Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 11-

  I pull on the skintight black suit, and it feels like slipping into a memory. The last time I wore this, it was another time, another mission. So much has changed since then, yet so much is still the same. I smile down at Amelia as she rolls onto her stomach, attempting to push herself upright. She hasn't started crawling yet, but I feel like it's not far down the line. I am forever amazed at her growth not only physically, but mentally as well.

  I pull my hair up, grabbing my new and updated UCP off of the Hoverdesk. Although the design appears to be exactly the same, the software has been updated with a new alias so as not to be recognized from previous missions. Andrea doesn't know what I plan to do. She left the headquarters an hour ago, malicious rebellion coming off of her in palpable clouds. She may know that I wish to follow her to the riot, but she has no way of knowing my true plans. Moreover my plans for if anything goes wrong.

  I hear a knock on the door and see Paul standing with Tommy. The pair walk in, Tommy first, followed closely by Paul. Tommy looks happy to see Amelia and I, but Paul's arms are crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched in apparent anger. I step toward them cautiously.

  "You can't go," He says, assessing my outfit. "It's too dangerous."

  "Everyone else was given the option to go but me, and I need this, Paul," My voice resonates throughout my room, and Paul starts at my tone.

  "You're not everyone," Paul mutters, and Tommy shifts uncomfortably. I asked him to come watch Amelia while I'm away. Paul must has intercepted him on his way here. Recently, there hasn't been anything I've done that has gone unnoticed.

  "You're right. For some insane reason, I seem to have come to an elevated status that I don't deserve. With it, I've been shoved into some bubble, forced to stay put and out of the way. Paul, I've never been the kind of girl who was supposed to be kept in a bubble. Don't take my freedom from me. That's Government ideology. Instead, trust me to use my freedom to grant others theirs."

  Paul's tense stature seems to fade, his eyes softening, and his jaw slacking. "And you say you aren't a natural born leader," Paul says in awe, sending me a small smile.

  "I won't tell her if you won't," I say, looking not only at Paul, but at Tommy as well. Tommy nods hurriedly, but Paul just stands there, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, I won't tell her," He says, uncrossing his arms. Tommy walks further into the room, coming to sit next to Amelia on the floor. She rolls to face him, and Tommy tickles her stomach.

"If you must go," Paul says, having moved suddenly closer, his lips pressed to my ear, "take this." I feel cool metal against my palm, and I wrap my fingers around the gun Paul is offering me. "I hope you don't have to use it, but if you do, don't stop firing. Come back safe."

  I nod slowly, pushing the gun into an inconspicuous pocket within my black ActiveWear. I walk over to the desk, pressing the UCP to my skin. Paul smiles sadly at his creation and I turn into an old woman dressed as a Beggar. "How do I look?" I ask, taking in my reflection.

  "Ancient," Paul jokes, then he sighs. "I wish you the best of luck."

  The alley is bustling with life, Beggars bustling down the busy side streets. I walk by one Beggar, her arms outstretched, her children clinging to her skirt. Her eyes are pleading, and she grabs hold of my arm. "Do you have any food?" She asks quietly, looking worriedly at her children. "My daughter is sick, and my son hasn't eaten in three days. Please, anything will help."

  I think back to when I was on the streets, when food wasn't ever readily available at my beck and call. I reach into my baggy clothes, my fingers breaking through the illusion to my bodysuit. My fingers touch to cool metal of the gun.