Alright, guys. Here it is. Much later than it should have been, but here it is. Thanks for being awesome. You all inspire me to write more with your reviews and your support. I hope you've enjoyed it, and keep a look out for the first chapter of "Over Again", probably after school ends.

Love you all. And now, I present to you: The final chapter of "Taken Again".

FANG

My first thought was: Oh, well that feels good.

My second was along the lines of I could go for some pie.

But my third, oh, my third thought was absolutely and most definitely OH SHIT.

I couldn't see Iggy beneath, above, or beside me, couldn't see Max/Max II/Maya/Stopscrewingwithmymind or Ari or the Erasers. Couldn't see the explosions, or the plane, or the water beneath us. I couldn't see anything at all.

Well, that also meant that I couldn't see my life flashing before my eyes, so I guess that that meant I wasn't dying, and that was a pretty good deal in my opinion. Psh, perspective.

My wings didn't seem to be working, and everything around me was red and white and blue, but it was nothing like a flag; it was more like a tornado of chaos. That should be a book title. Called it. Right there. I tried fluttering my feathers in attempts to slow my fall, because dear God, was I falling, but it didn't work all that well.

That is, until the white sort of faded out into an expanse of open deep blue and I got so scared that my wings tensed and I nearly pissed myself.

Okay, so maybe I pissed myself a little bit.

Only a little, I swear.

Don't pick on me.

I unfurled my wings so quickly and suddenly that I felt them practically rip out of my back, and I'm pretty sure I screamed and fell another seventy-five feet before I shook the black spots out of my eyes and focused on flapping my aching wings and staying above the blue death trap that expanded forever below me. As my vision gradually came back I steadily began to notice the horror of what was happening around me. Plane parts and Eraser bodies rocketed through the air and slammed into the ocean, disappearing in rapid little splashes. I didn't see any come back up, and I struggled to swallow the baseball bat lodged in my throat. I screamed and dropped as I dodged a flaming huge piece of metal as it nearly cut my left wing into bits, swinging sideways and flipping before managing to right myself another thirty feet down.

I hovered and observed for a little while (meaning I don't know how long because the world was freaking burning), trying to swallow the tears pooling in the back of my throat and running down my face. Erasers and debris kept dropping, which means it couldn't have been for that long, because I thought that I was one of the last to be ripped through the giant gaping hole Iggy made in the floor, and I was definitely lighter than all of those heavy fuglies. But I just stayed there in the air, dodging various balls of fire and the occasional half a furry hand or something. I just stayed there and watched.

That is, until I saw a flash of orange on a speck far below me, on the surface of the blue, and was distracted long enough for half of a seat cushion to crash into my elbow and send me spiralling down toward the miles of ocean below.

My arm was on fire, and I couldn't see squat as I tumbled through the air, the wind threatening to rip my limbs from my core and pluck off every last feather from my wings. My vision grayed out for a few seconds and I prepped myself for the impact that would undoubtedly end my life. Just when I thought it would be all over and I'd never see my family again, Iggy ruined it like he always does.

But that's his job. He's my brother.

One second I was falling through space and time and air and whatever and the next second it was like I had hit concrete, if concrete had a couple feet of pillows over it. The wind was knocked out of me and I blinked rapidly to try to see again, but I was still falling, which was super weird. I expected to be drowning or to have had my neck broken, but instead my fall was just slowed marginally. I blinked my eyes furiously until I could see the ocean again, about three or four stories below me. Flames and pins stuck into and laced through my arm, making me bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I shook my head dazedly and realized why I hadn't become a wet and soggy Fang pancake yet.

"You ass," Iggy ground out, his teeth clenched tightly and his wings flapping double-time, a collection of feathers missing from the left one and in their place something that might have been a burn mark. "Getting hit with stupid chair parts. Making me do all the work, you freaking jerk."

I shook my head again, cataloging my aches and ouchies and making sure I still could feel all of my attached appendages. I could, which was nice. I looked at the ever-growing mop of red hair that was awkwardly close to my nose and swallowed blood. Iggy flashed his cloudy eyes at me for a second, as if he was smelling my consciousness or whatever the hell he does with his freaky blind kid ESP, and I wiped the back of my not-burning hand on my mouth, deciding what I should say.

I think I decided on something intellectual, like "Max?"

"Not right now, honey." Iggy scoffed, though it sounded like he was in pain. "Maxie's a little hung up right now, you know, in America. You'll have to deal with me for a little while longer."

"Mm," I replied, and I guess that really doesn't count as a reply because 'mm' isn't a word, but I was willing to roll with it. "'Kay."

"You really are a master with words, Fangles." Iggy grunted, continuing to flap his wings viscously even though we were still descending. "A real laureate. Yo, Fang?"

I blinked and swallowed. Tasted like iron. Iron was good for you, right? "Yeahkay, Igg'um."

