All right, I think I'm going to have fun with this story. Max and the others will be in it, of course, but this time it's not going to be from Max's point of view. She's not the only one leading a band of marry mutants along with her, you know.

I hope you grow fond of the main character and her friends.

Flight of Crimson Wings

Summery:

I wish I had never met them. I wish they never sought us out! Maximum Ride, now you'll know why I cannot be trusted. You'll see why your flock and I should never have crossed paths. May the crimson streams spill from your flesh and redeem everything in your life that you've lost…

The Crims have lost enough… You were never one of us…

I do not own Maximum Ride or any other character made by James Patterson.

"These constricting walls of false authority. Oh, how they're squeezing the life from me," I sighed, depressed-again. School was pointless. Utterly pointless since no one ever really came to learn. Merely socialize. "Crimson thoughts of righteous truth; keep me from losing my mind." This place was a prison…

"Boss, calm down," Tweak chuckled. I rolled my eyes, bored. "Really, it won't be long now." His golden eyes flashed mischievously. He was bubbly.

Nodding, as the leader I knew he was right. "Yep, and only forty-five minutes and thirty-four seconds left. Thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one…" I laughed at the look he gave me.

I then looked around me at my group. My friends. My family. There were eight of us. Once upon a time ago, there were more, but I'd rather not tread on that subject now. We are The Crims. We are the school's number-one pain in the side. Teachers hated us, officers despised us, and the principal wanted us dead.

Students more or less feared us. In human nature, though, fear most often shifted to hate. It was understandable, their fear. My group, myself included; we were something I guess you could say to fear. We weren't exactly what you would call "normal", in any way shape or form. Heaven forbid.

Amazingly enough, some kids didn't fear us to the extent to where they were actually trying to join our group. They try to be tricky and mischievous. Messing with teachers and the occasional bubblehead.

Bubblehead, or bubbleheads for plural, is what we prefer to call the preppy boys and girls of the school. The people whom in which seem to be lacking the skill known as brainpower, or lack thereof. These people who seem to think they stand above the others because they're either "daddy's little girl" or their ritzy parents/relatives didn't bother to teach them the value of a dollar. Mere shells of what used to be a living soul, now thriving on the constant judgment of their supposed supportive peers. Fakes…

All in all, bubblehead just seems to fit them just right.

Anywho, the people who always try to join our group never do. I am the leader, I call the shots; and I say who joins and who doesn't. I never allow people to join. Unless it was a special reason. Which, these days, there never is. And we were fine with this. We enjoyed our solitude, our seclusion from the average-ness of the bubble-headed life, the freakish randoms of preaching adults.

Maybe that's why we enjoyed our hangout spot that was a level high off the ground. We were secluded on a bridge that loomed near the front entrance, the front doors clear in view if we just decided to look over. The locker bank was at one end of the bridge and the exit-only doors to the auditorium at the other. No one ever came up onto the second floor. They all either clustered in the commons/lunch room, which was also in view on the other side, or the third floor.

Up here on the bridge, we could be ourselves. Our unique, abnormal, fiendish, tricky little selves…

Leaning back against the wire railing, I hugged my legs close to my chest, resting my forehead on my knees. A headache had been forming all morning, but the mild chatter from the others calmed me. "Crims…" I whispered softly.

"Crims," my family echoed, their voices whisper-close in my ears. The unity, the bond between us surpassed all others. We were linked beyond levels any normal human mind could ever begin to comprehend. It sent shivers down my spine every time…

It was quiet in the school this morning, but it was seven. Students didn't start showing up until at least seven-thirty. So I relished in the silence, keeping a firm grasp of that last thread of calm.

"I hate her!" a piercing scream shattered the serene silence, making the group leap up in alarm and me wince. The bridge may be carpeted, but the surrounding walls and floors below were nothing but stone and tile. "I hate her! This is the last fucking straw! I swear to God I hate her! Raaaaaahhh!"

