"So he's definitely a Renegade?" I ask my co-worker Rick. Behind the thick, tinted window of glass, a bloodied teenage boy leans back in his chair. Blond hair darkened with sweat, plaid shirt stained with soot.

I cross my arms as tight as a knot. I just don't buy it. He strikes me as a teenage skater-boy, not a courthouse bomber.

"No, he's a circus clown." Rick laughs, spewing a mist of spit on my right cheek. "Of course he's a Renegade! Were you even paying attention?"

I clamp my jaw shut. How badly do I want to punch Rick in his stupid, smug face? Bad enough to give up today's paycheck? And tomorrow's?

"And how old is he again?" I say, biting my lip. My sleeve wipes Rick's spit from my face. Soon, our suspect should be spilling all his Renegade secrets.

Sweat and blood drip off the prisoner. Dried dirt cakes his body. Viscous guilt fills my stomach. My eyes can't look away. They can't, they won't.

Then my stomach growls like a wolf. The money, I remind myself. You need this paycheck to eat tonight. Don't worry about the bleeding boy.

Rick says, "Daniel Fadhill is 17 years old. Now don't let that get to your head. And don't let him ask you to prom like that last guy did. That's not why you're here."

My cheeks burn like a forest fire. I would pay a whole year's salary to knock the wind out of Rick's massive, puffed-up chest. His macho physique and slicked-back hair squeeze all the air out of the room.

Rick continues without missing a beat. "I gave him a good lashing, don't worry. The kid's got a mouth on him."

I nod slowly, grabbing the black remote from the window sill of the one-way glass. The device can help me with the interrogation. Without it, I'd be helpless in there with Daniel. "Is there any leverage in his file I can use?"

Rick flips through the classified papers in his hands. "Nothing in here. Daniel's a high school drop-out who stayed off the States' radar. No records on where he lived."

Rick glances at the clock in the room. "I'm going to search through some more files real quick. Can you handle this interrogation yourself or do you need my help again?"

"I'll be fine," I say. My fist tightens under my crossed forearms. Rick nods, then walks through the doors to the main halls of the juvenile agency. As soon as he's out of view, I take a deep breath, reminding myself I need this paycheck.

It's supposed to be a simple formula, really. Good cop, bad cop. The agency sends in an older interrogator to beat the suspect to a pulp, then the younger agent becomes the criminal's friend. The mixture of emotions confuses the Renegade's chaotic tendencies, to the point where the person confesses to the crimes. How they react (with reluctance or with glee) dictates if the suspect is just a regular criminal or an actual Renegade, respectively.

I exhale. It's not so bad trying to befriend a suspect. It's almost like making an actual friend, if I could disregard the blood and bruises. A petty thief doesn't really enjoy fessing up to the crime committed, but the Renegade does so with an unsettling cackle.

I eye Daniel again. Behind his mask of mercy and civility hides a brain full of Renegade instability. Sometimes, he allows a wisp of it to slip through the cracks. Maybe a small jeer or snarl, but it's enough to scar my skin like a burn.

I exit the viewing room, take a deep breath, and swing open the metal door of Interrogation Room 6.

"Hi," I say. The metal door shuts behind me with a bang. I take a few more steps forward. The suspect's not as thin as he should be, for a Baltimore boy, which is strange.

Daniel blinks at me.

"Do you know why you're here?" I ask the juvenile as I step in front of him and take a seat.

Daniel's blue eyes glare at me, tinged red around the outsides. I know he's assessing how dangerous I am, maybe from a scale of one to ten. The smooth forehead and the empty eyes deem me laughable. Hardly a threat.

Daniel clears his throat. I can't help it notice how handsome his features would be if he was anywhere else but here. Anywhere else. He says, "No, beautiful, I don't know why I'm here."

I flinch at his remark. How patronizing, how inappropriate. Rick warned me, but it still catches me off-guard.

Daniel stops to inhale some air, heaving breath after breath. He continues, "One minute I was walking to school, and the next minute, I woke up chained to this chair."

He sniffles once and strains against the cuffs locking his wrists to the electrocution chair. Within seconds, sensors stuck to his chest and temples communicate crucial data to my little, black remote.

