Authors Note: I had the idea for this story a long time ago, and now I finally have some time to write it all out. Know that this story is strictly AH though there will probably be references to the people (obviously) and places that are in the actual books. I think that's all for now . . . read on!

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. I wish I did . . . but alas, I do not.

Chapter One:

Infinite

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick.

. . . And repeat.

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick.

When a predator is on the hunt, they're quick; swift. They don't hesitate when the kill is within their reach. They see an opening and they strike. Street fighting is much the same. When you see a chink in your opponents defense, you go for the knockout.

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick. Uppercut to the jaw. Flip. Twist. Face, meet pavement.

"Nice," Jared conceded, the strain clear in his voice as he pushed himself to his knees. He wiped a few droplets of sweat from his brow, breathing heavily. "I didn't expect that."

"But he will." I may not have ever seen my biggest enemy in action, but his reputation preceded him. "There's a reason he's one of the best. They say he's smart. He can read his opponent like an open book. Plus he's got raw power on his side," I replied crossly, lugging Jared to his feet.

Jared had been my trainer from the very beginning. Young, strong guy who got mixed up in the business of illegal street fighting. Due to an injury five years ago, he had to hang up his old ways. That didn't stop him from finding a new protege, though. I was fourteen when he first discovered me. A rough, stubborn girl with an attitude that matched her wicked punch. I had yet to grow into my power, but Jared taught me how to use it in ways I never considered.

As you can imagine, I rose quickly in the ranks, despite my being a female. I didn't take crap from condescending, pig-like jerks. They either got pummeled into the dirt, or learned to fight back. I wasn't your average little miss beauty pageant queen, after all. I was tougher than that.

"You worry too much," Jared insisted, tossing me a bottle of water. I took a big gulp, the liquid mixing with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

"I'm not worried," I said offhandedly, lounging against the rings ropes. When it came down to the real fights, we didn't have this sort of luxury. The brawls were usually set in some discreet alley or abandoned warehouse. Jared liked to practice in the 'right environment' though, which meant regular meetings at the boxing ring downtown. The owner was a bulky, studious man who stayed out of your way. He didn't care what your purpose was, as long as you didn't take things too far.

"Then why are you getting yourself so worked up about him?"

"I'm not!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'm just trying to figure out a strategy by pointing out his strengths."

"You can't know his strengths without his weaknesses," Jared pointed out.

I glared at him, suppressing a sigh. He was right, after all, but I didn't know much about the kid in the first place other than that he was male and my age. It was the perfect match-up. The fans were going crazy over the prospect that we were going to fight. It was even better that neither of us had seen the other in action before. We would meet as total strangers.

"Can't we just keep going?" I asked pleadingly, because my nerves were all hyped up and frazzled. All my senses were heightened, and I was acutely aware of my surroundings. This was how it was once I got into my zone.

"Su-" he began, but a sharp chirping from his bundle of possessions cut him off. I rolled my eyes, recognizing the ring tone.

"Hello?"

I waited impatiently as he started into a deep conversation with his wife. Jared's only twenty six, but he's been married since he was twenty. I didn't much mind his wife, but she was forever interrupting our training sessions.

"Alright, I'll be right there . . . Uh huh . . . Yeah, two o'clock . . . Love you too . . . Bye."

"Where are you going!" I complain when he finally hangs the phone up, his expression grim.

"Sarah got called into work. I have to pick up the kid from daycare," he explained.

My expression immediately softened, and a wide grin spread across my face. For as long as I had known Jared (even prior to his getting me involved in his old world), he had always insisted on not having any children. He wasn't fit to be a father, was his excuse.

But here we were, and he was racing off to pick up his son.

Ian was an impossible mix of attitude and adorable at only age one. He was a part of the few minority in this world that wasn't afraid of me. When I babysat occasionally, he'd throw his applesauce in my face and his toy cars just the same as he would to anyone else. My reputation didn't seem to bother him in the least.

"Have fun playing daddy," I said mockingly, and he rolled his eyes.

"One day Max . . . you'll understand one day," is all he says in reply. By my sudden silence he gauges my reaction to his words. He glances up quickly, an apology on his lips and sorrow in his eyes.

"I didn't mean-" he begins hurriedly.

"It's okay," I say in a small voice, glaring at the ground.

The thing Jared always seemed to forget was that I did understand. I've had to play mother practically my entire life. That was just how it was when you had a douchebag of a father who runs out on you the day after your youngest sister is born, and your mom can't handle raising three kids so she resorts to the mind-numbing paradise of drug abuse; leaving you, at only age eight, to somehow provide for your two younger siblings and a mother who's always high on crack.

