A small body runs down a bright white hallway; the tiled floor and ceiling were indistinguishable. The orderly in stark white uniform leads the girl by hand to her back. When she starts to protest, she pulls back, sensing not to go. He grabs her hand, which doesn't quam the child. He picks her up while she squirms and gnashes her teeth. The orderly put her in a chair, oddly green against the whiteness. Otherorderlies hold her steady as another gives a shot. The girl goes limp and still as pain from a needle enters her ear.

My body launches itself upright, drenched in a cold sweat. My long dark hair pulled back, with wispy strands clinging about my face. My ragged shirt sticks to my skin, and my cargo pants slick close to me. I quickly assess my situation and check my knives. All there in my holster and vambraces. I should be used to nightmares, though I still find myself waking up in terror. A Magilus, the lava dog or Mag's stocks below my little sleeping spot, a dirt alcove I had curled myself into for a short while. The Mag pauses, sniffing the air, grey crusts in large scales, his red molten lava spikes between the plates. I don’t bother to watch as it howls, signaling the others. I climb up the rough wall with my spiked boots and use my knives as staples to launch forward toward another level. The other people tried to launch toward me; someone grabbed my leg, which receiving my boot dirk with a backward thrust, making a slit in his throat. The flashing lights envelop everything in red; I pull myself over the last dirt walkway onto the concrete slab. Looking around the circular concrete operation center, all but the bloody bodies strewn on the floor, the monitors display people fighting and running amuck. The mass stirs with chaos brawling over each other as the loud alarm echoes endlessly.

Swiftlygrabbing the filter off the body and check the device for air supply. The little pack reads 30 minutes. Great, I have less than that to make it across the crust to a ship. People start clamor toward the doors, grabbing the weapon. The guard has a small energy blaster, which I grab as I place the air filter over my nose and mouth as it suctions to me. Flicking my arm for my curved blade, with energy burster in the other hand, I raced, looking at the dial in the office. Twenty-nine minutes till all things blaze. The radio in the office squawks in, telling me reinforcements are coming 10 minutes.

Reitsapoen is a prison planet with its star close to it, so the day is scorching with anything the sun touches turns to ash. While the night turns frigate cold, escaped prisoners freeze. The air was toxic heavy with sulfur only breathable with an air mask.  The only way to get off the planet is by finding a cargo ship or a prisoner transport ship. Most of the transport ships contained mercenaries and bounty hunters with weaponry. The prison is a vast, drilled hole that reaches the core of the planet, where the Magilus emulate. The prison hierarchy starts bottom-up the deeper you go, the worst the criminal or wrongly accused. The governments andrulers of planets that make Reitsapoen its prisons are corrupt; those minimalprisoners whose only crime is stealing food or defending oneself would behigher. The hardened criminals creep up, only to be shot by the guards or eating by lava dogs.

However, today, the guards were outnumbered, overwhelmed by rioting prisoners, and Mag's number wined. The lower levels climbed toward the top, eliminating whoever was in their path. Thesnowy ash starts falling toward the ground, sprinting toward the thicket ofrocks and caves. Stopping short of being spotted as new troops march toward the bunker. I curl down between the stones, making myself still, holding my weaponsready. Subsequently breathed out and settled my heart and steadied my nerves. The last of the troops in line threw my spearheaded knife toward its target;the body quietly crumbled, the soldier’s comrades didn’t notice. Pulling the heavy armor-laden body toward the rocks, I quickly undress him and retrieve my knife,wiping the blade clean. I don on his chest plate and vambrace and start racing for the landing strip. The darkness of the sky softly lighten, warning me of mywaning time, seeing a ship, a small cargo ship, and its larger cousin bringingthe reinforcements.

Soldiers line the outer ring of the hangar; I count five all facing my direction, lovely. The air filter beeps, letting me know I have 15 minutes left. Great Scotts, I take the energy burster and fire the gun at the five, stunning the soldiers as they crumple. As a blade laces against my throat, a cold silver laded cheek as a hand snakes around my waist. “Having dreams, are we?” the air traffic controller sings in my ear, his accent slightly singsongingly.  Hot breath on my cheek, “now darling, you naughty thing, discard the weapons, shall we?” Discarding the burster and knife on the floor, I look toward the sky turning dark blue to a light morning sky. He starts to feel me, for weapons, but more groping my thighs and chest. Lean back slightly, my boot clicks heaving out a pointed knife penetrated his foot, he howls, in a fluid motion ducking and flicking my arm down to extend my other curved blade sweeping it across his abdomen then his neck before he could react. The air filter beeps twice and a third time with a deep sound as it dies. The air is thick and smells of sulfur, as it makes my vision cloudy. Retrieving my knife and burster and head for the cargo ship. A sizzling sound fills my ears, and I smell the flesh of the soldiers burning.

