Disclaimer: I'm sitting at a cardboard desk whilst on a orange crate… well, not really but you get the picture. It's an impossibility for me to own Maximum Ride and the other characters and places it contains… no matter how similar fantasy and real life seem to be.

A/N: All right, let's hope you guys like take 4! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and I do take all of your critiques into account when writing (and rewriting… and rewriting)!MR

The Flock and I landed in a clearing in Colorado, the sun shining off our smiles. I know, we left Mom and Ella and… Jeb… in a rush, but we (that we meaning Fang and me) found out from a little Voice birdie that it was only our clubhouse that blew up. A.k.a. our house, the E-house, is still there, for us to live in and enjoy for the rest of our crazy happy lives. You know, now that Itex is gone, we're good. And we were all excited at the prospect.

Even now, Fang and I were shaking as we walked in front of the Flock, looking for signs of our home. We selfishly hoped it was still there. We were in the neighborhood, anyway… I mean it HAD to at least have debris around here, right?

We kept looking, even flying about at times to look… I brought out the map that was in my pack, and I grinned sheepishly. "Umm… guys, we're a bit north."

They looked at me with incredulity piled on their faces as if a clown had baked some into the cream pies that day. "Joking! Just joking, we're really close."

With that, I walked through the brush and pulled some plants out of our view, and there it was. Ah, Home, sweet, home… Never mind.

It's more like, "Home, infested with scummy guys from the government, home". I had to ask, so I walked up to the guy looking at our front door, pushing through all the other scum buckets in the way." What the hell are you doing at my house?"

"We have a search warrant. We're looking for Maximum Ride, and people by the names of Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman, and Angel. They're wanted by the CIA." The average-looking man was dressed in dark clothing, as contrasted by the sunny out of doors, and he held out a piece of very official looking paper, complete with signatures! Fun.

"Why?"

"I'm guessing you're them." He gestured at us.

" Nope. I'm just curious about what you all want with my house."

"So you're Maximum."

"Guilty as charged," I seethed, annoyance spilling from my pores. This guy was getting on my nerves. I turned to the Flock. Whispering, I said, "I'm going to find out what they want and come back for you. Go to the hawk cave at Lake Mead. Stay away from humans as much as possible. Don't get caught. U and A on three. Don't look back."

I turned back to the agent in front of me and smiled innocently. Idiot wouldn't know what hit him. "ONE!" The guy was dumbstruck. He'd had no idea. My flock flew fast toward Lake Mead. No one was going to be able to track them at the speed they were going.

I felt proud for a second before I went up to the agent and punched him straight in the face. He fell over, and before you could blink, I was in handcuffs being lead to D.C.

Cold. Damp. Dreary. Dark. Frigid. Scorching. Blood. Pain. Fear. Despair. Pick a word, any word. All describe the Newport Juvenile Correctional Facility for Girls. I didn't even do much, and I'm here. Why? That's what I'd love to know. I've been here for two weeks. Everyone here's either a thief, a murderer, or a political detainee. Apparently the Midwest doesn't do D.U.I.s. Yep, that's right, smack dot in the middle of the US. I'm in Illinois. They decided I wasn't good enough for D.C. and so they shipped me off to good old Illinois.

And it sucks. Yesterday I nearly got trampled, then one of the girls wanted to try using me as a punching bag… some stuff happened that I'm gonna skip, mostly cause I'm not too terribly proud of that, and THEN I get beaten by the guards for disturbing the peace and injuring with harmful intent. I growled as I kicked the bucket. Yes, it's a bucket. Yes, I kicked it. You people… it was the cell's piss pot. The pipes are frozen for the fourth time in five days, so they've instituted the "piss pot" system. So clever, don't you think?

I swear that some days I'm picking up the other's crazy accent. They hold out their vowels… so weird! And their "A"s are just way out there. Apparently if you don't hit a higher pitch on your "A", you're not talking right. I've been hit for that, too. Bloody sons of bitches.

From the very moment I get up, to the time when the guards call "Lights Out", I'm persecuted. "Bloody Hybrid!", they say a lot, also, "Hybrid Whore". I get some people who actually give a crap, and they're beaten, too. Beaten for everything. We're beaten if we get to the piss pot first. They curse you out if you get anything more that a third of what they've got. Then, if they feel like it, they'll beat you curse you cut you kill you…

" Hey, Max! Max! My god, I didn't think I'd see you ever! Aren't you proud of me? I helped with Fang's Army. I helped take out the one in D.C.! Max? Hey, Max?" A teen of about 15 ran up to me during the meal break. I don't even know what time it was; I didn't care.

" Who are you?"

The girl frowned and stared, " It's me, J.J. You know me! We went to school together in Washington before you had to leave with your…. Umm… family."

I smiled. Probably the first time I've done that since coming here. " Well, hey, you wanna see if the food here is better than at school? Two bucks says it's not."

She perked up at that, and I felt my heart die. She made me think of my flock. All five. So I didn't notice someone coming up behind us. The girl struck me first, screaming, "You stupid hybrid! You're the cause of all these problems. You're a bloody freak. Get out of here, Freak! Die, Freak!"

J.J. got an okay punch to the gut and retaliated, sending a quick jab to the girl's cheek, making her head turn. The girl recovered quickly, however, and grabbed a pipe. WHAM. The pipe struck J.J.'s chest, knocking her to the ground. Another hit. And another. And another. One final slam ended in a crack and a splattering of blood left J.J.'s skull. Jessica Joy was dead.

The fury of the girl was aimed back at me now, the one who should've gotten hit. So many jibes, they swirled around me, making focus near impossible. "Die, Freak! Why don't you go to hell, where you belong?"

A guard finally decided that one dead body was enough. "Cut it out, this one's needed for interrogation!" I got myself off the ground, heading into such a position as to stretch my wings, and I was grabbed by the arm. He twisted both arms backwards and shoved the cuffs on me, leading me to your run of the mill torture chamber.

As I was forced into the interrogation room at Newport's correctional facility, I was met with the usual sight. White walls, cold metal furniture, one-way mirror. Just the usual. For me, anyway.

Agent Camden was sitting in front of me with his usual smirk, thinking, like always, that he'd get me to confess this time. Not happening, Buster. I'm the one asking you questions. "What do you want from me?"

"A confession."

"Forgive me heavenly Father, for I have sinned…"

"Not that kind, smart ass."

"Then for what?" I leaned over the table like a detective from the Humphrey Bogart movies. "Where were you on June 19th, 1996?"

"For breaking the law. And I'm not stooping to answer that last question."

"What laws, Sheriff?"

"Traveling beyond borders without a passport or any other identification, being an illegal immigrant, and breaking and entering. Also, you're an illegal hybrid. Therefore, no matter what, we have to detain you."

"Oh, really? Fine. Detain me with the rest of them. I know more survived. But I'm not stooping so low as to confess to something I didn't have any control over. I'm not stooping as low as you." I spat it out, angry at being kept here, and furious for how these things always go. He pushes my buttons; I push his buttons… I push his buttons some more, he has me beaten, and I get (literally) thrown back into my cell. But this time, this time it seemed different.

"I promise, then, that you'll regret this."

"If I had a cooky for every time somebody said that…"He angrily pulled me up by the cuffs in back. I was led through the grey and dreary complex to an alley, then dragged through the alleys and streets, completely on display… me, my wings…. until I was pulled into a ramshackle, old warehouse. There were trucks filled with food, blankets…people. I was packed into one with a few other ragamuffins and they drove us off, due southwest.

When we were told that we were close to our final destination, it smelled like manure, it looked like a tornado hit recently and the entire scene gave me the feeling that nothing came out alive. I think the only thing that could make it more complete is a sign that said, "Welcome to Hell". Instead, it said, " New Buna Detention Center. Freedom for the compliant." Cheery, ain't it?

