Hey guys. Please forgive me if I start to make my updates even more sporadic: but, as I'm only human, I can either give you short, crappy chapters on time, or long, well-written, good chapters a little late and randomly. Which would you prefer? It's a rhetoric question, people.

Anyways...

Nintendochick74:

Yes, climatic, meaning I'm milking it for all it's worth. Patience my friend, patience.

Bookworm101:

Here's your chapter.

faxness lover ():

Yes, Max has changed, but that's what loosing your boyfriend/best friend will do to you.

Someone made a very good point: Why didn't Max just go after him with her superspeed? I realize I wasn't clear on this in the past few chapters, and I'm sorry. Max didn't go after him at first, because she thought that he just needed to blow off some steam, get his head on straight, and he'd be back. It wasn't until she got the CD, and his note, that she realized he wasn't coming back, and by then, it was too late. Hope that clears it up for anyone that was wondering.

Disclaimer:

Buying TAE, SOF, STWAOES, TFW, and MAX... two weeks of babysitting money.
Staying up all night reading them on a school night before a test... one nap during said test and a scolding
Desire to find out the characters are real... one goal in life.
Knowing I will never own the Maximum Ride series... one broken heart.
Enjoying the love between Fang and Max (and manipulating them to do my will in fanfictions)... priceless.

Oh, and as I was typing this, I was listening to music on youtube to get me in the mood, and from 'Like We Never Loved at All' to a song I'd never heard before called 'There You'll Be' by Faith Hill. It's an amazing song and I definitely recommend listening to it. It's not just a romance song: it's about family, friends, whoever you want it to be about. That's part of what makes it so amazing.

Max POV (Oh, and when Ricki's talking, it's not typos, he's 18 months old!!)

My breath caught in my throat and I froze. The Shredder dug the gun even deeper into my ribs and I hissed in pain.

"What do you want?" I whispered hoarsely.

"Get up," a Shredder ordered harshly. Now, normally, I'm not one for the whole compliance thing, but when I hesitated, one of them cocked a gun and aimed it at Ricki. He was only two feet away: there was no way he could miss. I swallowed hard and forced my legs get me out of bed and support my weight. The Shredder moved the gun with me so it stayed pressed against my stomach as I stood up.

"What the heck do you want?" I repeated.

"You come with us."

"Like heck I will," I retorted, instantly regretting my words as a Shredder pressed the gun to Ricki's temple.

"You will come with us, or we will shoot the little one."

Speak of the devil, Ricki's eyes popped open and he looked terrified to find a gun pressed to his head.

"Ma?"

I tried to manage a smile.

"Hey buddy. Look, stay still and quiet, okay? when the flock and Mommy and daddy wake up, tell them I love them, but I had to go. Can you do that, baby?"

He nodded solemnly and I inhaled sharply as I saw the Shredder holding the gun twitch his finger.

"Ya, Ma. I do."

I wanted so badly to hug my brother, to kiss his cute little cheeks and tell him everything would be okay, and get him far away from all these murderous jerks. But, we both had guns pointed at us, so I just smiled at him.

"I want everyone to leave before I do: I want to make sure that he's okay and you keep your word and don't touch him."

The Shredder boss guy hesitated before snarling at his minions and they trickled out, one by one, until it was just me, Ricki and the hybrid with the gun left in the room. I was tempted to make a run for it, before I noticed the Shredders standing in the doorway. If I tried to escape, they'd shoot me and Ricki without blinking.

"Go back to sleep, Ricki," I ordered. He scowled at me and I scowled right back. After a moment, he grudgingly laid back down and closed his eyes. Gradually, his breathing slowed and his face relaxed.

The Shredder waved his gun at me and we backed out of the room. I stepped out of the room and onto the stair way and instantly, I was surrounded by all the Shredders. We tiptoed down the stairs and out the back door. I had the urge to call out for the flock as we passed their bedroom doors, but a gunbarrel pressed into my side kept me quiet. If I yelled, they'd kill the flock and my family.

Once we were outside, they walked faster, jostling me roughly to keep me going in the right direction. I have no clue how long we walked, all I know is that I was shoved, pushed, or knocked down more times than I care to count. Every time I fell, I was pulled up non too gently by my hair or arm. I was bruised all over by the time we stopped.

The first thing I noticed was he black SUV parked in the middle of the desert. Way to be inconspicuous, people, way to be. The second thing I noticed was that they were coming at me with duct tape. Nuh-uh. That stuff hurts like heck to rip off.

One of the Shredders went to help one of its buddies, and I saw my chance. I made a break for it, racing out of there as fast as my legs would carry me. As soon as I'd gotten enough speed behind me, I whipped my wings out and headed for the sky. For a moment, the wonderful rush of air past my face had me thinking I was invincible. Then, a clawed, furry hand grabbed my ankle.

I twisted around to see a Shredder clinging to me like Ricki to a chocolate chip cookie. Crap! The weight of my fuzzy stowaway was pulling me to Earth way to quickly for my comfort zone. I tried kicking him off, but he was a stubborn bugger. I kicked him in the face, but that seemed to make him even madder. He growled and yanked on my leg painfully. By this point, we were freefalling and about to hit the dirt. This was gonna hurt.

