Hi! So I'm the company (er, company?) of the amaaaazing Hammsters! *Clap clap*. So thanks for havin' me, and for reading my stuff. If you manage to get through it.

Scarlett: Hey, who's reading this stuff?
Me: Uh, fanfiction, why?

Scarlett: Wrong! You know who reads this stuff? Big Brother. Yeah, you better watch you put on here.

Me:"Big Brother" doesn't give a shit about you, I'm sure-

Scarlett: Yeah, that's what they want you think! Can't you see what they're doing to people?

Me:…Well that was a terrible representation of my character. Anyway, I'll stop taking your time now…

Well, fuck.

Scarlett rolled over only to get a face full of dirt and ash. She spat it from her mouth, tossing in a few swears here and there. She didn't bother to even check her injuries. Another scratch wouldn't mean anything; besides, no gashes could match the ones she got at the last animal-testing protest. Those were something to be proud of.

Scarlett barely had to harvest any and all strength to get up from the tangled mess of burned vines and scraps of metal. That was all that the plane crash shot at her? She'd gotten worse beatings from police officers. Apparently, other people weren't so accustomed to the experience because she spotted a mangled body on her way out. Well, it wasn't the first one she'd seen.

It was a bit too hopeful, but a small glimmering thought that Scarlett landed on the island by herself wiggled into her mind. Her imagination wandered: no laws to stop her from expressing her freedoms, no government to control her, no corporate robots to prevent her from progressing. It was every anarchist's dream. Soon enough, her fantasy was crushed when she heard the sound of a horn blasting throughout the island and piercing her mind mid-thought. Grumbling to herself, she followed the source.

Carefully, as she approached the horn sound, Scarlett peeked through leaves and branches. All she saw were…boys. Boys. And more boys. They sat in some sort of organized semi circle. Young boys, older boys, fat boys, fit boys. Those she could deal with, despite their utter fascination with girls and, honestly, boobs. As she continued to scan the group, her eyes fell on a few girls whose appearances just screamed, "Bitch."They obviously had no trouble with solely their camisole and short shorts, and neither would Scarlett usually, but as their eyes jumped from boy to boy their pouty lips were moving just as fast, and smiles crept across their faces. Bitchy smiles, that is.

"Fucking awesome," Scarlett hissed sarcastically. One of the younger boys whipped his head around at the sound of her voice. Instinctively she pulled back to be swallowed by the branches and leaves. The boy, who looked about 10 or so, glanced around, confused, before re-centering his attention on the boy in the middle. This guy, with his stupid blonde hair and stupid blue eyes, everything to fall right into the stupid conformist category, already was on the wrong foot with Scarlett. She liked to think of herself as a good judge of character, and there wasn't much to judge about this kid. He was about her age, obviously did sports, and looked like a leader; essentially everything of goody-goody government authority. If she didn't want to be seen, Scarlett would have spit on the "politician in the making."

She wasn't even sure why she chose to remain hidden, but she trusted her instincts; and her instincts couldn't have been any more correct. The plane crash couldn't have been too long ago, and yet order was already being set into place. Scarlett shook her head as a vote for leader took place. What had today's government conformity done to the young generation? There were no opinions whatsoever, only "majority" and other bullshit crammed into these kids' head. Even if she made a wild appearance as the girl who jumped out of the bushes, it's not like she'd make a difference. At least, not just her as a single person.

Scarlett continued to eye the crowd. A fat kid sitting behind the "leader" blonde kid seemed to be watching with more intensity than the rest. The real brains behind the plan. Scarlett knew that once that weed was yanked out, the rest of the system would collapse. But really, what were the chances of that happening?

All right, scoping out these kids was getting boring. Careful not to snap any twigs, Scarlett inched her way out of her crouching spot. Become part of this order? Fuck no. Vote for "chief?" Not a chance. Fall to this new government bound to be just as controlling as that in the rest of the world? In hell.

Grumbling, Scarlett had barely started walking away from the meeting when a figure stepped out from under the tree shadows and blocked her path. Other than a slight gasp, she didn't make a sound when crushing the figure's foot, kneeing their groin, and using her elbows to smash into the back of their head as they crouched in pain.

"Ah, god, what…the fuck?" they gasped. A shirtless guy about her age raised his black haired head to face Scarlett. "What the hell was that for?"

"You better keep that distance, I'll do twice the damage!" Scarlett threatened. She glanced behind her and squinted to find the "meeting." They didn't look the least disturbed.

"Did you really think you were that invisible?" the boy smirked.

"You thought you were tough enough to come out here," she retorted. "Guess we both should have thought twice."

The dark brown eyes belonging to the boy scanned her, as if trying to decipher her meaning. "I'm Roger."

"Yeah, freaking pleasure," Scarlett muttered, strutting past him and slamming into his shoulder on the way.

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you manners?" he asked darkly and sarcastically, starting to follow her.

"My name's none of your damn business, if that's what you're asking," she told him, not looking back once at him. "Anyway, aren't you needed for the "meeting?" I thought were with that redheaded kid."

"It's not like he was going to win, anyway," Roger remarked. "Pretty boy had that election wrapped around his finger." Apparently it was impossible for this kid to sound like anything but death.

"So his name's 'Pretty Boy,' huh? Good to know."

"Yeah, so what's yours?"

"You can call me, 'Fuck off'."

"Come on, Shadow Girl, give me something to work with."

The wretched nickname was enough to make Scarlett stop in her tracks and glance back. " 'Shadow Girl'? That is the worst fucking nickname I've ever heard in my life."

"Got you to look at me though, didn't it?"

Scarlett took a second to eye the boy. His lips weren't curled into a smile, but a smirk. His eyes weren't filled with joy, but a sort of grim evil. It was enough to make anyone's gaze on him last more than a second. Scarlett smirked. "Yeah. We'll see how long that lasts."

And now for a note from our Hammsters: Don't expect updates this fast on most days pallies. I suck at this shit, and you have no idea how long it took to just get her to write this one. That's about it for today. Oh, and she says y'all at some point in her note. Don't let her fool you. We're from Chicago :P

I'll use this space to advertise for Hammsters. Hey, check out their other stories! She's got some awesome stuff tucked away on their profile, like that poll y'all should take! And don't forget to buy a Coca-Cola today! Wait…*shuffles papers* they're not a sponsor…Well you should buy one anyway, because that stuff is good.

And if you actually understood my jokes, congratulations.