. And harder. You give everything you have and when you have nothing you somehow find something more, and you give that too." Max said, he couldnt see John's eyes through his hand but he looked at the other man's face and would meet them if they showed themselves. "Why isnt it enough? Why isnt it ever enough? Why do so many of my people have to die? Friends, family, constant war and fear. But you never get an answer. And then one day..."

He took a deep breath, and then spoke his next few words as he exhaled in a sigh. "...it all builds up, and you just snap. If your going to fail no matter what, you decide to fail the best you can and..."

The pale Shadow just let his words trail off, he pulled himself off the wall and began fixing the collar of his shirt. "Well you saw it, didnt you? I hoped you would understand. But words werent enough, you had to feel it. Feel what I had never let another soul feel."

Another sigh, Max's hand batted away puffs of dust from his shoulder. "I was so blind. I couldnt believe, I could not see past all I had felt. Raven let me see it, she opened my eyes...now maybe I can let you see it too."

There was a soft rasp, the sound one hears when they run their finger along a railing. Max had placed his hand on Tomorrow's metal shoulder. No magic. No glowing. No shadows or tricks. "I wanted you to see that I'm just a man. That I'm mortal, and fallible, like you or anyone else despite how I seem. John...its hard to believe...but the honest to darkness truth is..."

His grip tightened automatically in gesture, though he wondered if Tomm could actually feel it. "...I've never tested you. I'm not interested in polishing you into anything. The only way you've ever let me down, the only thing you've ever failed at..."

Another sigh. "...is being yourself. This, all this, is because of me. You werent but half this size when I met you. Dont you see? You are not my friend because of who I want you to be. You are my friend because of who you are."

Max shook his head, not willing to outwardly say it, but inwardly convinced this was going to be misconstrued too. All, while hoping it would not be. "I dont want anything from you, but for you to be that person. And somewhere along the way, you lost him."

His hand slid from John's shoulder, not in abandonment, touching just wasnt really Max's thing. "I've done it too. You dont remember do you? Before the fight where I took your arm, I told you to leave me alone. I told you it would end badly for you. I tried to warn you. You saw it as a challenge. And then you broke off a piece of railing and swung it at me and well..."

Maximos rapped a finger against the metal shoulder. They both knew how that story went. "I know how I must seem. Nocturne seemed the same way to me. But I'm not perfect, I'm not a god, I'm not the person you need to impress. It was me that sparked your growth, me that made you want to climb, but I am not a mountain you need to surpass."

Faith, hope, maybe a bit of stupidity? Max reached out and rest a hand on the back of the other man's head and said. "You are."

You want a house.

In your mind you can see it, smell it, you imagine it in every detail. The squeaky white picket gate, that faucet with the unstoppable drip. But you love it, its your drip, your squeak, your home. You close your eyes and walk through your imaginary abode, you smile and you dream and it comforts you. During the day, you work, save, and struggle to have this house. And every time the unexpected strikes and your saving are lost or spent, and a dead end job has down as low as you can go and you see no option anywhere else, you dream. You close your eyes, you hear your gate squeak, you laugh at the drip drop in your sink and when you wake up you keep fighting.

Eventually, it comes time to build the house. Brick by brick, you see a foundation and walls, doors, and halls. You've already seen them. You've already walked through them day after day. Joy boils and builds in your heart, and at the end of each day you sit and dream. Maybe your house has pretty windows, a nice comfortable sized television, and room for all the things you've always wanted to own but never could. Because if the house can exist, they can exist too right?

And then after weeks and months and years. After saving, struggling, crying and fighting, after hours at work passing by as a slow and meaningless torture with only that dream when you close your eyes to keep you striving...its done. The house is complete. You walk up to that white picket gate and feel it, you touch it with your own hands, and when you push it, it squeaks. Angels havent made better sound. You walk inside, you turn on the water and when you turn it off, it drips. Like the excited thrumming beat of your own heart. What do you say? What celebration or exclamation can fit this moment? Is it joy you feel? Or is it an overwhelming sense of tiredness and relaxation knowing that the fight, for now, is over and you've won?

In that moment, what do you?

Truthfully, Maximos didnt know either. Tomorrow's words were heavy, it was clear to see because Maximos went from standing, to slouching sideways against the wall, to pressing his back to it and sliding down to a crouch beside broken floor molding. He wore the casual plastic smile which accompanied his usual aplomb. What could he say? What could he do? In the wake of everything Tomorrow had just exclaimed, there was silence. And then a silence grew as the blue haired man tried to fumble for an appropriate response, it became a tangible thing of its own. Not just a silence, but The Silence, a silence which must inturn be broken by something as big as the thing itself and the words which spawned it. A silence which made it almost too blaring and obvious that really anything Maximos said in that moment was engulfed and snuffed entirely by the weight of everything he didnt say.

Saying, wasnt really enough. Maybe actions spoke louder than words. The
smile, like the curtain over the prize just fell away. Maximos looked, tired, maybe relaxed. Maybe infact more relaxed than he had ever been in the company of one Johnathan Tomorrow.