"Sure. Uh, we're gonna have to go for a dip, that okay, Sparkles? You like swimming, right?"

"Mm." I said again. I really needed to stop with the non-words. I was taught how to speak. It might have been a good three years after normal children, but I learned. "Feathers."

"They'll get wet." Iggy deadpanned, like he was sick of explaining rain to a kid and just settled on 'Clouds get sad sometimes'. "They'll dry though."

"Yeahkay."

Good thing I said that, because the next moment we were soaked to the bone as we sorta glided into the water. Iggy let go of me with one hand and focused on wading in the middle of the ocean, which, mind you, is freaking difficult. I kicked out feebly with my feet and attempted to keep my head up. The salt water instantly attacked my arm and tried to eat it, and I moaned from the pain. Iggy cast a kind-of glance toward me, an Iggy-glance, one where he tries to pinpoint you but is always a bit off by a foot or so. He nodded to himself and started to swim, pulling me along. We maneuvered around burning debris that was still buoyant enough to float and catch fire at the same time. We passed dead Eraser bodies, separated parts of Eraser bodies, something that looked like entrails and one still alive Eraser screaming as he caught fire from the burning remains of the plane beside him. Five minutes later I puked into the water, and Iggy grimaced. I think he was having trouble keeping down his non-existant dinner too.

"There." I coughed finally, pointed my hand at something in the distance. Our skin resembled prunes better than actual skin by that point, and we were probably so salty you could have served us for evening dinner. Tonight our special is Fried Bird Child, served with extra sodium and a side of Crispy Eraser Fingers...

I threw up again.

"You done, dude?" Iggy asked, voice exasperated. Exhausted. Maybe both. "What did you see?"

"A piece of somethin'." I responded, wiping my mouth again. "Think it's a crate or something. A platform. Wasn't burning."

"Figures the wood is the only thing that is fireproof on that damn plane." Iggy muttered.

We swim toward it and Iggy immediately hauls himself up onto the floating, kind-of charred and probably not stable platform, flopping out like a fish and kind of looking like a drowned one, his too-long ginger hair soaked down over his eyes and slicking onto his nose. He brings a hand up, slicks his hair back, and then helps lift me up onto our driftwood salvation.

We must have not been in the water more than five minutes, or Bob must have had some dedicated mechanics, because that's the moment we hear the plane go down.

Like, really go down. Into the water. A few miles away, maybe, but it's still loud as hell and Iggy and I wear the same panicked glance when we both realize what's going to happen.

"Got any rope?" Iggy's voice is shaky, and it isn't until I reply that I realize that mine is worse.

"Nope. We gotta hold on."

"Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

Time really doesn't mean shit to me anymore, because it felt like we were in the water for hours and it seems to take the freaking huge wave only a few seconds to reach us, and that's unlikely as hell. But it doesn't matter because in both circumstances Iggy and I are wet, in pain, and holding onto each other for dear life as we try our damnedest not to drown.

I don't remember much from the tidal wave of doom. Maybe I blacked out. I think I might have pissed myself again, but I was already too wet to care, and Iggy didn't give a crap anyway. He probably did the same. All I know was that we were scared out of our minds, we were wet, we were screaming, and then the ocean was calm as the ocean could be in our situation. We were still on our platform, which had miraculously stayed in one piece. Iggy was bleeding from a cut on his temple, which I hadn't seen before with his soaked hair. He rubbed one of his ankles with a grimace on his face, wrung out the tips of his hair, and shucked his overshirt, tossing it beside him. I just sorta stared, trying to ignore the fire in my arm, which I was pretty sure was broken, and letting the gears in my head start churning again slowly. Iggy blinked and placed his hand on the platform, splinters be damned. He turned his head toward me and cracked a shit-eating smile, one so genuine and so Iggy, one that I was sure I'd probably never see again.

"You think we can wrap that?" He exclaimed, pointing at my arm, and we were both silent for a moment before we just started cracking up, laughing loudly and obnoxiously to the miles of ocean around us and to anyone else still alive enough to care.

We were scared, hurt, wet, bloody, and a more than a little bit insane, but hey. For the first time in a long time, stranded in the middle of the sea, I got the feeling that maybe we were starting to be brothers again.

MAX

"Max, why are we in WalMart?"

"Are you kidding?" Gasman scoffed. "WalMart's awesome!"

"You only think WalMart is awesome because of that one time that old lady gave you a free churro because she thought you were homeless." Nudge pointed out.

"See?" Gasman shrugged. "Not showering does have its advantages."

"Stop taking after Iggy, I don't want to pay you to shower, you'll never get dates that way." I grumbled, searching the shelves as we walked through the aisles.

"Gross." Gazzy groaned, rubbing his arms like he was trying to banish the cooties around him. I smirked.

"We're in WalMart because we need to stock up. I'm not letting any of you buggers out of my sight, so we're going to each spot. We need food, clothes, some explosive ingredients and some tools. I probably shouldn't have said that out loud."

"Wait," Gazzy piped up. "What if I need to–"

"Then we dress you up as a girl using the shirt and wig I have in my backpack and you pee in the girls' bathroom with us." I deadpanned, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms and adding it to our basket.

Gasman was silent for a minute. "Gross."

"Alright guys," I announced, happy that I had all of the food and power tools that I needed. I led the kids over to the clothes section for children. "Pick out two outfits and three pairs of undies."

"What about a–" Nudge looked at me, biting her lip. She made an awkward gesture around her boobs.

"Oh, yeah." I interrupted her, content that Gazzy had been looking at the giant food sign at the other end of the store. "I need one too. Grab me a 34-C."

"What has sizes like that?" Gasman scoffed incredulously. "That sounds stupid."

"Yeah, it is." I nodded, turning him away as Nudge carted Angel toward the undies section. Once I made sure they were within eyesight, I steered Gasman toward the boys' section. "'Kay, buddy. Pick out some stuff."

Gazzy sort of gave me a weird glance before trotting over to the closest rack of cargo shorts, finding his size and picking two before stepping a total of two feet over to a table of shirts, where he picked the first two non-white shirts he saw big enough for him. He walked back over to me and thrust them into my hands. One of the shirts had a car on it, and the other had one of the bomb-ombs from Mario, stating "I'm the bomb!". I glanced at him, thinking boys, but I think what made its way out of my mouth was something more like "Great!"

Nudge and Angel dumped their stuff into the baskets, along with a couple things Nudge had grabbed for me. We started walking toward the checkout area when I spotted something and stopped. I turned and walked toward the teenage boy section, first going to the tall area and grabbing a couple pairs of cargos and jeans and then grabbing a few grey, black, and blue t-shirts to cram into the basket. Nudge gave a sad look as we walked toward the register, but Angel and Gasman looked more hopeful than I had seen them in the past couple months. It broke my heart. I paid in cash; turns out the Maxcard works on ATM's, too.

I had been saving the Maxcard for some special (expensive) occasion, but I think this more than qualified.

After I made Gasman and Nudge my personal servants to carry the WalMart bags we trekked across the plaza of the closest mall-ish area I could find and out into the woods behind it. We shared glances before unfurling our wings and taking off into the sky, flying low until no civilians were around to see us. We circled around back to our shady motel room, and I scouted the area for freaky clones or creepy old scientist men before unlocking the room with the old key and ushering everyone in, locking it behind me and pushing a chair up against the door.

Nothing like a little paranoia.

I took one of the bags and buried through it, emerging with a non-contract cell phone. It was just a shitty flip-phone, but for our purposes, it was perfect. I broke it out of its packaging (stupid person-proof hermetic sealing) and flipped it open, quickly memorizing the number it received and going through all the stupid stuff I had to deal with during the checkout before stuffing the plastic back into the bag and shoving the phone into my windbreaker pocket and zipping it up.

"That's an emergency phone." I told them. "In case any of us get lost, or they need a number to call for ransom, or if you fall and you can't get up, okay? Angel, you think you can memorize this number?"

Angel gave a look, like Max, please and nodded as I thought the number. She then relayed it onto Gasser and Nudge through her telepathy. Perks of having a psychic kid in your flock, enemies couldn't tap in.

Gasman flopped onto the bed, Angel closely behind them. I looked them over and decided that they didn't need to change, their clothes didn't have that many stains on them, except for Gasman's blood mark on the ankle of his pants and the little tiny splatter on Nudge's collar. There was a small spot of puke or something on Angel's shirt, but I could clean that off before we got the hell out of Dodge.

No wonder people thought we were homeless. Oh, wait. We were.

I swallowed something that tasted a little like bile and tears down before approaching the kids on the bed, tossing my windbreaker onto the other beside it. Nudge walked silently over as I crossed my arms, thinking.

"Alright, guys." I exclaimed, licking my lips and testing my courage. "We have to get over to the library, but not one here, we've spent too long in this town. There we can research, try to tap into whatever's going down in Germany at this evil science fair. Then..."

"We get Iggy and Fang back?" Gasman asked, hope sparking in his eyes so brightly it made me slightly nauseous.

"Yeah," I murmured. "We get them back. Here's the plan–"

But I never got to iterate my less-than-stellar plan, because right then, a shrill ringing went off, coming from the opposite bed. We all tensed and froze, our eyes narrowing in on my windbreaker. The ringing was coming from the phone in my pocket. The phone that I had just bought and activated not twenty minutes before.

We all stayed silent and still as I slowly reached out and swept up the jacket, taking the phone out of the pocket and holding it as it vibrated and rung in my hand. After a moment I gulped, ignoring the terrified looks on my flock's faces, and flipped it open, trying to ignore my own fear stabbing in my stomach.

"Hello?"

To be Continued...