A/N- There's a male Swedish exchange student in my drama class. I thought these things only happened in movies…

POV-switching time! It's mainly in Max's POV, but when Max isn't around, I have to go to a third-person limited style of writing. I'm also going to involke writer's liberty and ask for suspension of disbelief for the remainder of the story for creativity's sake.

Recap: Jeb and Ter Borcht are missing; Nudge isn't around; boxes arriving at Lucia's (Dr. M's sister) house; the Flock think that something's about to happen, but have no idea what; llamas have taken over the world.

No, I was kidding about the llamas. But it would be awesome if they had.


Something was changing.

At first I couldn't tell what it was. I should have realized it the second Nudge came to me a week or two ago and wondered if she'd ever find true love. But I ignored it. Maybe it was because I refused to believe it. A few near-death experiences later, and Fang reveals his closest secret. Next, I learn about Mom and Lucia's twisted past.

You know, in two weeks I figured out why everything was so…turbulent.

We were all growing up.

It sounds stupid, I know, I know, I know, but it's true.

What will happen to us as we age? One day, will expiration dates appear on the back of our necks? I honestly can't see us growing old. Picture a bunch of eighty-year-olds with wings. It just doesn't look right, at least, not to me.

We were all growing up, and I had absolutely no idea what to do.

The Flock was starting to pick up on my down mood. "Can we help, Max?" Gazzy asked.

I smiled, unsure if it was real or not. "I'm fine, Gaz!" It sounded fake even to me. Pathetic, Max, really.

We were sitting in the kitchen, which had become an excellent congregating spot due to its proximity to food. The Flock –sans Nudge, who was off doing her own thing- stared at me as I slowly ate a banana. After two minutes of Max-watching, I sighed. "Have I grown a third arm or something? It'd be kind of cool if I did, though."

"No," Angel said. "But we all realize why you're feeling sad- you don't want us to grow up."

"No," I interrupted. "That's not true- I just don't know what will happen when you do."

"It's a matter of life, Max," Iggy said. "You know it as much as we do. But what point is there in living if you're sad all the time? We only get one shot at life. We might as well put everything we've got into it." I knew he was trying not to self-pity himself, and I give him serious Awesome Points for that.

"I know…but with all of this tension, we know there's going to be something big happening. And soon!"

"Have you seen Stella lately?" Fang asked. "She really anxious and shirty. I think she feels the same way as you."

"Your Mom, too," the Gasman added. "And Lucia."

I groaned and leaned back so the front two legs of my chair were off the ground. "I hate just- not- knowing!"

"We've been in these situations before, Max," Iggy said. "Why so worried now?"

I couldn't answer that. I wouldn't. Unfortunately, having two people who can read your thoughts make keeping secrets a thing of the past. Privacy: it's so last year.

In a low voice, Angel said, "She feels like some people won't come back this time."

I put my face in my hands. "Angel!" I directed my thoughts specifically to her: Why'd you say that? It's horrible for moral!

They need to know.

"Max, if we all promise to survive whatever's coming, will that make you feel better?" That was Fang, always one for trying to boost my thoughts. If we were alone, I would have hugged the guts out of him.

I nearly guffawed, though. "You can't promise something like that!"

"The future can be re-written," was all he said. "Well, Max, I promise you that I'll survive."

Everyone else around the table nodded their assent.

"I do, too." Nudge was standing in the doorway, looking down on her shoes.

"Nudge!" Iggy said, before a blush blasted over his face. I remembered our conversation three days ago, and his love triangle problem. Aww. I'd say that it was cuter than a bucket full of puppies. Cute puppies.

"Sorry I haven't been around lately," she said. "I was just…thinking. But anyways, what are we promising?"

"To not die," Gazzy said simply. He laughed. "Max is all worried."

Don't you love it when people talk about you like you're not even there?

"Guys, we don't even know something is going to happen!" I didn't believe myself, and everyone else knew it too. "Well," I said. "If we do have to fight eventually, we might as well be prepared."

Honestly, I regreted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth.

"What do you mean?" the Gasman asked.

"Well," I said, "you and Iggy can make explosives out of just about anything, right?"


They could.

Turns out Gazzy read the book Fight Club. From there, you learn how to make napalm from gasoline, orange juice, diet soda and cat litter. Now that is skill. Add those things to a few Internet guides written by overactive high-schoolers who took chemistry, and you've got a lethal force.

Doing all that without blowing yourself up is harder than it looks.

Epic. Just plain old epic.

The rest of the Flock took the time to make other various traps and explosives. We kept this all secret from the adults: if they found out, we were pretty sure heads would roll.

"And even if we don't use all these soon," Fang commented, "we have them for the future."

