It happened last week…
I was walking home from the grocery. As per usual, I was also loaded with produce. That’s when the guy knocked me over. I mean, was he blind or something? And he just kept on going. So, I checked, and he smashed all my eggs. My mom would literally kill me. I didn’t have any more cash on me, not to mention, logically, he was supposed to pay for it. So I went after him, towing the bags along. I’m not actually sure why – I’m not a particularly confrontational person. At first, I thought I had lost him, untiI I caught sight of the bright red hood that I had managed to notice he was wearing. I was after him like a wolfhound. Which, BTW, I have one. A gorgeous, wiry – coated Irish Wolfhound. Man, I wish he was with me. What if this guy was some sort of creep? Milo could maul him.
I winded through the city's narrow streets, following that red hoodhad. Finally, he stopped in front of a worn doorway. I eeped and froze - luckily in a shadow. Then, the door opened, and he stole into the house, I realized how incredibly illogical it was for me to be just standing there. I was supposed to be confronting him. I marched boldly up to the door. The street was eerily abandoned of all other life but a scrawny street cat. I confidently knocked. The door was opened so fast that I was caught off balance.
Someone tugged a scratchy black hood over my head, and I was roughly dragged through the house. Then I was dumped on what seemed to be a sofa. 
“What do you want?” Someone asked.
“Money.” I answered with the first thing that came into my head.
  “Don’t they all,” he sighed. “We can just shut you up in a different way – I hope you understand.”
“Um. You smashed my eggs. So you pay. Do you have any idea what my mother will do to me?”
The hood was yanked off my head.
“Eggs?”
The room was too dark to see anything but a darker shadow at the place where the shadow was standing. What was even the point of a hood? These people were definitely paranoid.
“Yeah, eggs. They cost money. Which my family doesn’t have to spare because of our idiotic ruling class.”
I bit my tongue. Oh, perfect. Just the time to start flinging my political opinions at who knows who. Could even be the police. Then I’m dead.
“ How... interesting…” The voice trailed off thoughtfully.
Oh, it’s definitely the police. I jumped up, dashing for the patch of grey I figured was an opening. Oof. I sprawled over the foot of somebody. I thought the guy had been standing further off. Whatever. My spatial perception had always been lousy. I sprang to my feet, ready to put my rather extensive brawling skills to use. I swung a punch at the shadow before me. The shadow caught my wrist, and flipped me onto the floor.  Fine. Maybe I was outclassed. But at least this was obviously not the police. Police weren't tranied in Aikido. From personal experience, they seem to have way more fun shooting people than flipping them. I was dumped back onto the couch. These people were probably thugs. I could deal with them. Unless, that is, they were the Resistance.
Fear suddenly seized me as I started to put two and two together.
“You’re the Resistance,” I finally voiced.
I didn’t give anybody a chance to answer. I was up and sprinting like one of the city rabbits, or, to put it more accurately, like a chicken with its head cut off. I slammed into the patch of grey, realized that it was just a badly painted space of wall, and spun around, sprinting to the opposite wall. I ducked under a shadow arm that swung at me, at least and slammed desperately into a door. I scrabbled for the doorknob, but there was none -  just a scan pad. High Tech, in other words, illegal High Tech. Definitely the Resistence.
The door suddenly slid open, revealing a surprised face and a flashlight. I shoved past the girl, and dashed into the blackness. I registered that it was some sort of tunnel, and my feet received wings when I heard the shouting behind me. Adrenaline surged through me, fueling my legs, and elation swept through me. Which is a weird emotion when you’re seriously running for your life. A staircase appeared in front of me. I took the stairs two at a time, and slammed against the door. I have a thing with doors. This one had a normal doorknob which I turned easily, and I stepped into blinding light.
