Hello everyone! Well, this is my first ever fanfiction. I decided to start off with a story about how Iggy loses his eyesight. I know this idea has been done many times before, but I really wanted to try writing it from a different perspective than I usually see on these stories. This story will be from the point of view of Jeb Batchelder. There will be more chapters, starting off with the story of how Iggy went blind, and I'll just see where it all goes from there! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story, and constructive criticism is appreciated! Thanks!
Chapter 1
"This project is going to be revolutionary!" Dr. Brown exclaimed as he pressed a button that lit up a projector above me. He fumbled around his briefcase for a moment before pulling out a small laser pointer. The lights dimmed as the blank wall suddenly illuminated in front of me, displaying numerous diagrams and equations.
"I know you're all very busy, so I'll get straight to the point with this." Dr. Brown began as he looked out to greet those of us in the audience.
"I've developed a plan to make a powerful mutant even more powerful."
The scientists that accompanied me in the small auditorium-like room were on the edge of their seats, looking up at Dr. Brown with amazement and adoration. I rolled my eyes. Despite my fellow colleagues' praise toward the man, I viewed him nothing more than a scientist with a big ego and good marketing.
"You see, adding a scotopic adaption to a mutant would increase the chances of survival during the night. This adaption would allow for hunting even during the night, as well as better defense during a night time attack. Oh, the skills a mutant would possess with such an adaption! It would be able to navigate throughout the depths of the Earth's darkest crevasses without the slightest of difficulty! Imagine what this would do for science!"
Dr. Brown was bursting with excitement, that was clearly rubbing off on the other scientists as the listened, mouths agape, to the words of their idol. I however, was skeptic. I could not see how night-vision would improve all that much for science. After all, didn't they have goggles for that these days?
I leaned back in my chair and sighed as Dr. Brown described each and every way his project would benefit the world. His ideas were not of any interest to me, but because he was technically my boss, I had no choice but to comply to all of his commands.
Somewhere in between "searching the ocean floor" and "useful in the case of a permanent solar eclipse" I began thinking of the avian-human hybrid children. They were a project assigned to me many years ago, but over time they'd begun to feel more and more like my own children. I had to convince myself otherwise, for the sake of my job, they were supposed to be nothing more than more experiments. But as hard as I tried, I still couldn't help but feel awful every time I heard one of them cry or see the multiple bruises and needle marks from experimentation.
I hadn't realized that Dr. Brown had moved on and begun discussing the procedure of enhancing night-vision.
"It's a very complicated surgery. We're very lucky to have Dr. Talser, one of the most highly respected surgeons in the scientific field, to perform the surgery." He said pointing to a man in a dark suit sitting in the third row from the front. The room erupted in applause as Dr. Talser stood up and bowed.
"It's a pleasure to get to work with you all." He replied as he nervously adjusted his tie and made his way to the stage to assist Dr. Brown in explaining the surgery.
I listened carefully as the men explained the intricate details of the procedure, scribbling notes in the provided spiral-bound notebook. The presentation went on for almost 2 hours. In fact, by the time it was done half of my notebook was filled with my messy notes and equations. It wasn't until then, that I noticed a key point that seemed to have been neglected.
"Sir!" I exclaimed suddenly jumping out of my seat. Everyone shifted in their seats until I could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on me.
"Ah, yes Batchelder." Dr. Brown said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you have something to add?"
"Well sir," I began nervously, "While I see potential in this plan, I've noticed you seem to have neglected to mention the odds of failure."
Dr. Brown raised his eyebrows. "Go on."
"Well sir, you are working with a complicated area of the brain. And while your procedure seems to be well thought out, you still have a near forty percent chance of triggering a cardiac arrest, and potentially killing the subject and possibly even higher chances of permanently disabling the subject."
There was an awkward silence as Dr. Brown stared directly at me.
"If it fails, it fails. What more do you want me to do? Besides, it's highly unlikely to fail. Do you understand, Batchelder?"
"Yes sir." I replied, resisting my urge to say more. Instead, I simply sat back down in my seat.
"Dr. Brown?" A woman stood up. "I must say, I think this plan is genius. But what are we going to experiment on?"
"Ah, what a good question dear." Dr. Brown said with a smile. "You see, I've been carefully testing multiple subjects. It's been hard trying to find the one with the right genetic makeup and stamina for the operation. But I believe I have found the perfect subject."
He reached for the remote and pressed a button to change the slide. We had a vast number of experiments to choose from, so I wasn't too concerned. But when the picture appeared on the screen, a knot formed in my stomach.
There on the screen was the profile of Iggy, one of the human-avian hybrid experiments that I had grown to love like a son. Subject 4 was typed in bold letters above the six year old's bright smile and strawberry tinted hair. I had to sit and listen as Dr. Brown went on about why Subject 4 was the perfect candidate for the surgery.
I hated how he addressed Iggy as Subject 4. It was part of the reason I called them by the names they chose to replace the ones that labeled them at the lab. No one deserved to be called a subject.
I remember the day Iggy got his name. Even when Iggy was very little, he had an extreme fascination with fire. One night several years ago, an scientist's experiment went awry, and the chemicals he had been working with caused a fire.
"A FIRE HAS IGNITED IN ROOM 5693! GET THE EXTINGUISHERS!" He screamed as he ran through the hallways of the facility. Iggy overheard the commotion, and seemed to be fascinated by the word ignite. Being little though, the best he could say it was "Iggy." Figuring the kids would be asleep, I ran into their room to make sure they were out of harm's way of the fire. Max and Fang were sound asleep, but in the crate in the corner, Iggy who was almost 3 at the time, was wide awake. His blue eyes were bright with happiness as he excitedly clapped his hands.
"Iggy! Iggy! Iggy!" The little boy exclaimed, looking up at me through iron bars.
"Hi buddy." I said gently, squatting down to get at eye level with the toddler.
"Iggy! Iggy!" He shouted in reply, poking his fingers through the bars. I touched his finger and he giggled as he pulled it away before retreating to the back of his crate to curl up and go to sleep.
"Goodnight Iggy." I said before turning out the light in the room.
I was jolted out of my flashback by the sound of the dispersing crowd, who were all headed back to their assigned areas. Without hesitation, I gathered my belongings and rushed to the stage where Dr. Brown was packing up his presentation.
"Dr. Brown you can't use Iggy for the surgery!" I practically shouted when I approached the stage.
"What?" He asked in confusion.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Subject 4. You can't do the surgery on subject 4."
"Well, why ever not?"
I glared at him in disgust. "He's only six!" I argued. "He's still just a kid! Look Brown, he's under my care, and I'll be the one to decide whether or not you can poke around his brain."
"Funny Batchelder. You know, if I didn't know any better, I would assume you are getting a little attached to your experiments. You know how Itex feels about that. Besides," he handed him a paper with attitude. "I have these."
I snatched the paper from his hands and briefly skimmed over the document. It was a form, addressed by the head of Itex, granting permission for the experimental surgery of Subject 4. At the sight of that, I knew I had reached my Waterloo in the argument, and silently walked out in defeat.