Here comes the first chapter.

Enjoy.

1. Dead End

The deafening roar tore her ears leaving no place for any other sound to reach her. Pieces of the damaged aircraft were flying all around her, bumping into the unsteady metal walls adding to the overall clatter. The whole world was hazy, she couldn't even see properly and everything was moving so quickly she couldn't keep up. Everything but her. The muscles in her body were terribly slow and refused taking orders from her brain. Even them, the last thing she thought she could rely on, were against her.

Every heavy beat of heart was tearing her chest apart making it almost impossible to breathe. She tried to shout but couldn't hear any voice coming out her mouth. The roar of raw air breaking into the cockpit through the massive hole or maybe the roar of failing engine or whatever caused that unnatural noise, which was sending chills down her neck. Which was piercing the whole body, causing both physical and psychical pain, terrifying her to the core of her being. She wanted to move, to try to land the destroyed machine, to grab the parachute and leave it, to do anything, to at least save herself. However, most of all, she wanted to find the source of the roar. Her body was paralyzed by dread, lost in the sound she could bear no more.

The woman, with her pink hair ruffled by wind, was going down along with the aircraft, falling into pieces just as the damn machine, not able to do a thing about that. The shards of broken glass felt encouraged by her helplessness to dig deep into her body, leaving piercing pain, pinning her wrists to the wall, leaving her open for any other debris to feast on her body. And then everything went black and silent. Only the burning at her wrists felt real and the sound of her heavy breath.

She woke up, shuddering, barely able to catch a breath. A drop of cold sweat rolled down her jaw, hung on it just for a second to finally drip on the polished surface of the hard stone. She could feel the strands of pink hair clung all over the sweaty forehead and back of her neck. Only after a long while she acknowledged, she's no longer in the dream. The dream which had been haunting her for so long, always invariably appalling, always the same, always finishing with her waking up, covered in sweat, gasping for air. It was not different this time.

There was one meaningful difference, though. After acknowledging the nightmare, the pinkhead's senses started to respond to the surrounding, sucking it in, passing further to her unwilling mind to analyze. She didn't know the place. She tried to pull but, despite the strength of her arms, her wrists didn't budge a tiny bit. Unlike other things she could hear or feel in her dream, the burning on them was real. They were, no doubt, securely pinned to the stone wall. She made her knees straighten up to support the weight of her body on legs. It took some weight off the metal clasps, which were cutting violently into her pale wrists, keeping them reliably in place.

The cerulean eyes swept the area cursorily looking out for anything she could qualify as possibly dangerous… First and foremost. There was no need to seek far, there it was. The threat, sitting on the solid looking wooden chair, which was merely enough to support his massive body. She did the math in her mind and figured the man must have been at least 2 meters high and twice as heavy as her, with a fine pack of toned muscles sticking to his bones and little amount of fat here and there. The baldness of his head was shining slightly in the bright light of the torch fixed to the stone wall just behind him. Despite the whole place was rather dim, the torch was clearly illuminating the scars and tattoos his body was covered with. Savage dressed into leathers and furs as befits a native of Gran Pulse. His bearded face looked rather bored, absorbed with the new toy he was playing with.

The pink-haired woman's eyes widened and froze on the object in his hand. Her jaw slackened just for a little while but with the wave of anger and adrenaline which flooded her, it came back up forcefully. The initial haziness disappeared from her mind as far as her heart quickened enough to make her body ready to face the potential menace. Her eyes narrowed with barely contained fury but her teeth gritted, remembering her that she's in no position to take back what's hers.

The man stirred as if he felt her intense gaze on him and turned his bearded face towards his prisoner. Despite the anger she had felt a moment ago, her face was already impassive her eyes wary and focused on the man. You wanna survive, you put your emotions aside. The man lost interest in the ornamented, survival knife, he was playing with a moment ago and stuck it unrespectfully in a sturdy wooden table.

Though the cerulean eyes felt an urge to follow the knife, she decided against it, not wanting any emotions to affect her judgment. Even if this was the one she had got from her younger sister as a birthday present. The same one which happened to be so precious because of its sentimental value. The memento of her sister. The one and only thing which enabled her to feel her sister's presence, to reject everything that happened.

Sentimental value… She scoffed at herself in mind. You are bigger than shit like this.

The thoughts got quickly dismissed, though. She didn't let her mind wander, she kept it focused on the man who stood and closed the distance between them in a few lazy strides and examined her carefully, showing more impatience than excitement.

"Finally." He said rather plainly with only a hint of appreciation. The only answer he got, was a cold glare of her. Not that he expected any but the woman seemed for him strangely unconcerned by a situation she found herself in. Corner of his lips curved up a little bit as he recognized this kind of behavior as typical for a well-trained soldier. There was no need to bother with any other words. He turned and left, leaving her alone, pinned to the stone wall in this strange place.

Only then, when she was left alone, she let herself to occupy her mind by examining the surrounding thoroughly.

The place was dim, lightened only with a lantern here and there. There was not even a trace of sunlight so it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. That wasn't any kind of building made by a human, that was unmistakably a cavern. The cavern's walls were irregular with small and large cavities. She could even spot a few pillars, their shape only seemingly chaotic and disordered. They had numerous bulges and breaches, most of them were thinner in the bottom than in the upper part.

The water must have flowed here. She noted to herself.

The shapes in stone had been clearly made by water and it hadn't been just dripping leisurely. The current must have been quite strong here and the water level changing. She wondered if it still happened flow in this place. If it did, the estimated chances of survival would be rather poor. With her hands chained to the rock, she had no chances to free herself. Even if she didn't drown, staying in cold water would lead to hypothermia quickly. What bothered her even more, was the fact that the rainy season in Gran Pulse was about to begin in a few, maybe a dozen days.

If I don't get out of here until then, I'll learn the hard way how high the water level reaches.

The place was different from regular cave, though. The air was moist but it wasn't cold. It was rather warm… or that wasn't due to air. The stone. It wasn't as cold as it supposed to be. It wasn't really warm neither but its temperature was… pleasant?

That's strange.

It was probably that, what kept the overall temperature in cave pleasant. She clung to the rock some more. It was rather large-grained and harsh for her skin. The feeling of touching it, brought to mind sharpening of her gunblade. The sandstone sharpener exactly.

She wondered if some Pulsian savage took the Blazefire Saber – her beloved gunblade. Without training and the knowledge how to fight with this exceptional weapon, it was only going to squander in the hands of someone unfitted to even hold it. The weapon - exclusive. Only for elitary, high-ranked soldiers, which had past special training so as to fully bring out the potential of this truly unique weapon. Its lightness fitted perfectly with her agility and the 'army of one' style of fighting. She was the one who gave birth to the style and she liked the name, despite she hadn't been the one who called it like that the first time. The name reflected the nature and the point of it – using unusual quickness and nimbleness to just appear and disappear from enemy's site of view, jumping from foe to foe, leaving deadly cuts and wounds. Just 'The Army of One'. The sharpness of the blade was its another quality. It could easily split the hair in half. Its accuracy, enabling her to shot down a tiny bird in flight. Its reliability and the finest craftsmanship, which allowed her to transform the sword form into the gun and the other way round in a fraction of a second without the fear that something might jam.

At least I know where this one is. Her eyes came back to the survival knife she had got from her sister months earlier for her birthday. So practical… she had thought so then. Who could have known that was the exact day when her struggle for survival had begun. That was kind of paradox, she felt as if it all happened yesterday, though she also felt dozen years older.

She examined the cuffs on her wrists once again. They were solid and weren't going to budge no matter how many times she tried to free herself. Her wrists were held at the height of her head. High enough to keep her standing as long as her legs could support her. Whenever they couldn't, all her weight had to rest on her wrists, which were already achy because of doing so for goddess knew how long when she was out.

The sound of footsteps reached her ears. It was growing louder and louder and she could tell that at least three people were coming. The heavy clatter indicated that they were probably armed. Her assumptions were confirmed the moment the silhouettes emerged from one of the passages. There were four of them, all well-trained warriors. One of them stood out of the rest though. He was wearing black, well-fitted armor which seemed to not contract his movements at all and was probably giving him an additional advantage in dexterity. It clung to his body bringing out his muscles even more. The purple finishing and ornaments on it matched his eyes and long hair of the same color. A grape and black striped, folded bandana was tied around his head and a few feathers and beads were hanging from it, giving the man a pinch of mysticism. His jaw was square and strong, lips tight, overall expression rather serious. There was no doubt he was the one in charge.

The man stopped right in front of his prisoner, with the rest of the guards standing obediently just behind his back. He eyed her up and down with an uncommon scrutiny. He got no reaction to that, though. She only stared back into his eyes without blinking, her face showing no fear, no nervousness, not even anger or hater. It also didn't change when he spoke.

"She's the one. Free her hands and shall we begin." His voice was low and deep and there was definitely something mystical in the way he was taking.

Anyway, just after the words left his mouth, the two men from behind his back approached the woman and started working on her chains. She acknowledged that both of them had their own keys. This valuable information had been stored for later in the back of her mind, just before they twisted her arms behind her back and started to lead her behind, already receding in the dim passage, posture.

