<strong>Name:</strong>Liua Rhodes<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Taxed female (unpaid and available for capture)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Untold corner of Horizon City<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>None specified.<br/><br/>The hope one crumpled note can bring. . .<br/><br/>It had been carted in secrecy, lovingly uncreased, and set like a small shrine atop chipped and worn formica countertop.  Every few seconds, Liua peeked at the faded twenty just to make sure it was still there.  That note meant so many things.  A fresh meal, mostly.  Freedom, partly.<br/><br/>Of course, it was a trickle in the flood of her debts.  She cringed each time she thought about the amount of money owed to the BFA for that ridiculous tax.<em>Past due.  Grossly negligent.</em>Just a few of the more colorful terms in her last mailing.  The worst was the blatantly worded demand:<em>Your status has been revoked.  Report to the nearest BFA office for processing immediately.  This is not a request.</em><br/><br/>Of course, she did what any sensible free woman would do.  She ran.  Straight to the streets, where a small neglected road house a failed small business her father had once owned.  Even the creditors couldn't sell it.  Now it was just one of the many closed down shops in an outdated strip mall.  Too expensive to maintain, too expensive to tear down.  So the city let it rot; but for Liua, it meant a roof over her pretty little head.<br/><br/>The young woman veritably shut down for months while she struggled with this cold and unforgiving reality.  Practically homeless.  Poor.  No friends or family to lend her a hand.  Her 'friends', her father's 'friends' -- they had left almost as soon as the money left.  Doubtless they rejoiced in the fall of the Rhodes dynasty.  She needn't consider turning to them.  It was just a quicker way into the proverbial collar.  Or was it literal?  For some it was.<br/><br/>Either way, Liua couldn't imagine succumbing.<br/><br/>For now, she concentrated on her first true venture out in weeks.  She had worked with a single-minded passion to preserve the few items she had, in hopes of passing herself off as a woman capable of paying her taxes.  Looking the part was more important than acting the part.  Few men would think to stop a well-dressed and assumingly free woman.<br/><br/>She chose jeans because they were durable.  These had been painstakingly babied, too.  Dark, almost navy blue, and obviously expensive.  They hugged her hips and thighs, then fell straight.  Perfect for her brown suede boots with the little gold accents.  A square-necked tunic top went over it, an abstract design of brown, yellow, and orange.  Her belt was a slim golden chain.  Her earrings were dangling gold sickles, a present from her fifteenth birthday.<br/><br/>She was sparing with her makeup.  Of course, there was no money to buy more.  Just enough to show she could afford it -- a touch of lipstick, some muted shadow.  She had carefully rolled her hair in curlers the night before, and once released gave her brunette hair the right amount of volume.  Just a little teasing, and very few men could tell it wasn't professionally coiffed in a high-priced salon.<br/><br/>Her handbag was a couple of years out of fashion, of course.  She couldn't help that.  But it was simple, brown leather.  She only tucked the twenty and a hairbrush inside.  Not her identification.  Easier to play dumb and say she left it at home, rather than let anyone see the glaring expiration date.<br/><br/>One deep breath to settle her nerves, and Liua exited the abandoned diner from the rear into shadow-swathed alley way.  Hurried steps carried the woman from there to sidewalk proper.  She hastened from the slums those few short blocks into bustling metropolis, hoping to disappear in the crowds.<br/><br/>From there, she browsed, seeking a treat for her starving palette.