I've had this ideal for a long time, and I've been planning it in my mind for a long time. I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. James Patterson does.

"Is there any sign of a struggle?"

The wise woman glowered at the young officer. "Of course there was a struggle! Look at her," she said in exasperation. Officer Mal looked down at the body, and the woman felt her heart wrench as she followed his gaze. A girl as young as seven lay down on the desert ground, looking almost as though she were asleep. But she wasn't, the woman thought sadly. Years of experience had taught her that. It wasn't the blood covering the tiny body. No, it wasn't the blood. It was the instinct. The instinct to run from danger, but the motherly wanting to hold the girl close and cry her heart out. Of course, she'd seen bodies like this. It was a part of her job. But it hurt her to think about her own daughter, safe at home, being discarded like garbage on the side of the road. And once they identified the body, she would have to tell the heartbroken parents that their daughter was dead.

"Sorry," the new officer said, smiling impishly, holding his hands up in surrender. Despite the gut feeling of horror about what happened to the small child, the detective couldn't help but roll her eyes. Over the years she had observed different ways of dealing with stress. First there were the ones she called 'clams' who shut up at even the sign of blood. They annoyed her the most because they were always no help with getting the information she needed. Then there were the ones who started glaring at her like she had killed the victim. They usually ended up getting fired in a few months for attacking an officer for saying one gruesome fact. Then were the ones like Mal here, who joked in the face of stress. In fact, they were usually the newest officers. Multiple times she couldn't help but send one of her death glares at the offending officer.

Sighing, she glanced back up at Mal and asked, "Why did they send you?"

He shrugged. "I was the only one they had available on duty. You know about the disappearings, don't you?"

Ana could only glance back down at the little girl's body. Yes, she knew about the disappearings. That was part of the reason she was considered getting a different job, a safer job. Maybe a secretary. Being a single mom, she couldn't leave her daughter alone. But she wanted to stay a few years longer. No matter how many bad days she had had, she couldn't leave her job. Maybe she was some adrenalin junky. She just couldn't leave it. Ignoring the officer's question, she asked learderly, "Turn over the body. It looks like most of the blood is coming from her back."

Without hesitating, which Ana couldn't help but find odd, Mal reached over a gloved hand, grabbed the girl's arm, and turned her over gently. The woman recoiled immediately, and gasped. Two lines were slashed roughly through the white tank top, and bursting through the holes were a pair of crushed wings. The primary feathers were covered in blood, so she couldn't tell what color they were. The secondary were a rich brown. The wings hung at an odd angle in multiple places, like they had been broken.

"Oh, my God," Ana breathed out. Her heart pounded hard against her chest, and air rushed in and out quickly through her lungs. She couldn't take her eyes of the bloody and mangled wings. "We have to call someone," she said quickly, reaching down for her radio.

Khu-klunk!

Ana heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. She put her radio down slowly and looked up. Standing there, grinning cockily, Mal had a gun pointed toward her temple. "We don't need to do that, do we?" he asked easily, as if he held innocent people at gunpoint everyday. He pulled a cell phone out, and hit a couple of keys before he slid it back into his pocket.

Her gaze didn't move from the gun, but she asked Mal, "Do you really want to do this?"

Mal looked flabbergasted. "Hon, I'm not going to kill you. I've got to hold up my image," he said, smiling charmingly for a murderer, which is what she could only assume he was with what he was doing now. "But I'm not sure about my friends. They do need some new subjects for their…experiments."

Their experiments? What did he mean by that? But then it clicked in Ana's mind. "You killed the girl. A poor, innocent girl!" she growled angrily.

"Hon, we didn't kill her. She just wasn't strong enough. Besides, it's all for the better. She wouldn't survive the new world anyway." All this time Ana had silently slid her hand toward her holster. But her movements didn't go unnoticed. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the liar said smoothly, tightening his grip slightly on the trigger. "We wouldn't want an accident." Then he glanced behind her. "Looks like your ride's on its way."

Ana glared harshly at him, but let her hands fall at her sides. Turning around, she could hear an engine, and just about a mile away a chopper was coming toward them at an alarming speed. She turned back toward Mal. "My family will keep looking for me, you know. My husband won't give up."

Mal looked at her with what looked like sympathy. "We know you're not married, Hon." And then he smiled mischievously. "And you don't have to worry about your daughter. We'll keep her safe. For a bit."

Time seemed to freeze. The chopper above her head, and the noise hurt her ears. Long hair whipped around Ana's head as she tried to tackle the evil man in front of her. But two men dropped the impossible drop to the ground and restrained her. Ana kept fighting back, wanting to hurt the man who had just threatened her daughter's life. "You won't touch her," she screamed over the roaring wind, malice evident in her voice. "You hurt her and I'll kill you. You hear me. I'll-." Her voice was lost in the noise as the men dragged her toward a ladder, which started pulling the victim and her kidnappers up towards the chopper. The man on the ground, standing next to the girl's body, only stared as the chopper lifted off, and flew away.