A.N. Yeah, yeah, I know I said I'd finish this story before the real Nevermore came out, blah blah blah. But let's face it. Life happens. And I happen to have a very busy life. And an acute case of chronic procrastination. So, new plan: I will write this story to the best of my ability, taking as long as necessary, making it as long as necessary, and doing my best to make sure that, above all else, the ending with be satisfying and NOT RUSHED. What do you think? To hold myself to this, I will not read Nevermore until I finish this story. I've already owned this book long enough to memorize the exact feather pattern on Max's wings on the book cover, but I still haven't opened up to the first page. (Even though I've already read the first sixteen chapters in the online sneak-peek.) Let's hear it for self-restraint!

For the record, I've been waiting over eighteen months for this book to come out! I may not be able to keep this promise. ;)

Anyways, here's Chapter 21, beginning with the POV of an Offensive team member who hasn't been featured in this story yet. Hope you like it!

I couldn't believe they were friends. Dylan, apparently, was thinking the same thing, as he mumbled confusedly, "Do you two hate each other or something?"

Kate and Star glanced at each other and burst into high, tinkling laughter. "As if!" Star snorted.

Dylan and I finally looked each other in the eye. For once, we could agree on something. Girls made no sense.

Offense, Chapter 21: Stakeout

Kate POV

Dylan, Fang, Star and I were scrunched behind a row of dumpsters. In Miami. Dressed as ninjas. Minus the throwing stars and bamboo poles. Those would just be overkill.

"Way to stereotype the Asian," I muttered under my breath. Star snickered lightly. Dylan looked apologetic, naturally, since he's pretty much the kindest person I've ever met. And Fang? It was like he was born to be a ninja. Not that this was much of a wardrobe change for him. He wore these clothes every. Single. Day. But I'm sure he had a good reason for that. Some deep-down instinctive urge to blend in (sometimes literally)? Maybe to draw less attention to himself? Maybe black was just his favorite color? I won't judge.

Why were we in Miami wearing dark costumes behind garbage bins? Well, the first thing we did after we split away from the rest of the Cause was head to the local airport. There... we hit a dead end. Until Fang checked his blog, and got a hot tip that the DGers were planning a rally.

In Miami, Florida of all places. Star was the most excited because of the promise of a tan.

In a flash, Star bought the tickets and we were on a flight to the Gateway to the Americas. I noticed Fang was really squirmy. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

Fang shivered. "It's just... the only other time I've ridden first class was with... was when..."

I understood. "With Angel," I finished for him gently. He nodded, and his eyes - normally stone cold and emotionless - were unmistakably filled with guilt. It got me thinking. All this time, everyone had been focused on the Gasman, the nine-year-old kid who blamed himself for his younger sister's death.

But had anyone really thought of Fang? He was less demonstrative with his feelings, a very stoic person. He didn't really draw any attention to himself when he could help it, and he took care of everyone else before himself. And he didn't do pity well. But that didn't mean he didn't have feelings. "Mr. Rock", as Max calls him, was human on the inside like the rest of us.

Well, he was only 98% human if you want to be literal about it. Then again, we were all diluted one way or another.

Had Fang been blaming himself for the Paris fiasco this whole time? I looked at Fang again with a new perspective. "You know, Fang, it's not your fault."

His eyes darted toward me, as if I had read his mind. He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "Yes, it is."

I can be stubborn at times. With Star, you have to be. So I metaphorically rolled up my sleeves and got ready to argue. "No, it's not."

Fang glared at me and squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. It's my fault. She told me so," he replied quietly.

I was confused. "Who? Angel? Whatever she said, it's not-"

"Not Angel." His eyes opened again and met mine, and I saw another flicker of guilt. "Max."

I remembered Max's reaction when Fang and the Gasman had emerged from the wreckage in Paris. She'd shrieked, "How could you leave her?!

Right there. Right there was a line that I did not want to cross. I knew Max and Fang had had a deep, close relationship in the past. I knew the basic rundown: they met when they were toddlers, grew up in cages together, escaped together, grew up together, took care of the other kids together with Iggy when Jeb left, rescued Angel together when she was kidnapped the first time, saved the world numerous times together, and fell in love together.