Because we're totally going to need them for the future. Catch the sarcasm?

After five days of building explosives I looked at the results with a mixture of dread and happiness. Dread coming from the fact that I knew what these were going to do, but happiness in knowing we were prepared. Normally I wouldn't be this presumptuous, but this was a whole new ball game, and I wanted to be on the winning team.

We had found a room in the basement of Lucia's house that was empty and full of cobwebs. We packed all of the explosives- which were all various sizes and wrapped in brown packaging paper- into large bins we labeled 'Easter Decorations'.

I'm not sure an Easter bunny would want to have anything to do with what was in those bins- unless it was the Rabbit of Caerbannog, of course. Or maybe the swamp rabbit that attacked Jimmy Carter.

Those rabbits are nasty, folks.

The room, which was about the size of Mom's old kitchen, was packed ceiling-to-floor with the bins. Nudge was eyeing the 'Decorations'.

"Isn't that a little obvious?" she asked. "All of them being Easter?"

"And what if someone finds this?" the Gasman asked. He and Iggy had just come downstairs after finishing putting together a batch of lye, which I really, really didn't ever want to use.

"Well, the top of the bin is covered with actual decorations," I answered. "And there's also this on the door."

I pointed to the entrance of the room. At knee level was a small black square an inch thick.

"I found it tucked away in my closet," explained Fang. "You know those cheap 'Spy' packages you can buy in dollar stores that have those alarms that go off if someone's in your stuff?"

Gazzy smiled. "So you modified it?"

Fang nodded. "Yeah, so now it's like an alarm juiced up on steroids. If someone opens the door, we'll know. We put the actually alarm, that one that sounds off, under the kitchen table. It's about the size of a deck of cards, so we just used duct tape to attach it."

"Duct tape," I interrupted, moving around some of the bins. "Savior of the universe."

Fang shot me a what the hell? look.

"Anyyyways," he continued, giving me another rueful glance, "it was actually Angel who took the alarm apart and hyped it up."

"Really?" Gazzy was dumbfounded, unaware of his sister's mad talent. "That thing is so tiny! Since when has she done anything in…what's it called…nen…nana… nanotechnology?"

"I haven't," Angel said, walking up to us. Judging from her wet hair, I'd say she just took a bath. "But Stella has. I just dug around for the necessary information."

"So from another person, you managed to learn how to do something that most people have to study for years to understand?"

"Yup!"

It made sense, but it was still sort of eerie. I hadn't thought of it before. If Angel wanted to, she could learn anything. She picked up on my thoughts. With an angelic expression, for lack of better term, she said, "I try not to do things like that, but I needed to know!"

The key word being 'try', Fang said to me. I could tell that this thought was being kept from her.

No kidding. But is it just me, or are the adults around less and less these days? We could have stashed these bins in the kitchen and no one would have noticed.

That was quite the topic change, he said wryly. But I agree. And when they are around, they're more distracted than ever. Especially since Jeb and Ter Borcht's disappearance.

I sighed. I feel…wrong. This is way too preemptive. It's stupid doing this…

Trust me, Max.

I motioned him out of the room full of explosives into the conjoining one that had a living room setting. We sat away from the rest of the Flock, who were talking near the door.

"Fang," I said, slight hysterics coming into my voice, "This is wrong! We can't just make homemade explosives to kill! I know it was my idea and all, but I was thinking irrationally..."

"Max…" Fang put a hand on each of my shoulders. "We have to do what we can to protect the Flock."

"But…"

Fang put a finger to my lips. "We'll be okay, Max."

He kissed me briefly on the lips, which I really hadn't expected. He pulled back and stared at me. I was torn between kissing him back or walking away.

I chose the first option.

I grabbed his head, brought it down to mine –he was taller than me, bah- and kissed the living daylights out of him. He brought his hands up to the back of my head.

A few blissful moments later –I never, ever thought I would use the word 'blissful'- Gazzy started wolf-whistling. "I never knew you were so promiscuous, Max."

I stepped away from Fang, who had a dazed look about him. "And where did you learn that word?"

He sniggered. "Nelly Furtado."


"Damn it! It isn't going to work."

The man stalked down the hall with his partner beside him. One of the men was in his mid-thirties, but his face was lined with wrinkles. The second man was obviously older, and had an obvious hunch. A third person, a woman, was far down the hall and watching the duo.

The second man shook his head. "We have to keep our cool. Otherwise, it just won't work."

"But Max has already started to figure it out…"

"The boxes were sent in, correct?"

"Naturally," the first man said, running a hand through his hair. "Val got the things delivered, right?"

"Yes, and the correct order as well, thank God. If she'd gotten the real one, we'd have no chance."

