The music hall hushed all at once as someone stepped out on stage, followed by four Patrolmen. The woman preceding the Patrolmen was Mallory Davis. Alex recognized her from banners hanging throughout the city, and from the many Achilles' promotional ads on the television, but she had never seen her in person.

Mallory Davis was the manifestation of some fictional creation. She was a pawn. Not quite someone from the Achilles company itself, but a face for people to recognize and seek comfort in.

She was the representative of the city they lived in, shadowed by a group of officials called the Committee. All of them were selected by the citizens of Marksberg, a false sense of choice the people had. Mallory was just someone who helped run the city because the Achilles found it easier to have someone else do it for them. They only supplied the Patrolmen to help keep order—their order.

Even from so far away, Alex could tell Mallory was uncomfortable. She fumbled her hands in front of her, flattened out an already ironed skirt every few seconds and tugged at the edges of her blazer. If she could twirl around the ends of her auburn hair she probably would have, but she wore it up in a tight bun on her head.

Alex felt sorry for the woman. She looked like she was in her early thirties, yet carried herself with the responsibility of someone much older.

Mallory walked toward the center of the stage where a microphone and podium stood at the ready. The four Patrolmen lined up a few feet behind her, just as far apart as the next. Their black suits stood out against the white background of the stage.

Alex felt like she was watching an execution; the silence in the room was unnerving.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why we've gathered you to the music hall, especially with the weather as it is outside. It would be better to tell you in person. Effective immediately, there will be an increase of taxation on all goods and services provided here in Marksberg."

There was no commotion amongst the crowd.

"Now, this increase in taxation only means good for us. The money will be put back toward our schools, our roads, and even better," Mallory paused and motioned to the four Patrolmen behind her, "more security. We will continue to live in the comfort and security that has been guaranteed to us for so many years, but with an improvement."

Alex rolled her eyes at the very statement. Every cent paid back to any business would go to the Achilles, anyway. They owned everything. The Achilles exported, imported, built and distributed everything on their own. An increase in taxation only meant they would get more of their money back. Somehow, they were convinced such a lie was enough to excuse their otherwise brutal way of maintaining their control.

Clearing her throat, Mallory leaned in closer to the microphone. A high-pitched screech made everyone in the audience grimace simultaneously. "I would also like to remind everyone that if you notice any suspicious behavior, please report it to the Committee."

Fingernails dug into the armrest, and Alex had to force herself to relax her hands before she broke her nails off. Maybe they knew something, after all.

"Does anyone have questions?" Mallory gripped the edges of the podium.

"What do you mean by suspicious behavior?" a man from close to the front questioned, his voice amplified by the theater's design.

"We have always encouraged a community here in Marksberg. Participation in community events and meetings is not optional. Suspicious behavior may include someone keeping to themselves, appearing to be secretive or stand-offish. Maybe you notice your neighbor hasn't been interacting with anyone lately. We just want to ensure that everyone is involved in what we have here in Marksberg, and doing their part to pay the Achilles back for all of their hard work and dedication."

"What if we just don't like interacting with people?" Ace muttered.

Rollo leaned over him, ignoring Ace's comment. "This isn't good," she said, directing her words to Cicero.

"No," Cicero agreed. "Our assumptions were right."

Alex wanted to melt into her chair. The Achilles knew someone was in the city, and the meeting was their way of trying to get a better eye on every citizen.

One woman raised her hand from the level below. Alex peered down at her, noticing she was clutching a small child at her side.

"Is there any further news on the recent Avoider sightings at the edges of Marksberg?"

Mallory glanced behind her at the Patrolmen, her posture momentarily wavering in its assuredness. She turned her head back to the microphone after regaining her composure. A tight smile stretched out the bright, red lipstick on her lips.

"There is absolutely nothing to worry about. And with this increase in taxation, you can expect stronger and more well-armed Patrolmen to protect this city."

As if on cue, applause broke out. Thousands of people all clapped in compliance to something they had no choice in. Alex joined in with the others. She had to blend in and pretend she was just as unaware of what was really going on.

Mallory Davis gave a sharp nod to the crowd before leaving the stage, her entourage of Patrolmen following closely behind.

An image of flashing black letters appeared on the white wall behind the stage.

'RETURN HOME IN AN ORDERLY FASHION'.

They followed step in step with everyone until they were all led back outside. At least the Patrolmen didn't guide them back to the apartments like children.

"The storm's cleared up some," Rollo observed, stepping out to lead the group down the sidewalk. The sky had in fact cleared, though it was still fairly cloudy for a time of day when it should be sunny.