"Oomf!" The air was knocked out of me as we collided with the desert ground. I thanked my lucky stars that my 300-pound tagalong didn't land on me: that would've stunk. I was still stunned from my crash when the rest of the gang came running over, all growling and snarling up a storm.

One of them grabbed me by my hair and yanked me up.

"What were you thinking!?" It frothed at the mouth.

Apparently, my fall had messed up my brain even more than I'd thought, because instead of staying quiet, I'd fired off a trademark reply to the 400-pound killer hybrid dangling me by my hair.

"Oh, didn't you know? I've started my own business: sightseeing Arizona from the air. They say it's to die for."

Yep, definitely should've kept my mouth shut.

Apparently, Shredders don't react well to sarcasm. He lashed out, smacking me across the face. I bit my lip, holding in the cry of pain. Pain is just a message. A really, really annoying message that you can't delete, but a message nontheless. The fact that I was still standing seemed to really tick the Shredder off, because he punched me. Holy milk producing animal, this guy can pack a punch.

I stumbled back, falling to the ground hard. It felt like a semi had just run over me, then gone in reverse and hit me again. Once I was in the dirt, it was a free-for-all. Heavy, boot-clad feet were kicking me all over. Back, stomach, shoulders, legs, everywhere. The pain was excruciating. Yes, I'd been hit worse before, but this was repeatedly in a short amount of time, and it was really taking a toll. I'm be gonna be a pretty rainbow of colors tomorrow...

I closed my eyes and just prayed for this to stop. After what seemed like an eternity, my prayers were answered in the form of a hard kick to my head and I let the darkness take over.

*-*-*-*-*

Pain. That was the first thing I noticed. Pain, and lots of it. I groaned as I opened my eyes, even that little movement made me want some Tylenol. Or something stronger, like Valium. Actually, scratch that last one. I have to draw the line somewhere. Biting my lip hard, I struggled up. Ow... Valium actually doesn't sound so bad now.

My survival instincts were kicking in, and I took inventory of my predicament and health.

Bruises, cuts, and lotsa aches and pains? Check.

Totally alone in the trunk of the SUV? Check?

Ankles, wrists, and wings duct-taped? Check.

Worried and stressing about Flock and family? Check.

Worried about my own safety? Yeaaaaa... no. Not really.

Don't look at me that way. Why should I be worried about myself? I'm half-dead already. Yeah, I can walk, run fly... well, not so much right now, but I'm breathing, my heart is pumping. No. That's only live physically. Emotionally, I'm dead. Numb. I don't really care if I live or die now, I hope it's painless, or as pain-free as possible.

And yes, suicide is preferable to the School. The only thing that keeps most of us from killing ourselves is that we don't really have anything to do it with. It's like a prison: no shoelaces, ect. The whitecoats tended to flip out if they found an experiment trying to purposefully trying to kick the bucket. One of the experiments had managed to kill themselves when I was about 8, and since then, the stupid scientists monitored us hybrids carefully.

Whatever. I'll deal with whatever hand I'm dealt. If I die, great. No more pain. If I don't, whatever. No agony they can put me through can break through my depression. If you haven't cottoned in, I don't really care about my life.

The SUV screeched to a halt and sent me flying into the back of the seat in front of me and out of my depressing thoughts. Ouch. I could feel the blood running down my face and when I opened my mouth slightly, I could taste its salty, coppery flavor. Just one of the perks of growing up in a lab where they experiment on you: the taste of blood doesn't make you even gag.

The door was yanked open and a hairy Shredder paw grabbed me and pulled me out of the trunk and onto the hard ground. What is it with me and falling/ramming/being thrown into things tonight? I'm sure my brain is sloshing around in my skull and I'll have permanent mental damage now. Of course, I'm not sure how they'd tell the difference.

I was pulled up and carried through the halls of the School. Goosebumps were crawling all over me and I was twitching uncontrollably. The smell alone was enough to send me sobbing into the fetal position, if I lacked the amount of self-control I do.

I was thrown (literally) into what looked like some sort of cell. I was still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, so I just lay there on the white linoleum and counted the white-painted bricks that made up the wall I was facing. I was too tired and sore to face my head to look around the rest of the cell-thingy, so when I was done, I just recounted the same bricks.

I was at brick 57 ½ when I felt someone flip me over. A hand was clamped on my mouth, muffling my scream, but when I looked, I couldn't see anyone there.

"What the heck are you doing here?"

Black eyes that I hadn't seen in years were suddenly in front of me, glaring at me with a frightening intensity.

Fang.

Ooh, cliffy. Just be thankful: I almost left you with her getting flipped over by a stranger. It's late, and I'm tired, so here's a quick blurb. At least 30 reviews for the next chapter please, if you want an update.

REVIEW or Max will just drop dead. You can tell how tired I am.

Please feel free to inform me of any ideas, questions, grammar mistakes, random ramblings that you want someone to actually read, whatever. I read and reply to all of my reviews.

Oh, and this will not be one of those:

Fang (tearing up): Oh, Max, I'm so sorry! I thought about you all the time!

Max: You did? Aww, that's so sweet and shows you really love me! I still love you! Kiss me you fool!

*Cue makeout session and emotional sobfest,* stories. That's not realistic, or In Character. Or fun for me to write. I usually have the urge to hit myself after I read one of those stories, unless it's done really well.

--Dallas