There's just one last thing I'd like to tell you.

I made you as perfectly as I could. But it wasn't good enough. I wasn't satisfied.

So I gave you free will...

I will never forgive myself for all that I did. I can't say that enough.

But I think that by doing this, I can atone for my sins.

I haven't told you everything you want to know -- add it to the list of my transgressions. Everything I could think of, I wrote down -- there's a copy on that table behind you.

You've been through a lot of tests. I told you that you would a long time ago.

You've left a wide path of destruction behind you. That's the risk I took.

In the end, though, it will be worth it. You have to trust me on that.

This isn't your final test. It's the last test I could see myself giving you, though.

So in a way, it is the final test, because you have two choices here: you complete it and go on, or you don't.

It's really quite simple.

I've given you the gun. It's all out of my hands.

Now, here's your final test:

I made you to save the world. So far you've done quite well. Believe me, I'm impressed.

But the road ahead is a rough one. I want to be sure you can walk it. You'll have to abandon everything you hold dear. It won't be easy.

I wondered, when I made you: would you be able to save the world, even if you had to kill to do it?

I thought you wouldn't be able to.

Prove me wrong.

I'm the last obstacle between you and saving the world. After this, no more tests, no more trials; just you, against all the odds.

So there's no reason to hesitate.

Shoot me, Max.

I stood over his body for a moment, shaking, then knelt down and checked for a pulse at his neck. Nothing.

He wasn't breathing, either. And his eyes were still open, despite the hole I'd just put between them with the little revolver he'd given me.

No more tests, no more trials, he'd said.

It was a nice thought.

But he'd lied to me before -- a lot. How could I be sure that he wasn't lying now?

He'd mentioned a "list of transgressions" -- a catalog of his crimes. Maybe that would help.

With my luck, though, either it would be nothing or it would be in some code I'd never get to solve before the files mysteriously disappeared.

Like that had never happened to me before.

I walked over to the table he'd pointed to and had a look at the papers sitting there. They were typewritten, for one thing -- like, actual-typewriter typewritten.

And there were a lot of them, it looked like -- the stack on the table was a good one and a half inches tall.

Man. He'd written a book.

I flipped quickly through the pages. The type was pretty small -- he must have had a lot to say.

Before I shoved them all into my backpack, I caught a glimpse of the front page, and took a minute to have a closer look at it.

It was -- get this -- a letter.

Addressed to moi.

And dated the day after he'd "died".

"My dearest Maximum," the letter began. I wanted to just shove it into my backpack and maybe talk to Fang about it later, but I couldn't stop reading.

"I'm very sorry that I had to abandon you so suddenly, but I promise that someday you'll understand everything. For now, I'll do my best to keep you up to speed..."

I heard wingbeats outside, and shoved the letters into my backpack, then went outside.

It was just Fang, waiting casually by the door to the little house.

"Find anything?" he asked.

"No," I muttered, walking past him.

"We heard a gunshot," he said.

I turned to face him. "I'm OK. Really." I smiled to prove it.

"Max, what happened?" he demanded.

"I'll tell you later," I said. "Come on, it's getting late. This place is spooky. Let's go."

With that, I took off and flew up to meet my Flock. I knew Fang would have questions -- and I knew it wasn't fair to keep information from a guy who was basically my right hand.

But I didn't want to tell him anything until I knew what was going on myself.

"Later"?

Totally a coverup.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so I'm sorry if it's not very good. But I tried to make it as good as I could before putting it out for the world to see.

Inspired by the title of the fifth book, lol. (I may love Maximum Ride, but I think the summary for the fifth book sounds really bad. So I wrote my own.)

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Maximum Ride. That honor belongs to James Patterson.

Review, please.