A/N: Okay, I told a lie last chapter. But this IS my last update before summer break. Got some action this chapter, along with some more info. Enjoy. I've got you guys a nice, long chapter this time, to make up for the short one last time.

Disclaimer/Copyright: I don't own MR. I do actually have a government issued copyright on this though. The perks of going to an arts school.

NSRQ#10: "Is that what you call a getaway? --from "Seventy Times 7" by Brand New"

Chapter Nine: Life After Death (Part Three)

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I stared into my cup of orange juice glumly. A muggy, ever-shifting reflection shone back, but it was clear enough for me to tell that it was just plain old me. I poked my finger into the juice and broke the surface, shattering the make-shift mirror into ripples. Hearing Fang come back, I sat up, trying not to look guilty as I hurriedly bit into a piece of toast. He'd get mad if he caught me looking. But I couldn't help it.

Fang sat down across from me, dropping his backpack next to mine. His lips twitched up when he saw the yellow mustard packets I'd left by his plate.

"I found them in with the cups of jelly," I explained, swallowing my toast. Fang loves mustard. Frankly, I didn't see why, but whenever we had mustard he'd put it on all his food. "I figured you'd want them." (A/N: Fang really does love mustard. It says so in his blog.)

"Thanks," he replied simply. I watched, repulsed, as Fang ripped open one of the packets and squeezed its contents into his bowl of grits. He stirred it around, turning the hot cereal into a puke yellow, and then stuck a big spoonful into his mouth.

"That's really gross, you know?" I told him, buttering my last piece of toast. Fang smiled at me widely, showing off his gritty, mustard-stained teeth. "You're weird."

Fang ate another loaded spoon of his grits. "Says the girl who talks to God," he quipped. I threw my toast at him, but he just ducked, chuckling. "And it isn't gross, it's actually quite good. You should try it." He offered me a spoonful.

I stared at the bumpy, yellow substance. "Uh… no thanks." Fang shrugged and ate it. I sighed and looked away, scanning the hotel lobby. None of the guests looked particularly Eraser-y, but the last Eraser we'd seen hadn't set off my alarms either.

I gave them all another once over. A family of two parents, a preteen, and a toddler at the table next to us. No. A woman laughing at something she read in the newspaper. Probably not. A half-asleep old guy, slumped over his table. Nope. A newlywed looking couple talking to the desk clerk. Maybe, but most likely not.

But then the clerk nodded and pointed at our table. The couple turned to looked at us, something like recognition crossing their faces. They nodded to the clerk.

"Erasers," I breathed, so low Fang might not have heard me. He continued eating his mustard-grits. "Count of three." The Eraser started walking casually towards us. "Three!" I shouted. Fang shot up, lunging over his chair and almost running into the toddler. I grabbed our bags and dashed after him, tossing Fang his backpack. I caught up with him easily; I was always the faster sprinter, even though he was taller.

I heard the guests asking, "What's going on?" and the Erasers chasing us down, but I didn't look back. My breath came in steady, sharp breaths, my heart quickly adjusting to the rhythm.

"Well, you were built for this, Max. They built you all to survive," Deven butted in.

Shut up and help! I screamed at him. There was a short pause, and then a sharp twinge slammed into my head. I winced, about to curse at the Voice, but then 3-D blueprints of the hotel burst into my brain, blue dots marking where Fang and I were and red dots showing the Erasers, like some sort of map on a video game.

I gaped at the number of red dots, trying to count them all while still focusing on where I was running. At least eighty-five. Eighty-freakin'-five. Oh shit.

"The stairs," Fang gasped beside me. I snapped back to the present.

"No! Elevator!" I commanded.

"They're right behind us, Max!" Fang growled.

"They're all over the staircase!" I shot back. Fang frowned at me, but listened, skidding to a stop and slamming his hand against the elevator call button impatiently. The pair of Erasers were just moments away, already starting to morph.

"The elevator will come in about twenty-two seconds regardless of how hard he hits the button."

We don't have twenty-two seconds! I shouted at Deven.

"Then fight!"