Coughing as I enter the ship, my vision starts to clear up. Sitting down at the pilot’s chair, finding the pilot controls simple, closing the door. But starting the engine with no luck, and the controls make odd beeping noises. I kick it, and it sputters. Simultaneously,I push the lever toward as the ship starts to hover, managing to make it awkwardly to the runway. I fidget for the map finding my destination Ehom, pushing thelevel back as the ship accelerates off the runway and into the sky. Letting outa breath that I realized I’ve been holding. Sweeping my leg out from under me,subsequently landing on my back as a man in thick red and purple robes looks atme.

My knives' cool metalsteadies my grip as I swing toward him, though nothing penetrates—the movementlaunching me on my feet again. Swiping toward him again in closer quarters, but he vanishes. Shielding my eyes as Reitsapeon's star brightly shines, burning my skin. Hitting the shields with a bang, I fall back into the pilot's chair as it complies. I hit the autopilot button while the nav com screen recommends cryosleep. I was looking around and noticing the IV. I remove my curved blades from my forearm and place them on my back holster. The needle is prodding around for a veinas it links up with my blood. The pull of red blood out of one tube while the other feeds blue slush. My eyes slowly start to feel heavy while my body runs acold tingle sensation.  

The dust kicks up while the warm sensation floods my body. A swamp-like thickness makes it hard to move, as I feel a stick poke me. I growl; consequently, I hearing gasps and mumbling. A burning sensation rakes over me while beads of sweat line my skin. I was reaching for my blade, crouching in the chair, fluidity coming back to me. Two small children in oversize ragged clothes take a step backdropping the stick. Growling again and lurching forward, the children run, chasing them out of the ship. The sun hits my eyes, blinding me momentarily, as dust infiltrates into my lungs. Scurrying to the nearest tree, I spot a town a short distance away.

The traveling merchant's cart pulls past; I retrieve a blanket and disguise myself. As I enter the town,I notice Wanted posters flickering different faces and prices none with my face. Snagging an apple, I reach up to take a bite when a hand catches me. I have all the luck. My blade slinks down on the man’s arm. “thief!”  He yells, receiving a swift roundhouse kick, bolting toward the nearest pole, swinging upward, throwing my blades on the stucco. They rake in as I hurl myself up, running down the rooftop, shimming down toward a dark alleyway. The commotion farther away, I fade back into the crowd, grabbing dirt and rubbing it into my pale skin. Surveying my location, I walk toward the tavern. Before I can make it through the door, a familiar hand stops me. Successively a swirl of oranges and cigar smoke taint my nose.  “Look whom I ran into, boys,” the man chuckles, breathing more of his scent on me. With short brown hair lying flat on his head, a short man of stature dressed as all mercenaries are in pants and a shirt with dirt and sweat camouflaging his skin.  Oddly slender for his diet with a half-smoked cigar in his belt loop.  Gritting myteeth and I snarl one word, “Arlos.”

 “Looking here, the kitty’s got claws,” Licking his lips as a hand meanders around my waist. With a quick swipe of my blade, an angry red mark starting to produce blood on his arm. One of Arlos’s crew grabsmy arms, turning me into the bowtie position. My elbow turns into triangles making my grip go limp. The man smiles his teeth squeak; as I squirm, kicking back, my boot dirk embeds into his shin.  The boxy man doubles forward, yelling while quickly retrieving my blades, flipping them up hard behind me as they sting into his shoulders. Another man, this one with long arms, lunges for me; I kick forward, spinning, reaching up to dig my blades into flesh. They slice through while chaos ensues. I jump toward the building, edges digging into the stucco.However, a hand grips my calf, pulling me down; I falter and hit my head against pottery. It smashes, my head follows suit, dazed, snarling, trying to regain my footing. Arlos spits, while his men wrestle me, “See, I don’t like it when kittens’ claws scratch, you are going to pay for that.” His drawl made his words sound sweet, but the bite of the glowing cigar into my leg faded that illusion away. His boys tore at my pants with a too easy tug, growling I struggle.Their heavy weight makes my bones burn as Arlos unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. “quiet now little kitty, you'll enjoy this.”

I blinked, and my world was a haze as pain and blood marred my vision. Arlos' and his boy’s faces near mine their hot breath on me. The edges of my vision darken and blurs before shrinks into darkness. Light slowly returns into my eyes as I see Arlos and his crewwalking away. The acrid smell of urine and disgust clog my nose, I cough, and my world spins. My ribs are burning and searing pain in me. Unsure of what had just happened.

Next, I’m aware of is a warm, lit room, with light that dances like fire—the smell of wood and cooking over the rotten smell of the streets and blood. A man with tidy short curly hair reaches toward me using gentle soothing tones. I growl in response while flinching,moving my body as dizziness overcomes me. My head hangs close to the floor as my nose fills with the smell of pine and soap. A man with long dark brown hair enters the room with a piping bowl of hot udon soup. He freezes, “Tray do you have..” the men compare glances. Taking the opportunity to press myself up against the wall while they do. The one called Tray close to me puts his hands palmsout, speaking in soft tones “Hey easy, you’re hurt, and you have a fever,” heturns as the man with the long hair hands him the soup. Slowly places it on the floor between us. Barring my teeth, I try to straighten up, although a rush of heat overtakes me, and I crumbles. Tray catches me; he smells of the forest and warm summer days.