Disclaimer: I don't own the Maximum Ride series or any of the characters.

A/N: Okay, you guys bear with me because this chapter is a little different than what you might think. Feel free to tell me if you don't like it.

The flight was calming, just like I'd predicted. I didn't end up punching any trees, and I wasn't spotted. So far this trip was going good.

That thought was probably where I jinxed it.

I landed smoothly in an empty alleyway. It smelled horrible, because I landed right next to the dumpster. There was a gray-ish alley-cat that jumped out of it, yowling and hissing at me before disappearing into the darkness.

A little too cliché for my liking, I walked into the small convience store I found myself humming along to the song and I realized that I'd heard it playing in Angel bedroom while she was threatening me in a corner.

"I love you five times more than any boyfriend before. . ."

Well, I defiantly love Max. And I wanted to kill that weiner Sam, so I can relate. I didn't think that a bird-kid would ever be able to compare their life to a song, but here I am. Though there was that one time when Iggy made a joke of Max and that music video "Can't Be Tamed" by Miley Cyrus. . .

I passed the slushy machine and briefly wondered if Angel would want me to get one. I decided that I shouldn't, she was really picky about which flavor, and Max always bought those types of things.

Did this store even have duct tape? I had looked through half the isles and the song had ended. Maybe I should've looked at the little signs. I still wanted to make it back, preferably flying. I had already passed a super creepy guy, he looked like a mass murderer with his hands shoved inside of his coat pockets and I got a weird feeling.

Finally, I found the duct tape right next to the candy. I figured that I might as well grab a Snickers Bar for Gazzy, he still cracked up every time we saw one. Ter Borcht was only good for one thing.

On the pause between the songs, the whole store was quiet. Not just 'oh-look-at-how-quiet-it-is' but like in those action movies, like, 'it's-quiet-too-quiet'. Maybe it was just me, but my bad-guy senses were tingling. Something bad was defiantly going to happen.

On that pleasant note, I went back to the cash registrar too see a perky teenage girl looking at me hungrily. Oh no. That's definitely not a good sign.

Perky Teenage Girl = Bad News

Was that what had my senses tingling? Not that they're real senses, but you know how you get that feeling? I don't think that an overly friendly girl was going to kill me, but with all the things I've been through, you never know.

I cleared my throat to get her to look back up at my eyes. Because they had traveled downwards and were looking at my abs through the –unfortunately- tight shirt, her hazel eyes snapped up quickly. I placed the duct tape on the tiny counter with the Snickers Bars.

She looked at me questioningly (who comes to the store for tape and candy?) and then started scanning the items slowly. She looked back up at me through her eyelashes. "Is there anything else I can get you?" I'm pretty sure the word 'anything' had been stressed enough.

"No." Yup, there was the closed off Fang that everyone knew. And loved. Even if they hadn't admitted it yet.

"Well you have a very pleasant afternoon." Oh, ew.

"Get on the ground!" Wait, what?

It looks like I was wrong about the serial killer thing, he was just a robber.

Why the hell does everything always happen to me? Can't trouble and danger just leave me alone for a few days?

But no, this is me - Fang - and something always had to happen. I associate it with being a bird-kid.

The once perky teenager lowered to the ground in fright. It was then that I realized that I would have to do some fast thinking. That just so happened to be my area of expertise.

Before the guy could see me coming, I'd ducked under his arm, twisted it, and made the gun drop in 10 seconds flat. I felt kinda like Chuck Norris; you know, I should win a gold medal or something.

I pointed the gun carefully at the guy. I had only used a gun once before, and I had no intentions of actually shooting this guy. I didn't know if it had a safety or not, but I decided that if I was careful enough, that information wouldn't be needed.

I looked behind me at the frizzy haired teen. Carefully looking at Mr. Creeper in my peripheral vision to make sure he didn't try to get away. You know, that might be a good name for him. Mr. Creeper.

Anyways, the girl was trembling on the ground and she was obviously terrified. "Do you have one of those security things?" Honestly, I didn't know what they were called, but she knew what I was talking about and shakily got to her feet. She gripped the edge of the counter for support and quickly pressed a button that was out of my sight, somewhere behind the counter. She sunk back to the floor slowly, her eyes were closed. Ms. Perky had fainted and I wasn't sure what to do. I decided making sure that Mr. Creeper didn't get free was slightly more important.

He was holding his shoulder, wincing. I had probably pulled it out of the socket. Whoops. Hey, it was all self-defense. Right?

I could hear the sirens in the distance. And since I was listening hard, I could also hear the rain outside. Looks like I'm walking. It was still way to quiet and I could almost cut the tension with a knife.

I decided to break the silence. "How's the arm?"

No response. For some odd reason, that felt backwards.

"Nice gun." What the hell was I doing? Making small talk with Mr. Creeper?

"Thanks." His voice was gruff and raspy. It made me want to cringe. Perfect voice for a creeper. Especially one who carried a gun. I wouldn't be surprised if he stalked someone on the side.

I heard the sirens stop, and there were red and blue lights everywhere, reflecting in the small store.

Four cops came through the doors, making the bells ring. It sounded oddly out of the situation. Two of them put the guy in hand cuffs and dragged him out of the doors, the bell ringing again.

I gave the gun to the third; I wiped my hands on my jeans, picked up the duct tape and the Snickers Bars, and went towards the door.

"Hold on a second. You'll have to come downtown with us." The police officer said, obviously trying to be nice. His uniform didn't intimidate me, but his perfect mustache did.

"Why?"

"We'll need you for questioning."

I wanted to get back before the rain picked up even more. "Don't you just need like a written thing?" He looked at me a little suspicious and nodded slowly. Hey, what can I say? I watched crime shows. "Then I don't have to go anywhere." He looked at me skeptically, before going and getting some official looking paper.

I wrote that I was in the store buying some things for my house - how weird would it be if I put that I had been buying duct tape and candy? - when he pulled out his gun. Yada yada yada. I signed Nick Martinez, and was on my merry way. That was easy. (I feel the need to add the word 'Staples' here)

The rain had picked up even though I hadn't been more than ten minutes. I pulled the - black - hood over my head and jogged into the cover of the trees. Under the cover of the long branches, the rain barely hit me here. It was really quiet, but that was probably because the animals were taking shelter. It's weird how much you know about nature from spending three years on the run, and being 2% bird helped, too. I sighed as my brain started to think about what I had been trying to hold off.

Max.

How was I supposed to tell her? Did all guys go through this? Or was it just another unfortunate side effect of being a bird-kid?

I tried imagining myself without wings. Sure it would be easier, but I knew that there'd always be something missing.

I shook off the thought and slowed my stride, trying to focus. I could cook her breakfast.

Max: Morning.

Fang: Good Morning, hey I cooked breakfast. See the bacon spells I and the pancakes are heart shaped and the syrup spells you.

Max: Oh Fang. I love you too . . . except that this is horrible.

Yeah, I can't cook. Me+cooking= something blown up. I'm dead serious here. I'm only better to Max, who could barely toast bread. I could always ask Iggy. I laughed out loud. Yeah, that would totally work.

"Hey Ig, I need to confess my undying love to Max. Could you cook her breakfast?"

Ugh. Why is this so complicated? It is only three words. Too bad they're the three words that mean everything. The three words that could make or break me.

The three words of doom.

A/N: Again, I know it's a little far fetched, and if you didn't like it feel free to tell me. I'm half-way done with Chapter 5 and I'll update on Thursday. Review?