Okay people! We are taking this story in a whole new direction! I had originally planned for something else to happen, but this one will make it twice as long, and twice as awesome!

My goal for this fan-fic: To never have a filler chapter. Each one is going to be just as exciting as the last...let's hope I stick to that one. Please, hold me to it. If I make a filler chapter, fell free to yell at me. Hell, you could go all Max on me and shoot me!...But it you shoot me, know I won't ever be updating ;)...cause I'll be...dead.

Destined to Escape

(MAX POV)

My mind was reeling, faster than it ever had before. Thoughts tumbled around wildly in my skull, mixing and creating a dull buzz in the background. I was having trouble focusing on any of them, so I settled on one phrase:

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

How could Fang's dad be Nickolas Walker? No, it was impossible. I didn't want to accept for a second the horrible truth of the matter.

At work, I had walked past that wall of most wanted a thousand times, yet somehow I never recognized him; recognized the unmistakable resemblance. The same olive skin, the same dark eyes, the same disheveled hair, the same personality…

No. They did not have the same personality. Fang was a kind, thoughtful man who respected the people around him.

Nickolas Walker on the other hand…Nickolas Walker was a soulless bastard who killed people. He didn't deserve half of the stuff Fang did.

I couldn't even begin to believe they were related in any way.

No. It just wasn't possible.

I heard Fang stand up from his spot on the front lawn. Soon he was behind me, where I was standing on the sidewalk, staring blankly down the street. He placed his hand on my waist, and carefully spun me around to face him.

The Fang I had only recently begun to know looked nothing like the one I saw now. His rich, olive skin was a pale, sickly color; and his normally sparkling eyes were dull and sad. Everything about him seemed older, as if this wasn't the worst of things he's seen.

Maybe it's not.

He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as his steady hand settle against the small of my back, and he steered me quickly towards the apartment building. I turned my horror-stricken eyes to his as he quickened his pace, practically at a run now.

"Where are we going?"

Fang's gaze flicked to mine very briefly, and they held such sorrow, such sadness that I wanted to shoot whoever was responsible right then and there. "We're getting out of here."

I scoffed and glared at him. "Maybe you are. But there's no way in hell you'd get me to come with you!" I tried to give him a smirk, but I knew it was a wasted effort. "I can work this out. I work at the F.B.I, remember?"

For the second time today, he turned on me. I practically ran into his chest as he settled in front of me. His empty eyes blazed with a new fire, and they locked harshly with my own. "That's just the thing. You can't work this out. He wants me, and if he doesn't get me, he wants you. I know I should be playing the bigger man here and giving myself up to him to protect you, but I can't. I can't even bear the thought of being in the same room as him, let alone working with him. Doing what he does." He spat the word with such disgust, it pained me. "And I know you think you can get us out of this, but you don't know him like I do. He's quick, he's smart, and you can never trust anything you know, because he already knows it."

He looked at the floor. "Max, we have to run. You can try to get rid of this all you want, but he'll get you soon enough. So I'm taking you with me. We'll go somewhere…L.A, Nevada, Canada, I don't know. Just please, come with me."

He paused and finally met my eyes. "I need you."

(If anyone took those last two lines as a horribly dirty joke, please, please get your head out of the gutter!)

It took me a split second to make my decision. "We'll take my bike."

He nodded, relieved, and we set off at a sprint towards our rooms. Fang produced a backpack and we stuffed random items of clothing and toiletries in there, barely pausing to shove my gun and a spare box of bullets in.

We paused at the door, slightly flustered, and just stood there a moment. I managed to crack a small smile. "Well…are we going or what?"

"Yeah." Fang exhaled sharply, and we both took off to the parking lot. Someone had called the cops, and now sirens echoed through the afternoon silence. I slung the backpack over my shoulders and climbed on, not at all surprised when he asked, "Can I drive it?"

I rolled my eyes and scooted back, throwing him the keys. He didn't smile or punch the air with his fists, just climbed on and revved the engine.

I leant forward and molded myself into his back, wrapping my arms around his torso firmly.

He looked at me over his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows.

"What?" I asked harshly. "Do you want me to fall off?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just that…if we weren't in this situation, I would have found that as a huge turn-on."

