The smell of paint filled the air. Sounds of spray cans being shook through the night, echoed off of the dull sleeping buildings. A figure jumps from building to building, tagging and adding life to the sad grey structures.

It was all fun and games till a bright light illuminated upon the figure's drawing. A male, stabbed through the chest by a paint brush. It symbolized the anger the artist had towards the dictator.

"Stop That Artist!" A deep voiced called out through the night as sirens and black and white lights blared.

The figure was always two steps ahead of the authority, zig zagging in and out of buildings, leaving tags and artwork wherever they went.

On the sides of apartment buildings and office towers, comics laughed at the officers that were too late to the chase.

"Grr." An officer grit his teeth as he glared up at the comic painted upon the wall of a tall white tower. He clenched his fists as the laughter of the drawn faces got to him, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out. He would punch the wall, his skin breaking open upon impact. His blood painting the dull bricks of the structure. He had to find a way to get ahead of the criminal. "That's it!" He thought to himself as he turned behind him to his fellow officers. "Half of you continue on route! The rest follow me!" He demanded, running off in a different direction.

Feet pounded the pavement making small pebbles dance with the vibrations. The Artist just finished tagging a building when a blinding light rained down upon them, they tried to run, but as they spun around had found themselves surrounded by the black uniforms of the law.

"There's nowhere to run." The uniforms moved in closer. The figure desperately looked around for an exit, but even the air had uniformed flying machines going after them. They had no choice but to surrender. Falling to their knees, they raised their hands in defeat.

The last artist standing had finally be caught. Was this the end of the artistic era?

Waking up in a cell, Alex was extremely confused as to how she got there. She looked around and noticed that she was no longer in the clothes she went to bed in last night.

"What happened?" She thought to herself, she stood up and walked over to the bars of the cell. Gripping on to the rough rusted bars, the female pressed her body against them. "Hello! Anyone here? Can someone let me out? I'm not supposed to be here! I don't know how I got here!" She called out, hoping someone would hear and answer her.

"You're awaitin' the death penalty, peaches." A man with about two teeth and a crooked smile walked over to Alex. "You, peaches have broken the worst law of all."

"What do you mean? I did nothing wrong!" Alex was extremely confused. She needed an explanation now. "I'm innocent."

"That's what they all say, peaches." The old man chuckled.

Max Angelo looked to his daughter and curled his lips into a grin like smile. "You've been betrothed!" His voice sounded cheerful while Anne's heart dropped.

"What?" She blinked, jaw dropped, and her mouth gapingly wide open. "Who uses the term betrothed anymore? It's the 30th century! And besides," Anne crossed her arms and turned away from her father. "Maybe I've found love elsewhere."

"I don't care!" He yelled as his veins popped out with his anger. "You are going to marry the boy and that's final!"

"Why don't you marry him!" Anne stormed out of the room and out of the building.

"Annabelle Marie Angelo! You come back here right now!" The dictator yelled after his daughter, but he was too late. Anne was too far away to hear him. There was nothing he could do to stop her, for the first time in a long time, he was useless.

"Fudge this! Fudge him! Fudge everything!" She screamed as she marched towards the jail house, tearing apart whatever government clothing she had on. Leaving herself in not much, other than rags. Upon entering, she looked around for someone; shooting glares at those who cat called her.

She would soon come across two uniforms about to take Alex to the pit of death.

"Hey. What's going on here?" She put her hand on her hips and raised a brow.

"Ma'am. We're going to destroy the last of the art believers." One uniform replied as Anne looked into Alex's eyes.

"Leave, I'll take care of her." She ordered as she held out her soft plush hand.

The higher uniform sighed and handed over Alex to the female.

Anne took ahold of Alex's hand and guided her towards the back of the jailhouse. She would however take a detour and guide her out through a back door.

"We need to talk." Anne looked Alex in the eyes, her voice and eyes gave a serious tone.

Thank you for reading and supporting me through my Watty's journey.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Shreya_VA . Feel free to check out her Watty's story "Butterfly Wings".

Xerina