A/N Review please.

29 P.O.V

"Do you call yourself Experiment 29? Surely you must call yourself something else…?" She ended it as a question. I shook my head, once again pointing to the bracelet, this time covering up everything but the two numbers with my fingers.

"Did the whitecoats screw with your vocal chords or something, or do you just not speak?""No need." I said simply. Though in my head my thoughts are in full sentences and such, when I actually speak it is in as few words a humanly possible.

I feel no need to speak to people. It's not that I desire sympathy. The Whitecoats are so awed by my apparent "inability" to utter as much as one syllable, that they have quite forgotten to keep up with most of the other torturous experiments they love to run. I see it as a distraction. And for the past 2 years, it's worked remarkably well.

MAX P.O.V

"So, what do you do all day?" It sounded as if I was visiting some foreign culture. Like I was an eager student, writing some sort of paper about a culture and their way of life.

But it was nothing like this. We were two abused souls, thrust together by the whitecoats for reasons unknown. I thought that I might as well learn something about her. Perhaps we could help one another.

"Between tests, I mean." I clarified, catching her look.

She considered me for a moment, clearly debating something in her head. Evidently, one side won, because she reached into the pocket of her pants and removed a tattered and worn-out notebook. She tossed it to me, which I took as permission to read whatever was in it. Before I could open it, she made a distressed sound, and I turned to see her wildly reaching out for the book again. I returned it to her, feeling that this game was rather childish.

She leafed through the book for a few pages, until reaching a specific one. She threw the book back to be, saying simply "Forward."

I took this to mean only the pages after the one she had opened it to. I began scanning the pages.

There were maps.

Hundreds of them.

Rooms, arrows, peoples, offices, security systems, fire alarms, regular alarms, blueprints, outlines, everything.

On each page there were mazes of arrows and lines, seemingly escape routes. But each page, and the bottom corner, had either NES or TME written and underlined.

"Not enough speed or too many Erasers with tranquilizers." She voiced, guessing what I had been about to ask.

"So they are plans." I breathed, astounded by the mere volume.

"Past six years." She said with an indifferent shrug. We lapsed into another silence, until I reached a promising page.

"Wait. How about this one?" I said. It involved kicking some Eraser and whitecoat ass, but it was clear she would not have enough speed to evacuate without being caught. But, hey, I've got wings!

"I can help." I said simply. I squirmed, stretching the straps around me to allow me to raise my back off the metal. I slowly stretched out my wings.

I had forgotten how glorious it felt after having them tucked in. It was like sitting on a foot for a few hours, almost forgetting it was there, and then stretching it out.

I waited for the inevitable gasp, outburst, or exclamation at some point. I don't care if you live at the School. Successful Avian Hybrids are extremely rare, and should cause some feeling of awe. Besides, even if you've seen one before, a 14 year old girl with tawny wings erupting out of her back must give you some sort of a shock.

I craned my head, but I only saw her shaking her head again. She also readjusted her body, and repeated my movements.

Her large wings practically exploded from her back. They were black. And not the midnight, purpleish gleam that Fang had. No, these were the deepest black I had ever seen.

I know that it's hard to imagine the difference between "black" and "really black", and then "extremely black". But when you stared at her wings it almost seemed as if they were no longer a color, but merely an….illusion of sorts. It's very difficult to explain.

When they had both fully extended from her back (her wingspan was huge- larger than Fangs by at least 3 feet on both sides), she looked at me again.

"Still, not enough speed."