Disclaimer: I don't own it and stuff.
It was a year to the day that the flock had died. Correction—most of the flock. Why was he, Fang, the only survivor? Who knows. All he knew was that that day had haunted his already bleak mind for that entire year.
He was sixteen when it happened, so were Max and Iggy. Nudge was thirteen, Gazzy ten, and Angel eight. He couldn't help but wince at the thought of their names. If he were to even whisper them, it felt as if his heart was tearing itself apart. He would really never be the same.
At the time, they thought they were in the clear. Max had—supposedly –saved the world. The voice left her alone, and they had over a year of solitude in a secluded mountain area, fit with everything a bird kid could ask for, enjoying their well deserved freedom. But, apparently, someone didn't think they deserved freedom.
It was a Monday. The time was 2:25 and everyone was outside, sitting in the grass, enjoying the sun and performing their respective pastimes. Iggy was snickering behind a tree, devising a new bomb of some sorts. The Gasman was there too, though more openly cackling. Angel was on the swings, the breeze sifting through her blond curls. Nudge was right beside her, prattling on about monkeys and how the flock should coexist with them, but quickly changed the topic to how monkeys would get along with penguins. And, there was Max sprawled over the grass, soaking in every ray of light she could get.
What was Fang doing on this fateful Monday? Well, as much as he wanted to do something, such as retrieve his sketch book and draw the area, he couldn't take my eyes off the flock. As if something was telling him to absorb their appearances while he could. His eyes flicked from face to face, etching their features in his mind with precision.
If he hadn't have done that, perhaps it would have been easier to lose them. Then again, perhaps not.
Little did any of them know that, while they relaxed and enjoyed themselves, people were gathering. Yes, they did get a lot of fans since the flock split up until the point where they took down Itex, but we're not talking about the mundane kind of people. These people saw what the flock did. They didn't like it. They took it into their own hands.
It so happens that those hands were a lot more capable and a lot more ruthless than any eraser or lab coat Fang had ever seen. Because, just as Nudge began talking about the color of polar bears, the sky above their heads abruptly turned dark and they were engulfed in the pitch black hue of nighttime. Which made absolutely no sense. It was 2:25 remember? The time of day where the sun is generally shinning and the night sky isn't anywhere to be found.
But, Fang knew this wasn't the night sky. There was no moon, and a soft humming noise came from above.
Max, like the leader he knew she was, called the kids to come back. To be ready to fight against anything. He wished they were ready like that and—up until this point—he thought they were. But nothing could prepare them for the slaughter that ensued.
Just as quickly as the darkness had enveloped them, a blinding white light erupted in the sky, almost swallowing them whole. Then a voice, not menacing or cruel—rather sweet—told them all that they needed to know; their deaths were upon them.
"Hello, there.' It boomed, resonating throughout the entire area. Fang could feel the decibels in his very bones, the importance of this—female, from what he could tell—voice apparent in every cell of his body. "We're tired of your groups little charades. You've done enough damage. Though, I do commend you. You've stayed under our radar thus far. It took us a whole year to find you."
At this point the sweetness in her tone turned to pure malice. "Say good bye to the life you once knew. In fact, just say good bye to life."
After that little 'warning' –looking back on that Fang could hardly consider it as such anymore—the lights went out again. Now the light from the sun filtered large dark blobs in above a good fifty feet away from the huddled flock in any direction. Helicopters. So many that there was no flying around them. There was no flying through them. So many that they could block the sun from their view if they wished.
Fang could practically hear the gears grinding in Max's head, formulating some means of escape. She was incredibly good at it, but he couldn't help but feel a slightest bit of doubt. Only slightly though. He wouldn't want my emotions to go haywire at the time. Had to be strong for the younger kids as Max would tell him. And, said younger kids weren't fairing so well.
Nudge's mouth was clamped shut, her mouth going white from the sheer pressure her jaws were exerting. Her normally dark skin had this frightened pale light look due to the lighting, and her eyes were darting around to some of the helicopters that had begun to land.
Gazzy was past the whole strong guy facade, he was down right trembling. They were feeling about as helpless in this situation as they did when in dog crates, and it showed in the way sweat beaded down his forehead, his brows furrowed.
Angel's eyes were closed, probably trying to figure out what they were thinking and if there was anyway to stop whoever was coming for them. But, it was obvious she wasn't making much head way. Her tiny, little fists were clenched, shaking with effort. Every so often she would shake her head in exasperation causing her curls to bounce furiously around her, whipping at her face.
This was a whole different level of concern for the group, and it was visible. Never had they been cornered by such a magnitude, and never had they been closed off so efficiently. This was a new breed of villain. One that would be more difficult to face than any other. Or so Fang gathered from their methods and business like quality.
The strong strides from every heavy armored and armed person showed unmasked training and pride in what they did. The guns themselves were imposing beyond belief. It was obvious that it was a high caliber weapon. One that could go straight through someone and leave a gaping hole. And, judging by the careless manners in which they trained the weapons upon the bird kids, they didn't care how many holes they left. They didn't care about finishing this quickly. As long as their job was done.
Fang turned to Max, who had jumped into a fighting stance without a moment's hesitation. He gave her a furtive glance, meaning something along the lines of, 'what?-You're-planning-to-fight?-Are-you nuts?'. Of course, he didn't know that either way there was no salvation; they were screwed.
Before he knew it, it had become a frenzy. A furious one where limbs were flying everywhere and hitting everything they could touch. As soon as said bird kid frenzy started, three bangs rang out, in the general direction of Max. Fang's head whipped around in time to see the carnage, the sneer on the attacker's face, and Max's wide, vulnerable eyes, full of fear. Ignoring all else, he ran. Ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Max's side.
"Max?" he breathed out, it barely sounding in the loud brawl. "Max?" He said, louder now.
"Fang," she rasped out, the blood was quickly draining from her usually bright face. "Fang, g-get them out of here. Now."
His eyes widened, the thought of the notion absurd. "Never Max. I would never leave you here!"
"Fang, n-now's n-not the t... time." It was visible with her shuddering breath that each word cost her more effort than the last, and it was with great difficulty that Fang ripped his eyes off the two gaping holes in her side. It was a miracle she could still be talking. "N-now... go."
He opened his mouth to protest yet again, but a shrill scream filled the air and Angel's limp body flew past him, land not far from Max's. But, at this point, he had absolutely no incentive to leave. His flock was getting hurt, and seriously. He had to fight.
Max seemed to sense this idea coming from him, and, despite her coughing, and sweat from the pain, she balanced herself on her elbow, obviously using the last of her strength. "Forgive me," she whispered from beside him. And with those last two words, she whacked him upside the head with as much force as she could muster. It rendered him unconscious and the last thing he heard before slipping away was Max's last shaky breath.
ooo0ooo0ooo
He awoke to a familiar smell. One that made his skin crawl and put his emotions on edge. He could only hope that this was in fact not a lab. And, as his eyes fluttered opened, he breathed a sigh of relief. Only temporary relief though.
Fang sat up immediately, taking in the hospital room he was in, looking for any sign of the flock. The one that—last he had seen them—was being slaughtered.
As if on cue, a female doctor walked briskly to his bed, no hello, no greeting, or happy smile. She was all business. "You suffered a mild concussion, and now that you are awake you are free to go."
He stared at her momentarily, wondering if she even knew what was going on. "And my siblings?" he prodded when she said no more, but stood there straight.
"Oh, yes," she paused, taking on a thoughtful look. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but..."
She didn't need to say anymore. He knew what she was going to say. His insides clenched as did his fists. He would have asked what happened to them, but his emotions probably couldn't take that. Instead he said, "Who did this to them?"
The doctor looked taken aback by such a reaction. Especially since she seemed to notice the undertone to his voice. "What are you planning?" she asked, almost appalled by the look of it. "Whatever it is, I hope you know that it is pointless. They've bribed everyone. Their forces are... admirable."
Instead of speaking about them with the loathing she should have, it seemed as though she respected them and their actions. At this, Fang jerked out of bed. "Oh. I see how it is." He was so very tempted to fight this weak human here and now, just to vent somewhat. It wasn't her fault—entirely. But, he couldn't take it anymore. Instead, he punched the wall with stone hard force, shattering the paint and making an indent a good three inches deep. "Cheap walls," he muttered under his breath before stomping out of the room, shoulder slumped, mind focused solely on revenge.
ooo0ooo0ooo
And, it was a year to the day the flock died. In that year, despite all his efforts, Fang had received no leads regarding the killers. They made no notion to come back for him. Perhaps he was no threat. But Fang didn't care. He still tried. But, on this particular anniversary, all he could do was sit on the couch, stoic and emotionless. Or at least on the outside. Inside he was raging. It had been a year, and he found nothing!
But, as the bell rang, his big break was making itself known. He slumped over to the door, ready to snap at whoever was there. But, as the door swung open, the person there had him reeling.
He took a shaky step forward, eyes slightly widened. "Max?" he questioned. For there, in his doorway, stood Max, as beautiful as ever, as strong as ever, as though she had never died. "What?" he breathed out, more to himself. Was he finally going insane? Because, the oddest part of it all was that she—Maximum Ride—not only stood outside his door fine, but she was naked. "Max, why are you naked?"