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Blue is a fine color. It’s the color of clear skies, clean water, and the energy Miles Dredd needed to stay alive in its purest form. Blue is the color of isolated purity and ‘goodness’.
It’s also the color of his worst enemy and strongest rival.
How he hated Max Steel, the boy’s witty quips and ridiculous will to survive and dominate his opponents in battle. Things Dredd saw in himself. Not that he’d ever tell the hero that, he’d keep his observations to himself for the time being. Maybe if the boy were ever in a vulnerable state, a state Dredd could use to bring him to his own side.
Getting off topic. Blue is a fine color indeed, but Dredd preferred red. Red is the color of human blood, of anger, of passionate revenge. Red worked for everything he could ever need.
Except for Max Steel.
Dredd gritted his teeth at how his mind continued drifting to his nemesis. He couldn’t afford distractions, not when he was this close to losing it all or winning everything back. Since Max Steel’s arrival into his city (and it is his city, he’d built it from the ground up) nothing had been the same. He’d lost his company, his prestige, his element of surprise. Granted, something about the boy made his emotions much harder to control, much harder to sustain as well. After every defeat he would come back to base, slam Mr. Naught’s head against a wall for his asinine questions and comments, and ponder how he would overtake his enemy the next time they met.
Time after time he had fought and time after time he had lost, though there were certainly many victories to be had in the future, he was sure. And even in his losses there were several successes. When he lost connection to the entire squadron of military soldiers, he’d gained insight into Forge Farris’s tactics and managed to plant a small listening device on the captured general. If he hadn’t, the loss would have been much greater. Such loose lips for such a high ranking military officer.
Back to the task at hand. How to finish Max Steel while draining as much TURBO energy as possible. He could imagine it now, the way the hero’s suit would crack under his heel, pressing into his ribcage and lungs as Dredd ripped every last particle of energy out of him. He could practically feel the influx of power and the way his suit would swell, built to absorb and contain every drop of that blue mana. The boy’s screams echoed in his ears and the angry set to Dredd’s jaw slackens into a malicious grin. Oh how he would enjoy that.
Dredd glanced at the work table in the center of his lab. So many things in his mind had been brought to life on such a table. The Turbo star, suit upgrades, devices for Mr. Naught and the Elementor’s use… many of which were inevitably used against him. So many machines that could have brought Max Steel to his death had his underlings obeyed him properly. And the thought of his victory is delicious: He’d break open that shell and extract everything he could, using the ultralink Steel for trade with whatever extraterrestrial beings he could contact. Finally seeing the face of his enemy, knowing just who he’d been facing against the past few years.
But there’s something else along with the smug pride that twisted around the husk that was once his heart. Something nauseatingly regretful that Dredd stamped out immediately. He shook his head and gets back to work, running calculations and organizing data points in clear circuitry and graphs. Information is beautiful, clear cut knowledge and statistics that are immovable, indominatable. If only he could be the same in his duels with his nemesis.
The preemptive regret continued to snag at his chest over and over as Dredd cut and sliced and burned it down. Frustration mounted as he could not fight it down and eventually manifested itself in the form of his fist breaking through the glass of his monitor. Dredd breathed heavily as he stared at the shattered screen, right through the glass and to the table.
The table.
The table he made his weapons on.
The table he perfected his suit on.
The table he had Max trapped on so so long ago, back at their very first encounter. Before everything went south and he was no longer Miles Dredd the hidden billionaire and instead was Miles Dredd the shunned villain.
Why did he have to kill the boy when taking his sweet time getting revenge would be so much sweeter? When cracking open the suit would be far less satisfying than forcing his enemy to remove it himself for basic necessities? When Dredd would need to sustain himself off of that last lingering death energy if he no longer had a source?
No… breaking the boy down would be far more fun and rewarding. Who knows…
Red might suit him after all.