45 Outdated: 01

- I want to be a part of it. - they said without hesitation.

- Every person in this place is a member of the Mask.

Each time I exercised I felt the burden of my weak lungs. At twenty years of age I should've been at my best form, spreading youth at every step. Instead I was painfully dragging air that seemed to hate being inside me.

- Oh don't get philosophical with me, man.

Under my palm, the dark concrete evaporated and I tripped to the side. I inflated my chest but it felt like someone was squeezing my lungs with both hands so hard I heard the sound of air escaping a balloon. By my side, the baby terrorist stared with suspicion. Ignoring my limitations, I tried to keep going but my body wouldn't let me. Defeated, I leaned against the cold wall and slid until I touched the ground.

- What a pathetic way to die. - the skinny figure said in a sad tone.

Even close to a potential death I had to giggle. Juvenile rebel was right. Their attitude made me give them another look.

- Was it as hard as they say, - breathing deeply and slowly was the only remedy I knew. After releasing all the air, I continued. - To escape an upper tier assistance home?

The kid stepped back. Eyes scanning me from head to toe. There was nothing explicit about their clothes that indicated where they had run away from but they forgot something more important than the obvious uniform. Something I was very familair with.

- Fuck! - slamming the right hand over their left wrist, the little joker kicked and cursed. Watching from a distance I made note of how young they were, even more than I thought.

- You better get that covered if you ever think about leaving the slums. They won't get you here but out there…

- I know and I'm fast.

I recognized way too well that grumpy face. The certainty of being smarter than all the other dumb orphans until the moment it all breaks apart with the touch of the first electric stick.

- Yeah, except you won't be running from a defective like me. - for the sake of effectiveness I controlled my heavy breathing. I wanted to be the seed to a fear so great they would never think about leaving. - Have you ever been electrocut-

-Yes. - changing their posture, the kid had the arms crossed in front of their body. Hands gripping onto the upper arms.

Looking up at them I held my breath. I didn't know what to say. The fire in their eyes was stronger than before, as if the bad images I tried to plant on their mind were there all along, feeding their determination.

- Will you help me join the Mask or not? - their grip only got tighter. The nails sinking into the skin.

- The Mask is not a babysitting program. - I pushed myself up, rising above the younger creature. - What can "you" possibly offer that we don't already have?

- I just wanna stop this from happening to anyone else. - still a little dizzy I felt the blood rush through my veins and into my face. My whole body burning with a sudden new feeling.

I stepped forward, feeling the bottom of my foot so hot I thought it would melt my shoes and drill into the floor.

- It is too late for that, my dear. It already happened everywhere. - the fragile figure remained firm to my advance. - Right now, somewhere, a kid is getting beaten for sleeping under a dumpster. And for what? - I paused to wait for an answer that I knew wouldn't come. - Huh?

My wish was that they would run away, flinch, scream, do anything but stare at me, reflecting every word I shouted. But their resistance didn't stop me.

- For fun. That's why they hunt us and they'll never stop!

The kid listened quietly, immobile, unafraid. I stood by, waiting for them to break and cry or step back even if just half a centimeter but they didn't. Again hey had defeated me.

- I'll find someone else who can help me.

Without a second thought they turned their back on me and I watched the little person walk away, disarming all my defenses. Instantly my blood cooled down, bringing back my senses. I refused to accept what I had just done. How pitiful my behavior was.

- Oh, - they stopped for a second - and I'm sorry, Mr. Sato! - from the end of the tunnel, they shouted before heading into the purple light.

Ever since I could remember I hated being called "Sato". It wasn't my name and it had never been so. At least not for me. It was nothing but a brand empty of meaning. Not once I recognized myself in it. Either way that's what was written on my ID card. Something I could never change because it was tattooed on my wrist with a special kind of ink. The City obliged me to use that as my identification code for as long as I lived. What I found funny, was that when that young fella said it before disappearing, it felt different.