Max stood before the suit, his heart pounding in his chest. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he stared at the gauntlets. These weren't just any gloves; they were weapons—his first real creation. The prototype had come together in a way he never thought possible, but now, it was time to test the most critical part of the suit: the energy weapons.
He stood in front of a pile of scrap metal in the far corner of the workshop—old, rusted junk that was about to face the first real test of the suit's potential. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the suit's glowing chest plate and the faint hum of machinery around him.
Taking a deep breath, Max flexed his fingers inside the gauntlets. They felt heavy, yet alive, with energy coursing through them. He'd designed the weapons to be simple—energy blasts that could be fired from the palms—but what he wasn't sure of was how stable the energy flow would be.
He raised his right arm, aimed it at the pile of scrap, and pressed the activation button on the inside of his wrist. There was a brief moment of stillness, and then—whoosh—a blinding burst of light erupted from the gauntlet.
The blast struck the pile of scrap metal with a deafening clang. The force was so strong that the pile of metal flew back several feet, crashing against the workshop wall with a loud metallic thud.
Max's heart skipped a beat. The blast had been powerful—too powerful, in fact. But he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "I did it," he whispered to himself in awe, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. "It actually works..."
His hands shook with excitement, but he steadied himself. The suit was real. The energy weapons were real. He fired another blast, this time adjusting his aim to be more precise. The bolt of energy shot out from the gauntlet, this time hitting the scrap with more control, knocking over only one piece instead of the whole pile.
"Okay, okay," Max muttered, as he watched the scrap fall to the ground. "That's better. A little more control. Focus. I can do this."
He took a step back, raising both arms and targeting a larger piece of debris near the back of the room. His palms began to heat up as he concentrated on the energy flow, focusing on the mechanics of the suit. This was it—this was the culmination of years of research, a lifetime of following in his father's footsteps.
With a deep breath, he fired again. This time, the energy blast was sharp and directed, cutting through the thick metal like a knife through butter. The scrap split into two clean pieces, falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Max stood there, his chest heaving as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. His heart raced with excitement, but there was something else—something deeper. He wasn't just testing a weapon. He was testing his father's legacy.
"I did it," Max repeated, a grin creeping across his face. "I really did it." His hands trembled, but this time it wasn't from fear. It was from a newfound sense of pride. He could feel his father's presence, almost as if the older man was standing beside him, nodding with approval.
"This... this is for you, Dad." Max whispered under his breath, as he glanced at a photo of his father that still hung on the wall, beside the workbench. Dr. Alexander Cole—his father—had always been the genius, the man who could change the world with his intellect. But now, Max was starting to see that maybe he could do the same. The energy weapons, the suit, all of it—it wasn't just science. It was a piece of his father's vision. It was his legacy, too.
He fired a few more shots, each one more controlled than the last. His confidence began to build. With every blast, the suit became an extension of himself. It no longer felt like an inanimate object—now it felt like something living, breathing, and capable of greatness.
Max felt alive, the weight of the suit now a welcome presence, empowering him in ways he never thought possible. This wasn't just about proving himself. It was about honoring his father's work and pushing the boundaries of what was thought to be impossible.
As the last shot rang out, Max lowered his arms, his body still buzzing with the energy of the moment. He looked at the scattered debris, the metal glowing faintly from the remnants of the blasts. The room felt alive, electric. And for the first time in his life, Max didn't feel lost. He had found his purpose.
"I can do this," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "I'm ready."