That resulted in me punching him in the back multiple times until he ground out, "Right. No more idiotic jokes."

"Damn straight."

As Fang sped out of the parking lot with me clinging to his back, I had a funny feeling we'd never come back.

(Third Person POV)

Angel shed tear after tear as she sped away from Fang, and down the street. She hated to do that to him, to practically mock him with her presence. He was once one of her best friends, someone she looked up to. Now…now he probably hated her.

No, she thought, clutching the wheel of the car even harder. He can't hate me. Fang loved me like a little sister. There's no way he could hate me.

But even as she said it, she knew there was a good chance he did hate her. She just drove in a getaway car to pick up his dad. His dad, the killer.

Her lips curled in disgust at the thought of the awful man in the passenger seat. She had never liked him from the beginning. Even when he looked happy and kind when they were young children, she knew something was off about the man. He had a sort of arrogance that was too much to pass off as cocky; a deadly look in his eye that was too much to pass of as a trick of the light.

And then came the day, years later, where he confronted her with a deal she couldn't refuse.

-June 20th, 2003-

Angel lounged lazily on the couch of their small living room, absently flipping through stations. She really wasn't in the mood for TV, just a distraction from the tears that threatened to spill.

Fang, one of her best friends, had moved out that week, and shipped off to UC Berkeley to earn his degree in English language Arts. He told her he didn't ever plan to come back, that maybe he'd visit a time or two, but he'd never permanently return to their small Arizona town.

At first she didn't want to believe him, to believe that she'd be loosing him forever. And when she'd finally accepted that she'd never see him again, she'd cried.

She cried for days.

Her twin brother, Gazzy, had wanted to follow him there, to transfer schools to be close to him, but she had to remind him their parents still had custody over them (they were only sixteen), and that leaving would be illegal.

That's when he joined the crying.

That day, as she flipped through channel after channel, she got a visit from Fang's dad.

"Angelica!" Mr. Walker greeted her at the door. "How nice to see you. May I come in?"

She let him in, because he was a friend's family, but watched him warily. She had never liked him.

He plopped down where she had been sitting just moments ago and lent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She sat down on the recliner to the right of him, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of her.

A silence engulfed them for minutes, until he started.

And that was when her life took a turn for the worse.

When he spoke this time, his voice was different from the friendly one he greeted her with had disappeared, replaced by one much more demanding.

"I have a proposition for you, Angelica." He paused for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "A…business proposition, you might say."

She studied him with suspicious eyes, and finally found her voice. "What type of proposition?"

He cocked his head and gave a wicked grin. "I want you to come and work with me."

The ting was, nobody knew exactly what he did. Not even Fang. Mr. Walker disappeared during the daytime, sometimes for a run, sometimes to go grocery or whatever, but not once did he talk about his line of work.

Angel's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What exactly do you do?"

He pursed his lips almost hesitantly, but his eyes flashed with an unmistakable confidence. She suddenly got very afraid.

"What do you do?" She repeated again, this time much more quiet.

He leant back against the plush couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Carefully, he extracted a folded piece of paper from his shirt's front pocket and flipped it onto the table in front of her.

She reached forward and slowly unfolded the paper. Inside, revealed a picture.

She choked on a scream at the sight if it. She stood and backed away from it quickly, her hand pressed tightly against her mouth. She took in short breaths through her nose and soon felt her back hit the hard wall at the opposite side of the room. Tears streamed freely, harder than they ever had before; even harder than when Fang left.

She probably should have tried to run, or lock herself in a room to call the police, but she- and Mr. Walker- knew better than that. He'd catch very soon, and she'd probably be stuck with him forever.

As she looked up at him again, this time her eyes swarmed with a mixture of fear and hatred.

He held her gaze and reached over the side of the couch, picking up one of their framed photos from the small table that stood there. He stared at it for a long time. "And if you say no, he'll be the next to die."

He slowly turned it around for her to see.

It was a picture of Gazzy.

Okay people! Tell me, where do you want Max and Fang to go? Because I have absolutely no idea.

I thought about describing what exactly that picture was, but decided it would be best to leave some violence out.