A/N: Sorry to crush a lot of your expectations, you guys. D: But never fear, I am here! To, er, update.

Sorry to not have updated for a while, been caught up with another fic I've co-written with someone.

Just in case you're interested, it's a Harry Potter [Marauder's Era] fic. To you HP fans, you might want to check it out since it's on my list of what-to-crossover-MR-with. Just go to /~hanisenpai and read the one entitled, "A Trio Of Disturbed Humor." Sorry for the shameless plugging, but eh. We need more readers. D: Take some time to read Hani-senpai's stuff too, since she is my epic friend IRL and deserves a lot more than just a cuppa reviews. c:

Without futher ado, chapter 6; Saving this World—and the Universe. Spiffy.

"Max, look!" Angel pointed.

I followed the direction her finger pointed in, and sure enough, there was Katniss. All glowy and fiery and… dangerous looking. Whaddya know, the girl's got some spunk after all.

"Wow, she looks so amazing!" Nudge exclaimed. "I want to dress up like that someday!"

"Oh, you'll get your chance… if they accept mutant freaks as America's Next Top Model," I muttered.

Just so you know, we're here stuck in a huge crowd out in freaking nowhere. Well, not really nowhere, but at least on land. And you know, the flock loves to be in a crowd. With many people we don't trust. Not to mention some could be Erasers. Or Flyboys. Or… some new megalomaniac hybrid of bird, human, machine, and wolf.

Anyway, we were watching the opening ceremony. You know, Districts 1 through 12, tributes on chariot, extravagant clothing representing their district, yada yada yada. District 12 was coal-mining, and they say that they chose fire for the theme last year—and apparently, this year too. Both Katniss and Peeta looked scary. Fierce. Deadly. Like fire itself.

Too bad we couldn't do the same. Haymitch got a letter saying that neither design team nor chariot had been prepared for us, since we came in last minute, so the president will just announce the bit where we come in, and flash pictures. The only time the audience actually gets to see us is the interview.

"Hey," Fang said. I nearly jumped right out of my skin (you do realize this is Mr. Rock, right? Usually, he keeps his mouth shut), but held on. Just barely.

"Hey," I said. "What do you think?"

"I think that I shouldn't trust Odair."

I burst out laughing. "What, that gay blonde with a net for his… undergarments? Is he even possibly dangerous?"

"He won at the age of fourteen," he reminded me, his dark hair falling into his eyes. I took in a sharp breath. Dang it, he was just so—so mind-blowing. "And even then, his district provided him with quite a lot," he finished, raising his eyebrow at me. "You okay, Max?"

"Uh—yeah. Of course. Don't trust Odair. I get it."

His lips twitched into a smile, and slipped his hand in mine, giving it a little squeeze. I swear I turned beet red. If not, my palms got really sweaty. "It's going to be okay, Max. You'll save Panem… And you'll still save the world."

Gosh darn it, Fang; I don't need you telling me to. I keep forgetting because you're so dang beautiful.

'Max, I don't think I need to hear your cheesy thoughts,' said Angel, mentally.

"And still I keep forgetting that I'm inches away from a freaking mind-reader." I grumble to myself.

'I'm only joking, Max… Fang loves you best. And you both are meant for each other. But don't be too distracted.'

He's your soulmate. I told you.

Lo and behold, comes in the Voice.

I die a little inside. Here we go again with the Hallmark moments… wait, what?!

Fang's my soulmate?!

"And for this year's Quarter Quell, we have some guests." President Snow's face was projected over the heads of the crowd—how, I'll never know. This weird country really just had advanced technology like that. He grinned toothily; in an eerie sort of way which immediately told me that there was no way this guy couldn't be evil. He looked it.

"We have chosen six members, ranging in age, from another country to partake in our Games this year." He smiled evilly again, and I felt Angel shudder a bit, so I let go of Fang's hand and picked her up, hugging her tightly. "It's going to be okay, sweetie," I soothed.

Angel put her thumb to her mouth. "I don't trust him, Max." She looked up to me. "I can't read his mind."

I blinked a few times, taking some time to register what she said.

'What?' I thought, panicking a little. Only very little. Since you know, Angel not being able to read minds isn't much of a shock. And it isn't at all handy. Yeah.

Okay, a lot. I panicked a lot. Fang glanced at me, and frowned. I looked over at Iggy, Gaz and Nudge. Only Iggy seemed to hear, since his eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion.