The remote vibrates once against my palm, letting me know that Daniel's statement is likely the truth. So far his story checks out. Depending on which portion of the brain the Renegadea Protozoa burrowed into, Daniel could have a distorted personality and mood in the frontal lobe or faulty memory and vision in the temporal lobe. Hence the intense anger and the memory loss symptoms for those infected. However, the agency needs Daniel to confess, and then we can tell if he's a Renegade or not.

"My name is Ashley," I say, crossing my legs on the metal chair. I twirl the chair's remote in my hand, stifling the urge to cringe at Daniel's limp posture and sweat-dampened blond hair. "You know, they want me to torture you with this, but I won't. You just have to let me help you."

I tap a button on my remote, issuing electrical currents into Daniel's entire body. His screams ricochet off the painted, brick walls as his limbs writhe in pain, sweat streaking down his forehead. I almost cringe at the horrible sound, but I keep myself in check. Stiff face, soft eyes. I'm following mandatory protocol.

"Sorry," I say as sweet as sugar. "I had to. They're watching me, too." I point to the ceiling where a lone camera resides.

I raise an eyebrow at Daniel, hoping that I didn't flinch. Daniel can deny his felonies all he wants, but he's just like the other prisoners: he doesn't remember a thing about his crime.

"Yeah," Daniel scoffs. "Oops, wrong button, right? Didn't mean to electrocute me?"

Definite red flag. Rather than cooperating, he's being rude and defiant.

I interlace my fingers on the table. I can't encourage his antics when I need answers. "I'm sorry. I had to. Can you remember any other details of your crime?"

Unfortunately, Daniel doesn't think very hard about my question.

I internally sigh. I'm not really here to coddle him; I'm here for a confession. If he's a common criminal, he's sentenced to hard labor. If he's a Renegade, we push him for more information about other Renegades. Then, once he's out of information, it's death for the Renegade.

Daniel slumps back in his seat. "No, I don't remember any details. I blacked out. Did you not hear me? I don't even know how I got that stupid device. Where do you even get a bomb from?"

My remote vibrates again, urging me to believe Daniel's pleas. Can I trust the remote? Was the bomb really set off by the brain-hijacked, Renegade-version of Daniel and not by Daniel himself? I relax my fingers away from my electric shock trigger. He's telling the truth.

"I don't know if Rick will believe you. But I'm going to ask you one more time, Daniel," I lie. "Why did you set off the bomb at the courthouse?"

Daniel steals a ragged, frustrated breath. "Don't you get it? I didn't do this. Some Renegade must have attacked me and framed me."

My heart jolts in my chest at the mention of Renegades. I pray Daniel can't see through my bluff. The last thing I need is his resentment aimed towards agency. Daniel represents a chance at finding any more clues about other Renegades, too.

"Then tell us who framed you. Otherwise, tell me why you committed your crime."

Daniel laughs shallowly. "You know damn well I didn't kill anyone, sweetie. We both know about the Renegades and their ability to have a little fun."

Daniel's face flashes from tired to spiteful, as if someone possessed him. His slumped posture grows rigid against the back of his chair.

"Guess what, beautiful. I'm with the Renegades. And if you value your brain, you're going to follow my every order."

The empty chill in Daniel's sneer throws me into panic mode. I jab the small alert button on my remote, notifying Rick of what he already sees behind the glass. The Renegades have claimed Daniel once more.

Daniel senses my fear and snickers. No alarm goes off. Eyes wide, I panic and tap the electric shock trigger a hundred times. It doesn't work and neither do any of the controls.

"Rick!" I yell, hitting the unlock button for the door. It doesn't do a thing. "Rick!"

No one bursts into the room. No emergency crews and no Rick. With cold fear swelling my stomach, I realize Rick isn't sitting behind the glass. He's in the archive room.

I'm alone with the Renegade, and no one can help me.

"Ashley." Daniel slurs. A possessed look commands his face. Blue eyes laced with venom. "Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. The alarms are disabled."