Taking a peak over my shoulder, I saw through the gaps in the rail. It didn't shock me in the least that the person screaming hadn't even entered the building yet and still we felt the near full effect of it. Then the two stormed through the glass doors, their strut screaming bubblehead. One of them was blond, no breasts, dangerously skinny, and adorned with too much make-up and scantily clad in what I like to call hooker attire. The other was brunette, pudgier, had a bit of a bust, wearing too much lipstick, and sadly to say wearing something almost identical to her friend. Can you say muffin-top? Ew…

"Des and Kim," I groaned, watching the two stop for a second. Des seemed to be having a complete and total meltdown. A "shit fit" if you will. "Wonder what's wrong today?" It really didn't matter.

"Her boyfriend is seeing another girl behind her back," Neko droned sleepily, her eyes closed. She was sprawled characteristically in the center of the bridge, her limbs out at all sides. Tweak proceeded to poke her in the ribs, making her squeak every so often.

"Rick's seeing that whore Jen behind my back!" Des screamed not even a minute after Neko finished.

I nodded, not surprised. "Right again."

She smirked. "Always am."

She's not kidding…

"Like, I don't know why he'd be seeing another girl when he has someone special and totally, like, perfect like me with him!" Someone's been watching a little too much of The Hills… Don't ask, crappy show on VH1... Or was it MTV? Who cares, I digress.

Kim started putting her hands on Des, feeling her shoulders and trying to calm her down. Only it seemed she was merely fanning the flames… "I-I don't know Dessy," she stammered. "Maybe, maybe he isn't?"

"Of course he is you bitch!"

"Can we just shut those two up?" Tweak asked, his eyes glimmering from gold to violet subtly. He was as aggravated as me. I shook my head slowly, taking deep breaths myself to keep from leaping down there and wrenching out her windpipe myself. We had to play it cool these days… Des and Kim weren't the only ones fanning any flames…

The two started walking again, their struts hustled and obviously stressful. They vanished under the bridge momentarily and I could hear their high-heeled shoes clacking against the tiled, linoleum floor. I could also hear the deep intake of air by Des, preparing to let out a shrieking banshee rant again. Launching myself at the other railing, I braced myself from leaping off, but I did bare my fangs and snarled, "Shut up you pathetic excuse for a human being!"

Blond and brunette hair streaked the air for a minute as the two whipped around wicked fast, identical flashes of anger blossomed on both their pretty spa treated faces. Except with just one look at me, my face, the two stopped cold. Frozen. Mid-insult. No longer seeming in the world of comprehension. They just stared at me, wide-eyed, mouth agape, their bodies stiffened in high-sense alert. That shocked me to even think they had senses…

It took me a minute to realize the two of them had been staring at me for more than five minutes now. A fresh wave of anger ignited in me, bringing a steely snarl to my voice. "Go away!"

The two literally tripped over each other trying to get out of there. Kim shouting "Freaks!" over her shoulder all the way.

"Yeah? So what if we are?" Shadow jeered at my side suddenly, his fist pounding the air. "We freaks are here to stay!" That should have been the motto of our life.

Turning on the rail, I smiled at my group. With the eight of us, it was almost literally a living ripple of bubbly chatter and impish laughter. Even I felt a ping of nervous giddiness ripple down my body like a flick through a rope. We were bubbly through and through.

Today, we were finally getting our revenge. Justice was going to be ours.

"Someone's coming." I leaped near out of my skin at the sudden voice and appearance of Neko at my side. She herself was quiet and shadowy, her movements and such fitting, but it was the unexpected insights that scared me the most. Almost as if she sensed my tension about her news, she said, "Don't worry. It's not them. Just a bunch of rambled thoughts from a small group of new kids. Transfer students from far away, I believe."

I sighed deeply inside with relief. Good…

And no, you didn't hear her wrong. Rambled thoughts from some transfer students. Neko was our group's beloved little telepath. We were all cursed with special abilities of some sort, each different from the other. Totally unique on hundreds of levels. Kind of sheds some light on the whole "not normal" factor, huh?