'Max, I'm scared,' Angel whimpered. 'I can't read his thoughts, but I feel something evil clouding him. Max, he's dangerous.'

I grimaced, and kissed her forehead. "Shh, Angel." Our pictures flashed, one by one, in the sky. Me. Fang. Iggy. Nudge. Gaz. Angel. Several people gasped, others murmured angry whispers, the kind that goes 'they're-bringing-other-kids-into-the-Games?!' I only hoped the Capitol guards hadn't heard anything, or more than half of the population would get thrown into jail. President Snow's eyes turned cold, as if he heard the crowd's murmur. The crowd fell silent.

"As I was saying, these children are to partake in the Games. They are to be assessed by the Gamemakers, and interviewed by Caesar Flickerman. They are not, however, tributes. They are to ally themselves with a tribute, to assist the tribute in any way they can, and help them succeed in the Games. It is wholly their choice which tribute to delegate themselves to," he said, which led the crowd into more murmurs. If anything, his voice grew louder, as if to overpower the crowd. "The rules for these Assistant Tributes, or Assists are as follows." President Snow's face shrunk to a small square, and now another woman's face filled the projected screen. She cleared her throat.

"I am Melinda Goldfyre, proud to announce the rules for the Assists." She pushed up her silver glasses on her nose, and began reading the paper she held. "Rule number one, An Assist is not allowed to attack another Assist."

#2; An Assist is allowed to attack another tribute, whether by his or her tributes' or own will.

#3; An Assist is allowed to ally himself or herself with another Assist, granted that both tributes of the Assists will consent.

#4; Two Assists are allowed to one tribute.

#5; Assists may not switch tributes.

#6; Assists are not allowed idle talk, even between allies. They may only speak of strategies and none more.

#7; Assists are to abandon their tributes, if said tribute is dying. Upon the death of a tribute, Assists must delegate themselves to another tribute, or risk being eliminated in the Games.

The list just kept on going on and on and on, so I didn't quite bother with the first few rules. I shrugged it off, knowing that not a single rule would hold down the Flock, as it always has been. But one thing's for sure—until we get Katniss out, we need to play a little bit within the rules. Of course, not entirely. It's just not something the Flock abided by. Not until Anne, I thought to myself, biting back the snide comments I could make after that one.

No, the Flock would never be bound. Not by law, not by force, nor cages or dog crates, or adults.

Never.

I would make sure of it.

I lay in bed that night, thinking quietly—and also keeping guard. Fang and I decided to, but didn't tell the others and waited until they fell asleep. Angel found out, though, and after some much-needed argument, finally went to sleep.

Those Capitol people haven't figured out why we were suddenly raining on their parade—Er, Games. That was good. For the meantime.

But the spawn of Satan—Jeb—wasn't around, and I can't help but feel that he just dragged us into something we'll regret and he left to save his own hide.

You don't understand, Max… this is only the beginning.

Oh, wonderful, a visitor! Voice. 'What do you mean, beginning?' I thought, adding a bit of a snarl slash growl to it, but I wonder if it ever quite mattered to the Voice… if it ever detected sarcasm in my head.

Max, do you remember your mission?

'You mean all that save-the-world carp you put me through? Yeah,' I thought, being nice for once. Me! Max! Being nice. I'd been hostile more than half the time to the Voice and maybe even Katniss and Peeta.

Well, of course. You're supposed to save the world, Max…

Oh, if I could get a penny every time I heard that..

… the thing is, not just one world, Max.

I bolted upright in my bed. What?! Not just one world? You mean, after I save the world, I don't get a lifetime vacation spree in Hawaii? Overreacting. Somehow, I knew that we'd never really rest, me and the flock.

The Voice ignored me.

This world… is only one of many. This universe… is made of countless worlds.

My head was spinning. I didn't need the Voice to go all wacko on me, I didn't even understand half the things the darn thing was saying!

Listen to me, Max. When I meant that you were to save world…I didn't mean only one…

What?! Are you mental? I began to cough wildly. Not just one world?

…You are going to save the world, Max, it said, sounding a little like it was trying to reassure me. Well, not helping, y'know!

You are saving this world. But after this…

You are to save the universe.

A/N; So it's short. Come on. I'm trying my best to fight the writer's block here. Where are those R&R's? Sorry to keep y'all waiting, life's getting a whole lot harder nowadays.. Wish me luck and I might get the next chapter up soon. D: