Just a one-shot. Enjoy. :]
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You know that little flash of consciousness, that little inkling that something is wrong? I feel it, the shivering tingle as the hair on the back of my neck rises and I tense…
BAM! I duck, and another eraser hurtles past me. It glares at me as it raises a clawed doggie fist and hones in again. The eraser dives toward me, and all of a sudden it's face-first in the dirt. Go Fang! I grin a blinding smile at him as he flies away.
An eraser plows into him, and I wince, though not removing my focus from the erasers around us. Poor Fang; he must have been blinded by my radiance. But he seems okay and I can't stop fighting. There's fire pumping through my veins, red-hot and angry, and I can't ignore the urge to take down some erasers. It's primitive and raw and I'm perfectly happy to give in to it. Eraser number two quickly hits the ground.
Wherever I go, whatever I'm doing, I am aware of the Flock. It's almost a sixth sense, because I can't turn off the awareness of every single member or my family. Even now, I sense them: Iggy, bomb in hand; the Gasman, fists balled angrily as he dives; Angel, sweetness in her smile as her brutal mind-tricks force an eraser repeatedly against a tree; and Fang, determination in his furrowed brow.
Family is survival. Family is the reason we're all still alive. Family is the Flock.
With this in mind I see the eraser, its freakish wolf-legs pounding the ground as it runs—straight toward Gazzy. But Angel's already seen it, and calls his name as I punch the nearest eraser into oblivion. He turns toward her. Angel is glances at him anxiously, her small, childish body turned toward her brother. Turned just enough that she does not see the eraser reach for her throat.
That's my Flock, and in a perfect little Max world, no damn wolf-freaks would even get close to hurting them. But even so, there's an eraser at Gazzy's back and one at Angel's throat. The adrenaline revs up a notch and I prepare to take out some pathetic excuses for wolf-human hybrids. But Gazzy's on my left, and Angel's on my right, and I'm right in the middle of what I'd like to call a freaking nightmare of a decision.
My name is Maximum Ride, human-avian hybrid and official ass-kicker. Welcome to my hell.