You all have heard of Iggy, right? Of course you have! How else could you be reading Maximum Ride fan fiction? Do you all remember how he became blind? Let me remind you…

He had his vision ruined by a bunched of FREAKING MAD SCIENTISTS.

But what if he wasn't the only one who had lost his vision back at the school? What if there were other non-successful eye experiments and someone had survived. Well, this did happen, and this survivor was named Lydia. (Yes, I'm aware this is actually me. But I had a dream about this last night and thought it would be kinda cool to put into words.)

This is my story…

I had been raised pretty normally. My mother and father were dentists. Very poor, but they put bread on the table. I was their only child. We all had a comfortable life. Once every two months we would go see a movie at the dollar theatre. Every Friday night we had board game night. Our apartment was above my parent's office. I went to a regular elementary school. I had lots of friends. I took everything for granted. Until one day I came home.

(Come on, you had to know something bad was coming, right? How else was this picture perfect story supposed to go?)

I was only 6. It had been a Thursday, and I had been bouncing with anticipation on my seat in the bus at the fact that soon I would be able to show my parents the gold star I had received. It had been from a spelling test. I even remember a few of the words. How pathetic is that? Pan, can, fan; and the hardest, land.

My house was on fire. The bus driver didn't notice, of course. He drops me off a block away; I have to walk the rest. Firefighters and police were everywhere. One man in a black suit came over to me. I mistakenly thought he was some government agent. Biggest mistaken of my miserable life.

(I know you all are going, ok… but what in the world does this have to do with Maximum Ride?!?!?!?! Hold on, I'm getting there.)

He told me to step into the car, that he was gonna take me somewhere nice and safe. I obediently climbed in. After driving for awhile, he started to become less official. Started muttering things. Once he got on his cell phone. Started talking all excited like. He said something like, "She's the perfect age! Oh, wait until the Director learns about this!" But, as it was approaching closer to 7:15, my bedtime, I slowly let go of my consciousness and drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke, I was on a plane. In a potato sack. I hazily thought, "Waahhh?" Then drifted off. Something had smelled funny. Like the smell my parents office has after an unwilling patient tries to fight off getting a tooth pulled, or something like that.

Once again I started to wake up. I was in a dog crate. And I was six years old. So what do you do in a situation like this? You start crying for you mommy, of course!

( See, I told you we'd get to Maximum Ride related things! She's at the school now, get it?)

After a couple of weeks of moldy bread and dirty water, I got used to things; stiff upper lip and all that. Then the scientists returned. I was taken to a room and given a cookie. Me like cookie. Anyway, they then proceeded to tell me what a great future I was destined for. They were going to make me superhuman. They were going to enhance my eyes. The whitecoats said they were going to make my eyesight to amazing, I could see anywhere in the world. All I would have to do is focus, and I could see a cricket chirping all the way over in China. It would be incredible. I would be their crowning achievement. Also, they would genetically enhance other things about me. Better senses, stronger, faster, more agility, etc. (I got bored after awhile. Plus they had more cookies. Therefore, my mind was averted from the current conversation.)

After awhile they must have realized that, because they shut up and told me to follow them. What else was I supposed to do? Besides, they had cookies. They must be the nice guys. Much nicer then the scary wolf men that gave me the bread and water. The next several years were a blur.

Experiment after experiment. They said they would kick into effect soon, but nothing was happening.

I was nearing the end of my 13th year. I think. It's kinda hard to tell when you're just in a dog crate endlessly. They said I was a failure. A mistake. Worse than nothing. One more try. I already had a hard time seeing. The edges of my vision were black. Only the very center could see, and even then it was fuzzy. One more try, they said. One more try to see if I wasn't a complete failure. Otherwise I would be fed to the Erasers. This certainly made them happy. They even kicked my cage more often. Lucky me.

I came out of surgery. Everything was black. I couldn't see at all. Of course, I started freaking out. The doctors all muttered about how much of a failure I was. The erasers laughed with glee. "Tomorrow will be fun," they joked to each other. Slowly I accepted this darkness, and started trying to really put my other senses to use. The next day I was out in a field. How did I know this? I could feel the grass under my feet. I knew some of the whitecoats were around here somewhere, because I had heard them, but I couldn't place where they were.

One started to countdown, "Three, two..." I really concentrated. Where was that whitecoat? I could hear heavy breathing all around me. The heavy breathing of erasers. I had become accustomed to it these 8 years. If I could only get to the whitecoat, maybe hold them hostage.

Yes, that had to work! Good plan, Lydia.

"…three."

I heard the wind whistling above me in the upper right corner. I instinctually put my hand up to block it. And I was right; an eraser had just tried to chop my head off with a strong uppercut. I quickly flipped him over my back. I could sense another one coming, his footsteps at 25 degrees. I quickly jumped up, did a handstand on his shoulders, and flipped over him.

I must have flipped over all the erasers, because of the 3 people in front of me, they were all lightly breathing, breathing very fast, as a scared little child would. Like I used to. I quickly grabbed a lady by the hair and put her in a headlock. What happened next, I wear I did not mean to do. I had never known the extent of my strength. The whitecoats had never felt the need to let me know. But lets just said that lady got a Mary Antoinette pulled on her.

Very gruesome, but this was about my survival. So, next victim. I grabbed another whitecoat by the head, but this time was much softer with my headlock. I whispered into his ear with ever inch of hate I had acquired all these years.

"Call them off or you'll end up like your little compadre."

And that's how I escaped. Mr. Scaredy Whitecoat called them off, and with my grip around his fat head, I slowly inched my way out of the school. I ordered for a van. They gave it to me. With fathead in the passenger seat, we slowly drove away. Don't ask me how I suddenly acquired motor skills, cause even I don't know. Maybe that's one of the things they meant when they said genetic enhancements.

When I was out of the state, I pushed Mr. Fathead out of the car. After I drove it as fast as it would go. On the highway. Oops.

After another mile, I ditched the car. They were more then likely tracking it.

*Author's Note*

(just like the ones you keep getting this whole time)

This is not just about Lydia. The flock will be included. As will Iggy. A little romance maybe? Comment me for your ideas. I'm kinda of getting writer's block. Should she sprout wings? Or just flat out be able to fly, like Superman? So tell me your ideas. I would really like to hear them.