It’s dark when I awaken, the buzz of lights and electric not yet
starting up, and I stay there, laid out on my bed for a few moments. In
the early morning, it is still, quiet; the Under not having sprung to
life but it will soon. I know this because it has always been my home, I
know the routines and timetables and ways it keeps itself running.
Slowly I pull myself up from bed, and wait for the golden, flickering
lights to blink themselves on as they do each morning. There is one in
my room, hanging carefully from a wire and I squeeze my eyes shut as
brightness fills each nook and crevice of the box.

Outside I begin to hear doors creaking open, footsteps racing down
the metal stairs as children rush away from their homes, eager to live
before the lights fail again. I run a hand through my hair, make my way
to the kitchen. I have dressed already, in my usual outfit of worn out
black jeans and a dark red shirt and my hair is spiked up with damp - I
look like any other person from the Under, ruffed and dirty and unkempt.

My mother is there. Except she isn’t actually my mother, she just
took me in when no-one else wanted another Reject from the Upper. A
child born and hated so much they are disposed of in the easiest way -
by throwing them down with criminals and sinners. I am a Reject, made
obvious by the barcode on my wrist that proclaims who I am to everyone,
my birth, my death, my education and crimes are all kept within this
code. It makes me a target. I cannot access what it knows though, I can
only stare and wish it would reveal the truth about me.

She smiles as I enter, a beautiful, serene thing that makes me ache
to hold her and promise she’s going to be alright; I don’t though, I
can’t. Instead I simply smile back standing almost awkwardly in the
doorway until she speaks.

“Seeki, breakfast is ready.” Lyssa, the woman who raised me, might
have been beautiful once, with her long dark hair and soft eyes, but the
Under hasn’t been kind on her. She would still be considered young
anywhere else, at barely 36, but I know she is getting old, weak,
fragile. I ache to help her, to let her rest and sleep and live her
dwindling life out in relative comfort but without the money and stamps
she brings we’d both be dead so I fight away my hopes till they’re
nothing more than another twist in the knot in my stomach and grin at
her wishing life was different (it’s not the first time).

“Thanks Lyssa, you’re the best.” Her hands shake as she plates up our
food, meager and grey as it is - we get barely enough to survive,
everything is rationed, dried and dull. Still, my stomach aches to eat,
so I sit on a rickety old chair, shovelling it into my mouth.

It tastes bland, there are few spices to flavour anything and we save
them for special occasions, no sauces or sugar as they are considered
luxuries. Criminals don’t get luxuries. The porridge is barely even
warm, made with dried milk, boxes of mix and water and I try to be fast
whilst eating. I have better things to do today. Above us the lights
flicker. Whilst I eat, Lyssa chatters to me about her day and what she
has to do and I feel bad for merely nodding and grunting my replies but I
can hear the thud of boots on the ground below us.

The Armed are on their patrol. As soon as I am done, I lean out of
the window to stare at them, in their thick body armor and heavy boots
wondering who they’ll terrorize today. Lyssa sighs behind me.

“Seeki… Seeki!” I am pulled out of my staring as her voice echoes
throughout the room, making me jerk suddenly and turn to stare at her,
raising an eyebrow in confusion. She doesn’t say anything, merely
gestures to the old clock on the wall. It takes a moment for me to
realise what she is telling me - I am going to be late.

I startle, giving her a grin and a kiss on the cheek as I whizz by
“Love you Lyssa.” Is murmured, and then I’m grabbing my worn out bag
from the kitchen floor, shoving my feet into too small trainers and
pressing an old leather jacket over my shoulders to rush out the door.
The shoes pinch at my toes but they’re the closest thing to a proper fit
I have, despite being patched with brown leather and multicoloured
thread. When I turn back, Lyssa is smiling and it’s almost soft and sad.
I won’t let her get hurt even if it means sacrificing myself. Love is a
weakness in the Under, but Lyssa raised me, saved my life and I can’t
help but care deeply for her.