The cuffs on the electrocution chair pop open. I gasp, leaping to my feet and knocking my chair to the floor. Daniel rises from his own seat, peeling off his wires and rubbing his wrists with an angry snarl.

I bolt for the door, expecting it to open, but I end nearly breaking the handle off. It jingles against my force but refuses to budge. My fingers slip, and I hit the concrete floor, lower back exploding into aching bruises.

Daniel laughs, sending a chill down my spine like melted ice down the back of a shirt. "Don't even bother trying to escape, Ashley. This entire building is under my control now."

Daniel laughs once as I scramble to my feet. "Stay away from me," I command. My heartbeat pounds like a jackhammer in my ears.

Daniel smiles, stepping closer to me. "Don't make me hurt you. Or worse... I could kill you." He laughs again, flexing his sore arms. "Now get on your knees."

I freeze. Oh, my gosh. My body refuses to move let alone follow commands.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW!"

I shudder. My knees hit the floor, raising its hands in the air. Daniel pulls a plastic zip-tie from his mouth. He yanks each of my arms behind my back, and my lip quivers as he handcuffs me defenseless.

Daniel's wet spit absorbs into my wrists, sticky and gross. Contaminated water that enters the nose or mouth can give someone Renegadea. What if it's absorbed from Daniel's spit through my skin or something...

Daniel rips me to my feet, whispering in my ear. "Agent Cummins, you're leading me the hell out of here."

Another chill crawls down my spine. I turn my head to the side, away from his warm breath. "How do you know my last name?" I croak.

Daniel sighs, as if he's bored. "Don't ask questions if you're not ready for the answers."

He pulls a dark flyaway curl away from my eyes, so intimate it's horrifying. My nerves fire and fire and fire but my body just doesn't want to move or kick or protest. "Born on June 2, 2113, you have three brothers and a baby sister. Plus your father died in the bombing attacks two years ago."

"How do you—"

Another snicker too close for comfort. "I know all about you. Do I have your files? Yes, ma'am. Do I have your family?" He grins. "No. You'll get rid of them yourself once you're a Renegade."

Daniel chuckles to himself. "You also have a birthmark right above your butt."

Oh, my God. I glare, biting my lip to stop my jaw from dropping. Without pausing, Daniel pushes me towards the door. It opens without my remote. Daniel laughs into my ear, pushing his hot air against my skin.

My stomach sinks to rock bottom; he must have control over all the technology in the building. All of it.

I try to swallow my fear as Daniel rushes me across office space to the rear door. His hands find a pair of scissors to jab behind my back as he navigates the building without any assistance from me. My mind races and jumbles with every step.

I'm going to be infected with Renegadea.

I'm going to be a Renegade.

I'm going to be sentenced to a fate worse than death. Just like Daniel himself.

Daniel blows a puff of air on the back of my neck, and I scream in terror. He shoves me against the wall, nailing his elbow into my back. I shout as I spot a blur of brown in the edge of my vision. Warm cloth falls over my shoulders, concealing my wrists. His jacket. The residual heat is nauseating.

Daniel pulls my body away from the wall. "Geez," I mumble by accident, addressing my throbbing back.

"Shut up!" the Daniel-Renegade threatens, "or I'll kill you right now!"

With a gruff shove, Daniel forces me out of the juvenile custody building. The familiar, decaying streets of Baltimore welcome me home. Weeds and dirt cover every crumbling skyscraper and broken-down road. The only clean buildings are the ones run by the States officials.

We pass by a mirrored skyscraper, where I dare to catch my reflection in the glass. Worn face of fear, my hair trapped under Daniel's jacket collar. I sweep my eyes down Daniel's figure with caution. In the corner of the glass, I spot an ElectroBoard. I turn to watch it in reality.

Footage of Daniel's arrest flashes onto the massive billboard's screen. The images don't phase Daniel at all. Instead, he bullies me with a laugh and a derogatory remark about the States' leaders. I shudder in response.

I can't take this anymore. I've got to escape.

I have to.

As Daniel drags me through the streets, I desperately try to catch someone's attention, to alert them of the danger we're all in. Not one person looks at me. They've been taught well; keep your head down and you won't be conned or mugged.

