A/N: This is four months before The Angel Experiment. Writing style irregularities are due to use of material from TAE
Format change: thoughts. This change will be applied to previous chapters soon.
Disclaimer: I'll let you know if I get the rights to Maximum Ride and Star Wars.
Fourteen BBY
It's been five years since I broke the Flock out of the School. Fang and I are fourteen now, Iggy, who's blind, is a week away from his fourteenth. Speaking of Iggy, he shuffles into the kitchen and begins searching for a frying pan. Huh. Is it breakfast time already? I glance at the nearest clock. 0935. Yep. Time to wake the younger kids. Sighing, I pull myself off my cushion and walk to the closest bedroom, shared by Iggy and Zephyr. Zephyr, or Gazzy as we normally call him, is an eight year-old, voice-mimicking pyro and a living chemical weapon system. Whether his noxious eruptions were an ability coded into his DNA or a mistake, we don't know. Anyways, when I open his door, I'm greeted by the smell of detonite. "Gazzy! What have told you about using explosives in the house?!" I shout. The little blonde boy flinches. Forcing myself to calm down, I continue "It's time for breakfast."
The two younger girls haven't woken up yet, so I head to their room next. I push open the door to find eleven year-old Nudge tangled up in her covers, fast asleep. As soon as she's up, she'll be chattering like a chipmunk. We call it the Nudge Channel: all Nudge, all the time. Seriously, when she's awake, she is the most talkative person on the planet. I'll get Angel first. Walking across the room, I gently pull aside the thin curtain concealing the five year-old's nest. Angel, Gazzy's little sister, keeps her bed filled with stuffed animals, clothes and books. How she manages to sleep in all that, I have no idea. But anyways, Angel is already dress and waiting for me. It looks like I've been doing a good job raising her. I wouldn't be surprised if she starts calling me Mom. A soft voice asks "May I?" Oh yeah, she's telepathic. "It's breakfast sweetie, and I'll think about that," I manage. "Morning Max! What's for breakfast? Can you make breakfast burritos? I love breakfast burritos. Are you going to kiss Fang? Should—" Nudge's stream of words is cut off as I use the Force to still her vocal cords. She gives me an annoyed look. "I want to go flying!" squeals Angel. "Ange, we haven't even eaten yet," I scold. "Afterwards I meant," comes her quite reply.
Time skip
Flying. There's nothing like it. The feel of wind flowing over you, blowing your hair around like a flag. Sensing Fang behind me, I pull an Immelmann and drop into formation with him. "Hey," he says laconically. Typical. Before I can reply, a wave of foreboding in the Force washes over me. Horribly familiar presences are inbound. Erasers. Dammit! Scanning the area with the Force, I realize what the monsters are after: Angel. Acting quickly, I yell "Everybody! Erasers! Get ready!" Then I hear the distinctive sound of helicopter rotors. Oh come on! This just has to get worse. Murphy's Law is such a pain. As I reach out with the Force, a bullet slams into my shoulder, breaking my concentration. When did these jokers get so smart? Snarling in pain, I watch helplessly as an Eraser fires a tranquilizer dart at my little girl and bundle her into one of the choppers. Rage once again fills me, but it is the rage of the helpless. Damn the whitecoats and their mooks. Gazzy slams into the Eraser that had grabbed his sister, but gets his side clawed open for his trouble. Nudge streaks in, hoping to rescue the youngest Flock member, only to be backhanded out of the vehicle like a small bug. Another Eraser fires some kind of sonic weapon at Iggy as the thirteen year-old dives to attack. Iggy's sensitive ears leave him extremely vulnerable to the blast of sound, earning a wince of sympathy from me.
I curse silently as the helicopters soar off, carrying away the girl I had told just forty-five minutes ago that she might be able to call me 'Mom'. The only thing that keeps me from flying after her is the fact that there is a hole in my shoulder and Gazzy has been mauled. Fang scoops up Gazzy and, noting my current state, begins barking orders. The five of us make our way back to the house, enough anger in the air that even a non-Force sensitive could feel it. No one speaks until me and Fang finish applying Bacta to the serious injuries. "When do we leave?" demands Gazzy. "Me, Fang and Nudge leave at 0530. You and Iggy stay here," I state. "Gazzy, you're too injured for a rescue mission and I need the two of you here incase Angel manages to escape." Fang then adds "Someone has to keep this place secure as well. Also, if we somehow get captured, we'll have backup."
Angel's kidnapping confirms my long standing concern: that the School wants us back. I never told the others though. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. Actually, more like, let's all try to forget when we were at the mercy of sadistic spawns of Satan in a place that's a total, hellish abomination and ought to be vaporized. Yeah, more like that. The only thing that would make this worse would be Master Tyranus coming back to make me rejoin the Sith. Crap. Now that's going to happen as well.
