So this has been sitting on my computer for awhile, its been a concept for a couple years now and I thought I'd finally give it a chance. Its actually based off a dream I had haha. I've been a maximum ride fan for years now. It follows the timeline up until final warning, from Max to Nevermore, none of it happened, so its sort of my own timeline. I don't own the story, just my own OCs. Any who, enjoy!

Prologue

Gone

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Fang,

Hey, if you're reading this, then I'm probably dead, or about to be. Before you freak out, it's probably-hopefully-the latter. C'mon, this is me we're talking about. We all know how hard it is to kill me. Ok, this probably isn't making you feel any better. Focus, Max. I don't have a lot of time. You need to do exactly what I say, I know that may be hard, but its important, like SUPER important. My life, and the lives of everyone on the planet is at stake here Fang. Everything you need to know is in this packet, but its still not nearly enough. I know I'm not making any sense, what else is new, right? Oh God, I'm really in trouble Fang, deep shit actually, and you will never hear me say this again, got it? Ugggh, I reaaaaaaaallllly hate saying this, but... I need your help Fang. You're the only one who can save me-yes its me who needs the saving this time,stuff it- Find the Maverick, they're the key to all of this, find them and STOP them. Do WHATEVER it takes. Don't screw this up rocks for brains, I'm counting on you, and take care of the others for me, ok?...please, Fang, save me.

-Max

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Gingerly, like handling a ticking bomb, Fang set the piece of paper back on the bed where he found it and took a giant step back. His heart had just about stopped after 'probably dead' and now it was lodged rather snugly in his throat.

He couldn't remember the last time Max had voluntarily admitted defeat, or sounded so openly scared and desperate, not to mention resorting to actual begging, and it made him afraid. Terrified even. He found his hands trembling and a cold sweat had formed on his forehead. The room spun a little, someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down his back and it was getting harder to breathe. He fought off the barrage of questions in his head-how long had she been gone, had someone taken her, could /should he go after her-that threatened to overwhelm him and quickly forced down the frantic hysteria crawling up his esophagus.

Fang rule number one; always keep your cool.

He was definitely not expecting this when he came upstairs to see why Max hadn't come down for breakfast or lunch. And at this point in his life he could pride himself on being a master of the unexpected.

The rest of the room was untouched, no sign of a struggle, no other clues, no useful or tangible evidence of Max's disappearance. Nothing. It was like she had just vanished into thin air. Hell, maybe she did, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he had woken up to a mysteriously missing Max. Now that he thought about it, it happened way too often. He took another step, forward this time-legs suddenly useless noodles- and slumped ungracefully onto Max's unmade bed.

'Breathe, Fang.'

He hung his head-eyes twisted shut-cradled it in his hands, and clenched his fingers in his black mop of hair.

'Breathe.'

Something crinkled beneath him. He grunted, an irritated sigh that didn't quite make it past his tonsils, reached under and felt paper. Pulling it out, he inspected the manila envelope in his hands with narrowed eyes. He swallowed thickly, glanced to the door, quickly debating if he should share this with the rest of the flock, or keep it to himself for the moment. They had promised to never keep secrets from each other, after doing so had very nearly gotten them killed on many occasions, but the note was specifically addressed with his name and obviously meant for to him.

Which could have been a mistake on Max's part-he was actually impressed she automatically assumed he'd be the first one to find it-perhaps a lapse in judgment in the heat of the moment. She was supposedly dying-he clenched his fists, no, not dying-so maybe it sounded like a good idea at the time. Because let's be serious, was he honestly the best choice? Sure he was her boyfriend, she the love of his life, but he still couldn't figure out how to properly use the DVR. Why not Jeb or someone else important. Someone who could actually do something.

Her life, and everyone else's apparently, was in his hands and if he failed -his heart pounded, he swallowed thickly-maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. He took a deep, shaky breath.

'You're the only one who can save me.'