Then I’m out, rushing down the metal stairs on the side of the
building, because the stone ones inside are too dangerous and unstable,
crumbling away from years of being abandoned, my feet clanging as they
hit the steps. We live right near the top of the building, so close you
can just see the metal piping for the lights and oxygen filters that
keep us alive. You can almost taste freedom. I love it more than
anything else in this place. When I am feeling brave, dangerous, strong,
I pull myself up the ladder that leads to the rooftop to stare up at
the near darkness and imagine it is lit by thousands of twinkling stars.

I reach the ground in record time, my heart pounding from the rush
down the stairs, breath coming in short sharp pants, but I feel alert,
alive. Laughter comes from over to my left, and Pilar is stood, leaning
against the wall of our building a bemused smile on his face. I throw my
bag at him to stop the sound, rolling my eyes. Pilar is pretty, for a
boy, with shoulder length brown hair and soft eyes that are a sunset
brown, so light they seem almost orange. Sometimes I am jealous of his
features, the cute button nose and curved bow lips that fit him
perfectly, but I can’t be mad at him for long.

“You’re late. Again.” Far from sounding angry, he is amused, tapping
on his wrist as if to imitate a watch, and I scowl at him childishly.
Pilar is the closest thing I have to a friend. Someone who is always
there, who I can rely on. He’s also a dick but that’s not uncommon here,
and it’s not like I’m any better to him.

“Whatever. I was doing stuff, like plotting on how to push you off a
building.” He snorts at the threat, chucking my bag back at my head. I
like our relationship, casual, easy going. Pilar is the type of person
who rarely gets mad because he’s relaxed nearly all the time - it’s an
odd thing to find in the Under where most everybody is out for your
head. Those orange eyes glitter with amusement and I scowl further at
him feeling more than a little childish.

“Is that the best you can do, Ki? I thought you would have something
better by now~.” Perhaps he’s right, I use the threat often enough but
it’s easy to fall back on - especially when you do what we do.

Swinging is dangerous, and very much illegal in the Under but if you
go out far enough, near to the outer poles where the roads on the ground
fall away into nothingness it’s easy to not get caught. We meet up with
others along the way, girls and boys of similar ages to ourselves. Some
I know, others I recognize, but most are just white noise. Its rare
that people come back after their first try.

We walk until we reach the outskirts of the city, where the road
crumbles beneath our feet and even the Armed don’t patrol because they
find it too dangerous.

Swinging is dangerous, and very much illegal in the Under (then
again, what isn’t?) but if you go out far enough, near to the outer
poles where the roads on the ground fall away into nothingness it’s easy
to not get caught. We meet up with others along the way, girls and boys
of similar ages to ourselves. Some I know, others I recognize, but most
are just white noise. Its rare that people come back after their first
try. That’s if they even survive their first try.

A few of them wave greetings to us, and I laugh as Pilar and I catch
up to our group of friends. The numbers in the group are up and down but
along with us two, there are a few others. Ess grins at us, blue-green
eyes twinkling devilishly.

“Mornin’ slow asses, what took ye so long?” Thin red lips tug into a
smirk as she stares at us, and I look at my feet not really guilty. “Of
course.” She snorts, the sound seeming far too harsh for her delicate
form. Ess looks like something out of a history book, slender and small
with a feminine face. I know for a fact that many of the boys lust after
her, yet I have never seen her take one up on any of their offers.

Sometimes, I think I can guess at why, but I don’t say anything - it’s not like my relationship record is any different.

Behind us, Meloe and Pilar are talking in hushed tones, and I nudge
Ess slightly. Another thing that’s sure to get you arrested is a partner
of the same sex, but our boys don’t seem to care much.  From the corner
of my eye I can see that there fingers are entwined and Pilar has a
dopey look on his face (what a dork). I am glad they have found
something special together, but my heart clenches in fear for my best
friend, because a bond like that weakens Pilar. Ess nudges me and shoots
a look that pulls me from my thoughts. It tells me to stop moping and
start having a little fun. I give her a grin and roll my eyes when she
looks unconvinced but eventually Ess looks away and starts to chatter
with a girl to the left of her, voice a low buzz in my ears.

