A/N: This is taking place on Earth. I'm not very good with stories on Earth because I don't usually use Earth. It also takes place in the future. Not that much is different. But there are a lot of tall skyscrapers in different areas. They have earned the name The Business District or The Business Buildings or something like that. The areas are generally only about 300 miles apart, unless you get into more rural areas. Then there aren't seen very often.

Please review!!! I welcome all criticism although you may get an e-mail in reply. When I send an e-mail in reply to a review I'm not trying to say I'm too good for criticism or anything like that. I just like to try and immediately clear up any problems or answer any questions. If I seem to be debating your suggestion I'm sorry. I'm not ungrateful or anything and I don't mean to come across as conceited/snobby/too good for anyone else/etc.

I'm new at using this QuickEdit thing and posting stories so I'm sorry if the format and stuff are off.

This is a somewhat revised version and I may fix it more. A second chapter should be coming soon... hopefully...

Now onto the story


Above in the sky, the stars were twinkling like Christmas tree lights on a dark black night. No moon was shining to give light to the lone girl walking down the street. Arms full of groceries created the illusion that she had come from the local grocery store. This image she used made people think that not only does she live in this town, but had for a while; most newcomers never even knew there was a local grocery store because of the over-priced franchises.

Nothing seemed abnormal—but isn't the worst going to happen when it's the quietest? The thin high heels seemed to annoy her for they were the reason she was stumbling and tripping on the cracked sidewalk. With the grace of a hunter she caught herself each and every time, and with the mouth of a sailor she soundlessly spoke every time she was about to lose her balance. Why did I have to wear these shoes! I can't walk, and if I can't walk how am I supposed to run? She became somber for a second as memories flooded her.

--

"Has to be fast in reactions," one man in a white lab coat said

"Has to be strong," another stated

"Has to be slim to fit through small places; can't have bulging muscles," the third whispered.

"Has to look normal," the fourth announced.

"Has to be able to run," the fifth replied.

"Has to be able to spy and gather our information without being caught," the second added.

"Has to be able to do whatever is needed to complete whatever mission sent on," the third said a little louder this time.

"The training will give us all what we need," the first concluded.

-.

She let her mind wander. Ever since I escaped the last time they caught me it's been me running and me hiding. He has too many resources. And he has too much time on his hands. She tilted and turned her head, flipping her brown hair behind her shoulder. She was going to laugh but then remembered that she didn't want to draw attention to herself—something her laughter always did. That's why I'm wearing these shoes—so that I don't draw attention. Stupid town full of stupid stuck up women that look down on you if you wear sneakers. The sales lady almost had a heart attack when I asked if I could see sneakers instead.

I'm built to run, and that is one of the easiest ways to escape the thugs he sends, but these shoes are impossible. Not to mention the hazards of wearing high heel shoes and walking on cracked pavement. No shoes would be better… but that would draw attention to me.

That's how I went around in the beginning when I was "there." That is I did until they realized my "worth." I realized that I didn't have to use my gifts, my curses, that they gave me to do what they wanted; I could use them to escape and have my own life without someone treating me like I have no mind/wants/needs/feelings of my own.

I won't ever go back to them willingly.

Voices from a memory suddenly played out in her head:

"She's a tool. A weapon. She does her job and that's all that matters."

"We made her the way she is with our own drugs, and experiments. She owes us."

"She doesn't seem to think that way. She existed before you came along and changed her and unless you get a little smarter she'll exist after you. She isn't a thing. You need to change your tactics to control her. I won't let this chance go by even if you will," a familiar creepy male voice coolly stated.

A small crack in the sidewalk brought her back from her memory but didn't stop her thoughts.

For several blocks this pattern of tripping and catching her balance while her attention was elsewhere continued until, finally, she tripped in a pothole, which had no business being in a sidewalk, and all the bags flew out of her slender arms. Her garnet eyes flew over the items, which had emerged from the bags, making sure she knew saw each landed. Note to self: Keep eggs tied safely in bag, she thought when an open carton of eggs smashed against a building's old wall. Well, at least it was already dirty.

She had begun to pick up the bread and then the milk, when she saw a shadowy face for a split second peaking out of an alley. No longer were her concerns on the fallen groceries but on some fear that made her run. Seeing that she was being followed, her mind turned to ways of getting help—for she knew she could not outrun him in these shoes.

However, any effort would be in vain. The sidewalks were abandoned, and the few cars that went by had no intentions of stopping for anything. Seeing no other way to lose him she ran out into the street, dodging careless drivers and speeding cars, trying to get to the other side of the four lane road. While she was still crossing the noise level suddenly dropped. There were no honking cars or blasts of music stereos too loud. It was strangely quite; quite enough for her to hear anything or anyone.

"You can't escape me," a nerve-racking male voice yelled over the roar of sudden traffic. It was not the same man as the one chasing her, but the man who was chasing her worked for the man who spoke then and in her memories.

No longer did she bother to stop and find out exactly where he, the one who spoke, was. It didn't matter. This cat-and-mouse game had started a long time ago. This also wasn't the first time she was so close to being caught, nor if she was caught would that be a first. Somehow a way to escape always presented itself either before or after she was caught. But, she was running out of luck. They—his people—were too close too fast this time. There was no guarantee that she would be able to get out of this—but is there really a guarantee on anything in life? Maybe he will decide to take no chances with me escaping this time.

She shivered. He always unnerved her just by existing, but his words lingered just a bit longer than normal this time. No, I have to concentrate she thought. What did matter was where that noise was coming from. While running across the last lane in the road, she looked around to see what was coming that could make that noise and saw it—a few army trucks and some motorcycles. Everything looked hopeless then, but that was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in her stomach when highly-trained professionals stepped out of the trucks. They all were holding at least one gun and a stunner with more tools in their belts. Oh no! Not this again. But since when do they come armed? I didn't know I was that high on his want—or is it wanted?—list. Or has he just decided that I'm a danger? No, that couldn't be it. They always treated me like a child or some tool. But then again he used to—and still does—look at me differently. I still don't get it but now isn't the time to try and figure out what was in his eyes the last time I saw him.

I'm out numbered so I'll skip the fighting and try my famous trick—out running them. Forgetting about her shoes, she tried to run again but her path was easily cut off by the motorcycles. Stupid shoes! I can't outrun anyone in these let alone motorcycles. Can I take them off? No. I can't slip them off, and if I bend down they will most likely shoot me because they'll think I'm going for some weapon. She began to realize that this chase was well planned, unlike the other times. No windows face this side of the street and no one would see anything. But hear! Wouldn't they hear the noise? Couldn't anyone hear the noise these trucks were making? Wait… It's some holiday… the fourth of July… People would just think that it's some crazy neighbor with fireworks. What can I do? I've gotten out of these messes before. There has to be something. There has to. Doesn't there?

A brand new Mercedes pulled up. "It's over," the man in the driver's seat said. His voice was the same one that she heard and remembered before.

She slowly turned and faced him. On the day that this country celebrates freedom I lose mine.

A/N: Does anyone know how to indent?

Thanks to Renozrai, Hannah, and Farla for reviewing.

To Hannah: I only mentioned it being the 4th of July when she realized that it was.

To Renozrai: I'm going to try and fix that part; I just wanted to get this up first.