I jumped at the nearest Eraser, the male one, kicking him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a half-step, then swung at me. I ducked under his fist, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it backwards.

"Fifteen seconds."

Fang joined the fray, knocking the girl Eraser's feet out from under her. She up quicker than I could ever managed and threw a punch at Fang, catching his shoulder.

"Ten seconds."

My Eraser grabbed my ponytail and yanked my head backwards. I hissed in pain, ripping myself away from him and backhanding him across the jaw.

"Five seconds."

I kicked the guy Eraser with all my force where it hurts and he fell to his knees, howling. I gave him another kick to the temple, and he was unconscious.

"Go!"

The elevator opened with a pleasant ding! behind us. "Fang!" I yelled. He glanced back at me and knocked his Eraser to the ground again. The second he cleared the elevator doors, I hit the button to close the doors and they slowly wheezed shut. I heard the female Eraser slam against the elevator doors, and then we were rising.

I checked for injuries; I was fine though I was going to have some wicked bruises in a few hours, Fang had a cut on his cheek but it was so small he probably didn't even feel it. He saw me looking and demanded, "So, why aren't we taking the stairs?"

"I told you. There's Erasers all over the stairs, they didn't think we'd take the elevator because they know we hate them," I snapped.

"How do you know?"

"I talk to God, remember?" I reverted my focus back to the map thing in my head. All the floors were smothered with red dots, though the floor our room was on was the worst. Good thing we'd already gotten our backpacks.

"Your best shot is the window in the middle of the hallway on the sixth floor. The squad leader's receiver is on the fritz, so they don't know that you've been found yet."

You ever going to tell me how you know this stuff? I asked grumpily.

"I was named 'Deven' for a reason."

I sighed, punching the button labeled '6'. "We're going through a window in the sixth floor hallway, so get ready," I informed Fang. He immediently shed his windbreaker, untucking his wings as much as he could in the cramped space. I copied him, prepping myself to run through a hallway teeming with Erasers. According to the blueprints Deven had given me, the window was forty yards from the elevator door. Forty yards and fifteen Erasers versus two bird-kids. If this was the best shot, I did not want to know what the worst one was.

"The worst plan would've been to return to your hotel room. Twenty-three Erasers and no way out that isn't being covered. Plus, they're expecting you to head that way."

I said I didn't want to know.

"It's always good to be informed."

I spared a glance at the screen above the doors. Fifth floor. I breathed deep. Forty yards. That wasn't so bad. It was the fifteen Erasers I was worried about. Fang and I were good, but we weren't that good. Maybe if we were up against fifteen of the older models, we'd have a good shot. But these new Erasers were stronger, faster, and a whole lot smarter.

Can't you just knock them out or paralyze them or something?

Deven snorted. I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard that is? Besides, I can only do so many things at once, and I'm already talking to you, keeping tabs on head Erasers, sending you a live feed, and keeping up defenses on your mind. I'm not a machine."

What defenses? From what?

Deven didn't reply. I groaned inwardly, then found Fang's hand beside me and squeeze it. "Don't fight, just run," I instructed. "And don't wait for me," I added, even though I knew he wouldn't follow the last order. It was worth a shot.

Fang frowned, but squeezed my hand back. And then the screen changed to "6" and the doors slid open with a ding!.

Fifteen Erasers whipped around to face us, surprise evident in their eyes. That wouldn't last long.

"Run!"

I dropped Fang's hand and broke into a sprint, Fang just inches behind me. We cleared the first few Erasers before they even knew what was going on. Then one of them, the squad leader I suppose, shouted something and they surged forward, crowding the small hall. I twisted and dodged around of a pair of them, hearing them collide behind me. Digging my elbow into another Eraser's hairy gut, I got to a clearing and ran forward.

Risking a glance backward, I found Fang jumping over a downed Eraser. I turned just in time to see three Erasers coming towards me, wielding stun guns. Great. Dropping to the ground, I rolled past them before popping back onto my feet. Multiple bangs followed me and two tranqs hit the wall while the last one emptied itself into an Eraser. Nice aim, idiots.