Dylan may have been Max's perfect other half, but Fang was her whole, and she was his. You could even see it when they fought, the way they glared at her, like they had been in battles to the death and knew each other better than they knew themselves. Whether they liked it or not, they were still connected on a foundational level.

With this in mind, I realized that if Max had blamed Fang for the accident, even out of grief or a split-second impulse, then that would stick with Fang for a long time. And who was I to mess with Fang's head like that? Especially when we needed him to stay focused.

So, I changed the subject. "Star, did we ever tell Dylan and Fang our backstory?"

Star had been trying to flirt with Dylan. (Don't tell Max. He was very loyal to her and didn't budge a bit. And Star's my best friend. I don't want Max to kill her. Yet.) She glanced over at me, her blue eyes slightly less cold than normal. "No, I don't think we did. Wanna start?"

"Sure." I cleared my voice. I had two goals for this tale: one, to distract Fang and two, to pass the time on this five-hour flight.

"Okay, so Star and I met at St. Theresa Coudere Academy in New Hampshire in the fourth grade. Funny thing, though. At first, we hated each other's guts..."

Flashback

I was drowning in a sea of maroon plaid skirts, white blouses, black closed-toed shoes, and maroon plaid ties. The smell of perfume nearly made me pass out, and the roar of feminine chatter clogged my ears. My fingers gripped my notebooks and textbooks tightly to my chest as I slid along the wall, searching for my locker. For a girl who had been homeschooled for her entire life before this moment, this was torture. A terrible nightmare. My first day of Catholic school.

I finally spotted it. Number 623. My fingers fumbled with the combination lock. What was it, what was it? I desperately spun the dial while avoiding screaming teen and pre-teen girls left and right. Got it! I shoved my things into the locker and grabbed my lunch box. I mentally groaned as I slammed my locker door and followed the flow of the hallway to the cafeteria. If there was one thing I absolutely loathed as of that day, it was passing periods.

The herd of Catholic schoolgirls emptied out into the lunchroom and started filling up seats faster than you could say 'Our Father who art in heaven'. I felt like a number, and not a human being. I saw an empty seat at a table by the windows and sat down in it.

First mistake.

In the blink of an eye, a blonde girl with icy blue eyes appeared at my side. I mean, her eyes were literally so freezing cold when they looked at you that you felt chills go down your spine. Even if I were standing, she would have still been taller than me. She had perfect highlights and flawless skin. But at that moment, she seemed more like a bull, imaginary steam coming from her ears and her face turned up in a scowl.

"You," she said, her voice so sharp that I jumped with every word. "Out of my seat. Like, now."

I looked around at the cafeteria. There weren't any more decent seats anywhere. So, I said, "I was here first. Sorry." I gave her a small smile and started to unzip my lunchbox.

That was mistake number two.

She sniffed, rolling her eyes. "Who are you, anyway?"

I looked at her. "I'm Kate Tan Wei Ying." I held out my hand to shake, but she wrinkled her nose like I had just picked my nose with it.

"Oh, well lookie here, it's Kate Tan Wei Ying!" she mocked me in a nasally accent that was totally not mine. I didn't let it phase me though, just shrugged it off.

This bothered her, and the blonde girl hissed, "Do you have any idea who I am?" The attention of everyone in the room was on us now. Girls were whispering in each other's ears. I swear I saw some of them placing bets. But on what?

I looked her over. She had diamond earrings, the real kind, expensive-looking patent leather flats, and was that a Louis Vuitton purse on her shoulder?

This girl was rich, but I wasn't going to back down so easy. I said what may have been the boldest, rudest, most defiant statement in my life, "Someone who needs to find another seat."

Third mistake. Strikeout.

The cafeteria gasped and went silent. I nonchalantly picked up my soy yogurt and started to eat it. The blonde girl acted out, grabbing it from my hands, smearing it on my face and shirt, and actually kicking me out of my chair. I landed on the floor in a stunned heap, shocked that someone would actually do that. The blonde girl pulled out my Ziploc bag of carrots and emptied it out onto me. She followed up with my celery sticks and hummus, and topped it off with my bottle of cold, peach smoothie.

I was trembling. With anger? With humiliation? With disgust at my ruined brand-new clothes? I don't know. I simply sat on the floor, staring up at the cruel girl who was now sitting primly in my -no, her - seat.

