Fourth Generation

II: Unwanted Defect

Slipping between the bodies in the market I keep my eyes peeled for any good deals on springs. There's no point in looking for pistons.

The Third Generation doesn't receive many luxuries. Privacy is even hard to find here. I glance over to see a young boy, standing on the side of the road in his underwear. His mother pours freezing buckets of water over his head. He shudders and flinches as each pail is dumped over his malnourished figure. His ribs poke out like a nail on a wooden board, and his eyes are sunken in like a pothole.

I look away and try to focus on the shops to the other side of me. There is hardly any useful tools, just little gears set on the tables with a few screws. I reach the end of the short line of shops and let a long sigh escape my lungs. Turning around I smack into a hard metallic chest. I rebound off of the hard surface and stumble back to gaze directly into a jet black mask.

My heart stops as I raise my hands and lower my head. I hope that they don't check for a chip which would hide underneath my braid. Standing in front of me is a giant, proud DEU officer.

His chest plate remains un-scuffed as its black paint glistens in the dying sunlight. Our country's crest; a burning, golden phenix lays in the centre of the plate. The phenix is reborn through its ashes which symbolizes the new era.

The DEU officer is covered in head to toe with thin, black armour. His slick helmet hiding his entire face while his dark steel toe boots take a daring step forward.

I find myself shrinking. Attempting to hide in my filthy clothing as if it's a protective shell. The officer grabs my braid and yanks it back forcing my face to his. Shutting my eyes I wait for the impact of his brass knuckles to crack my cheekbone, but he pushes me back instead. Stumbling backwards I regain my balance and stare up to see the officers fist clenched. Before I can plea his fist lands sturdily on my jaw, snapping my head to the side and forcing me to stumble once again.

That was my first mistake. DEU officers don't stop until you're on the ground. Always act weaker than you are. If you're lucky they'll leave you on the ground with nothing more than a bruised lip or a headache.

My jaw clenches as I realize what I've done. The people in the market slow down to a stop. Their eyes pry into an unruly girl getting beaten by a remorseless, venturesome officer.

Laggardly the officer drags his feet in the dirt, kicking dry dust and stones towards mine. My breath hitches in my lungs as his fist flys towards my face and biffs my lip. This time I don't make the mistake of remaining on my feet. In my state of pain and regret I blunder for a moment before collapsing. Squeezing my eyes shut I wait for a kick to the ribs which never comes.

Prying my eyes open the DEU officer has disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived. Leaving a wake of horrified faces and an open aisle made of trembling bodies and hanging heads. Groggily propping myself up on my elbow and gingerly place a finger on my broken lip. I dab the hot crimson liquid away and wince. The blood accumulates in my mouth, forcing me to spit it out before I choke. With the back of my sleeve I try to rub the metallic tang off my tongue.

"Elysia!" A worried holler snaps the people out of their stillness, causing a deafening eruption of whispers. The tension strung in the air breaks like glass and a haunting aura is all that remains of the incident.

Squinting up I stare into the worried hazel eyes of Zale, a childhood friend who has been there for me since I was six. Smiling, I sit up and rub my hands together, "Hey."

Grabbing my hands he yanks me towards him with a arm-ripping motion. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" I sigh and flick the dust from my pants, "Well, I turned around and unintentionally ran into a DEU officer. Then he beat me for touching him. Same story different person."