The truck's engine growled as it rolled into the warehouse, the heavy doors clanging shut behind it. The cavernous space echoed with the sound until silence settled back in, broken only by the faint hiss of cooling brakes.
He pressed a button on the dash. Heavy clamps unfolded from the floor, locking around the truck with metallic finality.
Dexter then stepped down from the truck, boots clicking against the concrete floor. He stretched his shoulders once then spoke in that clipped decisive tone the building always seemed to answer.
"Computer. Unload everything from the back and transfer it to the lab with Midas."
[Understood.]
Panels hissed open along the walls. From them emerged a small army of drones and loader bots tracked carriers, jointed arms, even a pair of spider-like machines. Their optics glowed as they swarmed to the truck, securing robot parts and cataloging samples with smooth, mechanical precision.
Dexter barely glanced at them. His attention was elsewhere.. on the thing still fused to his skin.
He crossed the warehouse to the far elevator and pressed his palm to the panel. The platform shuddered sinking down before sliding forward along hidden tracks. The chamber rumbled like a train as it carried him deep beneath the city.
When the doors opened the sight that greeted him was his familiar lab. A sprawling cavern of steel, glass, and glowing circuitry. Consoles pulsed with blue light, and at the heart of the room a giant monitor flickered with a green line moving steadily across its face, like the heartbeat of a machine.
Dexter exhaled through his nose, then glanced down at himself. "Alright," he muttered. "Can you get off me now, Metal?"
[Affirmative.]
The Ultralink disengaged. Armor peeled away in seamless plates, receding like liquid metal until it left behind only Dexter's original suit—battered, dented, but his. Metal floated free, red energy veins glowing faintly across its small frame as it hovered at eye level.
Dexter moved to the console, fingers tapping across keys. The floor ahead split open, and a cylindrical containment chamber rose with a hydraulic hiss.
Metal drifted closer, curious.
Dexter pressed one final command. The cylinder sealed shut around the Metal, locking into place with a clang. A translucent energy field shimmered across its surface, sealing it inside.
Metal tapped the glass once [What is the meaning of this?]
Dexter looked up at it, arms folding across his chest. His voice was calm, but steel edged every word.
"Sorry, Metal. I don't make a habit of letting aliens weld themselves to my nervous system without my consent especially when you forced yourself onto me in the middle of a battlefield. And definitely not when I already know what you are."
[What do you mean?]
Dexter leaned against the console, fingers drumming once against the edge. His voice was clipped, cool.
"Computer, bring up File 64."
[Accessing…]
The monitor's glow shifted, streams of text and diagrams filling the screen. At the top, a sharp, clean header blinked into focus:
FILE 64: MAX STEEL
Dexter's eyes narrowed as the old notes scrolled past.
On his fourth day in this world, Dexter had made a decision. Memory was fickle, unreliable he knew it would betray him eventually. So he started the files.
Every cartoon, every movie, every crossover he could recall—he wrote them down. Plots, villains, powers, weaknesses. Not as some exercise in nostalgia, but as insurance. Because if even one of those worlds existed here, then the odds were high the others would surface too.
And now? One just had.
He skimmed the words he'd typed weeks ago:
—Ultralinks are sentient nanotech parasites.
—Capable of bonding with organic or technological hosts.
—Possess override protocols: can seize host control without consent.
—Created by Makino, a self-replicating AI warlord.
—Makino's goal: consume life, assimilate all matter into machine empire.
Dexter's gaze slid from the screen to the alien core pulsing faintly inside the cylinder.
"I knew it," he muttered. "You're one of them."
Metal's voice came through unshaken. [I am not Makino.]
Dexter's eyes narrowed. "No. But you were made for him." He tapped the glass, the sound sharp in the quiet lab. "And that means trusting you blindly isn't an option."
Dexter turned, dropping into his chair with a short exhale. "So for now… just stay there."
[If that is what it takes for you to trust me, then I will remain.]
He glanced back at the Ultralink, gave a small nod, and was about to speak again when the console cut in with a chime—
[Dexter, one of the investors wants to call you.]
"Really? In the middle of the night?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did she say why?"
[No elaboration provided.]
Dexter exhaled, forcing patience into his tone. "Fine. Put her through."
A girl appeared in crisp HD. She was perched in a high-backed velvet chair, her cape spilling over its edges, the golden crown on her head catching the light like she was about to hold court. Her office looked less like a workplace and more like a penthouse throne room.
She smirked the instant she saw him. "Well, finally. Took you long enough to pick up."
Dexter squinted at the screen. "It's the middle of the night."
Her gaze dropped over his battered Mk I plating, eyes narrowing like she'd spotted a wrinkle in designer clothing. "Yikes. What happened to you? You look like one of your inventions punched you in the face."
Dexter's reply was deadpan. "Field testing. And it worked. Mostly."
She waved a hand dismissively, leaning forward onto her desk. "Whatever. I didn't call for that. I called because…" Her grin sharpened. "…the expo's next week."
Dexter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. I know."
"You remember our deal, right?" She tilted her head, voice lilting almost sing-song. "You promised you'd unveil something groundbreaking. Something that would blow every other company off the stage. That's why I put money in you. And I expect results."
Dexter's tone was flat, clipped. "You'll have them. No need to call me at one in the morning to repeat it."
Her eyes slid past him, narrowing at something behind his shoulder. "…Ohhh. What's that?" She pointed, grin widening, eyes glued to the faint glow of Metal inside the cylinder.
Dexter glanced back, then turned forward again. "That? Not for sale."
She raised a brow. "Not for sale? Please. Everything has a price." She leaned closer, eyes glinting. "Dexter, I'm your only investor. If I want it, you will sell it. So... how much?"
"No."
Her smirk faltered. "Excuse me?"
"No," Dexter repeated, crossing his arms.
She sat back, eyes narrowing, her tone pitching sharper. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
"Yeah." Dexter didn't blink. " You're the same Princess Morbucks who used to waste daddy's money on deathbots trying to punch six-year-old girls. What's your point?"
Her face flushed, the smirk replaced with a scowl. She jabbed a finger at the camera. "That was years ago! I've changed!"
Dexter arched a brow, voice bone-dry. "Changed, huh? How? Switched to gold-plated tantrums instead of diamond?"
Her teeth clenched, but she forced herself to straighten in her chair. "I'm serious. I'm not that brat anymore. I've been working with people—real people. I trained with S.H.I.E.L.D. I've sat in on GDN briefings. I know how the world actually works now. Do you think they'd let me invest in you if I was still the same stupid kid throwing robots at superheroes?"
Dexter stayed silent, studying her through the monitor. She leaned closer, lowering her tone like she was confiding a secret.
"I don't just throw money around anymore, Dexter. I invest on the right people" Her smile returned, sharp and smug. "And you, nerd boy, are the right people."
Dexter's reply was instant. "Still not selling."
Her smile cracked again. She slammed a hand on her desk, voice rising. "Why not?! It's floating in your lab doing nothing!"
"It's dangerous," Dexter shot back. "And it's mine."
Her face went red. She pointed furiously at the screen. "Are you seriously telling me I can't have it? Do you know how many companies would kill for me investing for there company ?!"
"Good thing I'm not running 'Morbucks Incorporated,'" Dexter said dryly. "Because the answer's still no."
Her fists clenched. She sputtered, then let out an indignant scream. "DADDY!!!"
Dexter's finger was already on the console. The call cut instantly, her furious face disappearing from the screen.
The lab fell silent except for the faint hum of machinery. Dexter leaned back in his chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered:
"…Oh, shit. She really did call him."