Chapter 143: The Cult of Max Black
AN: New week. Let's aim for top 10. So, give me those powerstones as usual.
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[A few days later] [Outside DMV]
Max burst through the glass doors of the DMV like she had just escaped captivity. In her hand, raised high against the noon sun like a warrior lifting a blood-soaked blade, was her brand-new driver's license.
"Behold," she declared, lifting it toward the sky like a battle-won trophy. "I am now a legal menace on the road."
Caroline was just surprised. "I can't believe you actually passed. You parallel parked like a rabid deer during practice."
Max flipped her hair. "That rabid deer had vision, girl. That deer had dreams. And now? That deer has a license."
They walked down the sidewalk, Max still holding her license like it was a VIP pass to a new life. Caroline pulled out her phone to check the time, then put it back into her bag as they neared a small corner coffee shop with ivy crawling up the windows.
Max grinned like she'd just pulled off a heist. "I swear, Caroline, Alex won't be able to say no now. I've got the license. It's official. I'm road-legal. I can already hear that black Porsche calling my name. Or maybe the candy apple red Mustang. Something that says, 'Rawrrr.'" She made a claw with her right hand and gave that cute, 'Rawrrr.'
Caroline gave her a skeptical side-eye as they reached the door. "You're aiming high for someone who just got their license."
"Details," Max said, brushing it off. "Now I've got government-issued proof I'm a badass."
Inside, the café was cozy, the kind of place that tried hard to look effortless. Exposed brick, potted plants, and espresso machines humming. A few heads turned when they walked in. People whispered. Someone nudged their friend. A teen girl near the pastry case subtly lifted her phone and pretended to check messages while clearly filming.
Caroline leaned in close and whispered, "It's happening again. You notice that? We're getting more stares now than we did the first week."
Max smirked. "Let them stare. I look good and I've got a license. Today is my villain origin story."
They walked to the counter, placed their orders: an iced vanilla latte for Caroline, black coffee, and two croissants for Max, and then settled into a booth by the window. The order came surprisingly faster than they imagined.
Max pulled her sunglasses down and watched a guy at another table do a double take. "This is wild. I thought the fame thing would level out, not ramp up. Now, we are getting our orders faster than before."
Caroline sipped her latte, eyes scanning the room. "The new magazine cover's out. The fan edits went viral again. And the hoodie you wore in the ad? Backordered for the next three months."
Max leaned back, satisfied. "Perfect. Now I just need to slide into Alex's office like, 'Hey, babe, guess who can legally drive your sexiest car?' He'll cave. He always caves."
Caroline raised an eyebrow. "And if he doesn't?"
Max took a slow bite of croissant. "Then I pucker up, flash my new ID, and whisper that I've never made out in a Porsche before."
Caroline choked on her drink. "You are an actual menace."
Max smiled. "A legal one now."
...
Meanwhile, across the street from the café, an old, battered Honda sat parked in the shade of a leaning street sign. Its paint was chipped. The rear bumper hung on by what looked like duct tape and hope. Inside, behind the wheel, a thin man leaned forward, eyes locked on one person.
Max.
He didn't look like much. Greasy brown hair clung to his scalp like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His cheekbones jutted out beneath pale, waxy skin. His lips moved silently, twitching with every movement Max made, like he was echoing her words or rehearsing something he wanted to say.
His teeth were stained yellow. The kind of yellow that spoke of neglect and rot. A nervous tongue darted across them every few seconds.
Two of the bodyguards Alex had assigned were seated just a few tables away from Max and Caroline. One pretended to type on a laptop. The other sipped tea and watched the entrance through the reflection in a mirror behind the bar. They blended in. No one would know they were there unless they had a reason to look closer.
A few people walked by that Honda, mumbling about the rotten stench coming from the car. But the stalker didn't care. His world, in that moment, had shrunk to the woman sipping coffee by the window, laughing with her friend. Her voice, faint through the closed window, still seemed to carry.
He muttered to himself. "She's here. Right there. Just like in the videos."
A notebook lay on the passenger seat. Worn, crumpled, full of messy writing and crude sketches. Page after page was filled with Max's name. Some are spelled wrong. Some are circled in red. Others tore through with frantic strokes. The newest page had one sentence written over and over.
"She sees me. She knows me. She'll come."
He reached into the glove box and pulled out a camera. The kind tourists used. He raised it, pressed it to the glass, and snapped a photo.
Click.
Then another.
Click.
He didn't smile or blink. His eyes never left her.
"She's mine," he whispered. "Soon."
...
[Later that night] [Grand Mart Supermarket]
The automatic doors slid open with a cheerful chime, and Max and Caroline walked in like they owned the place. They technically owned two cupcake corners in the food court, but that was beside the point.