We walk until we reach the outskirts of the city, where the road
crumbles beneath our feet and even the Armed don’t patrol because they
find it too dangerous. Fortunately for us, that’s where the thrill lies.
In the heart pounding, breath taking fear that comes with this part of
the Under.

The group splits, darting up different buildings both inside and out,
and then I am following them. Pilar crawls up the crumbling walls like
some sort of spider and we grin at each other - I’m darting up metal
stairs so similar to my own. Around us the sounds of laughter and
clanging metal, of scrams and shouts and excitement echo. I wonder if
past the roof that keeps us trapped, whether they can hear us and what
they think if they can.

"Race you." It’s a challenge that I throw out to my friends, not just
Pilar but everyone else on the building who I know, and to those I
don’t. Ess shoves me to the side a smirk on her face and I wobble
against the rotting, rusted railings for a second as I fight to get
control back. For just that moment I am bent backwards over the edge,
hanging there with my blood rushing through my head and then I’m upright
again but my legs feel like jelly. I don’t give up though, giving a
feral grin to Ess.

"Bitch!" My voice rings out across the Under, and she laughs,
flicking a finger down towards me, still running up the stairs, feet
thundering. She may be fast, but Ess wobbles and trips too much, taking a
while to spin around the twists and turns in the stairs. I am soon
caught up, racing besides her and then in front.

"Fuck you Ki, let me, ugh!" She skitters, standing in the wrong place
and her leg goes through to the layer below as the grating gives away.
The others take advantage of this, Meloe, Daz, Kit, all rushing past
her. We are barely half way up but I can feel my heart beating hard in
my chest as we fight to get the lead. I pant for air, seeing Pilar a
little higher sat in a window ledge, his face red. My legs shake as I
run and I am slower than I was, looking down over the Under not even
near the skyline. Meloe stops beside me, and I turn to stare at him.

Meloe is dark eyed but light haired and I think under sunlight his
skin would light up, dark and succulent, but here where no light gets it
is an almost murky brown like mud under torchlight. He is handsome
though, has been since childhood with pale blond locks that tumble down
his back when let free from the bun he wears high on his head. I cannot
see the appeal of having long hair, it gets caught and tugged at and can
be grabbed from behind, but it almost suits him. I can say what I like
about his relationship with Pilar and what he acts like but I can’t say
he’s not ugly, because damn the boy looks good. He winks teasingly at me
before speaking.

"Lookin’ red, girl, think you can make i’?" He has the sharp twisting
accent that is so common here, cutting the ends off of words to shorten
them, his speech rough. I snort, and dart off ahead of him again,
feeling recovered from the short break and beckon him with a wave of my
had.

"I think the question is, boy, whether you can keep up?" Some people
in the Under, the ones who have never known better call my speech posh,
call me stuck up and prancying about my birth status, but I know better.
I only speak ‘posh’ because Lyssa speaks like it, her voice soft and
sweet and proper because she was once posh and rich, living life in the
Upper. Meloe hisses, takes off almost as soon as I do, but I have just a
little head start on him, which grows, because whilst I may not be able
to run forever, I am fast and agile.

Pilar wins though, standing proudly on the roof before we can even think to make our own way up besides him

By the time we are all at the top, it is with ruffled clothes, hair
sticky against our skin. From up here the sound of the oxygen pipes is
loud, an almost roar in our ears, the pipes shaking slightly as they
pump cold filtered air to the city below. And there, swaying slightly as
it hangs from one such pipe is a black rope swaying between buildings.
This is what we live for.

I sand back for a moment, watching people running and leaping off the
roof to catch hold of the rope a grin on my face, Kit and Daz nudge me.

