A/N: Well, you must've liked the summary, because you're reading this… now let's hope you enjoy the story, too. This is my first fan fiction, and I'm kind of testing the waters with this chapter.

You know what comes next—I can't really be considered an author unless I beg for reviews. (Gets on knees, hands clasped together.) I really want to know what doesn't work. Choppy spots, typos, continuity problems, anything at all. Not that I will say no to compliments… :)

And so, without further ado, I give you Impress Me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride or any affiliated characters.

Chapter 1

Note to self: crack up later. When Fang can't hear me

The others didn't possess such self-control; they giggled noisily, undeterred by Fang's glares. He still covered his ears in an attempt to block out the music.

I couldn't help myself. With false innocence, I said, "Gazzy, I don't think Fang likes your new CD."

This brought a fresh wave of laughter from my Flock, but I also received the full force of a death-glare from Fang. Ouch.

What? I mouthed.

He narrowed his eyes in the You-Know-Damn-Well-What look. He really hated that music. In fact, when Nudge had cranked the volume of our iPod up so she could hear without headphones, he'd frozen and dropped about thirty feet.

Of course, I hadn't freaked out at all. I mean, no horrible flashbacks or anything like that. I didn't scream like the paranoid, jumpy Avian-American that I am, or dive-bomb after him.

Please note the sarcasm in that last paragraph.

The others had mostly calmed down by now, so Angel's snicker made me suspect she'd been reading those thoughts. Again.

Angel!

"I'm sorry; I couldn't help it." Her innocent tone was much more convincing than mine.

I rolled my eyes, then noticed that Fang had begun flying lower to avoid the still blaring techno music. "Alright, I think you've tortured him enough for one day."

"Aw!" Gasman reluctantly turned the volume down, slipping the headphones on to enjoy his controversial tunes in private.

Fang, with a few strong strokes, rose back up to his usual position at my side.

"You're welcome," I said, grinning.

He gave me a dry look in return.

I locked my wings and coasted for awhile, the air refreshingly cool as it whipped past. Above was nothing but a dome of pure blue. Below, a few cotton balls were suspended, and below them, lay the ground. It was green, chopped into little geometric patterns by fields and roads. But it looked flimsy from such a distance, like a watercolor backdrop.

Where is this beautiful view, you ask? Somewhere near the Georgia border, hundreds of feet up, a day after blowing Itex to bits. Heading north. Don't know where north, just… north.

Our flight continued in relative calm. Mostly because Iggy—in a shocking act of kindness—refrained from taunting me about my panic attack. In return, I didn't have to kill anyone.

Or maybe Total wasn't giving the kid a chance. That dog just wouldn't shut up, and it was Iggy's turn to carry him.

You're going to have to face the truth eventually, my Voice chided.

Shut it, I thought absently, scanning the ground for a good landing sight. The Flock was about to get hungry for din—

"Ma-ax, I'm hungry," whined Nudge.

—ner. See? I was psychic.

Max, listen to me.

I tried to mentally roll my eyes. It didn't work very well; I had to physically do it, which drew an odd look from Fang, who'd been watching. Probably worried about me going off on another suicide mission or something like that. Ugh.

You need to save the world, and soon.

Yes, Bossy, you've told me that, I thought snidely. I noticed a promising grove of trees… oh, never mind, those were in someone's backyard…

I'm not the only one growing impatient, it warned.

Yay for them, I thought sarcastically. Leave me alone; Nudge is hungry.

I suddenly felt something brush my feathers—Fang's left wingtip. His face was set, impassive; only his pure black eyes hinted at emotions. Straight, jaw-length hair was as dark as his wings, and his bangs—brushed to the side—screened his left eye.

He met my gaze with a sideways look, but I quickly looked away, trying not to blush. To distract myself, I huffed, trying to blow a stray lock of hair out my eyes. It was blond, dark at the roots. When that didn't work, I raised a hand and tucked it back impatiently. My hair seriously needed cut again.

If you don't start showing progress, the consequences could be much worse than you think.

And what's worse than the end of the world? I asked skeptically, still not interested. I've had this conversation countless times.

For the billions of people needing saved—nothing. But for you—the Flock getting hurt.

I was listening now.

What do you mean, 'hurt'?

Of course, now that I was actually taking it seriously, it didn't say anything. But I didn't need it to. It had made its threat quite clear.

They were going after the Flock.

'They' being those whack-job scientists—and the super-company Itex—that created me. Apparently, they still thought the Flock was holding me back, and were going to follow through on Max II's plans to eliminate my family.

Correction: they were going to try. But I had absolutely no intentions of letting them get away with it.

They've already started.

Dragonology's Dictionary: "Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters, but is nevertheless his friend's emancipator." –Friedrich Nietzsche

Another A/N: Here's the deal, folks—Dragonology's Dictionary will have a new entry at the end of each chapter. A collection of quotes, if you will. Here's the twist: the quote foreshadows the next chapter. They're obscure references, usually explaining the theme more than what will actually happen, but it'll give you something to chew on between updates.

And I can laugh at you when I post that quote about losing a friend in chapter 9…