Nik was lying on the couch when we climbed through the window, his feet propped up on the armrest and one arm flung dramatically over his eyes. I smiled fondly at him.

I had known Nik before the Uprising, but not well. When I had been forced to flee my home seven years ago, my baby brother tied to my back, I had found my classmate sobbing in an alleyway, bruises peppering his face and arms.

Being the weak, naive children that we were, we had completely opened up to each other in a conversation that we hadn't mentioned since. After that, it felt wrong to part ways, and soon, living with him felt more natural than memories of my old life.

Charlie raced across the room, flinging himself onto Nik's stomach, and I was snapped back into the present. I laughed as Nik made an, "Oof!" sound, removing his arm from his eyes and squinting blearily at Charlie.

"Drunk or hungover?" I asked bluntly, grinning.

"Hungover." Nik coughed. "Probably."

"Charlie, smell his breath."

My little brother obliged and wrinkled his nose.

"At least you've puked some of it up." I watched as Nik adjusted Charlie so the former could sit up. "Could you watch him for a couple of hours?"

"I've had to watch him quite a bit lately," Nik grumbled, gathering my little brother onto his lap.

"Is there a problem with that?" I smiled cheekily as Nik shot me a dirty look. After all, he couldn't admit to not enjoying Charlie with the child himself sitting on his lap.

"Not at all," Nik replied with fake pleasantry.

"That's what I thought." I blew a kiss at both of them. "Later!" With that, I left our small apartment.

Get in, use the comm, get out. My three-step plan for breaking into a policeman's house. Surely nothing could go wrong.

I was a looter, so I had performed my fair share of forced entries, but they had always been into small shops or civilians' houses when they were empty. I had never messed with the law - at least, not directly. Maybe it was my father, who had been a government worker, influencing me from beyond the grave, but I also had simply never had a reason to tempt fate like this.

Now, however, I had no choice.

In my pocket were two slips of paper - one with the policeman's address scrawled on it, and one with the secretary's comm address.

It took me no more than a few minutes to reach the policeman's residence, confirmed by the helicopter landing pad on the roof. (Due to a law put in place during Horizon's creation, all helicopter pads had to be labeled with the addresses of the buildings on which they rested.) Although outwardly, it looked exactly like every other building, I knew that inwardly, it would be designed for the social elite.

I knew because once, Charlie and I had lived in a similar building.

Unluckily, the policeman owned the third floor of the building. While there was a solar-powered elevator built into the side of each building to escape disasters such as fires, the machines were designed to take their passengers directly to the ground without stopping. That meant that I would be forced to enter from ground level.

I tried to remember when I had last touched the ground. I was fairly certain that I had either been on rooftops or inside a building ever since Nik, Charlie, and I had first left the ground. It was a staggering thought.

The fire escape elevator was parked at the top floor next to a metal platform - I assumed so that maintenance workers could reach the roof. The ladder leading from the platform to the roof, however, was gone. Only puncture holes in the wall remained.

I would have to climb down the wall to reach the flimsy metal platform.

I sighed, rubbing my sweaty palms on my capris. "You can do this, Claire," I whispered to myself.

That was somewhat of a lie. I had never done this before, so I had no idea whether or not I was capable of it. The building was made up of individual bricks, however, so I didn't think I would struggle to find foot and handholds.

I walked to the edge of the building and looked down. The ground was so far away...

I'd always thought I was comfortable with heights - especially from all of my years on the rooftops - but apparently that wasn't the case.

Sighing, I turned around and dropped onto all fours. Carefully, I crawled backwards until one of my feet dropped into thin air. I eased myself off of the building until I was suspended above the fire escape by my arms alone. Trembling from the physical exertion, I kicked my feet towards the building until I found footholds. Then I carefully lowered myself down and grabbed handholds.

There I was, pressed against the side of the skyscraper, shaking with combined strain and fear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I began climbing down the building.

All in all, it couldn't have taken me more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours had passed before my feet finally collided with the metal floor of the fire escape.

I released the wall, staggering back a couple of feet and gasping for breath. My fingers ached, as did my thighs and forearms. But I had done it.

Sadly, however, that was probably one of the easiest parts.