She peered at me from the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself, and knelt down to look me in the face. "You're obviously new here. For your information, my name is Star Harrington. And in the future, don't cross me. My father, like, owns this school. I can get you expelled. So take my advice, and just stay out of my way."

I stood to my feet slowly, dripping with orange-colored smoothie and sending the rest of my lunch raining to the tiled floor with a light pitter-patter. What do you say to that? I was a pacifist, dedicated to preserving peace and avoiding confrontation. And I was a sheltered nine-year-old girl. I didn't say anything, just shook my head in disbelief and left the silent cafeteria.

As I slammed the door to the bathroom stall and leaned against it, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I sniffled, and this burning hot feeling started to climb into my throat. It strangled me, engulfed me, hit the pit of my empty, hungry stomach. My skin flushed and I slid to the ground, sobbing. This new, unexpected feeling was hatred.

I hated Star Harrington. Even more than passing periods.

End of Flashback

"Okay, Star, do you want to continue?"

Star grinned and elbowed me lightly. "You make me sound so evil!"

"You were."

Star POV

"Yeah, you're probably right. So let's see, Kate got served and I got my seat back..."

Flashback Continues

"You showed her, Star" my friend, Allie, said as she ate her Lean Cuisine chicken dish of the day.

"Totally! Like, who does she think she is?" giggled my other friend, Lindsey.

I felt like gloating, but something about that girl's expression stuck with me. It wasn't too out of the ordinary; I'd shown, like, the entire school who was boss at one point or another, so I was used to the typical glances of fear, respect, anxiety, etc.

But this girl, what was her name, Kate Something? This girl seemed stunned that someone would dare do what I had just done. Like she was completely, like, foreign to the concept of meanness.

Which made me think.

Was I mean? As usual, whenever I started to have self-doubts, I ask my friends their opinions. "Hey. Am I, like, a mean person?"

Allie and Lindsey looked up from their lunch and immediately started reassuring me that "No, of course not" and "You're only putting people in their rightful place". I relaxed a bit, but I was distracted for the rest of the day, thinking about Kate and the idea that I was mean.

The next day, I was sitting in class. And who should show up and happen to sit in the seat right behind me but Kate Tan Wei Ying?

I swear I could, like, feel her eyes on the back of my neck the entire period. I could practically hear her sharpening a knife and preparing to slit my throat or something. This continued all morning long, and Kate seemed to have stalked my entire class schedule. It was, like, a horror movie or something, where the zombie pops out when you least expect it. She even used the bathroom the same time as me, she was that scary.

Finally, it was lunchtime, and my friends and I moved towards our normal table by the window, and guess who was sitting in my spot again? That's right. Kate.

So at this point, I was confused and kind of freaked. I had never had a problem with any of the other people at this school; they respectfully avoided me, and I respectfully ignored them. I had to set things straight.

"You. Out of my seat," I demanded, just like the day before.

Kate looked up from her salad and gave me this look, like I was the one who wanted her seat, her eyes were narrowed, the whole bit. "No," she replied coolly, and took another bite.

The cafeteria gasps, a repeat of yesterday, and I sigh. "Do you want to die?" Kate ignored me, so I prepared for my normal kick-out-of-the-seat regimen. "Alright, you're asking for it..."

But inches before my foot connected, Kate was out of the seat, had grabbed my leg, and flipped me onto the ground on my stomach. The silence was so big you could hear a pin drop.

Oh, no. There's no way this new girl was going to, like, take me down in front of the entire school. I had to show her who was in charge.

I squirmed out of her grasp and kneed her in the chest, and she stumbled backwards. The cafeteria swarmed around us yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Kate and I stood in face-off, daring each other to make a move. Blood was pounding in my ears because I'd never had an actual, like, fight before. Kate and I leaped at each other, fists were flying, nails were scratching, the whole dang shebang. The assistant principals eventually came in and pulled us away from each other, but we were still trying to get at each other's throats.

Instead of sitting us down in the principal's office like I'd expected, the assistant principals locked us in a classroom and told us to "settle our differences like grown adults".

As soon as they were gone, Kate and I turned on each other, and I hissed, "Why do you want to do this?"

Kate glared, answering, "I don't."

"Then why are you fighting?!"

Kate, panting, replied, "I'm not."

"Wait a minute. What?" I didn't get this girl.

"It's self-defense."

"Self-de..."

"I don't start quarrels. But that doesn't mean I won't end them."

"Okay, hold up. First of all, who says 'quarrels' anymore? Second, you totally started this fight." By now, Kate and I had put our fists down to our sides.

"I didn't! You were about to kick me. I don't like violence. I'm a pacifist, and I'm a vegan. I value life. But you, for some reason, can't say the same!"

I paused for a beat. It all clicked together. Her lunch from yesterday, the fact that she really had only been blocking me and deflecting me and rolling away from me in the fight the entire time...

We just eyed each other in silence for a while, and she stepped forward with her hand out and said, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Kate Tan Wei Ying. I'm a new student here at St. Theresa Coudere Academy. My family and I just moved here from Singapore."

I looked at her outstretched hand. Did this girl really want to make peace? Pacifistic vegan here, hello? Part of me wanted to instinctively reject it, but another part of me didn't want to be the "mean girl" anymore.

I shook her hand and muttered begrudgingly, "I'm Star Harrington." I even went so far as to add, "Pleasure to meet you."

And you know what? Kate was actually really cool. Unlike Allie and Lindsey, she didn't hesitate to, like, criticize me or tell me stuff I was doing wrong. And whenever she was around, she always made me feel like a bully who stole people's lunch money, she was such a goody-goody. So I cleaned up my act, stopped terrorizing the student population, junk like that.

After a few weeks or so, Kate got to be a really good friend of mine. Five years later, we were walking on our way to the movies, and Kate noticed this, like, black van tailing us for about three blocks.

Now, everyone always says that white unmarked vans equal drug-dealers or kidnappers or bank robbers. But black unmarked vans? I know now that those are even worse.

Kate and I started picking up our pace. The van sped up. We started a light trot. The van sped up. Eventually, we were full-out sprinting, and the van had pulled up alongside us. We darted sideways into an alleyway and came out on another street, and waiting for us was another black unmarked van.

At this point, Kate was whimpering and I was thinking, This is bad. This is bad. This is really, really bad. To emphasize just how bad the situation was, out of the two black unmarked vans jumped four punks with hypodermic syringes. They rushed us and we tried to fight them off, but come on. We were a couple of normal, fourteen-year-old girls all alone, outnumbered by a bunch of older, grown men with needles. We lost, okay? We weren't, like, Maximum Ride or anything.

Kate and I woke up who knows how many hours/days later in a laboratory. Kate was strapped to a laboratory table across from me, and as our eyes met, I knew we were in deep doo-doo. We were lucky, in a way, because it didn't seem like we'd been beat up or... worse.

But we were tied to lab tables in an unknown location. So there was that.

A few minutes after we came to, these, like, scientists came in and started setting up monitors and filling up shots and stuff. I'm like, "Hello? Mind telling us who you are, and, oh, I don't know, WHAT THE BANANAS WE'RE DOING HERE?!"

And you know what they did? They gave me one glance and went along with their business. I kept trying to get their attention, but they kept ignoring me. Then they started experimenting with us, and...

End of Flashback

"You know what? I'm not going to get into the details, because you all know what happened. You've been through it, too. So basically, Kate got enough strength to lift, literally, like, a ton (A.N. That's about 907 kilograms if you're not an American.). I got out of the situation with speeds that can break the freaking sound barrier. Not that I'm bragging or anything," I added, examining my nails.

Fang urged me on, "Then what happened?"

I sighed and continued, "So eventually we were released into the wild, as it were, and of course the whole world seemed to be happy we were back. My dad had been especially freaked out, so when I came back, he almost hired bodyguards for me, which would have totally destroyed my social life. Kate and I had to hide our abilities from everyone else, play it off like nothing had happened. After that whole ordeal, I realized the only person I felt could really understand me was Kate. She'd been through what I'd been through."

Kate said, "One day, about six months after we were 'enhanced', I overheard a girl in the hallway talking about your blog, Fang. I mentioned it to Star and we looked it up on a library computer during our free period. We saw your blog post calling for mutants to join your group."

"And the rest is history," I finished.

Dylan and Fang sat back in their seats. Dylan whistled. "Wow. That's quite a story."

