Evil Angel

Author's Note;

I'm so sorry for the delay – life has gotten in the way. This chapter is told in Fang's Point of View, and is a backtrack from when max is flying up to the point when she lands in the clearing – basically, this chapter is the same exact time frame as the last one, except its Fang. I hope that you enjoy. The title of this story is inspired by 'Evil Angel' by Breaking Benjamin, of which I claim no copyright to – or to Maximum Ride, for that matter.

Fang's POV

We'd been on our own for two years – left with nothing but ourselves, a house, and the memories of the only father I'd ever really had.

How's that for an opening?

Name's Fang. Fourteen. Don't go to school, because they don't take nicely to children with wings. Yeah, I said wings.

Four years ago – and it seems so much longer than that – we were whisked away from our own personal form of HELL and taken here – we were treated like people and not lab rats. Then Jeb – the scientist turned good that had rescued us – had died.

Welcome, and meet the household.

Me – Fang. Again, I'm fourteen. Tall, dark, and obnoxious, apparently. Hey, just because I'm their leader, they think I'm 'obnoxious'. Well, who does your laundry, for hell's sake?

Then there's Iggy. A younger fourteen. Taller, paler, and to put it bluntly, blind. The 'scientists' are to blame for that one – night vision enhancement, they called it. How about – you fail as scientists, end of story? He's the closest thing that I've got to a best friend. He's also our cook. I've learned not to question things – that's my personal motto.

Nudge is eleven, and she's a chatterbox. She tries to be everyone's Mom sometimes, because she's the oldest girl, but I remind her that she's only eleven. And, most of the time, that's what she is – just a kid.

The Gasman is eight. He farts. A lot. And… ew. That's all I've got to say, man.
Angel is six, and the Gasman's biological sister. She's sweet as can be – everyone's baby.

Oh, did I mention that she can read minds? Or that the Gasman can mimic voices? Or that Iggy can almost hear your heartbeat? Or that there are a various other assorted Freakish Things that my family can do?

No? Well, I just did.

No, I don't have a gift, unless you count good looks and sarcasm. I own those skills, man.

But, yeah. We live, we fly, we survive, it's how we roll.

Angel piped up during breakfast, chipper and happy – which she always is, save for the times when she doesn't get something she wants. Then, you'd be well warned to watch out. Don't even think about not giving her something she wants – and I do mean that literally, because she'll just read your mind and find out that you're thinking about it.

There's one other thing that we know these talents are for – as well as for the years of training that Jeb gave us before he died – they're for battle. They're for if the Erasers or some other various form of hell find us again, we'll be ready for battle – able to protect ourselves.

But we try not to think about that, because we prefer video game battles to real battles, and kick-boxing to kick-ass.

"Let's pick strawberries. They're ripe now." She looked at me, her eyes big and wide and unnaturally blue.

BAMBI EYES.

"Mm?" I muttered. I'm a man of few words. "Why not."

Nudge whooped like the eleven year old she was, and Gazzy let one rip.

"Oh, dude, gross." Moaned Iggy. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry!"

"…I don't have words for that, besides, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" Nudge shuddered and Iggy burst into laughter.

"You without words, Nudge. Aka, the apocalypse." Iggy said with a nod. Faking anger, Nudge socked his upper arm – and when I say she punches like an eleven year old, I mean that she punches like an eleven year old with years of combat training that could probably take out a heavy weight champion with her wings tied behind her back.

"Good shot." I commented without pausing my eating efforts.

"Yeah, hit the blind guy. Really, there should be some kind of law against that – Thou Shalt Not Hit Blind Bird Kid." Iggy joked.

Seriously, my family? Are they screwed up? Yes. Did I love them?

Abso-freaking-lutely.

---

It was a nice day out – shiny, bright. I'm sorry, but I don't do poetry. The sun does not break softly over the crisp green mountains. If you've got a problem with me, say it now or forever hold your peace. And even if you do say it, I'll probably ignore you – I've got enough problems on my wings.

All I knew about this day? We probably should have been wearing sunscreen. Great. Perfect. Woops.

Angel was racing ahead of the group, rushing at the strawberry bushes.

"I'll help you make strawberry shortcakes, Ig." Nudge said, practically dancing as we walked – I hadn't seen her this happy since I don't know when.

We finally caught up with Angel, who already had strawberries on her face. Laughing, I handed her a basket, and she went deeper into the strawberry patch. We all followed, going towards the area where the best strawberry bushes are – we'd turned this into an art years ago.

The Gasman had a basket full almost immediately, but there were still plenty of branches and leaves included in his basket as well. Guess who was expected to weed those out?

You're looking at him. Supplier of everything, doer of everything, superman with wings.

Nudge was helping Iggy find the strawberries in the bush they were at. Angel had joined me, and was jumping up happily to grab strawberries, every once in awhile putting one in her mouth.

This was heaven – no Erasers, no cages, no scientists. Heck, no adults – a bird kids heaven.

Our baskets full, we exited the bushes the way we came.

And, really, things just went downhill from there.

Why, you ask?

Well, it's not everyday you step from a bush to see your worst nightmare staring you in the face.

There was a girl, standing there. We'd barely exited when I saw her.

Oh yeah, worst nightmare material.

She was… pretty. My age, if I had to guess. I couldn't decide whether her hair was blonde or brunette, and finally settled on brown with blonde highlights.

And, oh yeah, she had wings. It's a small detail around here, really. She looked surprised – as if we weren't who she'd been expected.

We tend to get that a lot.

And the part that made this an absolute nightmare? The part that made me wish I was back in bed?

I recognized her.

I mean, of course, she had to have come from the school – the aforementioned Hell that my family and I had grown up in– there weren't too many bird kid factories. But it was more than that – no, I knew who she was. It'd been four years since I'd seen her.

Did she know it was her own father who had rescued us all those years ago? Who had taken us out of our own personal hell? Who'd left her there?

Jeb's daughter. Ari's sister.

Maximum.

The School's assassin.

Angel screamed – from what she'd heard in my mind or max's, I wasn't too sure. But what I was sure of was that she was here to kill us.

And I was not going to let that happen.

"Get her." I said, snapping open my wings, an angel of death, as Maximum lunged.

Author's Note:

I hope that not too many people are confused. The Flock – Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel – were born and raised in the school exactly like they were in the books. Jeb saved them just like he did in the books. Except that Max was never with the Flock – she always knew that Jeb was her father. What she didn't know was that Jeb had saved the Flock – she thought that he'd gone away for awhile, as she mentioned in the previous chapter. Jeb sent her on this mission to kill the Flock.

Everything has a purpose, as Max's voice would say. You just have to find out why.