Yo people. flYegurl here! This is my first fanfic, so it might not be perfect. I love love love love love Iggy, and I already had the plot for this fic all set up! Iggy really need his own story. So… yeah. Bear with me and please read on. And enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did own Maximum Ride, Angel would be a lot better. And Iggy would be the hero and main character, not Max. And Fang would be dead.

Sorry, Fanggirls. Fang is so not cool. And totally overrated.

Iggy rocks.

Iggy POV~

I'm just sitting there, listening to the silence, while everyone else is in the good ol' living room, watching a stupid movie. I hate movies, although I'll never admit it. The rest of the Flock loves movies. And they think that I'm okay with it. They think it's alright for me, just listening to random sounds and voices and having them describe stuff. Of course, they leave out almost everything, and completely stop describing during the climaxes. So I'm left hanging, telling them to tell me what's going on… and they get mad. And shout at me for drowning out the action with my voice. And they rewind it to watch it over again… and again forget to tell me anything. So of course I've learned that it's easier to just not stay for the movie and go off by myself.

It's not fun, sitting alone in my bedroom while I hear my family and Ella and Dr. Martinez shouting and laughing and exclaiming over everyone-but-me-knows-what. I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window pane, drinking in the blessed feeling. It clears my head enough to think.

But instead of actually thinking, I get mad. I get angry at all of them for leaving me alone while they have fun. Do they think I like being blind? Do they think I like being left, literally, in the dark?

The movie must be over, because I can hear everyone standing and stretching and chattering about how they liked it. I sigh as I hear them talking down the hall, feel their vibrations coming closer. Nudge opens the door.

"Oh, Iggy! You should have totally watched it! You would have loved it! There was this one part, where the guy, he pulled out his gun and did like a triple back flip and shot the other guy in the head! It was awesome! Wish you had seen it!"

Wow. How insensitive can you get? I mean, I'm blind. But they forget sometimes, and say stuff that could hurt… you know, not like it ever does.

Who am I kidding? It hurts like Hell.

And I really would have loved to watch that movie. Not because I thought the movie could have been good…

I'd just really love to watch anything.

Nudge walks off with Gazzy and Angel and the rest, back down the hall into the kitchen. Oh yeah. Dinner.

I stand heavily and begin walking to the door. I'm not used to this stupid house yet, so I run my hand across the wall as I walk. The wall is plaster, and feels bad against my fingernails---like scraping them across a chalkboard. I almost trip over a lump in the rug, but I catch myself just in time on the doorknob. I push open the door and slouch down the hallway, weary of the noise in the kitchen as the Flock chats up about the stupid film to Ella and Dr. Martinez. I hear laughing and joking, and I can smell something awful that reminds me suspiciously of Gazzy. I also smell Dr. Martinez's fine, Mexican cooking.

That's another thing I hate about this place. The fact that now, one of my only skills the Flock ever valued, my cooking, is moot. I mean, who wants the cooking of a blind mutant bird freak when you can eat fajitas made by a full grown, regular woman? One who's spent her whole life perfecting the nacho? I mean, who's gonna let that up in exchange for something made by Yours Truly?

I guess I'm the only one.

God, I miss cooking. I miss that feeling I had, knowing that the rest of my family was waiting eagerly for the one of the only things I could provide. I mean, hey, you got the endless entertainment from Nudge, shenanigans from Gazzy, all the cutesy stuff from Angel, leadership from Max. And all those brave heroics performed by Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, aka Fang. Then there's me, blind pyro that I am, and the only thing I do is cook, make bombs, and pick locks. And, lately, I haven't even had to do the last two. Gazzy's almost as good as I am at that. Or, hey, the first one. Thanks to the lovely-and-apparently-fabulous cook, Dr. Martinez.

It makes me feel so worthless.

I turn and walk the other way down the hallway, kicking at the carpet.

"And wasn't it so cool, when the captain, when he threw the bad guy out the window?" Gazzy shouts eagerly, a mouthful of something causing his voice to sound muffled.

"Yeah, and when the ship blew up and there were all those explosions!"

I sigh. Yet another thing I'd never be able to see. How much I'd give to see just one of my own explosions.

I open the back door silently and walk twenty steps into the back yard, to where I know there is a good, clear space for me to take off. I spread my wings, which incidentally I just recently discovered are a wicked awesome color (my whole "Yay! Now I can feel colors!" power), and sprint a few yards before jumping into the cool night air. I lift my powerful wings up and down, catching the gusts of wind, using updrafts skillfully to send me rocketing into the sky with barely any effort. I close my eyes, not that it makes a difference, and feel the world around me. The wind caresses my skin, silky smooth, rippling over my feathers. I dip into a dive, barreling towards earth, before lifting up just as I hear the rustling of leaves mere inches below me. The night breeze is cool and comforting. Out here, I feel alive. Out here, I feel free. Out here, I feel powerful. And it's not the feeling of power that I miss when I'm cooking, the feeling that I control their dinner, and if they make me mad… But no, it's a feeling that completely takes away any thought from my mind… about my blindness being a handicap… any thoughts that the Flock doesn't need me… any doubts of my worth. It clears my mind, my soul. I've been going on these flights often, lately. I've been having the need to feel… needed.

I sigh contentedly. I'm much better now. I think I can go back and join the Flock again, maybe even stand to listen to their chatterings about the movie. I feel happy again.

Of course, when any one of us is happy, it's almost as if it sends out a tracking signal. For the Erasers. Because the Erasers don't like us being happy.

I hear the flapping of struggling wings behind me. I swerve. On that side too. More uneven, lopsided wing-beats. On all sides.

"Hey, Freak. Good to see you again."

Ari.

Typical.

So how did you like it? It's my first fic, as I've said, so it might not be that good. Review! Review! Review! Every person who reviews will get a special little section of my heart…

Any suggestions would be appreciated! I love suggestions! But no flames, please. Anyway, I have a fire-hose on hand… just in case.

Review!