His browed dipped, he glared pensively at the seemingly ordinary envelope-he distinctly remembered a bomb hidden in their pizza years back, and was instantly weary. The words CASE 89-M CLASSIFIED stared back at him in red ink. If inanimate objects could dare you...with stiff shoulders and a semi-guilty conscious ,he slid his fingers under the edge, smoothed back the flap and reached inside.

No explosions, he was still alive with all his limbs intact-so far so good.

He pulled the papers out and set them on his lap, glancing once more towards the door. This felt wrong, his hand was in the cookie jar and this was a pretty huge cookie, but he couldn't stop his curiosity.

The first few papers were scientific mumbo jumbo he'd look at more closely later, he set them aside. He continued flipping, when something caught his eye. Photos. Well, more like mug shots. The first one was of a girl, maybe eight or nine, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She was glaring definitely at whoever was behind the camera. A whole page of information-about her, he assumed- followed, but he skipped it and went to the next picture.

It was a boy this time, around the same age of the girl, dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that could put his black smoldering pits-Nudge's words, not his- to shame. He paused, something about this kid was familiar, like he should know him, but he shook the feeling off as nothing more than years of paranoia of everyone that wasn't the flock, and went to the next and last picture. This girl was younger than the other two, maybe five or six, with a shock of red hair, a scattering of freckles and green eyes. Unlike the others, she was smiling cheekily, teeth and dimples, at the camera.

For reasons unknown, his throat went dry, his pulse speed up.

He put the three photos side by side across his thighs like pieces of a puzzle. Pieces, of course, that didn't fit or make any sense. He was sort of at a loss at what to do next. Maybe if he just stared at them long enough, they'd give him all the answers.

He was nothing if not an optimist.

There was just something so familiar about these kids, like it was-right-in-front-of-his-face obvious, yet he knew for a fact he's never seen them before in his life. He was really starting to get a headache.

A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach-call it a hunch, his avian freak sixth sense, whatever-told him they were important, important enough to be in this top secret packet at least. Which was probably very, or Max wouldn't have included them. He scanned their faces again, memorizing every detail he could, tucked it all in the back of his mind for future reference.

He had learned the hard way that bad things happened when he ignored his gut feelings. It was sort of the equivalent of the voice in Max's head. And right now it was scissor kicking him in the intestines. He flopped backwards on the bed, a frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. He glared up at the ceiling.

But what did it all mean!?

Who-or what-the Hell is the Maverick? Did they take her?

He bit his lip, and despite his attempts at keeping it together, panic reared it's ugly head. He hadn't felt this useless in a long time. It brought back black, cold memories and left an unpleasant taste in his mouth

He had absolutely no idea what to do, where to start, and he was beginning to doubt if any of this crap she had left him would even help. What if it was too late, what if she was already-he didn't let himself finish that thought. He shoved it to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind and squeezed his eyes shut. Hot tears pricked behind his lids, he pounded a hand on the mattress in anger.

"Shit."

"Well hello to you too."

Fang jumped, and sat up so fast he scattered the papers and gave himself whiplash. Iggy stood in the doorway, still in his boxers and ACDC t-shirt-his ACDC t-shirt-one hand on the door knob and an amused smile on his face. Fang fumbled for words, but the rollercoaster of emotions in his head had him tongue tied. He glanced down to the mess of top secret documents, cursed himself for not hearing the door open, and was never so glad to have a blind flock member. Iggy cleared his throat, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

"I hate to interrupt whatever it is you two are-" He blinked, the rest of his sentence stopping short. There was a moment of silence, Iggy's smirk melted into a confused frown, he titled his head. Fang's heart sank like a submarine.

"Where's Max?" He asked. Fang swallowed the golf ball in his throat, not really sure what to say, because that was what he was in the process of trying to figure out. He had no idea where she was.

'Please, Fang, save me.'

He managed to choke out a word-a one syllable slap in the face.

"Gone."

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Well hope you guys liked it, please read and review! :)

~Prosto