Morning in Gotham was as bleak as the night. Grey clouds stretched across the sky, casting shadows over the city's grimy streets. The distant blare of horns and occasional police sirens were a constant reminder that peace was a rare commodity here.
Xander sat cross-legged on the dusty floor of the warehouse, the sleek Max Steel suit still clinging to him like a second skin. No matter how much he tried, there was no way to take it off—a fact that was quickly moving from mildly inconvenient to downright frustrating.
Steel hovered nearby, eyes flickering as he scanned the immediate area. His companion had remained mostly quiet through the night, though his occasional commentary had become increasingly influenced by random snippets of pop culture he seemed to have absorbed.
"You know," Steel said, breaking the silence, "if this were a superhero comic, this would be the part where we assemble a team. Maybe get a cool base with holograms and an espresso machine."
Xander groaned. "Steel, how do you even know about espresso machines?"
Steel's eyes gleamed. "Data analysis from streaming media references. I'm quite well-versed now. Did you know Gotham has a disturbingly low coffee shop density per capita?"
"Focus," Xander said, waving a hand to cut him off. "We need to figure out our next move."
Steel floated closer, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Agreed. Priority one: gather intel on this universe's social and political structure. Priority two: ensure your energy stability."
"Energy stability?" Xander frowned. "You mean the TURBO-energy?"
Steel's eyes flickered with a diagnostic scan. "Affirmative. Your bio-energy levels are stable for now, but prolonged stress could cause dangerous spikes. Without proper synchronization, you might overload."
Xander's stomach twisted at the thought. "Great. So I'm a walking energy bomb unless we get this figured out."
"On the bright side," Steel offered cheerfully, "you're also incredibly strong and fast. That's a plus."
Xander shook his head. "We need a low profile. The last thing I want is to attract attention from people like Batman or, worse, the League of Shadows."
Steel hummed thoughtfully. "Given Gotham's current crime statistics, remaining inconspicuous may be statistically challenging."
Xander stood up, brushing dust from his camouflage-shrouded suit. The illusion shifted slightly to mimic a clean jacket and jeans. "We need information. And I need food."
"Food acquisition is a priority I can support," Steel said enthusiastically. "Perhaps pancakes? I've detected numerous references suggesting they are highly desirable."
Xander rolled his eyes. "Let's find a diner, and you can keep your commentary to a minimum."
They made their way out of the warehouse, sticking to back alleys and avoiding the main streets. Gotham had an eerie charm during the day, though danger still lurked around every corner.
After a few blocks, they found a dingy diner nestled between two dilapidated buildings. The neon sign flickered weakly, but the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the air.
"This looks promising," Xander said.
"Agreed," Steel chimed in. "Though the health inspection rating is questionable."
Xander pushed open the door, and a bell jingled overhead. The interior was just as rundown as the exterior—cracked vinyl booths, sticky tabletops, and a jukebox that looked like it hadn't worked in decades.
A waitress with a tired smile approached. "What can I get ya, hon?"
"Just coffee and whatever's good," Xander said, sliding into a booth.
Steel, now bonded and nestled inside Xander's suit, spoke directly into his mind, the mental connection seamless. "Be cautious about your posture; you're slouching. Doesn't convey confidence."
"Do I look like I care about confidence right now?" Xander replied mentally.
"Fair point. Although data suggests people tip better when servers perceive their customers as confident."
Xander ignored him, grateful that Steel's physical presence wasn't obvious to anyone else in the diner.
The waitress returned with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate piled high with pancakes and bacon. Xander's stomach growled loudly.
"Enjoy," she said, walking off to tend to another table.
Xander dug in, the food satisfying in a way that only diner fare could be.
"Tactical analysis," Steel whispered mentally, "food quality exceeds visual expectations. High caloric density optimal for energy replenishment."
"You're doing commentary on my breakfast now?" Xander asked between bites.
"Observation is key to survival. Also, syrup appears to be structurally unstable. Caution recommended."
Xander couldn't help but laugh. Despite the chaos of his situation, Steel's quirky observations provided a strange sense of normalcy.
As he finished his meal, a group of tough-looking men entered the diner, their eyes scanning the room. One of them had a scar running down his cheek, and the others moved with the confidence of seasoned criminals.
Steel's voice turned serious. "Potential threat detected. Their body language suggests hostile intent."
"Great," Xander muttered mentally. "Just what I needed."
The men took seats near the back, but their eyes kept flicking toward the front of the diner.
"We should leave," Steel advised. "Stealth protocols engaged."
Xander stood up, tossing cash onto the table—courtesy of a small amount he had legally obtained by leveraging Steel's advanced scanning capabilities at an electronics store. They'd repaired and sold a few damaged circuit boards discreetly to earn some honest money.
"Let's get out of here before things get messy."
As they exited the diner, Xander kept his movements casual but quick. Steel hovered close in his bonded state, constantly scanning their surroundings.
"What now?" Xander asked.
"Continuous reconnaissance and intel gathering," Steel said. Then, with a hint of enthusiasm, "Also, maybe ice cream later?"
Xander sighed. "One thing at a time, Steel."
As they disappeared into the maze of Gotham's streets, Xander couldn't shake the feeling that his life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But with Steel by his side, at least he wouldn't face it alone.