Skye's the Limit |Book 1 In 'Skye Adventures' Series|

Prologue/Introduction: Special

   This wasn't planned. I didn't mean to get myself in this mess.

   But let's rewind.

     In the beginning... There was me. I was all alone, do you know where my parents were? Because I didn't. Still don't. 

       I was shoved into many group homes and foster homes as a kid. The group homes were terrible, they didn't have enough money to support all the children. A lot of the homes I was in had parents that were abusive - emotionally, verbally... Physically.  

    Only home I liked was with a young man, maybe somewhere in his early twenties, named Miles. He seemed to genuinely care about me. Even though I was young when I was with him, we both had the same views on the world. What should be revealed, what should stay behind encryption, and what should be deleted from history.

    So he taught me how to hack. He taught me everything I know about computers, technology, hacking, and the world. Without him I wouldn't have my job. I wouldn't have the life I have now.  And my job is only thing that keeps me tied down right now. My job is my life.

    I work for an organization called Rising Tide. I am what they consider a 'hacktivist'. I hack in, then review information that I think needs to be known worldwide. Most of what I reveal has to do with... How do I phrase this? Supernatural activities? Otherworldly events? 

    One of my strongest beliefs, is that another organization, Shield should be shut down. Or at the least reduced to limited control over 'special persons'.

    Their Agents excel in bringing in supernatural people. You might know some of them like Captain America and The Hulk. Thor. Aliens. Warriors from other planets.

    They wanted to hide people with powers. I ON THE OTHER hand wanted to show the world the beauty of these people. I understand what it's like to be restricted for the sake of protecting me. 

     The third home after Miles was a very.... Difficult home. When I left I had every intention of clearing away any trace of my existence, creating a new identity, and joining Rising Tide, which I knew Miles always dreamed of working for.

    That plan failed. The police almost immediately found me and dragged me back to my foster mother's house. It got bad. Fast. 

   I had been in 10 different homes. 2 of them group. It was a miracle I was ever placed in a normal home after that. Once you're a in a group home you don't really come back from it. You tend to be labeled as dangerous and high risk. Most kids in group homes used to be in juvie. I slowly had become aware that the next time I messed up I would be marked too bad of a liability and sent there myself. 

     So I carefully planned my next escape. A month later I left. I had snuck out the window after foster mom had locked me in my room one night. It wasn't uncommon for  foster kids who were at risk of fleeing to be locked in at night.  The window had a lock only undone from the outside, but I had managed to discreetly break it without her knowing. 

      My first night I spent hiding. I was terrified. Horrified I'd be attacked, assaulted. Scared that someone would call the police on me. 

    The next day I kept my head down low, traveling farther away from my old foster home, successfully shoplifting some essentials I'd need. I needed money and I needed it fast. If I could just get a computer... It was risky to do everything in a public space, at a library... I just needed a laptop. 

   I barely survived the first week. I got good at hiding at night, but sleep was hit or miss. I was exhausted, always on my toes. 

   But through the trials I persisted and found an underground group of hackers and prodigies that met in person every week. It wasn't hard when I knew what I was looking for online. Though I might've accidentally left a nasty virus on the library computer- I'd gotten what I needed to survive. An in. 

    I crashed one of their meetings. Lying about nearly all my personal information. Saying I'd be 18 in a month and I just started living on my own through an independent living program. That I needed help. That I'd give them access to information that they wouldn't usually be able to find, if they could give me a small loan- enough to buy a laptop and keep myself fed until I was able to find some kind of free lance work. 

     Someone took the chance on me. Unsure what I even wanted to dig up I decided to go at Shield. It was something Miles had a lot of interest in so I had some knowledge on the ins and outs of where to go and find stuff. 

    I found dangerous information regarding Tony Stark. And the man promised me %30 that he'd make off selling this information.

     The next week when I returned and was greeted by a shiny box with a laptop in it, and a set of car keys. The file had sold for a lot more than anticipated. As an extra thank you, this man (his name was Charles I believe, but most of them actually used fake names for extra protection when they met in person) had bought me decent but used van.

    I nearly cried. Shelter. Never mind I couldn't freaking drive. I could atleast sleep somewhere besides the spaces I wedged myself in in alleyways and parks. 

      So I lived happily ever after.

     Well sorta. I slowly taught myself to drive (it was sorta easy, it took a few months to be confident, but it was easy enough I didn't crash or get arrested). I made myself a fake ID and a fake driver's license. At that point most nights I got hotel or motel rooms for the night, the money I had inherited from the information that had been sold on my behalf was generous. I was set for life as long as I didn't go overboard. And I knew I was going to be making more. 

   So I could afford to sleep completely safe most nights. 

     I applied to Rising Tide. Well sort of. I sort of black mailed them. Digging up information on the founder of Rising Tide regarding sexual allegations and a mysterious murder that had happened 5 years earlier. 

   They weren't stupid. I got in. And I started working immediately. It was free lance work so I was paid consistently but I was fine. I was doing something I was good at, that I liked. I didn't have a home, but I had a van that I had transformed into a small space that I could work out of... A small corner where I could sleep need be. I had money. I could probably fake my way into living in an apartment but I didn't need to be pinned down. 

  At 15 I had a life for myself. I was doing it. I was living my life independently. I didn't need anyone. 

Edited 4/12/2020