I'm sorry everyone. I know my chapter are short, but I'm just not into the whole "loooong" chapter thing, I can't sit at a computer for too long without getting bored lol So anyway, here's chapter 22, R&R and enjoy!

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22

Five massive Erasers came about five minutes after Roland talked to me in my head. I didn't even resist, just let them take me away from the flock yet again. Everyone else was asleep, and I was afraid to leave them like this, but I also knew it'd be easier if no one was awake to try and fight. So off we went.

It took another five minutes of dreadful silence spent waiting in the "dining room" before Roland showed up. I guessed that it was a dining room by what Roland told me, and the fact that the room was set up like the one at Anne's house back in D.C. The same room where the flock and I had our first Thanksgiving meal. The same Thanksgiving meal where Anne actually asked to adopt us.

Roland entered the room via the door opposite of me. He examined everything with a sweep of his eyes, nodded to the Erasers that still lingered quietly behind me, and sat at the other end of the small table in the middle of the room. "Take a seat, Max," he said softly.

I looked at the chair, making sure there were no bombs or whoopee-cushions on it (a small thing I had learned to check, having lived with Iggy and the Gasman forever), then hesitantly sat down and stared at the madman. His eyes were blank and he looked at me with a slight smile spread across his pale face. "Would you like anything to drink, Max?"

"Go to hell," I said quietly, but just loud enough for him to hear. I smiled a bit and continued staring into his cold eyes.

"My, my, someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Roland suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out what I was hoping he would; the small black torture box. Bingo. I began formulating in my head how to go about retrieving it from him. "Maybe you need a little shock to stay awake?" He was about to flick the switch labeled "26-A", but I stopped him.

"No, no, I'm awake. Just…" I sighed and tried to sound like I cared about what he wanted. "What do you want, Roland?"

"I'm glad you're coming around. I told you that we could work together." Roland started to put the box away…so I made my move.

In about a second, I pushed my chair back with my foot, hurled myself across the table, and plowed into Roland's chest headfirst, knocking the torture box out of his hand and onto the floor to my right. Roland fell backwards in his chair, but I vaulted off of him with my feet and grabbed the box off the floor. Victory!

Turns out I had forgotten about the Erasers blocking my only true escape. I pulled a one-eighty in mid-air as two of the enormous Erasers hurdled their full weight at me, only to fall face-forward over each other and smash into the table leg. Note to self: Tell flock how to make Erasers look like complete idiots.

I almost laughed, and then realized what I was doing. Torture box in hand, I unfurled my wings and bolted towards the door Roland had entered from only a moment ago. I was within inches of escaping when I felt icy fingers grip my wrist from behind. Crap. I turned just in time to come face-to-face with whoever was holding me back. Double crap. William Pruitt. The headhunter.