By: Amanda Dolan

A mysterious hooded figure strolls down the prison, coming to a stop at the sight of two heavily armored guards. The guards point their swords at the hooded figure.

“What do you think you’re doing down here?” the first one growls, taking a small step forward intimidatingly. The figure, however, remains silent and still like a statue.

“You’re not allowed down here,” the second guard states. “We’re going to have to fight if you don’t leave.” He pauses. “Although I don’t suppose I mind, considering that I’m ready to take someone down.” He smirks and rolls his neck.

The one who spoke first whispers into his fellow guard’s ear, “No, no. You’re not supposed to say that! It’s supposed to be a surprise attack. Didn’t you pay any attention during Guard Training?”

“Oh. Um, right,” the second guard’s face is red as a tomato as he shuffles forward. The hooded figure draws out their sword with a big, toothy grin.

“You’re going to regret this,” the first guard grits his teeth. And the battle begins. The second guard charges at the figure, but the figure slides below him. The first guard pulls out a bow and arrow, firing it at the figure. The hooded figure swiftly backflips over the first arrow, then jumps on the second arrow, catching the third.

“Woah,” the second guard stares in awe, then nearly gets penetrated by a dagger that he narrowly dodges. From then on, it is all swords. The first guard only had three arrows, the second guard only had a sword and shield, and the figure had a dagger. The first guard swings his sword at the figure’s feet, but they smoothly jump away from the sword. Next, the second guard flings his sword at the figure, and completely misses. The sword stabs the wall, falling onto the first guard’s head, knocking him out coldly.

“W-wait,” the second guard backs up, raising his trembling hands. “H-here, have the keys.” He flings a ring of keys at the figure and flees. The figure swiftly catches the keys and twirls them on their finger. They confidently stroll towards the jail cell door, shoving a charcoal-black key into the keyhole. The key turns, and unlocks the cold, dreary cell. A middle-aged man with black-as-the-night-sky hair and ripped, brown prison clothes steps out. There were deep, dark bags under the man’s eyes, indicating that he hadn’t slept for days.

“Good to see you, Ash,” the man says as the figure lowers her hood, revealing neat, black hair.

“Let’s get out of here, Damien,” Ash replies. “We’ve got lots more to take care of. Starting with the phoenixes.” Her eyes darken, and she grins. “Our plan to wipe out every one of them will be a success, I just know it.”