This is my first Maximum Ride fiction! I've read every single book available to date and the manga as well. Now there's something very important that you all need to know:
This is a crossover with an original story I wrote myself.
If you want to read it, the story is available on fanfiction's sister-site, fictionpress. It's called Unlimited Skye, and I hope you enjoy both works.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Maximum Ride. Please support the official release.
Full Summary: I was always told that the Flock and I were at the pinnacle of evolution—a shining example of both the best and the worst of what humanity had to offer. I never imagined that there was something—someone—out there stronger than us. I was wrong. (Between Max and Fang. Some spoilers for Max.)
Dreaming and Believing
Chapter 1
Strange Crystal City
I took in the clear, clean skies around me and did a quick spin in the air. Man did it feel good to be able to fly. It's like nothing else in the world. When I flew, I felt free, I felt safe, and I knew I was where I belonged. It was really easy to forget that I had been attacked by genetically engineered, mutant mutts while flying high in the sky before.
"Max, keep your head out of the clouds!" Gazzy shouted from the tail of our group. And he was there for good reason, too.
"A little impossible considering that we're flying, Gazzy!" Nudge yelled.
Everyone laughed.
"Just like the good old times," Fang told me.
Yeah. Just like when we had just managed to escape the School (for the first time) and right before we managed to settle down for a few years. After that we were on the run, and after that we were doing environmental missions for CSM—which I didn't mind; it gave me chances to hang out with my mom, Dr. Martinez.
"Are we really flying over a city?" Angel asked.
Couldn't she find out just by reading my mind?
"I read in a magazine that Crystal City is one of the greenest cities around!" Nudge exclaimed.
"Try not to gas it up," Angel said jokingly to Gazzy. Glad she said it before I did.
When we flew over the city it became really apparent to me how amazing it was that it was so clean. The air was so fresh, and the atmosphere seemed so…liberating. There was something about the air—the wind—of this area that felt…wonderful. I just felt like if I were to fly over Crystal City forever, as someone with wings, I would be happy. It was as if some great being of the heavens had given the skies of Crystal City his greatest blessing.
When we landed in (one of) the local park(s), why Crystal City was named so also became apparent. Most of the buildings were in the modern style, made up of silver metals and glass. The city seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun.
"So where do we go from here?" Iggy asked.
"Mom," it still felt a little weird saying that, "gave me directions to our hotel from here. It's a few blocks away."
My mom had shown me a satellite (AKA: Google Earth) image of Crystal City so that I'd know where to land and be able to use the directions properly. From our landing spot we were supposed to go over a crosswalk, cut through a small residential street, and head forward to the big, boxy, modern building that looked a little bit like a greenhouse; Our hotel would be right next door.
Along the way, we came across a few strange sites.
The first was at the crosswalk; the street was scratched up and covered in skid marks; one of the street lights was clearly newer than all the others, and the same could be said about the sidewalk surrounding it.
The second was at the residential street we had to cut through. There was a townhouse that Angel and Nudge immediately found adorable. As they were both squealing about what it would be like to live in a place like that, a kid in a weird outfit caught my eye. He was wearing some kind of…tunic—and he had a rucksack hanging over his shoulder! He looked like he belonged in an Eragon novel!
The last was in clear view from our hotel. It was the local high school. The building was going under some serious renovations. Whatever convinced the local officials to fund this wasn't routine; there were several news vans outside of the building.
"Maybe it was some kind of gas explosion?" Angel suggested. She must have sensed my concern.
"I want to think that, but…"
"But your Max Senses are tingling," Gazzy joked. He high-fived Iggy and they both laughed.
That was one way to put it.
Be on your guard, Max.
Oh, hey Voice!
Strange things have been happening in Crystal City—things that are near-unexplainable. Be ready for anything, Max. Your story isn't the only great tale to be told.
(…)
"Welcome to the Crystal City Ritz Carlton!" Generic CSM agent number 201 announced.
"They almost didn't believe us when we told them that we wanted to book a room for the famous Flock." Jeb told us. I was still getting used to seeing him and not trying to strangle the guy for betraying us. "Once you get to your room I'll go out for a little to meet with Dr. Martinez."
Jeb and the CSM agent, a man in his late twenties to mid thirties with brown hair, led us to the elevator. We went all the way to the tippy-top and were told our room numbers.
Wait—
"Why do we have more than one room?" I asked.
"Don't worry—they're connected," the CSM agent told us. "But the penthouse was booked."
They had that much extra cash to throw around?
"By who?" Nudge began. "Was it a celebrity?"
Well, none of the girls minded being able to sleep in a room separate from Gazzy. We loved the kid, but I won't sugarcoat it; at night he can control his gas like I could resist leaping out the nearest window the moment I saw a guy in a suit walking next to an old geezer in a lab coat.