The first man shrugged off his lab jacket. He missed San Francisco, where their headquarters had previously been. Nevada was just too damn hot! But seeing as the equivalent of the Armageddon was about to occur, he needed to oversee everything. "Yeah, it'll work quite well. Hopefully. We need this, you know? I can't believe you agreed to this. You started it."

The older man smiled grimly. "Max and Fang's abilities could define us as some of the most important people in the world, if we do it correctly."

The brightly-lit hallway didn't hide the shadow that fell across the younger man's face. "I…I know. I can do this. I can do this."

And without warning, the older man, who was maybe in his fifties or sixties, punched the younger man in the face.

The latter recoiled with a hiss. "What the hell was that for?"

"Don't doubt yourself, we've worked too hard to get here! If you need to build up your confidence, do it somewhere else. Everything is in place. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

And with that, the two men parted ways, with the infinity of worlds between them.


Valencia Martinez stared at the experiments around her. Several books were spread over the desk, and she had both a PC and laptop running with Internet screens up. Diagrams, figures and illustrations covered the remaining area of the desk. She had just gotten off the phone.

"No freaking way."


Iggy sat in his room, lying on the bed listening to his Ipod. Classical music flowed through the earbuds; most people would assume he listened to rap, or that Iggy Pop guy (he was so sick of those jokes), or whatever the current trend was. But classical musical calmed him down.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He ripped out the earbuds. "Nudge?"

Although he couldn't see, the younger girl smiled. "How could you tell?"

Iggy shrugged. "Only you could sneak in here without me hearing. The volume was low."

Iggy felt a weight sit on the end of the bed, and the weight shifted around. Finally, Nude settled into a position. They both were sprawled out on the bed, comfortable with where they were. The evening sun had starting to drift through the openings of the blinds, and a beam of sunlight went right over Iggy's face, even if he didn't notice it.

"This is all pretty crazy, eh?" Nudge commented. "But we've been in worse."

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"Good point." Again, they stayed silent. It was as if neither wanted to interrupt the shared moment.

"Ig, what do you think is going to happen? What's with all of the bombs and stuff we're making?"

The Ipod was still playing, and the two of them could faintly hear a melody coming out of the earbuds that were on the bed. "I'm not sure, but I trust Max," he answered. It took a while for Nudge to reply.

"Is trust enough?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

And then, before he could react, Nudge's lips were on his own.

One-two-…three seconds later, a gasp came from the doorway, having been emitted by a thirteen-year-old girl whose name happened to be Ella.


Two days went by rather quickly: no news from Jeb or Ter Borcht, and I had seen Mom once outside, by the car. Other than that, only the servants were around.

I was sitting in my room, reading over one of Ella's magazines. There was a picture of some Photoshopped girl who looked faker than Barbie. Celebrities smiled at me from every page- ugh. I can't believe people read these! If people spent the amount of time they spent looking up to celebrities focusing on their own lives, they would be fifty times better off.

Just as I was turning the page, one of Fang's thoughts jolted through my head. I processed it quickly- no, this couldn't be right. More thoughts- nononono.

How could this happen?

I threw down the magazine, whipped open my door, and sprinted to the basement. All the way there, I tried to find some way- some crazy way- this could have happened. But not even the most imaginative person in the world could have pulled it off.

I ran through the hallways, went into a room and into the conjoining room where we had stored the explosives. Fang and Gazzy were staring into it, dumbfounded.

"How could this have happened? And why didn't we know?" I asked. "The alarm…should've gone off."

Fang shook his head. "I…don't know. I don't know where they went."

Because somehow all of the explosives we had made over the past while had disappeared. The boxes were overturned, empty.

All the explosives were gone.

All.

The messy, nearly-empty room nearly screamed at the three of us.

This was bad for a few reasons: first, someone had a helluvalot of explosives. Second, we didn't have any.

Which one was worse?


A/N- EPIC Monty Python reference.

I bet you all thought I was kidding about Jimmy Carter being attacked by a killer rabbit.

I know I'm going to be hunted down for the Ella-walking-in-on-Iggy-and-Nudge scene, becuase it's so cliché I gagged a few times. But hey, I need it for the plot, and I've tried to keep the story ascliché-free as humanly possible. (The first rule I set out for myself was absolutely no kidnappings. Seriously, in half the books I read, there's a kidnapping.)

And woot for Brisingr coming out today! Since it's past midnight now...

I'm taking chemistry right now in science, and it's true, once you know the basics you can make explosives rather easily. But that doesn't make naming and combining polyatomic compounds any easier. –sigh-

Sparkles the pony will totally love anyone who reviews. And who doesn't want a pony's love?