I was unloaded along with the others that were in the truck with me. We didn't bother introducing ourselves; there wasn't much point in our opinions… Not enough time to care.

There were two lines. One went to a gate, which in turn led to a large building. Smoke came from its chimneys. It must be nice in there, I thought… more hoped.

I was tired of the cold prison. The only warm places in there were the guard's offices. Every place else had no heat, and it was so frigid that water couldn't come to the faucets and toilets sometimes, which was the major cause of several brawls.

I was pushed into the other line, watching as the very young toppled into the opposite line. "They must be protecting the children…" I mumbled, and yet I felt very scared for those in the other line. Maybe I was just scared for myself.

The people in my line were taken to the showers, and we were sprayed with some kind of chemical… I think it was a pesticide. We were given black and white striped uniforms, which were better than nothing at all. The guards had take our other clothes (even though mine was just another prison uniform. I haven't had my own clothes in a while).

We were led to a line were somebody stood next to the fire, heating metal plates. At each person, the guard took the plate out of the fire, placed it on the arm of a prisoner, and moved onto the next one. My name is no longer important. My number is 930209.

And then we were sent to the bunkers. I was supposed to share a tiny little space with four other girls. And I mean tiny. The room was so small that I couldn't even lie all the way down in there. But being six feet tall can help with that.

I was setting up where I wanted to sleep when a girl showed up at the door, blocking all the light that could come into the room. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Maximum Ride. Who're you?"

She walked back into the fading light. She was albino. Red eyes, shaved, white hair, pale, nearly see-through skin. "My name's Whisper."

"Why are you called that?"

"Several reasons. The most important being that I can blast your eardrums with one half-hearted scream. The rest aren't that important now… Why are you here?" her tone was pained but casual, and I wondered what exactly made her sound so vulnerable and cynical at the same time.

"I'm here because of these."

I flipped out my wings. I didn't care that she was a non-Flock member; it's a death camp. I know one when I see one, and it's not likely that I'm gonna see my family again, so I better start getting used to it.

She didn't seem surprised at all. Then Whisper unfurled her own wings. They were white like Angel's, but these were larger and they had bluish cast, they were so white.

"Nice. Itex give you those?"

"Nah. The Institute. I'd rather not talk about that, though."

"Same…I was told there was supposed to be two other girls here. Where are they?"

She was silent. In fact, she didn't say anything for three days. And I was bored, so I kept talking to her, even when they tried to take us to one of the factories. I said that she was sick, tried to get them to leave. They took me away, forced me to get a hole drilled through my hand, to study my healing, but when I get back, I said hello, and what does Whisper say? Nothing. Nothing at all.

The guards only left her alone for a few days, then they decided it was time for her to go back to work. I guess that was the show of courtesy around here. She'd leave in the morning, dragged off by one of the guards, and returned in the late afternoon. Silent.

Finally, I got so tired of it that I screamed at her. "What is this with your silence? What? Are you no longer human? Don't you have feelings? Thoughts? Have you anything left of an identity? Cause if you do, you sure as hell don't act like it, and it's pissing me off. And if you don't, then you better find one, or you're gonna get thrown into the ovens, too."

"Don't you say that! Not ever!" She stood up to face me, and her face was cold with fury. Like a killer.

"Why not? It's true. I'm stuck in a living hell with a living corpse! Why not add a talking dead parrot that says, 'dead men tell no tales'?"

"I work at the crematoriums." It was terse, like killer velvet. "I had to load them in with the other dead the day you came to town…." I fell silent for a moment. That's rough.

"What were their names?"

WPOV

That was the point where I broke down. I was crying, sobbing and sputtering as tears and saliva and whatever else flowed from her orifices, and although she didn't know me that well, Max wrapped her arms around my shoulders as I sobbed everything out of my system.