Time skip
Despite the circumstances, I can't seem to stop thinking about Fang. Seriously, when did he get so hot? He's got flowing onyx hair, glittering obsidian eyes, dark olive skin... Snap out of it Max! You can ogle the guy later, after Angel's safe. My eyes drift over to the huge iridescent black raven-esc wings flapping beside me. Dammit, stay focused! Yes, I love Fang, but this is getting ridiculous. I can't save Angel if I'm drooling over my best friend! Maybe it would've been easier if I brought Iggy instead.
Just then, something down below catches my attention. In the town we're flying over, there is a group of kids. Boys, surrounding a smaller girl. I make a snap decision. I turn to Fang and barely open my mouth. "No," he declares. My eyes narrow. I open my mouth again. "No." "Meet me at the northernmost point of Lake Mead," I order. Before Fang can form a response, I dive down behind an abandoned warehouse.
After landing, I slide my black Army jacket on, concealing my wings. When I round the corner of the warehouse, I see that there are three guys, maybe fifteen, sixteen years old. The girl appears younger, maybe twelve or so. "I told you not to tell anybody about my little situation with Ortiz," one boy yells at her. "It was none of your business. I had to teach him a lesson." The girl bites her lip, anger and fear prominent in her Force aura. "By beating him up? He looks like he got hit by a car! And he didn't do anything to you," she retorts. You go girl. "He mouthed off to me. He exists. He breathes my air," snickers the guy, and his jerk friends laugh meanly. God, what creeps. Armed creeps. One of them is holding a shotgun loosely in the crook of his arm. America, right to bear arms, yada, yada, yada. How old were these yahoos? Do their parents know they have guns?
I hate it when people think they can pick on others just because they're bigger. I think I'll show them what real power is. I step out from beside the building. The girl spots me, and her eyes flicker in surprise. It's enough. The guys wheel to look behind them. Just another stupid girl, they seem to think, relieved. Their eyes linger a moment on my face, but they don't keep watching me. Mistake number one. "So, Ella, what have you got to say for yourself?" the lead guy taunts. "Is there any reason I shouldn't teach you a lesson too?" "Three guys against one girl. That seems about even," I smirk, striding up. I'm finding it difficult to keep my eyes from changing. "Shut up, chick," one of the boys snaps. "You better get out of here if you know what's good for you." "Can't," I retort, walking to stand next to the girl named Ella. She stares at me in alarm. "Actually, I think kicking your stupid butts would be good for me." They then make mistake number two. They laugh.
Thanks to genetic engineering, my innate strength is greater than that of a grown man, and the Force can boost that ever farther. I have also been trained in unarmed combat by Tyranus. Knowing this, and not wanting to draw too much attention, I suppress the urge to draw my lightsaber. Now, if I could just get Ella out of here...
"Grab Big Mouth," commands the head guy, and the other two move to flank me. Which makes mistake number three. Bam, you're out. I move fast, fast, fast. With no warning, I snap a high kick right into the lead jerk's chest. A blow that would have only knocked Fang's breath away actually snaps a rib on this guy. I hear the crack, and the guy chokes, looking shocked, and falls backward. The remaining two guys charge at me. I whirl, ripping the shotgun out of its wielder's grip and clobber him with it. The bully staggers back, stunned, with bright red blood flowing down his face.
Glancing over, I notice that Ella is still standing there, looking as though she might wet herself. Although I hope not, that's probably because of me. "Run!" I instruct, pushing the prompt at her with the Force. "Get out of here!" She immediately bolts. Good. The last bully standing leaps at me and I casually break his nose. Wow, I forgot how fragile humans are.
The first moron snatches up the gun and cocks it, favoring his right arm. "You're gonna be so sorry," he roars, spitting blood out of his mouth and starting toward me. "Bet I won't," I mock. Then I turn tail and sprint for the woods as fast as I can. Within seconds I reach the trees and quickly start dodging through them to throw off that bonehead's aim. Two loud shots echo through the air, bark exploding off near-by trunks. A third is followed by a sharp, burning pain in my right shoulder. That clown actually hit me! And in the same shoulder that got nailed yesterday! Dammit!
A/N: And that's chapter I.
Character Bios
Name: Fang
Aliases: Nick
Species: Homo volatilis
Hair: raven black
Eyes: obsidian black
Height: 1.90 m (6' 2") at 14
Mass: 47.17 kg (104 lb.) at 14
Wing Span: 4.57 m (15 ft.) at 14
Wing Color: raven black (dark iridescent purple in bright light)