A/N: First attempt at writing a crossover, because my sister wouldn't leave me alone, so here goes. There is some instances of people being out of character, so sorry about that.

Updates will be fairly fast, so keep checking back.

That being said, read and review!

Disclaimer: If I owned both Maximum ride AND Kickin' It, I would be jumping for joy 24/7. Sadly, that is so not the case.

Fang's P.O.V

I squint at the ground in the falling darkness. Even from about 500 feet in the air, I can see many details. Why, you ask? Because I am an avian-American flying above a small town in California, and my raptor vision means I don't miss anything. Ever.

I focus on the one thing that seems out of place. A tall boy with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. He has a duffel bag, and he's walking fast. Extremely fast. Too fast. No one else on that street is in that big of a rush, which begs the question, why is he?

I swoop down to see what he's doing. In a heartbeat, Max is next to me. "What's going on?" she asks, and I can feel her muscles tense in anticipation for a fight.

"Just need to check something out." I say.

"Is it suspicious?" she asks, raising one eyebrow. "Should I tell the kids to go hide?"

"Yes. No." I say.

"We're going to wait for you in that mall we saw a few minutes ago, it'll be easy to blend in there." She tells me and flies back to the rest of the flock. I can hear Nudge's piercing squeal. Excited about going to the mall, no doubt.

I land quietly, make sure my wings are hidden, and follow the fast-walker I had spotted earlier. He's dressed in a gray hoodie and blue jeans, and big clunky vans. He's carrying a duffel bag, which for all I know could have a bomb in it.

"Hey," I bark. Then I smack myself in the head. There went any hope of subtlety. Terrific. Now I have to, you know, converse with a normal person my age. Not one of my best skills. It starts sinking in how very little I thought this through. Max is the thinker, she makes the plans. I go with my gut and roll with the punches.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the boy asks. His words are tough, but his slumped posture and red, puffy eyes give away his fatigue.

"What happened to you?" I ask. Not that I witness a whole lot of crying in my daily life as a mutant on the run, but it's obvious that's exactly what this guy is doing. "Where are you going?"

"Away," he says. "I am running away," he sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

"Why?" This kid looks like he can fight, but that doesn't mean he can make it on the streets.

"Long story," he sighs heavily, and shakes his head. I notice his hair, which is almost as awesome as mine.

"I got time," I say calmly. I actually don't, because of the whole Max-and-the-flock-waiting-in-the-mall thing, but I can't let this kid hit the streets for no reason. He wouldn't last.

"I'm adopted," he says, sounding relieved to get that off his chest. "My parents told me today. I guess I'm annoyed that they had fifteen years to tell me, but didn't. I can't believe they kept that from me! How am I ever supposed to trust them again?" he looks at me like he's about to cry again. "Anyway, my biological mother was a teenager, but she died fourteen years ago. I have a fraternal twin brother, though. I thought I'd go find him. Strange thing is; no one knows anything about him, not his number, address, or even first name."

I nod sympathetically. If this was Max, she'd tell the kid to take a hike because we have it worse. But I don't think that's fair. It doesn't make sense to forget small problems because they're small. That's like ignoring little good things simply because they're insignificant.

"What's your name, kid?" I ask.

"Jack- I don't know what my last name is. Not anymore."

"What was your last name, then?"

"Brewer."

"Jack, your last name is still Brewer," I say patiently. "Your foster parents are still the ones that raised you and cared for you. Don't turn your back on them." He nods a little, but doesn't look convinced. "And you never know; your twin brother might be a thug, or a murderer, or a drug dealer, or something awful. But you know what you have here: A family that took care of you even though you aren't theirs by birth." That was, by far, the longest speech I had ever given in my fourteen-ish years of life.

"I just can't believe they betrayed me like that." He says, shivering despite his hoodie. I nod. He's mad now, but I can't do anything besides convince him not to do anything monumentally stupid. As cheesy as it sounds, some things are best left up to Time to heal.

"Well then, isn't there anyone else who would miss you?" I ask. "Friends, teachers, girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you're right. I can't leave my best friends and my dojo behind." I guess I look confused, so he adds, "I do Karate." I nod and he goes on. "There is this one girl….not my girlfriend, but she's a girl, who is my friend, but …." He trails off. "It's hard to explain."

"Been there," I grunt.

He looks at me like he's about to hug me or something, so I take a step back and tell him we should probably go to this dojo place.

"Right, it's in the mall, if you walked this way, you should have passed right by it." I mutter that I did, because now would be an awful time to mention that I did not, in fact, walk.

Then it hits me that he's talking about the same mall that the flock is waiting in. I wonder if it could be a trap, but I realize that Gazzy could probably take this kid with one wing tied behind his back.

"Thanks, man. You probably saved my life back there." He says after a few minutes of silent walking. I grunt.

"What's your name?" he asks again.

"Fang," ugh, if Max found out I gave my real name to a stranger, she will kill me.

"That's an interesting name." he says, narrowing his eyes.

I make a face halfway between a snort and a smirk. A snirk, if you will. "Yeah?" I scoff. "Loads more interesting than Jack."

Love it? Hate it? Tell me!