"She was my little sister… she wasn't sick or anything…"

Flashback

It was morning, and I woke up before the rest. I guess today was something important, cause I'm never much of a morning person. The sun was rising, and that meant that the guards were going to round us all up soon, so I took the liberty of waking Kiya. The little black girl smiled at me as I shook her awake. We were our only family, and it was good that she had someone to take care of her. Me.

" Morning, Whisper." The six year-old crooned. Her voice matched her name, Annakiya, which means sweetness. I liked it, but then again, I named her. I gave her an African name, like the one she should have gotten from when we had parents.

Our parents abandoned me when they found out I was albino, but I guess they thought I wouldn't survive. An albino in Africa isn't one of those things you'd expect, so I can't say that I really blame them.

But what they did to Kiya was inexcusable. They gave her to the school for food and guns, to help with the civil war. She was brought to the nearest Itex branch, where she was shipped to the Institute, where I was already. That's how we met up, and one of the scientists who worked there decided to tell us that we were siblings.

" Hey, Kiya, you wanna wake Anna? We've got to get up before the guards come." She smiled and began to wake up my friend Anna. We're both twelve, and all three of us were shipped here when these people called "the Flock" shut the Institute down. I turned to the sun again, waiting for the time when the brown suited men would drag us to work.

I worked in the crematoriums, and believe me, it's the nastiest place. Unless you're building a new camp, and then the buildings are constructed on top of you if you die. Here, we just turn you into dust.

Anna wasn't awake when the guards came. But they dragged us off to work, anyway. My oven, the one I operate, is next to Rose. She's one of the nicest people to me here, and she's pretty feisty, too. Just don't tell a guard that. They're a little perverted.

Like most days, the work was pretty repetitious. You had to forget that what you were throwing in the oven used to be alive, or you'd stop, and then you'd be whipped or stunned by one of the guards. You never wanted that. So it was just throw the body in, shut the door, fire it up, open the door, shove a body in, etc. until all of yesterday's dead was turned to morrow's ashes.

It was about the 20th body in when I recognized one, and believe me when I say that it is bad to know anyone you're throwing into the oven. To me, this was even worse.

It was Kiya, my sweet six year-old sister. I checked for a pulse, nothing. I poked at her stomach. Full of gas. She'd been gassed. I couldn't believe it. She'd been killed like an animal, and what's worse is that she'd had a whole life ahead of her… she was just a little kid. And she didn't do anything wrong. I made sure of it.

Everyday, I took care of her, making sure she didn't get into trouble, so that we could one day escape. We could escape and be free. That was our one dream… one that we spent hours going over in our minds. What it'd be like to fly. What it's be like to eat fruit from the bushes and trees, to live in the forest, finding whatever we needed as we enjoyed the rest of our lives… well, that dream was lie a bug… that met a shoe and a steam roller.

Then I heard a scream from next to me, and I turned, thinking that Rose was upset about me throwing Kiya into the ovens. But that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. Rose found a pulser. A kid with a pulse. And then I saw who it was… did I do something wrong? Or is the karma just out to get me? It was Anna, of course.

Rose was blubbering, trying to figure out how to sneak Anna out of here, maybe so that she'd survive, and one of the guards came up to us. He poked rose in the back with a gun, and ordered her to put Anna in the oven. Rose said no, and he told her that then it's be her in the oven. That it was her choice…"It was either Anna or Rose… and I'd pick Rose any day. So… it's just too bad."

MPOV

I sat up all night. I couldn't sleep, and the hot, dry air was only making things worse. The stifling, stagnant gases were just too much… I was thinking over all that had happened today, what with Whisper and all…the thought gave me an idea. We'll fight our way out, or die trying. Either way, it's better than living here…

Whisper stirred in her sleep, as if she knew what my thoughts were. I gazed over at her, smudged with ashes and in her old, torn striped uniform, almost no hair and a smile to match. I was tired of this. Real tired. Tomorrow would be the last time you saw nice, docile, nationalistic Max. Sorry to get your hopes up.