People bustled past me, some sending me weird glances. I gazed up at the domed glass roof. Sunlight flooded the place, brightening the green of the plants that forested the huge area. I could see glass cubicles behind shades of growth. People tapped away at their devices, and the atmosphere was filled with a soft murmering. But I was drawn to the huge crest gracing the shining marble floor. It was well known to me, since it also graced most of the wanted posters in the city - always with a big red X slammed atop of it. I studied the design critically. A feather dipped in ink. Peaceful enough - if you didn't care to notice the sword dripping blood right beside it. And, to be frank, that sword is what the Resistence is best known for. Which was why it was such a bad idea that I was still just standing here.
I spun around to try and get my bearings, and barely held in a scream when I came face to face with the guy standing behind me. It was obviously the same one who had smashed my eggs and now probably wanted to kill me.
  I was back into my rabbit act. I ducked to the side, putting my legs to use. Then I abruptly stopped, realizing he wasn't chasing me. Okay, this was just weird. He was standing there, watching me.  A woman walked up beside him, and joined in gawking at me. Then she took a step forward. I held my ground, curiosity getting the best of me.
"Angel North?" she asked, and I started. How did she known my name? She came closer, taking a file of papers out of an official-looking folder. "I would like you to take a look through these."
She handed over the papers, and I scanned the title. Document *551. That didn't tell me much.
"You'll enjoy some privacy there," she said, pointing down a path winding through the growth.
I decided to take her advice, my mind spinning from the weirdness, the surrealness, of this whole situation. There was a glass picnic table in a little clearing, and I sat down - not failing to notice the camera perched on the branch of one of the trees. Privacy - yeah, right.
  I was a fast reader, and half - way through the papers, I finally deciphered the legal babble enough to realise that these were recruitment papers. WHAT? Were they actually trying to recruit me? Insane. But I continued reading. The papers contained their version of recent history - total propaganda, of course, but... some of the things seemed to ring true. And I was shocked by how long the revolution had been going on for. It had been intricately planned decades in advance. But it had only sparked a few years ago. I finished the papers in what I'm pretty sure was record timing, and gave a sigh.
"So, what do you think?"
I squawked, startled. The guy stood to the side, looking down at me with curiosity.
"Um..." I started, standing up. "This is all great - but I know what the Revolution is about - and I'm not particularly interested... you know, in joining. This is a recruitment, right?"
The guy nodded. "What is the Revolution about? In your opinion?"
"Hanging rich people from the nearest lampost to make a useless point and cause the government to bear down on the poor people even harder."
The guy placed a Slate9 on the table.
"Take a look at this."
What he showed me next was... I had never known about this. Of course, it could have been all computer - generated, but it looked much too real. Too real.
"That is what we are fighting against. That is what we are trying to make a point against."
"So, revenge? That's your point?" I asked skeptically. "There must be a better way."
The guy tipped his head. "There is. Which is why we need you."
Of course they need me. Classic recruitment garbage. Making the person feel like they're the biggest thing  - the key to the whole operation.
"Or, people like you," he amended.
"Like me?" I repeated cynically, refusing to take the bait.
"Yes, people who are more skilled at using the pen than the sword. Truth Pen."
  "How...?"
"We were impressed by the writing of your alter ego some time back. By the way - rather cheesy name."
"I know," I sighed.
   "From there, it didn't take much time or work to discover your identity and lay the plan for the recruitment. We were a little worried when we learned of the recruitment attempt made by the Police."
"You shouldn't have been. I would never join with those murderers. Not that you people are much better."
"You can help reform this organization."
I admit I was rather flattered. And I thought back to the presentation they'd shown me.  Maybe I make too many snap decisions. All right, maybe not 'maybe'. It's a weakness, but there's always time to torture myself about it later. I mean, why not jump in with both feet? What's the worst that could happen? Other than being caught by the city police, tortured, and publicly executed. The guy could see my decision written all over my face.
"My name is Shan Till."
"That's your real name?"
"No."
Oh, boy. What had I gotten myself into?
"You know... there's one thing."
I looked up at him and he raised his eyebrows. I smiled.
"You're going to have to pay for the eggs."