"Great way to celebrate our almost eight week anniversary." Chase said, parking his car.

I rolled my eyes. "We can celebrate when it's a bigger anniversary." I clutched my gut, feeling increasingly nervous as I got out of Chase's car and stood up.

Stella moaned. "Remind me again why I left without Travis?"

I smiled. "Sucks to be you,"

We had to park quite a few blocks away because of the parade. We were all tired of walking by the time we turned a block. After three blocks, the chants started to ring out. "Un-script-ed! Un-script-ed!"

I smiled at Chase, knowing where the shouts were coming from. The chants got louder as we got closer to our final destination.

I could stop smiling as we turned the last corner and saw a crowd. Not a small crowd. A crowd. Maybe four hundred people. All chanting with signs with phrases that support Unscripted rights.

Everyone stop chanting when I turned the corner and cheered. "Ri-ley Moore! Ri-ley Moore!"

I looked at Chase with a smile glued on my face. "We did it!"

"You did it!"

Someone forced a megaphone into my hand. "Who are we?!" I shouted into it.

"UNSCRIPTED!" The crowd shouted in unison.

"What do we want?!"

"RIGHTS!"

More cheers. Down the road the parade turned a corner as the crowd chanted, "Un-script-ed!"

I saw camera men start to walk down the street, their attention pulled away from the parade and to the shouts. A reported caught on to what was happening quickly and immediately came over to me with a camera and mic.

"Do you know what is going on here?" She asked, then put the microphone under my chin.

I nodded, proud. "This is a protest."

"For what?"

I smiled, my time to shine. "This is a protest that I, Riley Moore, put together for the rights for Unscripted people."

Her expression went blank. She turned to her camera man. "Are we rolling?"

He shrugged, the camera resting on his shoulder. "We can start rolling..."

"Do it." She turned to me and the camera man gave her the signal to roll. "I am here at the corner of Boulevard and Ramon Road with Riley Moore. Riley, can you explain what is happening here?"

I smiled. "I am here with supporters of Unscripted rights at a protest."

"And who put together this "protest"?"

"I did. With the help of my good friend Chase." I smiled at Chase and then at Stella. "We just hung up some flyers around our apartment building and... Wow, I'm really surprised at the turn out."

"What's your overall goal?"

I held up my wrist. "I want these tattoos to be gone. I want these Marks to just be a Mark on our wrist, not something that decides our fate. It's unfair that we get one chance." After I said that, more cheers and shouts erupted from behind me.

"That's quite a goal," Her tone hinted at a challenge.

"If all goes as planned, this group," I motioned behind me, sending more cheers and shouts through the air, "will double in size by the next protest. Before you know it, we'll be leading marches."

The reporter's features flattened. She obviously was against Unscripted rights. "Good luck with that." Her tone was harsh, but with a smile, the camera would never know the difference. The camera man stopped filming and the reporter left without a backward glance.

"WHO ARE WE?!" I screamed.

"UNSCRIPTED!"

"AND WHAT DO WE WANT?!"

"RIGHTS!"

The crowd burst in a chant. "Un-script-ed! Un-script-ed!" I joined along with Stella and Chase.

The protest lasted a long time, much longer than I expected. As the crowd thinned out, police showed up. They pushed us and gave us empty warnings. Eventually—around ten PM—almost all of the crowd was gone.

Stella, Chase and I all started back to his car. I looked at him halfway back. "I think it's safe to say that that was a success."

Chase interlocked his fingers with mine. "Hell yeah. I didn't think that that many people would show up. I mean, how many do you think they was? One hundred? Two? Three?"

"Four. Four hundred, at least."

Stella smiled. "I can't believe that you set all that up? I mean, the timing... all of it. Did you see how that reporter looked at you? I seriously wanted to punch her for glaring at you like that." Stella punched the air.

"Ooh, how intimidating..." I rolled my eyes. "Wow, I now know not to mess with you."

She smiled. "It happened. Just stay on my good side, Scripted, and you'll be just fine,"

Stella stayed that night and witnessed a "my mother is trying to kill me in my dreams" nightmare. She thought that I need to go to the hospital. Then Chase and I explained that that type of dream has been happening a lot.

She left after a cup of coffee and—surprise, surprise—Dallas and his partner—what's his name again? Witterfield?—showed up. Dallas smiled at me and I just shot a glare back at him. "What is it this time boys? I had a really long day yesterday and a sleepless night." I crossed my arms, gripping my cup of coffee.

"So I heard," Witterfield leaned on my door. "Did you hear about that protest yesterday? Crazy timing, what with the Earth Day parade going on... Where you there?"

"At the protest or the parade?"

"Both."

"I was. And? So what if I stand up for Unscripted rights. It's not a crime."

"I heard the police showed up," Dallas said, walking through my apartment, like I was hiding meth in a flower pot.

"It's a crime when you're leading attacks on America." Witterfield said, fed up with Dallas. Maybe the two of them have been partners for far too long. That, or Witterfield is too old for someone as young and energetic as Dallas.

"I saw a girl on the TV that looked like you. She had the same eyes, hair, same body as yours..." I could imagine Witterfield mentally undressing me. "The girl—the one that looked like you—she spoke on a local news channel that spread nation-wide. She said her name was Riley Moore... not Scarlett Rennal... Which is it?"

"Technically, it's Riley. But I can't stop you from calling me Scarlett," I took a sip of the coffee and burnt my tongue. Still anything to stop myself from saying anything more was worth it.

"Still having car troubles?" Witterfield asked, glancing at Dallas.

I turned around and looked at Dallas. "You told your partner?!"

Dallas shrugged. "Anything to help the investigation,"

"Investigation? Now I'm being investigated?! For what?" I slammed the cup on the counter.

"Crimes against the US. Some call it treason. But we don't have much proof." Witterfield answer, keeping his cool, relaxed state, well, cool and relaxed.

"Treason?! This is insane!"

Chase—who had kept quiet in the corner of the room spoke up. "She didn't do anything wrong. It's called freedom of speech. The first amendment? Ever heard of it?"

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," Chase grabbed Dallas's sleeve and pushed him towards the door Witterfield was leaning on. "Both of you. Out of my apartment."

Dallas put his hands in the air. "No need to be so hasty. We can go with a bit of politeness."

Chase gritted his teeth. "Please get the hell out of my apartment before I kick your asses out of it."

Dallas smirked. "I could do without the threat,"

"Dallas!" I said, trying to look intimidating. I probably just looked like I was pleading. I honestly didn't care, as long as Dallas and Witterfield got out of my apartment before things got ugly.

"Goodbye Scar," Dallas said, leading Witterfield out of the apartment.

"AND DON'T CALL ME SCAR!" I screamed at them, already halfway down the hall. I slammed the door and crossed my arms. "I really hate that son-of-a-bitch."

Chase took a deep breath. "Yeah. So do I."

A few things I was sure of.

1.)    Dallas believed that I was truly against humanity.

2.)    Dallas was only following me to gather evidence.

3.)    Witterfield was too old and a grouch.

4.)    Dallas is going to pay.

How he is going to pay still remains unknown. But he'll pay. And he'll pay hard. End of story.