Max was something of a night owl. And even in this case, he felt restless. He stood at his window, looking out over the City itself, breathing in the crush of humanity that so densely populated those islands. He also took in the massive, massive E-M background that soaked everything around him - radios, electricity through the walls, under the floors, overhead. It was inescapable.
Turning to look further away, he smiled softly into the night. Come morrow he would finally bite the bullet and visit Charles's grave, to have one more argument with the man's spirit.
It was somewhat sad how much he was looking forward to it.
But that was until he saw the massive, massive electromagnetic discharge from the direction of ... Westchester.
"Charles, what have you done?" he asked the thin air before reaching out with his power to clad his form in his costume, blood-red chainmail with royal purple accents.
Red, for the color of blood. Purple, the color of kings. Melodramatic, perhaps, but an occasional indulgence wasn't beyond the pale.
Settling his helm upon his head, he wrapped himself up in Power and flew out his window, making his best speed towards Westchester.