A hand pressed against my back and I nearly whirled around to hit the mangy mutt, but then I recognized Fang's touch. Running faster, I saw the window coming up ahead. Four Erasers were there, covering it. The rest of them were thundering just behind us. Crap, crap, crap, crap…

Fang slammed into the first Eraser, knocking him to the ground and kicking in his ribs. I lunged onto the Eraser nearest me, clapping my hands around her ears and jabbing her in the eyes. I rammed the Eraser hard and she stumbled backwards, crashing into the window and breaking it. The Eraser fell through and disappeared.

An alarm started ringing.

"Fang!" I yelled, already dodging another Eraser's punches. "Go!"

""No!" he hollered back. The rest of the Eraser had caught up and surrounded us. One of them tried to grab me, but I broke away, kicking wildly.

"GO!" I screamed. Fang ignored me stubbornly, wrenching a stun gun from one of the wolf men and whacking him across the head with it. More Erasers burst onto the scene, clogging the already claustrophobic hallway.

"Just go, Max! He'll come once you're out!"

Deciding that I was going to kill Fang the second we were out of here, (even if he was insane), I punched the Eraser nearest me in the muzzle, drop-kicked another, ducked under the arms of two particularly big Erasers, and leapt out the window. The glass dug into my skin and ripped bloody streaks into it. I fell a few feet before I could fully spread my wings, but then I was hovering, self-conscious of the humans walking below me, utterly oblivious.

Several agonizing seconds later, Fang burst out of the window, sporting a nasty cut on his temple. He nodded to me and we both flapped hard, pushing off higher into the air. I looked back and saw the bulky Erasers trying to climb out the window without getting too cut up. I laughed to myself, then sped up and caught a thermal to keep up with Fang.

"I am going to kill you," I deadpanned. Fang smirked knowingly. "Don't give me that look; I'm serious. I thought I told you not to wait for me."

Fang rolled his eyes, rubbing the gory mess on his forehead with the back of his hand. "You had to get out first. They were only after you; they didn't care about me."

"And how do you know that, oh bloody one?" I asked snidely.

Fang snorted. "I told you: you're the important one. The rest of us are redundant." I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "Besides, did you see any of them trying to grab me? No. They were just trying to get rid of me."

"He's right, it's true." Deven inserted.

I muttered, "You guys are important to me." Fang laughed and drifted over to me, flapping his wings in tune with mine. I noticed how his feather gleamed with his blood and frowned. Jeez. Did this guy feel no pain? How could he fly like that?

"If you're wondering, the pain register in his brain was desensitized during an experimental surgery on September 26th, 1998."

My mind practically back-pedaled. Wait—so he seriously feels no pain? And here I'd thought he was just toughing it out.

"Of course he can still feel it. Just not nearly as well."

Well, at least that explained why he barely ever complained. So let me get this straight—the whitecoats accidentally "desensitized" Fang's pain register?

Deven chuckled darkly. "It wasn't an accident. The six of you cost more money to make than Bill Gates earns in three years—which is a lot. The whitecoats don't make mistakes on experiments as costly as you."

Oh yeah? I shot back. What about Iggy?

"Iggy's blindness wasn't an accident."

I blinked. Not an accident? What? Of course it was an accident. I could still remember the day: Iggy came out of surgery later than usual, curled on the floor of his cage as they wheeled him back to our room. He cried himself to sleep that night, and it wasn't until the next day that the rest of us found out: they were trying to improve his night vision and screwed up. Or at least, that's what the whitecoats had told us.

"And you trust the whitecoats since… when?"

"Max?"

I snapped my focus back to Fang. "What's it saying?" he asked, a bead of blood slowly making its way down his face; he wiped at it irritably.

I sighed, banking so that I was beside him. "Apparently, the whitecoats blinded Iggy on purpose." Sick, sadistic scientists…

"I know."

I nearly snapped my neck when I wrenched it up to stare at him. "What? How do you know?"