Before I had a chance to tell anyone about the people coming, Streak was already at the stairwell. Her pale faced expression manic. Things only worsened when Tweak started up his stereo, his homemade beats blasting out the speakers with deep rhythmic pulses. I often enjoyed Tweak's music, how it always filled me inside. Making my bones vibrate with every pump of the bass. This time, though, someone outside the group was about to see how strange we truly are.

I could only stare at Streak, wide-eyed, as the three people on the stairs slowed in their ascend. They looked at her, eyes wide, mouths agape. Streak indeed was a spectacle to look at right now with her ability revealed, full bloom. With every deep pulse of Tweak's fast-paced dance music, Streak's eyes and streaks of her hair flickered schizoid colors in tandem with the beat. Her usual black hair flickered like a raver's neon strobe wand in the middle of mosh pit.

Her manic grin broadened when she saw them slow. She enjoyed watching people stare at her. In her mind, she knew she wasn't a freak. To her, it seemed as if life had given her the opportunity to be as different as she possibly wanted. To be special. "New kids!" she hollered, excited. In the lapsed time of a half-second, I watched her shift.

I watched her body tense, knees bending as she leaned forward ever so slowly…

I knew…

"Streak," I barked. "Don't you dare!"

She eased up, knees unbending as she looked over at me, her neon flickering eyes eerily innocent. "Aw, you're no fun." Then, just as her name describes her, she streaked to the other end of the bridge. She stooped to whisper into Gizmo's ear.

The three standing at the stairs looked very lost. Totally unaware of the danger they had just been in…

Walking over to them, I tried to bare my calmest most non-threatening smile I could muster. That required me not showing my teeth. "Sorry about that. My friend is a little…wired today."

"I see," the one girl replied. Her eyes were still on Streak and I watched as they gradually moved along the rest of my group until they eventually landed on me. I tried not to falter as I watched her thoughts ripple plainly across her slightly scarred face. Fear, curiosity, awe, and then I saw a smidge of something else… hope? "She always like that?"

"Yeah," I replied casually. "Pretty much." With my acute vision, I looked them over quickly.

Two boys and one girl. The girl stood about my height, maybe an inch or so taller. She had pretty, long blond hair and probably the most defiant looking eyes I had ever seen, which were brown colored. Even though she had blond streaked hair, I could instantly tell she wasn't a bubblehead. She just had this feel about her…

Then there was the boy next to her. He stood a bit taller than us, not by much though. His dark hair covered most his face, ghosting his already pale skin, making his eyes seem darker. I could tell he was lean, maybe even slender, under his slightly baggy black clothes, but I could read from his posture that he was strong.

I was surprised to find that I actually had to tilt my head back slightly to have to look at the other boy's face. He was taller than any of us. Probably touching more than six feet in height. Made me kind of wonder how old he was since his appearance gave way to a much younger soul under that skin. He had scruffy strawberry blond hair, it was long, but not yet hanging in his face like Mr. Sunshine next to him.

It took me a few seconds to become aware of how he was standing.

Stiff shouldered, nervous expression, vacant stare, and his obviously milky opaque-blue eyes…

"You're blind…" I clamped a hand over my mouth, staring at them in total shock. I could not believe I just blurted that out loud! The girl's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry!" I stuttered randomly. "I didn't mean…"

"It's all right," he replied a little too quickly, the hurt evident in his voice. "I get that a lot."

Doesn't make it right…

Shaking off the awkward ping I felt, I became vaguely aware of the eyes on my back and stood a bit taller to introduce myself. As leader, it was my duty to do so. "My name's Skittles, by the way. Or Boss. Either one's fine in my book."

"Boss?" the girl asked.

"Skittles?" the darker boy snorted, his voice thick with mockery.