(…)
Jeb stepped out of the Ritz Carlton and melded into the many people walking the streets of Crystal City. The shining glass towers of the once small town brought him back to an earlier time—a better time. A time when Jeb was just a kid reading comics about people that had gained superpowers due to a strange gene in their DNA. That little comic, which had been canceled very quickly as it was seen as a rip-off of more popular works, had started something far greater than Jeb had ever imagined.
Despite the innocent beginnings of his work, he still tossed and turned at night, suffering from guilt-induced nightmares. He wasn't about to give up, though. Jeb had made his own personal dream-represent, and got to work on his way of atoning.
A few blocks later, he had come to a park bench. In it sat a tall, striking woman with long, dark hair. She was wearing a pencil skirt and polyester blouse.
Upon seeing Jeb, she stood up and walked towards him.
"Jeb," she greeted.
"Dr. Martinez," he responded.
The awkward air between them seemed like it would never vanish, mo matter how much Jeb wanted it to.
"Shall we join the kids?" She asked.
Jeb nodded and walked back towards the Ritz Carlton. To the average passerby, the pair would have seemed like two people that just so happen to be heading in the same direction. No normal person would ever be able to see the unimaginable connection they shared by simply looking. The connection was once far stronger, fueled by passion and the best of intentions for each other and the world around them. Sadly, things hadn't gone exactly according to plan.
Jeb almost tried to break the ice, but he was suddenly hit with a horrible sense of foreboding.
After having been around so much death and so many atrocities to humanity for so long, Jeb had a sixth sense for these sorts of things. He knew that there was something—someone—with malicious intent coming close, and it was coming fast.
The sudden look he gave Dr. Martinez was enough of a warning. She hesitated, but she soon gave in, pulled out her cell phone (no doubt to call for help), and scurried on ahead. For once, Jeb was grateful for the invisible wall that had been between them for so long.
"Are you Jeb?"
Matching black suits, sunglasses, and earpieces. Aside from their haircuts, one a crew cut and the other bald, they were completely identical. The two men could not have been more obvious.
"And if I am?" He shot back.
"We're going to ask you to come with us." The bald one said.
"And if I refuse?"
They reached to their belts and pulled out their weapons—their outrageously flamboyant weapons. Jeb had seen many guns in his day, but the bald man's looked like some sort of collector's item; it was covered in ornate inscriptions and markings. The man with the crew-cut brought out a conspicuously decorated club—wait—it was not a club! It was—Jeb couldn't believe his eyes—a short-sword!
Someone shouted gun! And the crowd hastily dispersed.
"W-who are you?" He gasped.
"Doctor Jebidiah Roth, for countless crimes against humanity and nature, we are here to deliver justice." The crew cut announced.
Jeb took a deep breath and braced for the end. He expected a bang and darkness. Instead, he got an unimaginably swift blur. He blinked and the man with the gun was on the ground, a pair of converse sneakers on his face. There was a girl with unusually choppy black hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, and an aura like that…like…
Like Max when she still trusted me.
The girl hopped off of the bald man's face and kicked the gun away. The crew cut had been so stunned that he hadn't reacted yet. Only then did he unsheathe his short-sword.
"Don't interfere!" He warned. "You have no idea what you're getting into—who you're dealing with!"
"Funny," she said with a chuckle. "I was just about to say the same thing to you."
If Jeb blinked he would have missed it. In half-a-blink the man had thrust the blade at the girl. In the other half, the girl managed to sidestep out of the way and bring her knee up into the man's gut, all while maintaining a proper Martial Arts fighting stance.
The man fell to the ground with a grunt. He cringed, staggered to his feet, and ran off. The girl bolted forward at an awesome speed, while in a position that reminded Jeb of a ninja comic Gazzy had once shown him—Naruto, it was—but the bald man threw something at her. She calmly hit it with a raised palm, like a karate fighter delivering a swift blow, but it exploded and released bright orange paint.
The girl fell to the ground and cursed. Jeb would too if he were her; just a moment ago she had been wearing a plain black tank top with an expensive-looking white and blue, plaid scarf that he could see Nudge squealing over.
Rather than whining over her clothes, she calmly reached into her pocket—she must have been rather thin for phone to fit into a pair of shorts in this day and age—and called the police. Once the call was done, Jeb tore a piece of his white lab coat off and helped the girl take some of the paint off before the stains became permanent.
"Who are you?" He asked.
She looked up at him. Jeb saw both cheerfulness and weariness in her eyes—as if she had been through a lot, but still maintained hope and innocence.
"My name's Skye Stryker."