Immediately, Alex's eyes were drawn to a Patrolman's car parked across the street from them. She was almost tempted to admire it a little closer; the sight of one was always mesmerizing. Even parked, the vehicle hovered millimeters above the ground. It was sleek in design and painted such a black that it was like looking into complete nothingness. At night, the car would be nearly invisible without its lights on.

Alex's admiration of the vehicle was interrupted when a man jumped onto the hood. She stopped walking, shock cementing her in place. He looked young, in his late twenties, barely a few years older than her. Curly hair bounced around his face as he jumped up and down on the car until the siren went off.

In a prompt fashion, Patrolmen standing by the doors of the music hall walked toward them.

"Surrendered positions!" a booming voice echoed.

There was no doubt people from all over the city could hear the yell. It was like it sounded from a loudspeaker in the clouds.

All at once, everyone dropped to the street. Alex knew the demand well. Teachers had taught her the command since she was a child in school. Knees tucked under abdomen, face to the ground, and hands splayed out above the head to show she was unarmed.

Alex turned her head slightly to see the other three close by. She felt her pulse race like she had just run a mile at a sprint. Her hands trembled against the concrete. The man and the Patrolmen were so close.

"Surrendered positions, now!" A Patrolman that neared the man on the car shouted. His tone was threatening and gruff, and even though he wasn't directing his words at Alex, she could feel her own stomach drop at the order.

Daring a glance up at the car, Alex could see the man still on the hood. His expression was furious, rageful and impassioned with the look of someone pushed to the brink. Alex struggled to inhale as she flickered her gaze between the Patrolman and the man.

The man withdrew a baseball bat he'd been holding in one of his hands behind his back.

Don't do it, Alex thought.

"Do you intend to use the bat as a weapon?" one Patrolman questioned.

The man twirled the bat in his hand, turned on his heel, and with every ounce of energy, smashed it on the vehicle's windshield. He had to have known the windshield would be bulletproof. The bat shattered in his grip.

The Patrolmen took the action as a sign of using the bat for a weapon.

There was a rapid metallic clicking sound as guns formed in the Patrolmen's hands. They raised the weapons toward the man on the car, and the guns all hummed to life. In a synchronized motion, each Patrolman loaded their weapons with magazines pulled from a compartment at their hips.

"Surrendered positions!" Another warning shout was given, yet the man didn't obey.

Instead, he lifted a hand and raised his middle finger at them.

"The Achilles can all go straight to hell!" A furious shout erupted from the man, spit flying in all directions. "Go fu-"

A shot fired from every Patrolman. They had created a half-circle around him, giving him no way out. Not that it appeared he had any wish but to leave the way he did.

Alex's hands left the position they were supposed to remain at, and she covered her ears. She could hear screams and children crying. Her heart was pounding even faster in her chest.

"Time to leave," Cicero ushered, picking Alex up to her feet.

Her gaze landed on the man, blood seeping out from under his limp body. Almost peacefully, he'd landed draped across the hood of the Patrolman's Cruiser, head hanging off over the now busted headlight. Alex couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

That could have been one of us. And they wouldn't have given us any warnings.

"Where are the Patrolmen?" Alex asked, at last gathering her thoughts, but a quick glance showed the Patrolmen were heading off toward another disturbance closer to the music hall.

The thousands of other citizens mostly remained face down on the ground, but a few who had gotten scared from the shots were attempting to run away. The Patrolmen were trying to contain the disorder.

"Why aren't we staying put?" Alex questioned while being tugged along down the sidewalk.

"We could hear the radio chatter from the Patrolmen," Rollo explained to her. "There's other people like that man causing trouble all over the city. They think it's a diversion, or a protest. I don't know, it got kind of fuzzy toward the end. They already seem to know there's someone hiding in the city, someone like us. I'm sure Cicero understands why we can't stick around any longer and let the attention fall on us."

"Even more so," Cicero said. He was right. Unlike Cicero, Rollo was an earlier generation Keeper. The Code hadn't perfected how they created Keepers until later on.

Rollo didn't have as strong of an instinct like Cicero had to protect her Designation, and she also only had one arm. Though, she didn't consider either much of a disadvantage to her. Rather, she had said it gave her an edge. People would underestimate her ability to kick ass, and her lack of instinct gave her more opportunities to kick ass—as Rollo so eloquently worded to Alex when they first met.

"We just have to grab our bags. Now that there's so much commotion toward the music hall, they won't be guarding the gates with as many Patrolmen," Cicero stated.