"You gonna go?" The twins are probably as opposite as they could be,
Kit a small, lethal girl is all smirks and soft giggles and could
(would) kill you in your sleep. Daz on the other hand is one of the
biggest boys I’ve ever seen in the Under, almost as tall as one of the
Armed and built like a tank. He could crush most anyone with his hand.

"Tch. Of course I’m going to go, I wouldn’t be here otherwise." I
snort and give her an incredulous look and she pouts childishly at me in
return.

"Well so-o-orry." She mutters and I laugh at her reaction - Kit might
be scary, but most of the time she acts like a spoilt brat (no-one
minds). Pilar shoves me forwards suddenly, I notice that the queue has
disappeared and they’re waiting for me. My cheeks flush for a moment.

Then I’m taking steps back, one, two, three and running. I fly off
the edge of the roof, my hands catching along the rough surface of the
rope and swing forwards, landing on the other side.

It’s a race now, running and jumping and swinging across the rooftops
thinking only of yourself. It’s a circuit, running around the whole
outside of the city with break neck twists and turns and if you run a
little too fast you’ll fall. And if you fall, you’ll die. I can hear
whoops of laughter and panting breaths all around me, girls and boys
fighting to get to the rope first and my own face curves into a grin.

Then the thunder of boots echoes beneath us and we freeze for a
second. Armed. Most of the time they stay away form this place but they
must of caught wind of a rumour and have an idea of where we are. We
turn, slowly and silently to face each other, and then drop to the
floor. We’re just in time as well because the bright light of their
torch shines up over the roof, but they cannot make out if our lumps are
people or just debris. The torch flicks off and at that moment, so do
the heavy lights that give us daytime.

“Fuck! This place is such a dump.” One of them swears loudly and
we all hold our breaths waiting for some outburst of rage, but someone
must calm his down because nothing else happens.

“Come on, there’s obviously nothing here, just a stupid kid trying to
make our lives more difficult.” Another one of them speaks, and it’s
hard to determine whether it is a man or a woman with the heavy mask
they wear. I am intrigued and slowly twist and crawl towards the edge to
peer over. There are three of them, all dressed in identical black and
red outfits, their masks covering their faces.

“Wait… did you hear something?” It’s the third one speaking now, and I
realise he’s staring up at the building I’m on, I squeeze my eyes shut
in case he sees them shining in the dark, but the second one smacks him
with the butt of their gun.

“Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing here. If you heard something it was
probably just the pipes.” I guess that they’re the leader of the group
because he shuts up pretty quickly and I open my eyes again, narrowing
them into slits to watch the trio of Armed, curiosity getting the better
of me.

“Yeah, lets get out of this place, it’s worse than the rest of this
shit hole.” It’s the first one speaking again and I watch them as they
leave, heavy boots thudding on the ground – it is only when it is silent
again that we stand up.

Well, I’m pulled up.

“Seeki! What were you thinking?! What if they’d seen you moving! You
could have got everyone killed! You could have died!” Pilar is seething,
and I’m sure I can see smoke coming out of his ears face torn into an
ugly scowl. His hands are on my shoulders and he shakes me slightly.

“Sorry, but we’re fine so stop having your little drama queen melt
down Pilar.” I know he’s only angry because he cares about me, cares
about all of us but I have to brush him off.  He scowls at me, and I see
Meloe press a hand onto his shoulder trying to calm his partner down.

“Okay, let’s all stop yelling and just go home.” He says and Pilar
jerks away from me, obviously upset. I swallow silently and nod in
agreement to the blond boy, rubbing my shoulders where they had been
gripped.

“Yeah. Home.” I scowl and turn, making my way down the metal stairs
at the side of the building. I can’t help it – the Armed intrigue me,
they’re faceless unknown entities that everyone fears because of the
guns they carry and the power they hold. I’m scared of them. I’m in awe
of them.

I want to be them.