Max wore an oversized hoodie, sunglasses, and scuffed-up sneakers. Caroline had pulled a baseball cap low over her face and wrapped her scarf like she was dodging the paparazzi in a spy thriller.
They didn't need the deals. Their bank accounts could fund them for the rest of their lives. But there they were, weaving through rows of fluorescent-lit aisles like two broke college students on a mission.
Caroline sighed as Max darted ahead with a cart already half full. "Max. You do realize we don't need any of this. Right? We have assistants. We have chefs. We have literal corporate credit cards."
Max didn't slow down. "And yet, none of them can get me five bags of frozen nuggets for the price of two."
Caroline jogged to catch up, grabbing a box of cereal off the shelf just because it looked nostalgic. "You know, we could simply order everything and get home delivery, right?"
Max picked up a jar of pickles, checked the price tag, and then added it to his cart. "This is exactly why we're here. First, I don't want a random stranger to find our home. Plus, when you have money, it's important to remember why you used to rush for these sales. That sense of panic, that thrill, and the moment when you fight someone's grandma for the last discounted jar of peanut butter? That's what makes life exciting."
Caroline made a face. "You're saying full-cart sales items at midnight is your version of therapy?"
Max shot her a grin. "Better than a shrink. Cheaper too. I get deals and dopamine."
They turned the corner into the refrigerated section. A tiny neon sign blinked "FINAL HOUR DEALS." Max's eyes lit up like a raccoon spotting a glowing trash bin.
She took off.
"Max!" Caroline called, chasing after her. "You said you weren't going to run this time!"
Max grabbed a family-sized frozen pizza from the bottom shelf and tossed it in her cart without looking. "I lied. There's only one pizza left. You think I'm letting some dude in cargo shorts beat me to it? No, ma'am. This is war."
Caroline finally caught up as Max swerved down the baking aisle. "You've got five freezers. You don't even cook."
Max picked up a packet of brownie mix and looked genuinely offended. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I plan to cook. Eventually. Maybe. Probably not. But still. Sale."
They kept moving, filling their cart with snacks, sauces, random limited edition flavors of soda, and a single rogue pineapple that Max insisted had good energy.
The place was crowded. Most of them didn't recognize the two celebs in disguise. One teen boy did a double-take near the cookie shelf, but Max was already there, snatching the last jumbo box of chocolate chip mini cookies from the shelf before the boy could even touch it.
"Ha! Sucker, this one's mine," Max said before quickly running away from him.
[Clothing area]
The clearance section was a war zone. Racks of sloppily hung clothes leaned in every direction, like they'd barely survived a small riot. A huge red banner screamed FINAL SALE while bargain hunters elbowed past each other like it was Black Friday.
Max was in the middle of it, locked in mortal combat over a leopard print faux-fur coat that probably violated at least three fashion laws. Caroline was a few steps away, struggling with a pair of jeans that claimed to be her size but clearly had their own opinion.
"Ma'am," Max hissed, yanking the coat with one hand while glaring at an older woman gripping the other sleeve, "I respect you. I do. But if you don't release this coat, I will..." She paused for a moment and looked above the older woman with a gasp. The poor woman quickly looked up at the ceiling, and as a result, her grasp on the coat loosened for a flicker of a moment. Max took that chance to yank it out of her hand.
The woman looked at Max with surprise and confusion as she realized what was happening. Max held the coat high like a gladiator displaying her trophy.
"I win," she muttered, victorious.
Caroline snorted. "You're insane."
Max slung the coat over her arm. "Stylish and insane. It's the most dangerous combo."
They inched deeper into the aisle. The space grew tighter. More people. More noise. Clothes flying. One guy was hoarding socks like he'd entered a nuclear bunker lottery.
That's when it happened.
In the crowd, as bodies pressed together and movement turned jerky and chaotic, a hand reached toward Max. It wasn't part of the usual crowd-jostle. It wasn't an accidental bump or a brush of fabric.
The hand was slow, deliberate, moving with the ugly confidence of someone who thought they could get away with it. It slid past coats and sleeves. Slipped under the edge of Max's hoodie.
To hands went for the creep from behind. Probably the guards.
But Max's reaction was too fast, the moment she sensed someone trying to touch her, she simply turned around and was about to punch, but the ugly mug with yellow teeth made her jump up and she kicked his balls.
"Heeek!"
"Aaooww!" The stalker fell to his knees, rolling on the floor.
"What the?!" Caroline was stunned.
"Go, go, go," Max pulled her away from that area.
"What's going on?" Caroline asked.
"That creep tried to touch me in the crowd," Max replied as they finally stopped near the empty ice cream spot.
Caroline bent over, hands on her knees, breath coming fast. Her eyes darted toward the aisle they'd just escaped from, scanning the crowd for signs of the man Max had dropped.