Fang looked out the window. "Hey. We're here. Welcome to Miami."

Kate POV

Since none of us had suitcases to get from baggage claim or anything, we left the airport as soon as we arrived.

"Alright," Star said, staring longingly at the palm trees, the bright sun, and the feel of a beach nearby. "What's the plan? Because if there isn't one, I vote we spend the rest of the day catching some sun and playing beach volleyball." I could tell she was actually somewhat serious.

Dylan and Fang started talking at once. They stopped and stared at each other, and you could tell that even though these guys had fought together in Paris, things were still tense with the whole "who owns Max" situation. (Again, I hope no one tells Max about this. She would get really mad the boys still thought of her as a trophy bird-girl or something.)

Fang concedes, "You first."

"I was just going to suggest we find better clothes and equipment for fighting and such. Because right now," Dylan said, glancing at Star's mini-skirt and my flowy tunic, "I doubt we'd be able to fight very well."

Fang interjected, "Well, I was going to suggest we find the Doomsday Group's location and set up a stakeout to try to get a feel for what we're up against."

"No, I really think we should get some combat gear first."

"Actually, the stakeout is more important."

"Gear."

"Stakeout."

"Gear!"

"Stakeout!"

Okay, clearly, this argument was not about combat gear or stakeouts. The testosterone was filling the air like the gas from a certain little boy I know who likes to... erm... break wind. I walked between the two hormonal teenage guys and said soothingly, "I think that both of those are great ideas. How about Star and I go find us all some new combat gear while you two track down the DGers? We can meet up, change into our new clothes, and find a good stakeout spot. How does that sound?" After a pause, Dylan and Fang nodded, their eyes still locked on each other, daring each other to break the stare. "Alright, I'll leave you two to it."

About three hours later, Star and I meet up with Fang and Dylan at an intersection with a corner McDonald's a few blocks down from where Fang and Dylan said they saw some suspicious activity. Star and I wait inside McDonald's for the boys to come out of the restroom with their new stuff on. I cringed at the sound of deep fryers, the smell of burger patties sizzling on grills, and people all around me eating meat.

I was practically suffocating in there. This was why I usually chose to sit outside when I had to eat at places like this. All of those dead cows... Oh. My. Gosh.

I couldn't get out of there fast enough. As soon as the boys left the restroom, I was almost sprinting down the street towards our stakeout point. Star was right behind me.

This was where we were perched like ninjas behind some dumpsters in a dark backstreet, listening and watching for anything whatsoever. Suddenly, a small chant started creeping up to us. "The One Light shall set you free." It started quiet, but grew louder and louder, as if something were approaching us. "The One Light shall set you free." I anxiously exchanged glances with the others, and I noticed that Dylan looked the most agitated and was mouthing something. "Per-pon" or something? Was that a name, maybe? I never was good at reading lips.

Out of nowhere, the alleyway was flooded with bright, unnatural light. "The One Light shall set you free." They were coming from above us, left and right, and even echoing up from the sewers under the grate beneath our feet.

We were trapped.

A.N. Yes, I know, this was a really long FILLER CHAPTER with a REALLY LONG BACKSTORY that added almost NOTHING to the actual PLOT in this story. But I wanted to update this story without doing that thing where the update is just an author's note with no chapter.

I hate those.

So yeah. That's my take on how Kate and Star met. Now they're mutant - I'm sorry, enhanced - frenemies/best friends. And our Offense Team is in Miami, Florida. Will they be able to defeat the approaching DGers? Will Fang and Dylan resolve their differences? Will Dylan share Nudge's secret about who the One Light really is? Will they get out of this alive?

You'll have to wait until the next chapter. And I'll have to wait until I finish this entire freaking story before I read Nevermore! I have the book sitting up on my desk right now. Max is eyeing me with her giant grey-toned feathery wings. The spiky font of the broken-up word NEVERMORE shines in the light of my desk lamp. "THE FINAL MAXIMUM RIDE ADVENTURE" swims in the foreground of my vision in 3D. The crashing foamy ocean waves are actually audible to me. And that sticker. Oh my goodness, that silver, embellished sticker that reads in all caps "Maximum Ride R.I.P".

This book is literally e.

I will go insane unless I get some reviews. So review! :D (Flames welcome.)