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Could my character be a "friend in the complex"? I was thinking that if the characters spent another night in the open, little robots that look like dandelion seeds could descend around them. They look scary at first, but are actually carrying supplies like food and a water purifier. (And Cappie's only comment is "reev," which doesn't help at all.)

I really hope it's not too late too create a character! This Rp really looked cool!

Name: Finn Pepper

Age: 14

Appearance: tall, long black hair, amber eyes, average build,

Personality:Quiet, shy.

It all started when the bells rang.

Those were the emergency bells. And the name pretty much explains Itself. They only ring then in the complex when something bad happens. Really bad. And when they started ringing in the middle of the night, I got kind of freaked out. I live alone. My parents, well, they're just not here anymore. They said they were going out. I waited and waited, but they never came back. That was before I found out that nobody goes out. Ever. There was no struggle for survival after that, because, even though I was an only child, I lived in the complex. And nobody dies in the complex. At least until now. The bells were ringing so loud I could hardly hear the footsteps outside. I opened the door slightly, then quickly shut it again. I had seen and heard enough to know what was going on. People had escaped. Six people. At first I didn't know what they meant by escape, but realized quickly. All these years, I've been wondering: Why are we all packed so tightly together here? Why not spread out? Why did mom and dad never come back? The footsteps stop. I freeze. The door swings open.

"Hey you! Where are your parents?" says the guard that opened the door. He is joined by three others. They all have guns. Guns. It's all coming together. I know what I have to do. I jump out of bed, then out the window. After I jump, I see one of the guards hold up his weapon and pull the trigger. Why was the window unlocked? And why are they only finding out now that I'm the son of apparent criminals? A bullet whizzes past me and lands in the water. Water. Thank goodness. 

~Finn

I plunged below the surface, bullets nearly missing my arms and legs. It was over. They had found out. About eveything. After that I just swam. I didn't care where I was going. I just tried to outswim the bullets and go far, far away from the complex that I had lost my parents in. The complex I had lost my home in. The complex that I had lost everything  in.

When I finally resurfaced, I was in a greenish river that was in a dead looking forest. I pulled myself onto hard ground, and laid my sopping wet head on the ground.

"Well, what do I do now?" I asked nobody in particular. I couldn't remember how long I stayed on that beach, but I started getting hungry. I had to find food. Soon.

I stood up and turned around. "Well, here's to survival," I mumbled, and dashed into the woods. 

Finn~

It all happened so fast. The fall, the swim, me wandering the forest for what seemed like hours. It was too much for me. I was just about ready to give up when I came to a rock. A big rock. With ivy and moss and stuff.

I couldn't believe I found something. This had to be the biggest stroke of luck in my entire life. And the first one. But my feet we're so tired. I was so tired! I remember a door and a moving bookshelf and this tunnel thing, but I don't know if that was a dream or what.

There was nothing after that. Just blackness.

Sorry for posting, like, 3 updates in a row, and really speeding up Finn's story. I hope people are still writing and will except me into the story. I hope this all wasn't for nothing!-Pete

Name: Siobhan Astrythe

Age: 14

Appearance: Slightly on the tall side, with curly auburn hair, blue-gray eyes, and pale, freckled skin. Wears tidy regulation shirt and pants as well as rectangular eyeglasses. 

Personality: Smart and inventive. She's a natural at electrical engineering, and knows a lot about all things tech. Siobhan hasn't had to deal with failure much, so she tend toward self-deprecation at even the littlest setbacks.

~Siobhan~

Let's face it: I can't sleep. I've been pacing my tiny bedroom for hours, watching the moon over the balcony creep slowly higher in the sky. I keep trying to tell myself that everything's all right, that I'm just wired from my smash hit at the expo, but the truth of my discovery is keeping me up more than the excitement ever could. For months now, as I perfected the fleet of SeedPods, I've been finding little traces of clues that everything is not as it should be. My research, on everything from dandelion subspecies to the Bernoulli effect, has also turned up broken strings, stories ended too soon, frayed edges in the tapestry the government has been trying to weave. And in the old fairytales of knights and dragons and suchlike, a tapestry in a castle can sometimes hide a secret...

Tonight, as I presented my fifteen whirring robots to a throng of government officials, the President of Complex 1 made a slip that put all the pieces together. I try, I want to believe that it was an error and nothing more. Because if "to the out- er, to Complex 2" means what I think it does, my world will not be uplifted in a week's time. I will not be reallocated to the "gifted" complex. Instead, everything I've ever known will come crashing down.

I am abruptly jolted from my reverie by a cacophony of screaming sirens. From outside my apartment where I've lived alone since my parents went to the "gifted" complex two years ago, I hear running feet, a man's yell, a small child crying. What is going on? Then comes a PA message that makes my heart leap to my throat: "Attention all citizens. Attention all citizens. Six persons under the names of J. Hale, T. Fride, J. Burn, J. Hickory, E. Ford, and C. Banning have been found missing from Complex 1. Per order of Code 103-27, section 1, all citizen living quarters will now be searched for the fugitives. Per order of Code 103-27, section 2, any citizen found to be harboring one or more of said fugitives will be guilty of a Type 2 offence against the government." J. Burn... wasn't that Jessica from my Advanced Mathematics class? And wasn't E. Ford that Ebony girl who said "shut up, you geek" to me in the dining commons a few months ago?