Fang pursed his lips, refusing to look at me. His face became a blank slate, but I could almost hear him deliberating something in his head. Finally, he settled on an answer. "One of the whitecoats that would… talk to me sometimes. He told me, trying to get me mad." Fang immediately clamped his mouth shut, still not looking anywhere near me.

Dr. Newsom. The "psychoanalyzing" sessions.

I didn't push the issue. At least not with Fang, anyway.

But why did they want Iggy blind? I asked Deven.

"Iggy's avian genes came from a homing pigeon. You know about homing pigeons, don't you?"

Uh, no. Deven sighed.

"Like most birds, homing pigeons have an internal compass. But their navigational abilities go a lot further than just that; homing pigeons can find their way home no matter where you dump them off, no matter the conditions. That's why they're called 'homing pigeons'." Deven paused, letting me absorb this.

"The whitecoats were interested to see how far the ability would stretch with Iggy, since he's mostly human. However, since he is human, he wouldn't really need the ability, since he could always know where he was by just looking around or reading a map. So they made an executive decision to blind him, so he'd have to unconsciously lean on it more."

I realized that my mouth was open and closed it. So, uh, how far did it develop?

Deven laughed quietly. "A lot further than any of them thought it ever could. His mind is like a constantly changing map, shifting continuously whenever he gets information from outside stimuli. He imprints on everything and everyone he's with. Right now, if you called him, he could tell you exactly where you are on a map. He's an amazing kid."

If he's so amazing, why don't you go live in his head? I suggested casually.

"I don't 'live' in your head, Maximum. And I have been in his mind before. It was very fascinating, but rather hard to keep up with."

When were you—oh never mind, you probably won't tell me, will you?

"Nope."

I withdrew myself from the conversation and turned back to Fang, who was still looking a bit distant. I sighed and let myself drop down beside him. "Let's land and get cleaned up," I told Fang. He nodded distractedly and we started the descent towards the earth.

After a few minutes, we landed in a pretty rocky area. We scouted out a good looking cave and set up camp for the night. Somehow, I managed to coax Fang into letting me take care of his wings. He'd cut them up really bad going through the window; in some places, his wings were torn so badly, I could see the muscle. Most of his feathers were clumped together with dried blood. And he swore he just barely noticed.

I cleaned him us as best as I could with what water we had and poured nearly all of our antiseptic on him. You can't really bandage up wings because the feathers get in the way, but I tried. I gently combed his now sort-of-damp feathers with my fingers to straighten them out. Fang fidgeted uncomfortably the whole time; he wasn't used to being taken care off. He was relieved when I was finally done, leaping off the ground and standing up in one fluid motion.

"Let's get something to eat," he suggested.

"I'm not done with you yet," I replied. "Your forehead is still hideous."

Fang rolled his eyes, spat into his hand and rubbed the dried blood off his head. The gash was half way done healing. He pulled one more big Band-Aid out of the first aid kit and stuck it on his forehead. "Happy now?"

"Maybe." I examined the pair of us. Between all the old scars and the new cuts, we looked like we'd just came from a war zone. All of the thin lacerations on my legs were nearly healed, but it still looked like I'd ran through a field of thorns. Or cacti. Oh well. There wasn't much I could do about it, and we needed to eat. "Let's go."

We found a small town about twenty minutes away and stocked up on lots of cheap, wonderful junk food, filling our backpacks with it. We returned to the cave and had a beef jerky and Hostess cupcakes binge.

Stuffed, I stretched out on the ground, hands on my pleased stomach, examining the ceiling of the cave. Fang sat just behind me and played with my hair, whispering, "I've got first watch." I almost argued went him, but it was too late: I drifted beneath the waves of sleep.

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A/N: Crap ending, but oh well.

I've only got a week of school left, and then it's summer break for me. Once break starts, I'm gonna start updating a lot more. (Course, everyone does, that's why I love summer break so much! Lots of fanfic updates!) Wish me good luck on my finals… I've did Creative Writing and Biology finals today. Then Geometry and Advanced Grammar. Then Gym and English. Then Film/TV History and Health. Joy.

Review!