A/N: Hey, WCG here. I'm starting a new story right here, right now, my first for Maximum Ride. I haven't been on much lately, but I'm now going to try this out for size. So review when you're done to let me know if I should continue or what.

True Strength

Chapter One:

Fang P.O.V.

Hey. My name's Fang.

And I have absolutely no memory of my life before a year ago.

The earliest thing I can remember isn't even clear; it's fuzzy, indistinct, like when you try to read a newspaper after it's been soaked through. I remember 5 successive bangs, and a couple screams and shouts, one of which came from me, and then… blackness. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in an orphanage and learning that, apparently, I had been here all my life and was about to be adopted, along with four other kids.

By a Dr. Valencia Martinez.

None of us call Dr. Martinez "Mom." For whatever reason, it doesn't sound right. Instead, she's Dr. M to us, and Mom only to her daughter, Ella. We've asked her several times if she knew anything about us, but she always says that she was simply told that we could use her help and said "Okay."

They told us that we must've lost our memories in an accident that had happened the day before, but I didn't trust them. They told me my name was Nick, but I somehow knew my name was actually Fang. Same with the others; the pale, blind boy my age was Iggy, even though they called him James, the black girl was Nudge instead of Natasha, little blonde boy was Gasman, not Jason, and cute cherub was Angel, not Ariel.

We all knew each other's names, even though they insisted that we'd never met before then. Another reason not to trust them. But there was one other name we knew, but just couldn't place. A person was missing, and we couldn't remember them at all.

Just a name.

Max.

"Hey Fang, could you get Nudge up?" Ella asks, poking her head into my room.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. "We need to be gone in thirty minutes! She's refusing to move again, and you know how long she takes to get ready."

I sigh. This is true. Nudge doesn't like to get up, and is always veerrrrryyy slow preparing for the day. I'm not sure why. How can a person take twenty minutes to get dressed?

"Fine," I say, pushing myself off the bed and pulling on a black shirt and jeans before marching into Nudge's room, armed with a bucket of ice cubes (I tried water once. Nudge was giving me dirty looks for weeks for ruining her radio. On accident) ready to shove them down her shirt as is necessary.

Grabbing a fistful, I hold up her collar and shove it down her shirt. She squirms and shrieks, "Wha—What the crap?" Opening her bleary eyes, she spots me and screams, "Fang!"

I smirk. "Get up next time."

I slip into the kitchen unnoticed by all and grab the 3 remaining waffles off of the plate on the table before dunking one in bowl of syrup on the table* and taking a huge bite.

Gazzy, seated at the table and conversing with Dr. M, turns to the plate and reaches out before stopping, puzzled.

"What the…???" he says, before turning to see me smirk at him, mouth full. "Fang! Those were MINE!"

I shrug. Not like I really cared.

Gazzy glares at me and whispers, "I'll get you for that later."

Well, that's two people I've pissed off so far today. Shall I try for a third?

"Fang!"

Apparently so.

Iggy stumbles blindly (pardon the pun) into the room. "Did you move the trash can in the bathroom? I tripped on it this morning! And you're the only one I share with!"

Oh yeah, forgot about that.

"Oops," I say.

"Don't worry about that now! We need to be out the door in ten! Eat! NOW!" Dr. M practically shoves Iggy into a chair beside Angel, who has been silent this whole time, enjoying the arguments.

Nudge comes into the kitchen, in her full Tween-ish glory of make-up and accessories. Stuff that Max never really cared about in the least.

I froze.

Max.

What just happened? How do I know that? Why had I thought that? What's going on? Am I possibly regaining some of my memory? If so, why now?

Angel is looking at me like I've just grown a pair of antennae. Which would be less surprising to me than the truth.

"Fang?" she whispers. Jeez, my name has been used a lot in these past few minutes.

I give her the slightest of nods, and she does so in return. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, but Angel reads minds.

Another, *ahem*, not normal aspect of our confusing lives.

A/N: Sooooo.... like it? hate it? despise it with such a passion that you'd rather see it explode in a ball of fire than earn a million bucks for saying you like it? (not that that would happen... I'm not the rich... or nice)