"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch Max's shoulder.
Max nodded, still catching her breath. "Yeah. Just shook. I don't even care that I scuffed my sneakers kicking that bastard."
Caroline looked at her with a mix of concern and something else. Something knowing. She straightened up and sighed.
"This is it," she said. "This is one of those moments. The ones every celebrity faces at least once."
Max gave her a confused look. "Getting molested in a discount coat aisle?"
"No. Well, yes. That. But also the realization that you're not just some girl who got lucky anymore. You're visible. You're watched. You've got fans. And creeps. And people who think they know you just because they've seen your face a hundred times."
Max looked away, jaw tight. "I didn't even see him. He was just there. Like a damn glitch in the crowd. I felt him before I even saw him."
Caroline stepped closer. "That's the sick part. You'll never know who's looking at you for the right reason. Or the wrong one. But it's part of our life now."
Max let out a shaky breath. "I know. I just didn't think it'd happen like this. One minute I'm fighting an old lady for fake fur, and the next I'm ready to throw hands in self-defense."
Caroline glanced back toward the crowd. "Where's the security?"
Max tapped her phone. "We are running inside a crowded mall with a massive sale. What do you expect? Arrrg! It's all my fault. Alex warned me last night to stay with the guards. I should have listened to him."
They stood there for a moment in the cold of the ice cream aisle, surrounded by soft neon and freezer hums. The normalcy of it all made the moment feel even more twisted.
Caroline broke the silence first. "We're going to have to be smarter. Move smarter. No more midnight runs without proper backup."
Max nodded slowly. "I hate it. But yeah. You're right."
Caroline put an arm around her. "You didn't freeze and fought back. That's something."
Max cracked a smile. "Kicked him hard enough to make sure he can't stalk anybody for at least a week."
Caroline looked serious, "Alright, let's just pay and get out of here before more creeps show up."
...
[After shopping] [Parking]
Max slammed the trunk shut with a satisfied groan. "I swear that pineapple is radiating weird vibes. I just can feel it in my bones. Like evil energy."
Caroline rolled her eyes. "You're the one who said it had good energy."
They slid into the car.
"Alrighty, I'm driving today," Max said as he adjusted the mirror, ready to start the engine.
Then came the knock: a sharp tap against the driver-side window. Max turned her head, and so did Caroline. It was the same creep from the store. The one with the yellow teeth and dead eyes. He was standing right outside the window, grinning with that same rotting smile.
Then he lifted his jacket.
Max flinched. Caroline hissed, "No. No, no, don't... I don't want to see your junk."
They both snapped their heads away and slammed their eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
But the flashing never came.
Instead, another knock, a bit louder than before.
When Max opened one eye, the jacket had fallen away.
Now there was a gun pressed to the window.
The stalker's eyes didn't blink. His smile was wider than before, his hand steady, his body completely still except for the twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Caroline's breath caught. "He has a gun. Max. He has a..."
"I see it," Max whispered, barely moving her lips.
She tried to glance toward where the guards should have been. The backup. The shadows.
Nothing.
"Lower the glass, my mistress, MAX," The stalker spoke in a very creepy voice. "I nearly jizzed my pants from that kick. Kick me more, please. Mistress."
Max and Caroline stayed frozen. The car interior felt smaller with each second, like the air was being sucked out inch by inch. The only sound was the faint hum of the parking lot lights and the blood pounding in Max's ears.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Alex, please save our asses.' Both of them thought.
Then they saw him.
A figure dressed in black walked calmly through the parking lot. He was tall, with broad shoulders, wearing a dark suit and long hair pulled back. His pace was unhurried, as if he were taking a casual stroll rather than approaching an armed threat.
Caroline saw him first and whispered, "One of Alex's. He's ours."
Max nodded ever so slightly, her eyes never leaving the gun outside her window. "He's here. Just keep it together."
But the stalker noticed the change in their faces. The shift in their fear. He saw the flicker of hope.
His head jerked back toward the man. His grip on the gun tightened. "MISTRESS WILL ONLY KICK ME. YOU DIE!" Then, with a snarl, he turned fully and raised the weapon. No hesitation.
He fired.
The shot cracked like thunder across the lot.
The man in black didn't stop. He raised his jacket, one side lifting to shield his face, and walked directly into the bullet's path.
...
[Meanwhile...]
Alex was driving too fast. He dropped everything and rushed to the girls' location thanks to the GPS he insisted Max carry all the time. He had already called the guards, but they weren't responding. Thanks to the system, he learned about the danger.
[As for the guards...]
The six guards assigned to Max and Caroline were surrounded by a group of twenty men behind the mall, who called themselves: 'The Cult of Max Black.'
...
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