(A/N: I don't own anything. The last line is the voice.. I wrote this awhile ago, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. If it sucks, bad, don't be afraid to say so. Flames are my best friend right now.)
The sky is falling... Faster and faster with every shaking, staggered breath that I breathe through the blood pouring out of my open mouth like a disgusting waterfall...and I am falling with it. My lifelines bent backwards, in complete disrepair, and, with no other option left, I take every sidekick (the kind I used to pride myself on), every jab to the gut ( the kind I worked so hard to master), and every right hook ( the kind I used to deliver mercilessly), each time losing a bit more of the dignity that the vicious love birds haven't taken yet.
I land, with them right behind me, beating the living (and dying, at this point) daylights out of me, among the ruins of a city that I, so naively, looked upon for answers at the age of fourteen. At fourteen, I had my best friend by my side- Fang, what happened to us? I had never even met Maya, never even dreamed that someone like her could even exist. I knew that the whitecoats where capable of acts of horror (how could I not?) but I never expected her. I should have. I should have killed her when I had the chance.
But I am not fourteen now! In the great scheme of things, six years is not a long time. My life, however, in the span of twenty years, has gone from pure torture, to happiness, to sole responsibility, to living on the edge of the edge, to this. I honestly thought that our lives sucked when we were on the lam. I was wrong. If given the chance, I would go relive those days in a heartbeat. This sucks.
But what is "this" exactly? My best friend and my clone, destroying me, and my flock betraying me, practically their mother, who raised them, betraying me again, staring me down with cold, unfeeling eyes that I didn't know they were capable of! That's what "this" is, and I'd give anything to go back, and make sure this never even happens. But in real life, that's not something I can just do, at the push of a button.
I always knew that this was how I was going to die, in a pool of my own body fluids. Blood and sweat and spit all over. Evidence of a fight well fought. But I never saw it quite like this. When I imagined my death, as a child, I saw an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong. Foul injections, poison, abuse, dissections. But as I grew older? I knew that I would go down fighting.
The thing I never accounted for was my opponent. I never saw Fang as an enemy until now, but he is my enemy, after all, he's just killed me. And he just had to do it with Maya, too. They couldn't do it apart, because we all know that I could take them, individually. The odds just had to be uneven. They were too cowardly to try their luck...of course, I know Fang's fighting style like the back of my hand, and Maya is programmed to be a copy of me...she is the back of my hand. But it doesn't matter, anyway... It's all for the best. I'm past my time. Outdated. Worthless. Or, at least, that's what they'd ground out in between punches.
I'm collapsed on the concrete now, and Fang is staring into my eyes, and even if its been seven years since I truly knew him, best friends are best friends, and I know that he's thinking about when we were kids, before all this crap that's jaded us even worse than before. Ages ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen... Hell, even fourteen. When we were Max and Fang. Fang and Max. The dynamic, heart-stopping, ass-kicking, world-saving duo. Life was beautiful then, even if we couldn't appreciate it. Now, I would give anything in a heartbeat to go back to being a fourteen-year-old on the run. I guess Fang wouldn't stay around for the incredible, indescribable, Maximum Ride.
Despite all that's gone down, despite the hell that's been all twenty years of my pathetic life, I am happy. Despite how I got here, and how my candle will actually flicker out, I'm still here anyway. I'm not dying because of the scientists at the school, because that's where it all started, I'm not in a cage, and I'm not dying because a tattoo on the back of my neck says I should. I'm lying in a puddle of my own blood and sweat, but not my tears, because I'm Maximum Ride, savior of the globe, and I'm too strong to cry. I'm a mess of bones and feathers, at my best friend's hand, and honestly? I'm ecstatic about it. When I started this final fight, I wanted to kill them for trying to kill me, but eventually, I accepted the lost cause that is my life. The odds were uneven. I had no chance, and I knew it. I am happy, joyful, and gleeful to go. I think I'm allowed that, after everything I've been through and everything I did for my flock, only to have them turn right around and stab me in the back, the peace and quiet of being dead, no longer a victim to the cruel advances of life.
Fang is looking into my eyes, which are closing rapidly as my clone swings back her leg to snap my neck and I try too, too hard to get one more message through to him with our best-friend telepathic powers. I'm sorry! I'm SORRY! I wish you didn't have to end us like this! I love you, Fang! Do you love me? Didn't you love me, Fang? Once upon a time... Fang...
My eyes are closing rapidly, and I take in that last, hissing breath that I've been dreaming about since before I can remember...
I am dying with a smile on my face... I am saved...
Three...
Two...
One...
Congratulations, Maximum Ride. You can let go now.