Authors Note: This chapter is fairly long, and I guarantee you, it's action packed and awesome. If you disagree, well then, guess I'll have to try harder!

The hallways of Destenoa were silent, save the occasional tapping of shoes on the metal floor, courtesy of the numerous guards which patrolled the area. This was the seventh floor of the prison, a dizzying drop down to the ocean below. Added on to this, there were no windows, and these hallways were the most well guarded of all in Destenoa.

This did not stop the plans of Vermillion Alakein. Tonight he was going to escape.

His cell gave him dim light, no fresh air, and only a single, small hole for meals, which was activated electronically from the outside via a key.

This key was merely a wedge in the front of the door to stick an extremely small pin, which activated a motion sensing mechanism to open the hole.

This was how he planned to escape.

Earlier, about two days before, this meal hole had been opened for feeding time, and a small meal of packaged bread and water on a simple plate was pushed in. Vermillion, with an angry shout, had shoved the plate back out. The guard, once again attempted to put it back through the hole, but Vermillion took a hold of it and hit it up against the top of the hole, shattering the plate and spilling its contents all over the floor. Because of this, Vermillion had been sentenced to three days without rations of food or water.

Of course, this had all been intentional.

As the plate broke, Vermillion quickly seized a small shard, tucking it into his small pants pocket as he did. After being sentenced, his cell had become virtually ignored, passed over at meal times. During this period of time, he used the small shard to pick away at the bottom of the small meal hole, the tiny crack beginning to get wider as he progressed. Day stretched into night and into day again, Vermillion working vigorously nonstop, without taking a break at any time. By the eve of the second day, he had chipped away a large enough crack, until the laser of the motion sensing device was barely visible. Tonight was the eve of the third day, his only chance at esacpe.

This was it. The time had now come.

Vermillion sat down, and lifted his hand to his mouth. He sighted his pinky finger, and grabbed the claw with his teeth. As cleanly as possible, he ripped it off, stifling a cry of stinging pain in the process, his blood slowly dripping from his finger. He merely wiped it onto his fur, merely staining it a deeper crimson. He approached the meal hole, and slowly began to wedge the claw between the tiny crack, little by little forcing it into the small gap. He inched it closer to the laser, getting closer and closer…

Suddenly, he heard a noise. A guard was coming his way.

Vermillion, despite the position of his hand, kept perfectly still, making no sound at all. Eventually, he heard the guards walk away from the doorway. Slowly, he once again began to inch his way forward, the claw almost touching the laser…

The laser cut over it, the tiny line bent over the claw. He heard a faint click, and the food hole slid open.

He grinned at his success as he felt a small whoosh of air from the opening door, light flooding into the cell. Now for the second part of his plan.

The button which opened the door was placed onto the wall, directly beside the door. It was impossible to reach, but Vermillion already knew this. He already had yet another plan…

He inched his hand out of the hole, in his hands, clutching the plate shard. He rose his wrist, flicking it back into a throwing position. The small, glowing green button was hardly visible through the tiny space in between his hand and the edge of the hole. Vermillion inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the throw that would determine his escape…

He aimed carefully, then flicked his wrist forward, letting go of the plate shard in a throw.

It hit squarely on the button.

Vermillion quickly withdrew his arm as the door slid open, grinning broadly. He had finally escaped his prison cell.

Now for the escape…

He picked up the plate shard gingerly, glad to see that it was not broken. He still needed it.

Quickly and quietly, he stepped around the corner, hiding behind the wall. His cell door slid back shut, and the food hole had already closed, leaving no evidence of his escape.

For many minutes, he waited in silence, gripping the plate shard in his hand for dear life. It was a crucial part of his plan.

Finally, he heard footsteps in the distance, around the corner he was hiding at. He gripped the shard even tighter, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took into account that there was only one guard approaching.

He heard the steady footsteps nearly at the end of the corner. He waited, until the head of a fully armed dog soldier guard poked out from the corner.

Vermillion did not hesitate. He hastily swiped aside the rifle, and went around the back of the guard, putting a hand over his mouth. The guards' cry was stifled, and Vermillion plunged the shard into his spine. The soldier ceased any struggling, and went limp. Vermillion let go, gently lowering his body to the floor. He smiled at what he saw.

This guard had a full uniform on, and it included a tinted mask that draped over the eyes. The fully automatic rifle lay on the guards' side, fully loaded. But the thing that caught his attention most, was the small pistol as a sidearm on his leg holster.

Vermillion hated rifles. He considered them unwieldy and unnecessarily powerful. He preferred pistols, and was an utter expert with them in every respect. Quickly, he stripped the soldier of his uniform, donning the armor, helmet, leg holster, and arm coverings. He strapped on the leggings, covering up the color of his dark crimson fur from view. He pulled the body away, and opened up his cell door once more. Dragging his body away, he chucked it into his old cell and closed the door. He picked up the rifle, hating how cumbersome it was to his movement, and stuck the pistol into his new leg holster. Quietly, he began to make his way down the hallway, just like a normal guard would. No blood had dripped onto the floor, only onto his already red fur.

Once again, he heard more guards approach, and this time, there were two of them. If they spoke to him, he decided, they would die. He could not speak back to them, as it would betray his real identity. Then he realized something. He was traveling in the opposite direction of the normal patrol route. They would most likely speak to him.

He saw them round the corner up ahead. Silently, he loosened the pistol from the holster. He could take no chances.

Sure enough, as they neared, the guard called to him. "Oi! What's up, Arese? Where are you going?"

Vermillion quickly tensed his muscles, then swiftly grabbed the pistol, and in less than a second, he had it drawn, pointing it straight at the guard's head.

They both had no time to react. He sweeped his arm from left to right, clicking the trigger twice. Only twice.

Both guards crumbled to the floor. As quickly as possible, he sighted a closet, and dragged their bodies to it, lightly tossing them inside after pressing the button to open it. He closed it, and slowly began to walk again, leaving behind a scene of death.

He came to a long, straight hallway, which forked off from right to left. Toting his rifle casually, he made sure that no part of his red fur was visible, and then walked out into the open of the hallway.

Had it not been for his guard uniform, Vermillion would have certainly died that night. Three security cameras viewed the hallway, and in the distance, he could see another pair of guards making their way down the corridor, in his direction. As normally as possible, he proceeded down the hallway, hoping that nothing unusual was visible. The two guards nodded in recognition to his presence, and he nodded back, glad that he didn't have to raise a commotion in the middle of a secure location. They passed by him without losing their lives.

A stairwell came into view. Slowly and casually, he met the entrance, and began to descend the stairs, still proceeding as normally as possible. He relaxed his shoulders, slouched slightly, and gripped his rifle less tightly in an effort not to be noticed. He made it all the way to the third story, when abruptly, the staircase ended. Confused, he tried not to show it in his facial expression or body language, and merely stared straight ahead like a man on a mission. Another, less long corridor greeted him, and this time, no security cameras or guards were immediately present. Still, nonetheless, he continued in his gait, making it to the end of the hallway, until he came upon another fork, branching left and right once more. He chose the right again, taking another wild guess. He dearly hoped it was the right direction.

Unfortunately, it led to a dead end. Vermillion nearly cursed aloud as his misfortune. He switched directions, turning onto his feet with the grace of a cat, and began walking in the opposite direction, trying as hard as he could to make it to the center of the hallway without being seen coming from a dead end, from nowhere. Even the slightest hint of suspicion that he wasn't a guard could cause his mission to fail.

Vermillion's blood turned cold. He could hear footsteps making their way to his location, from where he had just entered from, and directly in front of him. He didn't make it to the fork of the hallway in time, and the first two came around the bend of the wall.

The escapee, however, had tried to hurry to get to the center of the hallway, and bumped into the first guard in front of him. The both hit each others heads hard, and tumbled over most ungracefully. Vermillion cursed aloud as he felt his helmet become undone, and slipped off of his head.

The guard whom he had knocked down, slightly dazed, gave a gruff yell.

"Hey, watch where your go… Hey!"

The guard had taken one good look at Vermillion's crimson fur, and immediately realized that this guard was an imposter. Unfortunately, this realization was the last one he, or his partner, ever made.

Vermilion had already taken the pistol out of his holster, and by the time the guard had finished his sentence, fired. The guard rolled over onto the ground. The other one nearly yelled out an alert, but Vermillion's hand and trigger finger were faster. In a matter of a second, both guards were gone.

As quickly as possible, he dragged the bodies into the dead end slightly, keeping one of his hands aiming the gun at the stairwell in front of him, waiting for the head of the guard to pop up. It did. He pulled the trigger, ending yet another life.

With this Vermillion realized something. There was no way he could stay here any longer. He had to get out. He must escape!

Donning his helmet, he looked up to the ceiling, and by his own luck, did not spot any security camera. He entered the stairs, leaving the dead dog soldier behind him on the floor. He was making his way to the first floor. He was desperate to reach the only place from which he could possibly make his escape.

To the docks of the prison.

Not by the boats. Not by the skiffs or jet skis used by the guards that patrolled the outer prison. Oh no, there was only one way through.

And that way was through the garbage chute and onto the garbage boat, which would arrive in approximately one half hour.

He had now reached the first floor, heart pounding, thoughts racing. It was only a matter of time before one of the bodies was discovered. In fact, they could discover them at any moment…

He shook the thought from his mind, keeping calm and relaxed. He was almost to the docks already. He stifled a sigh of relief as he realized that he could make it.

He arrived at the docks.

There were over a dozen guards in this one vicinity. As he walked forward, he took note that there was a dog soldier operating a turret at the exact opposite end of the dock. He was here fifteen minutes early.

He continued to walk forward, apparently relaxed, but in reality, tense as a coiled spring, ready to pull his pistol and use his machine gun at any given time. Only this time, it would be different. The turret would most certainly complicate things for him if things should go awry.

He eyed one of the guards, who nodded to him in a gesture of greetings. Vermillion nodded back, hoping for his own life that he wouldn't speak to him.

The guard turned to one of his friends, and began to start a conversation, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something strange about the guard.

Slowly, he turned his head. On the very crease where the helmet met his armor, he could see a hint of dark red. He stared at it suspiciously for a few moments, and then saw that the red was his fur.

Vermillion had rushed putting his helmet when he had bumped into one of the guards, anxious to escape without the bodies of the two guards he had killed being seen. He had hurried himself, exposing the thin line of scarlet red underneath the helmet. It took a few moments to register in the guards head, then suddenly, he called out in a panicked tone of voice.

"That's not a real guard! Imposter!"

At the moment Vermillion heard this, he broke into a run, pulling his pistol and rifle as he did. The turret heard the call of alert, and immediately swiveled the gatling gun turret in the imposter's direction. All of the guards on the dock pointed their rifles at Vermillion as he ran, who in turn, blindly pointed both of his weapons behind him.

He had been discovered.

Authors Note: HEE HEE I ended it in a cliffie!

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