I bite on my lip again. I have no choice; I've got to make a break for it. My life can't end like this. It just can't.

Daniel turn his head, and I seize the opportunity. I stomp on his foot and use my free leg to kick hard on the backs of his knees. Daniel falls to the ground with a small grunt, dragging me down beneath him.

Instead of crawling away like I planned, Daniel's full weight on my back traps me in his snare. Daniel pulls me to my feet using my thick, dark hair. He adjusts his jacket over my shoulders as I struggle to free myself from him. I manage to yell a straggled "help" before he clamps a hand over my mouth and drags me to the shadowy coverage of an alleyway. Yanking hard on my hair, Daniel forces my eyes to the sky. I whimper.

He growls into my ear, "One more move like that, and I will wipe the minds of everyone in this city. Everyone."

My eyes water in response.

He releases my hair but drops his right arm over my shoulder. I nearly vomit at the feeling of the evil creature's weight on me.

A voice rushes into my ear. "Hey! What are you doing?" I glance towards the source, a middle-aged man right next to me. He helps us to our feet, but his hands don't move from my shoulders.

Daniel huffs and throws his arm around me. "Gary, nice to see you, man, but you gotta go before someone sees you."

Gary nods. "Stay safe." He turns away and slips down the alley.

My mouth drops, a wave of terror cascading my body. What on Earth? Was that another Renegade?

Daniel drags me away from the alley. I inhale to let out a bellowing scream, but Daniel's palm presses my mouth shut.

Numbed by fear, I fail to keep track of how far or long we travel. Street after street blurs together until I can barely think. It doesn't take much longer for me to realize Daniel's final destination as we approach it: the Ruins. As we cross the final streets of Baltimore, we step into the endless stretch of gray ash and rubble.

The Renegades bombed a bunch of Pennsylvanian legislation buildings and courthouses two years ago. Without enough laborers and dollars, the States chose to relocate everyone instead of rebuilding. So many lives destroyed.

It was the night-shift janitors like my dad who didn't stand a chance. After Dad was gone, we couldn't bear it. An empty-casket funeral and a one-way ticket to Baltimore. A whole life torn from our hands overnight.

Brittle rocks crunch under my shoes as we hike through the southern edge of the Ruins. As I keep my eyes trained on the ground, I stumble my way through the uneven grayness. Each dull pebble reminds me of my mom, of how she picked up our pieces once we left Pennsylvania.

I hope she's still at work, and I hope my siblings are safe at home. I hope they don't even know what's about to happen to me. I hope Daniel was right, that he didn't take them, too.

Daniel takes the lead through the rugged Ruins, and he uses the sharp terrain as an opportunity to shove me around. The first push hurts the most, resulting in an aching forearm.

But Daniel doesn't stop. After I fall on the ground for the 10th time, my cheeks burn from all the scrapes, and a metallic taste enters my mouth. I lick my bottom lip, finding a cut.

From my landing spot on the ground, I glare at Daniel and his newfound amusement. I can't run or flee in this condition. I can't even get up by myself.

"Are you going to stop pushing me or what?" I spit out before I can stop myself.

Daniel laughs. "Oh, good, you've lost that government's sweetheart act. But as much as I want to keep pushing you around, I'll stop." His eyes flit to the sky for a moment before returning to me.

"After all, you should be thank-ing me," he says after a moment.

An engine roars to life in the Ruins. I stare at Daniel in disbelief through the strands of hair glued to my bloody lip. "Why would I thank you?"

Daniel picks me up, and we circle around a towering pile of dirt. The engine grows louder, and a helicopter visualizes soon after.

Daniel thrusts me to the helicopter's already-open doors. Though the cabin is dim, my fate shines before me at full brightness.

There's a dozen limb bodies crammed in the helicopter.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

cliffhanger to start off this novel (!) i hope you're enjoying this, as there will be a lot of action. leave a vote if you're enjoying Instability so far.

to make the reading experience more fun, i will be asking you prediction/guessing questions for you to answer in the comments. i've added these as of 2/16/14, so if there's no comments answering the question, be the first! I dare you!

*drumroll* So here we go: