So…chapter four. Here it is… I spent a bit longer writing it than the last three chapters, but I still finished it within a week, which is totally epic… Anyway, I only took longer because A) I was also working on a new Bleach fanfic which HAS NOW BEEN POSTED and B) because I got this huge slash on my index finger cutting strawberries so I takes me longer to type and I make more mistakes (I am NOT kidding ppl! it's the truth! just exaggerated…..and u don't wanna know how I managed to cut myself, it was so stupid it makes me despise myself just thinking about it…like how stupid could I get?)

But anyway, hope ya like it…! (u better, I took enough effort writing it!)

Their Wings

Chapter Four: The Ride

It took all of Fang's powers of persuasion to get them on that subway train. The security guard was none too keen on letting two shady-looking kids (Well if someone's been living on the run in the streets for a week and just got caught in an explosion, how do you expect they'll look?) with bloodstains all over them through the turnstiles of the station. Especially once Fang admitted he was short a buck on paying for their tickets. But he managed it.

At least, Fang would've liked to think that they owed it all to his acting skills. But to be honest, it was probably the sight of Max's sleeping face that had done the trick. That girl could scare the crap out of ten grown men when she was angry, but her expression when she was sleeping was so sweet and sad… so sad. Even when she was asleep, she had a soft frown on her face.

Hell, he hated to think of all the pain she had through in her life. Especially those last two years. It had taken all his willpower to fly away from her then, and now that he was back, all he really wanted to do was to protect her. He just wanted to shield her from all the evil in the world. Not that Max couldn't take care of herself. She was better at taking care of herself, and everyone else in the flock, than anyone he knew.

But Max wasn't impervious to pain. No one was. And that awful time, after they'd had to run away from their old home to escape the Erasers and that bastard Jeb, had taken its toll on her, little by little. It had been hard on all of the flock, but especially hard on Max. He had watched helplessly as she got more and more stressed, the frown lines between her eyebrows getting more and more visible, and her patience snapping more and more easily as time went by.

He had probably just made it even worse by abandoning her, he thought. Because that's what I did. I abandoned her. No matter what the reasons were, I let Max down when she needed me most. I left her to cope all by herself for two goddamn years. I was the one she could always depend on, her right-hand man, and I cut off her right hand when I left.

But he would never do it again, he swore to himself. He wouldn't break his promise this time. Man, looking down at her face, he couldn't leave her again even if he wanted to.

The train thundered its way through endless miles of concrete darkness. It was speeding them across the country, out of sight of the cities and towns up above, with houses and stores and cars and chocolate-chip cookie factories and bacon and living, breathing, talking people. And bird-kid-killing robots.

God bless the underground.

Not.

Fang shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat, trying his best not to disturb Max, who lay across the whole row of seats with her head in his lap, fast asleep. If Iggy was still alive, Fang would be able to answer his question of whether or not Max snored. And how loud.

Fang had chosen the last seat in the last row on the last car of the train, and even tried to duct-tape the doors shut, but despite his efforts they had still been joined by several other passengers. All of whom looked much too much like Erasers, or Flyboys, or mutants, or clones (can someone actually look like a clone?) or someone who would wear a white coat for Fang's liking. There was even one horsy woman with a very long neck who Fang thought looked suspiciously like an Uber-Director.

He knew he was being paranoid, but he couldn't help it. And hey, when you're a bird/human mutant, it's being paranoid that keeps you alive.

The train bumped its way over an uneven part in the rails, making their car sway unnervingly from side to side. Max gave a small moan in her sleep and started to roll off the seats. Fang put out one hand to steady her but kept his eyes on the fellow occupants of the car, watching them like a hawk. He hoped they would all get off at the next few stops, so that he could do something about Max's wounds without drawing unwanted attention and having to answer any awkward questions.

The train rolled along, grinding over the rails with a monotonous consistency that had a lulling effect on Fang. Heck, he was so tired. It looked like all the action of the day had finally caught up with him.

He wondered what time it was. It had been around noon by the time he and Dylan had finished setting the bomb, because it had taken them hours to infiltrate the Institute, so it was probably close to dusk when he and Max got on the subway. Was it dark outside by now? Probably. People were probably coming home from work around now, collapsing on their couches or crawling into their soft, soft beds…

Fang fought to keep his eyes open, but it was no use. The waves of exhaustion closed over him and he sank into the gentle mists of sleep.

Fang woke to the cold barrel of a gun pressed roughly into the side of his head. He stiffened and straightened from his slumped position on the hard seat of the subway, but his attacker was standing behind him so that Fang couldn't tell who it was. The other passengers of the car were nowhere to be seen.

Where was Max?

"Stand up slowly and put your hands behind you."

Fang obeyed. Was it a tranq gun or a real one? Whichever it was, he didn't want the thing shot at him.

Where was Max?

"Turn your head and I'll put a bullet through your brain, sucker."

Ah, so it was a real gun. Did they want him dead then? But then why tie his hands up? Why not just kill him here? So they could get rid of the evidence? Where was Max?

"Are you alone, boy? I'll know if you're lying." The voice was rough and gravelly, but had a definite human quality to it. An Eraser? But weren't their voices supposed to be the only sweet part of them, designed to charm and hypnotize the victim? Maybe it was a new type of Eraser.