Life was tough, but I had learned to suck it up and roll with the punches long ago.

Angel and Gazzy had always seemed to understand that we wouldn't have the picture perfect lives they always saw on TV. They knew that they had to behave, and not draw attention to themselves, or else they'd get taken away. They attended school dutifully, because I had told them too. They took care of Mommy when I wasn't there, because I told them too. They were wary of prying strangers, and they never wasted anything.

They were the smartest kids I knew from the very beginning; even before I taught them to walk and talk.

They were getting older though. Gazzy was eleven now, and was more interested in playing sports and blowing things up than he was caring for the comatose mother lying in her bed at home, wasting away to nothing. Angel was nine, and was feeling the pressure to have the luxury items all her friends did.

Despite this, they never once complained. They were miracle children, that I was sure of.

"Max . . ." Jared said, watching as my eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine," I insisted, trying to put on a smile for his sake. It turned out more as a grimace though, so I shut down all pretenses.

"Maybe I should call Sarah back and tell her I'm going to need another hour or so," he suggested, his hand already reaching for his phone.

"No, no! I'm fine. Really. Go pick up Ian and give him the best day ever." I was glad that this time, my smile wasn't fake.

"Are you sure . . .? Because, you know I'm always going to be here for you. No matter what. You're like my little sister. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

His words though, implied my entire family. The thing was, he himself was barely scraping by. I couldn't take any money from him, not when they were already below the poverty line as well. He had his own priorities, and I had mine.

"Thanks Jared," I said meaningfully, and he grinned in response.

"Training tomorrow?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow as he lifted the strap of his bag and swung it over his shoulder lithely.

"I can't," I admitted. "I promised Angel and Gazzy I'd take them shopping."

"Shopping?" he inquired in concern. He was acutely aware of our financial state.

"It's okay. I have some extra money from last months rent. We can afford a few new t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Plus, the fight next weekend will cover any expenses."

What I didn't tell him was that I was also going to be shopping for more than clothes. A job was what I needed. A real one. Not some street fighting gig that raked in a few bucks per brawl.

"Alright," he said warily, giving me a searching look.

"Bye," I said with emphasis, nodding to the clock on the wall.

He sighed and shook his head, hopping down from the ring. He was halfway to the door when he turned again. I waved, giving him a small smile. Still, he hesitated. After a few minutes though he grudgingly turned once more, disappearing amongst the cluttered gym.

I waited until there was no chance of him turning back before I gathered my own things. I wiped my face off with my shirt, just then noticing the sticky perspiration dripping into my eyes. My hair was matted with sweat, and my clothes were clinging to my body. I muttered something about air conditioning, scooping up my now empty water bottle. I eyed the remaining droplets speculatively, before tossing it neatly into a trash bin. Ducking under the ropes, I scanned the mostly empty gym, my eyes dragging across the equipment.

There was a man in the corner jumping rope, the muscles in his arms twitching spastically. He was looking straight at me, his expression gruff. It was probably another sullen opponent of mine, sour about being defeated by a seventeen year old girl.

He, however, appeared to be the only serious person in the building. All the others were puny in comparison, lifting ten pound weights like it was some great struggle. I rolled my eyes, wiping my hand across my brow. Some people.

My backpack was heavy as it thumped against my spine each step I took. All I had to look forward to tonight was a frigid shower and a mountain of homework. The teachers at my high school were absolute tyrants when it came to assignments. It was like they thought all of us had hours of free time each night. They were oblivious to the fact that some people, namely me, had other more important obligations. To them education was everything. To me . . . well, I just wanted to survive with my family in-tact.

I shoved my way through the door, blinking in the fading afternoon light. The tall, but rundown, buildings around me were ghostly in the coming twilight. Shadows jumped out at me at frequent intervals. Somewhere off in the distance the specter-like laughter of children reached my ears. I shoved my hands in my pockets and bent my head down low. You avoided eye-contact in this part of the neighborhood . . . not that I couldn't take anyone that jumped at me. I tried not to cause a scene, though.

There was shuffling and low whispers from an alley up ahead. I made sure that my pace stayed regular, and I didn't twitch in the slightest. If my behavior was odd, it would arouse suspicion. Despite my careful precautions, all movement ceased in the darkness as soon as my figure came into sight. I looped along as usual, holding my breath. Not a soul approached me, and once I was far enough away, the drug deal resumed as normal.

Nothing was different in this infinite routine we all called life.

Authors Note: Well, what do you think? Reviews are life sustaining! So please, please, please drop me one (: Tell me if you love it, tell me if you hate it.