The pink-haired woman was being dragged back to the chamber she was kept in for some time earlier. She could feel the familiar, metallic taste of blood in her mouth and warm trickle was sipping from the cut on her lip, dripping to the stone here and there, staining it to intense, dark reddish color, marking the path. She wasn't a novice, she finished the commando training which prepared her for situations like the one she found herself into. She was aware of what it meant to be held captive. Countless interrogations, ceaseless tries to break her so as to obtain even the tiniest bit of information.

She sucked in her lip to prevent blood from trickling down her chin. They could beat her as much as they wanted, she wasn't going to sell her skin cheap. The physical pain didn't bother her as much as most people. To tell the truth, she had found herself in some dark moments of her life when the physical pain had felt like a liberation. Some people had even started to call her bloody knuckles, what had caused them bloody noses. Pushing boundaries of her combat training to the extent of physical pain had seemed to be the only way to deal with her untamable anger. Her grief such overwhelming that she would have done everything to just stop thinking. The constant struggle to not let the desperation to consume her all, day after day, bit by bit. For the exact moment, it had been great to stifle all these things, in the long run, it hadn't worked.

Her back hit the rock with such an impact that the air involuntarily left her lungs and refused to come back for a few seconds. By that time her left hand was already securely clasped and immobilized. She was no fool, she knew that with every day her chances of getting out of that place were shrinking significantly. Naivety was also foreign for her. That was nothing but logic to expect them to not be easy on her. Keeping her weak was in their business.

So…

There was only one man standing in front of her trying to chain her right hand to the unyielding rock. Before he could finish, she drove a foot into his crotch with all her might. The man's eyes widened so much that his eyeballs threatened to fall out of its sockets and his jaw dropped in an inaudible cry. The grip on women's right wrist loosened and she freed her hand easily. Split second later, the key was wrestled out of the man's palm.

This is in my business to get out of here as fast as I can.

The man in front of her fell to his knees, clutching his genitals in both hands but another one was already running her way. The woman was aware that he would get to her before she would be able to free her second hand so she resigned from trying. Instead, she stiffened the muscles of her imprisoned arm, hopped with her left leg on the crouching man's shoulder and pushed firmly, jumping high and pulling up with her left arm in the same time. She half-rotated in the air just enough to drive her right feet into the approaching man's jaw. The kick would have been strong enough to stun even a gorgonopsid, so the human was out of her mind for some time.

While falling down, she smashed into the stone wall quite harshly but she was ready for that and to embrace the slight pain without slowing down her movements. She quickly started working the clasp on her right hand. Some fresh blood appeared on her wrist but there was no time to lick her wounds. With the corner of her eye she saw that the man, she kicked in the crotch, started to get up from his knees. He was still bent in half and was leaning with one hand on the wall while the second one was still between his legs. There was also the third man quickly approaching with his ax prepared, ready to swing with all his might.

Common…

Even with the key, the lock was working heavily but this time she managed to open it just before the man reached her. She saw him take a swing and her adrenaline spiked up immediately. The woman rolled over the back of ball-kicked Pulsian who was still bend in half and leaning on the wall. The clung of the weapon hitting the hard rock filled the air and it bounced off the empty halls, coming back a few times as an echo and followed by an angry growl of the one who missed his pray.

The moment her legs connected with the ground she shot forward with her best sprinter speed, running towards one of the passages and aiming to grab her knife which was still stuck into the wooden table. That was indisputable that her chances in bare-handed combat with three armed, well-trained barbarians were poor. Well… she managed quite well so far but still, it would be insane to push her luck even further. However, with a knife, she was ready to show them, or anyone she would meet at her escape route, what she's capable of while using the short blade, relying mostly on her quickness, agility and combat instincts.

When she was just a few steps before her goal, another guard suddenly emerged from one of the passages, standing in her way. She almost bumped into him, still she managed to recoil and reroute, cursing in mind that she had to give up on the knife. She rushed into one of the passages, hoping that this one would lead her out to the surface. The passage was winding but it wasn't that what was bothering her. It started to become tighter and tighter. If it continues like that, it will quickly become… She froze with her eyes widened in disbelieve and mouth agape. You're fucking kidding me…

Dead end.

She turned back helplessly, knowing that was the end of her escape but before she could even face the opponents properly, she was struck in the head with some blunt weapon. The world around her started to lose its sharp curves and colors immediately. The knees refused to hold her up, she fell on all fours and, not long later, all the surrounding went blank.