Hearing those names, along with my own impending doom, makes me want to do something reckless, something irreversible. I can't leave the apartment now, not while guards are searching everybody's rooms, so what I have here will have to suffice. The emergency supplies of food in the cabinets have to go in. Next I find every small, watertight container in the house. Then, from the pocket of my drab regulation jeans, the packet of emergency pills that everyone carries. It's a risk, but I've always been healthy. I start loading the SeedPods: a can of brown bread in the first, two cans of tuna in the second, bottleful of water in the third... Finally, everything's in, but only fourteen of the robots have been used. What could I put in the fifteenth that I haven't already...oh yeah! A dash to the kitchen later, I insert a can opener into the last SeedPod. 

There's a rough pounding on my door and a guard shouts, "Hey! Astrythe residence! Open up!" I don't have a moment to waste. I snatch the controller from my nightstand and power up the robots. They hover three feet above the floor, waiting for instructions, their tiny propellers humming. I punch in the code as quickly as I can: hawkshead formation, descent sequence triggered if any bot senses smoke particles or gets too low on power. I punch the green 'GO' button right before the guard growls, "I'll give you a count of ten, then I'm breaking down the door!" and watch the SeedPods go whizzing off into the sky. I hear fifteen little pops as they penetrate the bio-containment field that keeps anyone from jumping off the balcony, and go to open the door. I'll have to explain why they aren't here, but that will be the easy part. I take one last glance at the night outside, wondering where those six names are and if my SeedPods will find their way there before the robots' batteries are spent, and press the 'open door' button on the wall-mounted home devices console. If life as I know it has to end in a week, at least I'll go knowing that I helped six other people who were in the same boat.

This is a really good post, MagicDragon!

I pray I'm not far too late! This seemed too amusing to pass up. 

Name: Aryan Linburgh

Age: 14 1/2

Appearance: Tall and slender with unusually large smoky gray eyes and dark hair with streaks of copper and gold. Pale skin, with a hardened expression as cold as steel, and long fingers. Generally her face is scratched and cut up from the scavenging that she does at night. This leaves her bloodied and rather bruised some of the time, but mostly serves to make her look fierce. 

Personality: Untrusting and rather sarcastic. Incredibly hard to get to know, and an absolute loner, except for when it comes to her family who she is always trying to protect.Always the pessimist, she has been beat down by the years of scavenging for food around the city of bronze before she was taken in and cryogenically frozen for almost 60 years due to surplus population. No she is attempting to see if any of her family are still alive, or if there is anything worth fighting for.

~ Aryan~

They told me the world is different now, than it was 60 years ago. They swore to me and showed me vids of all the "technological improvements" and "peacekeeping stratagies" that they developed to end the everling wars. Most of all, over and over again, they promised me that I didn't need to be afraid anymore. But I can tell that one thing hasn't changed, even in 60 years. The world is still full of liars.

The man with the black eyes like a rat's is here again today, still taking to me in his greasy oily little voice that always sounds patronizing.  If I wasn't chained to this desk I'd choke him where he sits. Not to hurt him, but to remind him. Even though I spent 60 years with my mind attached to a computer, I have not transformed into one massive database. He can't pop open my head and hear all of my secrets. I am human. I am human. 

But I don't think about myself  anymore. I knew I was lost the day that the Agency Rats caught me outside the city of bronze. The day they dragged me, screaming and struggling into a population surpluss center. The last thing I can remember was the needle with the sedative going into my arm. I kept crying out for my mother.... that was the day I went to pick her a bouquet of the wild flowers that grew outside of the city. That day was yesterday... 60 years ago yesterday. The flowers are still in my jacket pocket, as alive as I am, though slightly crushed from my struggle with the Rats. We are the last pieces if the city of bronze, I am told. It was demolished a decade ago, but before that it had been abandoned for years. The epidemic killed millions, and people were fighting the be stored in the cryogenic tubes. Some of the cryo tubes were smashed and the occupants killed in depressurization, but mine was lost. When they found me again, they were afraid I had died too, but they hooked my brain up to the server, hoping that a human mind could regulate what a computer could not. That was 30 years ago.

These people know my brain better than I do. They've been scanning it and testing me for years. According to them I am an amazing specimen of the early city of bronze. A fresh copy of DNA from before the epidemic damaged us. I am a scientific miracle. And I could honestly care less.

Today they're releasing me. The court ordered them to, but the scientists argued fervently. Eventually they had to give in and grant me rights as a living being. But they're still annoyed that I refuse to answer any of their questions. I am a person, a living being, not a science experiment. Unfortunately they don't seem to know the difference.  

Neither do I anymore.