A/U: HEADS UP! Max does not know Iggy, Gazzy, Nudge, Angel, or *tear* Fang. YET. The story wouldn't make sense if she knew them right away. This makes the story much better - trust me. :)
Um, yeah, obviously this is AU. And possibly a little bit OCC - but I'm going to try to avoid that as much as possible.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters. Lucky James.
CHAPTER ONE
The tall, dirty-blond woman deliberately strode through the police station halls towards the interrogation room. She knew exactly where the one-way mirrored area was located from her previous case.
Her past case had been a slice of hell served to her on a silver platter. She expected this one to be a more of a cake walk. At least, that's what she could determine from the file she'd stuffed into her duffel-bag minutes prior. According to the authorities, a man had attempted second degree murder on a pizza delivery boy because he had complained about the scarce tip. If that didn't scream insanity, she didn't know what would. And the best part was, the supposed-attacker was blind!
All she was hired to do was find the facts and add them all up to a reasonable conclusion.
She shook her head in disappointment.
This was going to be the easiest case she'd ever done. Ignoring the fact that she'd only recently gotten her private investigating license; therefore she'd only ever had one other. But a job was a job, and she'd been hired to do one, no matter how simple it was unfolding to be.
At least she was getting paid the big bucks for this. This case was going to fill her fridge to the brink of explosion with foods she could only dream about. At the present moment, the only thing in her fridge was molding cheese and a bottle of wine she'd never opened. She had a box of crackers in her microwave and a can of beans in her cupboard – the coffee machine on her counter top was the only thing that was used daily. Nobody could ever accuse her of being a pack rat.
Her thick, leather duffel-bag smacked her long legs with every heavy step she took, the contents effectively jabbing her thigh to the extent of leaving a red mark. She knew any mark on her skin would heal as fast as it had been made. The only lasting marks were the ones that went deeper than skin. And she'd had her fair share of those to know as much.
As she reached the correct door, she pulled down her red, v-neck jumper as far as it would go – just reaching the belt loops of her khaki pants. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the door knob firmly when a low voice was sharply emitted from behind her.
"Ms. Ride?"
She whipped around to find herself starring at a pitiful, misshaped face. Like someone had gone at the mans face with a machete with no care in the world to what the outcomes might be.
"Yes."
"Follow me," he ordered and started walking immediately into a different door two rooms down.
Curiosity pulled her after the machete-man like an invisible string. As she entered the door, it was shut tightly behind her with a loud bang of metal against metal. Her brown eyes were drawn to the chair in the center of the room where a blonde, blue-eyed man sat with his hands tied behind his back and his legs strapped to the chair legs. His gaze was fierce and unwavering; even in the intimidating presence of machete-man and a few others like him.
Comprehension finally dawned on her as she took in the appearance of the machete-men more closely and realized that they were Erasers. She'd only ever seen them in her textbooks and even those were only fuzzy images of their morphed forms. The new ones were supposed to be gorgeous in human form so she figured these ones were the rejects with little guarding purpose. That meant that the Institute didn't even find the prisoner worthy of proper security. She couldn't fathom how calm the imprisoned man looked in the room full of Erasers, even if they were the rejects – it didn't mean they couldn't be as nasty as the successfully evolved ones. Even for her, as a private investigator specializing in the scientific unknown (being a test tube baby herself), being in the sealed room with them was unnerving and made her instincts of fight or flight heighten to unnatural degrees.
"Who are you?" the blonde man suddenly asked.
"Maximum Ride, Private Investigator," she replied automatically with a cool air.
The man grunted and kept looking forward. Max shifted on the balls of her feet, mildly uncomfortable with no where to place her bag and unload her files. She needed the reassuring presence of a metal table to lay out her files – prove to the prisoner that she meant business.
But the room was empty except for the metal chair restraining the man and the four Erasers spread out through the corners.
Max was going to have to go by memory from what she'd read from the files a few minutes ago. And then it clicked. The man in front of her was the attacker! The insane blind man. No wonder he wasn't looking at her – it wouldn't make much of a difference. But what was his name...?
"I'm just tying up all the loose ends here, uh...."
"Iggy," he said in a bored voice.
"Iggy," she repeated.
"So, I'll just get your statement and leave you to your...chair."
The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Iggy's lips. Max smirked in triumph. She knew that the prisoner was more likely to let something slip if he thought she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.
"I don't need to say anything more than I already have. I didn't attack the delivery guy."
Max frowned. She hadn't read anything about the offender denying being caught in the act. Actually, thinking back, she hadn't read anything about a confession either.
This was why the Institute had hired her for the facts. They didn't just want her to go see the suspects in jail and gather statements over again. The police already had all of that covered. They wanted to make sure that Iggy confessed first hand to a more reliable source before they convinced a jury of his guilt.
Well, crap. This wasn't what she was expected but she supposed it was what her title claimed her to be able to accomplish. Instead of putting the information previously gathered into comprehensible material for lawyers, she had to go around and dig up all the missed information.
Max sighed and rubbed her forehead with her palm. She felt the strong itch to stretch out her wings and let them loom intimidatingly overhead. Anything to let them out of the constraints under her sweater, tucked neatly into the sensual curve of her back.
Iggy twitched his head in her direction at the emission of her sigh.
"What?"
"What happened, Iggy?"
He fidgeted for a moment before, his eyes scanning the room as if desperately searching for the person he couldn't see, and then scowled.
"It's complicated."
Max rolled her eyes and walked towards Iggy until she was about a foot away.
"When are they not?"
Iggy smirked at the floor and then looked up at her – following her voice. Max was startled at the intense fear marked in them as they seemed to bore right through her.
She had the sharp feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was much, much more to everything that had happened than she was at privilege to know. But she knew one thing was for certain: she was here to find out.