I tensed, glaring at him, putting up my defensives almost immediately. "Something funny ? What's wrong with my name?" These people weren't in any way my friends and I wasn't about to feel bad about yelling at a guy who's being a jerk to me. "All right tough guy, what's your name? Asshole? Douche bag?" His gaze darkened as I went on. "No wait, of course! How silly of me. It's obviously Dick head."

He shifted uncomfortably. "No, it's not."

The girl held up a nervous hand, she had it against the dark one's chest. Was she trying to keep him from springing at me or something? That would have been fun to see. "We're not here to start a fight," she told him, her voice strained. Then she turned to face me, but her eyes never quite met mine… "My name is Max. These two are my brothers, Nick and Jeff."

"Nick?" I snorted, looking him straight in the eye. His eyes diverted downward though…

They were avoiding eye contact with me…

I knew why…

No one outside the group ever looked me in the eyes. No one. Not even my foster parents.

Max then cleared her throat and said, "Well, we're new around here. Flew in from far away."

"Over seas?"

She hesitated for a minute then nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, we've heard around town that there's a group of kids in this school who are… Well…"

"What? Freaks? Monsters? Mistakes?"

"Well, I was going to say special."

I chuckled bitterly at her naivety, my smile obviously warped by now as I replied, "Trust me, mistakes is so much better." Truth be told, I despised the word "special". I had my reasons…

"So you are the group?" Nick asked, his patience seeming thin.

"Never said that."

He looked annoyed. "But are you?"

"Why do you want to know?" I was suspicious.

"Because we need to know."

"Why?"

"Just because!" The second he raised his voice, I hissed.

"Why? So you can just torment us later? Talk to us now, see how truly fucked up we are and go off to join some stupid bubblehead group and mock us?" I glared at him, hard. Without meaning to, I raised my upper lip to expose a row of perfectly sharpened and very lethal fangs. "You will, I guarantee it. Everyone always does. Always." My voice was rising in pitch, the music beginning to wane in the background. I knew the group could hear me, though. We were linked that way…

"We enjoy our solitude, Nick," I spat. "We love the seclusion from the bubbleheads and pathetic randoms of this stupid town that can and will never will understand how we feel. So just leave us alone." With that steel-like edge in my voice, I turned away, my face flushed hot.

There was silence between us. Tweak's music played on, his beautifully cultivated masterpieces from the heart. My heart seemed to be pulsing in sync with the bass, the beat quaking deep within my bones. All the while, little whispers filtered through in my ears, incoherent at the moment.

Suddenly, Jeff took a step forward. He looked straight at me, his sightless eyes intense. Unnerving. "We understand…"

I'm not saying I believed him, because I didn't. But something told me it was okay to let them know. Even at the cost. Once they joined another clique - they weren't joining ours - they'd know anyway.

In this town, everyone but adults belonged to a clique, or group, of some sort. That rule was mandatory. Always has been. It was tough for new kids because they had no one to watch their backs, to be tricky with, or whatever it was that group did. If you didn't get into a group, well, you might as well be better off dead.

Sad as it is, that's the truth.

The Crims have been around for as long as I have. I started this thing seven years ago and took in all those who were unique, different. We thrived up until a two years ago… I'll never forget that day…

Closing my eyes, I sighed, "All right. We are the group of kids you've heard about. We're the ones you're looking for." I wanted to know why. When I opened them, I gave them another toothy smile. "Let me introduce you to The Crims."

Me: I'm not sure how well this chapter was... Maybe it was a bit long?

Fang: Is it just me, or is every story you make with me in it, you always make me the ass?

Skittles: Maybe because you are an ass...

Tweak: Well Boss, you are the one who just blurted out that Jeff's blind. Not so smart on your side.

Skittles: It was an accident!

Me: This is pointless... Please review. I want to put out the next chapter...

Fang: Bitch

Skittles: Jerk

Fang: Whore!

Skittles: Faggot!

Me: SHUT UP!