"No, I'm not alone, asshole." Fang snarled. "There are fifteen of us and we've got you surrounded. You're dead meat."

An iron-hard paw hit him across his left cheek with inhuman force, the claws leaving deep furrows that burned like fire. Fang gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. Yep. Definitely an Eraser. But WHERE WAS MAX?

"Don't play games, ya little shit. ARE YOU OR AREN'T YOU ALONE?"

There! He saw her, wedged under the seats in front of them. She must have rolled off the seats she lay on after he fell asleep and couldn't move because of her ankle. Her eyes were wide awake and full of rage and fear. Her whole body was trembling with the effort of staying still.

He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head, trying to send the message with his eyes, willing her to understand. No, Max. Don't. Please don't. She clenched her fists but didn't move. It seemed impossible that the Eraser hadn't seen her, and yet…

"Yeah." Fang said tightly. "I'm alone."

"Good, good." The Eraser cackled, an incredibly disturbing noise. "No fellow freaks to save your puny ass this time, huh, mutant?"

Fang kept himself from pointing out that Erasers were mutants, too, even more obviously than bird-kids. And that at least his ass wasn't covered in gross hairy wolf-fur.

"Now, walk in front of me down the aisle, and don't try anything if you wanna live. You've been warned."

Fang forced himself to walk away from Max, keeping his eyes straight ahead in case the Eraser had second thoughts about whether or not Fang was by himself. There was something, the beginnings of a thought at the back of his head, which was nagging at him. The sense that something was wrong about this, something didn't make sense. But he didn't know what it was.

Fang made his way to the end of the aisle and stopped, looking through the two layers of scratched plastic windows to the car coupled in front of theirs, hoping someone would look over and notice wolf-man and the gun and get help. But the passengers near the back window were all too occupied with their own problems to pay any attention to the car behind them, and Fang valued the contents of his head too much to pound on the window to get their attention. (The gun was still pressed to his ear.)

Well, it was nice to know that they were all alive, anyway, which was probably more that could be said for the unlucky passengers who happened to be in his car.

Something coldly metal, hard and sharp jabbed him in the side, forcing him to turn so that he faced the double doors of the train. Fang assumed the sharp thing was a claw. He hoped Erasers cleaned their nails, or his cheek might get infected.

The Eraser jabbed him again, forcing him to step forward, closer to the flimsy train doors, and Fang got a cold feeling at the bottom of his stomach. "Wait a second, what are you – "

The Eraser opened the doors with one kick and pushed Fang off the moving train onto the tracks below.

Me: And DAN-DA-DAN-DAN-DAN…! SUSPENSE IS SO AMAZING! OH, THE WAY YOU CAN TORTURE PEOPLE….I LOVE IT! OH YEAH! I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY! I THINK ITS MY SECOND FAVORITE ACTIVITY AFTER BEATING UP MY COUSIN ALEXANDER WHO IS LIKE 5 YEARS OLDER THAN ME BUT LETS ME DO WHATEVER I LIKE TO HIM! Although it could be that he just doesn't feel it….but anyways it's just SOOOO MUCH FUUUUN!

Sheah: You have a warped idea of day to day entertainment. And a twisted idea of fun.

Me *extremely wounded* : Warped? It's not warped! And it's not twisted either! I like to call it unique. Original. Different. Disturbingly different to some people, granted. But everyone is entitled to their own opinions. In my opinion it's just uniquely violent and awesome and evil and pain-inducing-either-mentaly-or-physically-toward-other-people.

Sheah: Which is basically the same thing….

Me: Whatever. You know I'm not really this violent. It's all just an act continued from chapter two to scare the readers into writing reviews for me, remember?

Sheah: Well, yeah, but it's kinda hard to tell the difference between a pretend evil FireBankai7 and a normal evil FireBankai7…

Me *give a sweetly evil smile*: Aww, I'm not that bad, am I?

Sheah: Well, yeah, you are, but I'm just as bad so it don't matter.

Me *placated*: Oh, 'kay, that's cool. So now we just gotta do the disclaiming. Sorry, correction, YOU gotta do the disclaiming.

Sheah: Ah, why me?

Me *smiles evilly again*: Because I'm the writer and you have to do SOMETHING or I won't even let you into this fanfic. Mwah ha. *the mwah ha was said very half-heartedly*

Sheah *pouts*: Aww, man. Fine, fine. So neither of us own Maximum Ride or any of its characters except for the security guard. We do own him.

Me: I own him! You had nothing to do with it. His unique character, his deep and intricate past, his subtle habits and affectations, his amazing accent, all came from my totally unbelievable imagination.

Sheah: Girl, he didn't even TALK in your fanfic, how could he have an ACCENT?

Me: ….You be quiet and stop trying to steal my moment of fame.

Sheah: What moment of – ?

Me *cuts Sheah off* : Okay, now for REVIEWING. If you review then I'll update sooner and if I get 15 reviews before I post the next chapter, I will write a little interview with security-guard-dude and have him answer some questions I'm sure you'll be dying to know. Like where he got his accent.

Sheah: He doesn't HAVE a friggin – AHHH!

(note: u don't wanna know what that last exclamation was about. )

(note number 2: Check out my new fanfic people! Its called FROZEN LIKE ICE and it's a BLEACH fanfic, just so ya know….the first chapter is a little disappointing, honestly, but its always like that with me: gets better after the first chapter.)