He pale lips parted his worn face, a sharp breath filled his lungs as the perfect prelude to some ephemerally fantastic reply. But when the breath slipped back out seconds later it was joined by no words, or catch phrases or witty replies. Just a long breath, like the kind you take after lifting a heavy box up a flight of stairs and finally getting to set it down.

"Teleporters." Max said with a short jaded sort of 'Ha'. "Have you ever been teleported Tomm?"

Max shook his head, his casual voice every bit as warm as it ever was, but doted now with a sense of solidification it never had previously. Like thsi was real. What's more, there was a certain fluid sort of quirk to his speech. An accent, that turned the edges of his words in funny angles. Noticeable like blood on snow against the proper tones and inflections in which he always spoke.

"Raven does it all the time, 'calls it bouncing." He laughed, a little thing. But honest things, unlike the legends they spawn are usually little. "I cant stand it. I fleebing hate it. You saw what those mages did to me? I've never been right since, it just makes me sick to my stomach. An awful mess really."

Another laugh, this one a little more lively than the next. His rolled against the wall to face John, a little smile on his lips. "I bet you never knew that."

...maybe, there just werent words to reply with. Maybe they had shared enough of those. Maybe for Max, while the window was open, instead of talking about being John's friend or brother it was just time to do it.

Max laughed, it was a good joke!

"No." He said, shaking his head softly. "Though I once had a hat that did something like that. Very nifty, top hat infact."

Pale hands moved in the general vicinity of the top of his head trying to shape the outline of a fancy top hat before he shook his head, laughed again and said. "But it flew away. Nowadays I mostly use these."

He was sitting so the gesture was sort of awkward, but Max leaned forward a bit and lifted on of his feet, presenting it to Tomorrow. Or maybe presenting his boot more specifically. In the flickering flame of the blue lights one could see the outline of black stitching in black leather forming similar shapes and turns to the marks on his arm, and the magic language Nocturne had told Tomorrow about.

"Nox Nuit Pieds." Max said, in a completely different language. And in those few words, the accent sort of fit. Like the slants and angles in his tone sort of met properly. "They're jet boots really, they let me fly. With lots of complicated magic type things. You know how it is. I also walk, do you ever just walk around Gaia? Its pretty amazing! "

Max just paused for a moment blinking.

And then all at once he laughed and laughed, and laughed. "I was all, psssshhhhhtccrrrrrrssshhhkkt!"

He made wobbly wave motions in the air like a child holding a toy airplane and laughing just as amused. "I kept thinking to myself, turn off the jets! Turn off the jets! I was cleaning sand out of that jacket for weeks! Gahahahaha!"

He just lost his words in deep belly laughs, until the finally came down to a few loose chortles, and a pale finger wiping the underside of his eye. "Oooh, ho ho dear."

And then his head cocked lazily to the side and he said. "So, John, what's a rocket?"

Maximos' reaction came steadily, no bright explosion of understanding, or dismal drop into confusion. He was a like a boy at school, slow nods and focused eyes. There was nodding, calm even nods which continued as John finished.

"Yes, yes, I see." And then as silence fell, the nods slowly swerved into shakes of the head and Maximos said. "No, not even a little bit. Whats an astronot? And why is Gaia pulling people? I've always heard he described as kind."

The word was said phonetically, as if copying John's pronunciation with absolutely no understanding of what the letters placed together in such a way meant. Maximos knew of no "nots" or "astro's". Though he imagined it might be related to astrology? Or the spirit of the planet? So confusing.

Honestly that was just one of Maximos' flaws, he had the focus of a horse wearing blinders and while John's hand was hard to miss his mind was so intently locked on this new concept the other man had put before him that it did not even register the gesture or the act of physically moving beyond what gestures the reception of said information dictated.

Maximos' response to John was as honest as it was curious. No need to sound smarter than he was. He who is fool and learns, is a fool for a moment. He who is a fool and does not, is a fool for a lifetime. Or something of that sort. Max replied, first, with a few wobbly gestures in front of himself like his fingers were bone white streamers in the wind.

"Its all...complicated." He said. "Its true I read an entire library, but what my vision could not show you was that, that land was Aria of about seven millenia ago."

He nodded, as if assuring himself of that fact and then continued. "At the end of my journey I was flung not just through worlds, but time. The future hastens, a world beyond my antique reasoning. I've been called very...anachronistic."

"I do know things!" The Shadow said as if not to belittle his own understanding, he even held up a finger to indicate this point. "Just not...new things. For example."

Max reached out, touching the back of his hand to John's shoulder than move it back to touch his, then repeated the gesture and said. "This is space, John. Space between you and eye, space between us and the door. Its not cold, there is air. And if you go out, out of this space, there is still air, and warmth and I've never..."

Eyes squinted, he shook his head, then scratched it. "I've never just floated away. I'm really really confused. What space do you mean?"