A cloaked figure moved through the crowds of the streets. White flakes fell from the sky and gently landed on the ground, making him shiver slightly. The figure cast themselves into the shadow of an ally, and they cautiously moved down to a metal door.

Music pumped from inside.

They slowly opened the door with an almost agonizing creak to find a rave; flashing neon lights pierced the hot, muggy, dark hall.

The crowd of punks was almost like a wave, jumping in time to the thumping music.

Their clothes which illuminated under the light were the only thing visible of them, which would vaguely outline their bodies.

The man entered, slamming shut the door behind him after hearing a complaint from a teenager about the draught.

The stranger swiftly moved through the dancing people to the bar, and was quickly spotted by the bartender who saw to his needs.

"What'll it be?" He asked over the pumping music.

"…Link Hylan…" said the unknown. His voice seemed cold…dark, almost dead. The bartender stared for a moment, taking a large lump down in his throat.

"T-there's no one here b-by that name!" He stammered "And I haven't been doing drugs! H-honest!"

The man grabbed his collar, and pulled his face threateningly close to his own.

"…Link comes here…?" the figure hissed. The barkeep trembled as he saw the mans blood red eyes piercing past the shadows of his cloak and into his own.

"Y-yea Link comes here...B-but he got busted by the c-cops this morning!" The barman confessed.

"..Where is he…." His drawling voice made the terrified man shiver and submit.

"I-In jail, w-waiting for his sentence"

The figure pushed the bartender back, and then disappeared into the dancing crowd without another word…

Link looked around the stone cell he had been placed in for the night. Thankfully the judge had taken sick and didn't turn up to the courtroom, buying him until tomorrow to bust out of prison.

But he hadn't anticipated they would put him in the old fashioned cells. He was planning to hack a circuit board on the inside of the cell to cut power to the cell doors and escape, but it seemed most criminals had no idea how to break out of a conventional cell, probably why he was put there.

Link rested his head against the bars of the cell, trying to pull them apart with his hands in a last resort, but they were stiff.

With a soft sneer of frustration he repeatedly began banging his head on the metal bars, until he heard a loud bang, then an explosion from down the corridor. Link froze stiff and stepped to the back of the cell. The screams of other prisoners filled the air, only to be abruptly cut off by a slaughtering gargle.

The surroundings then suddenly became cold…icy…and the screaming stopped for only a second before the dead silence was broken by a single blood curling scream and red liquid splattering over the corridor floor.

Links face drained of colour as a single set of footsteps came down his way, before a cloaked figure stood in front of his cell, peering inside.

Link sunk into the shadows of his cell, and demanded in a somewhat shaky voice.

"w-who the hell are you!"

The figure remained silent, and then a hand emerged from beneath his cloak, holding a sword…which gleamed with black steel. He rested the blade against the bars of Links imprisoning cell, and he swiped them off like a hot knife through butter.

…That sword, Link knew it. He had seen it before.

The cloaked figure moved through the spaces in the bars like smoke…and swiftly approached him, almost too swiftly, almost inhuman.

Before Link knew it he was staring into the black abyss of the unknown's hood.

There was no face, not so much as a faint outline. All he could see was his eyes, which pierced into his own. They were white hot, like rage. He knew those eyes. He saw them too often…

"…..you…" It drawled.

The thief shook in horror, and sunk against the wall slightly. But his throat had dried out so much that only a hoarse gasp was the reply.

"….No...Delivery…"

Link straightened himself up weakly, and then swallowed down hard in attempt to moisten his mouth enough to reply properly.

"…y-you're… you're the f-fortune teller…right?"

The hood he wore gave a slow nod, and then his sword rose to Links neck in a threatening manor.

"…No…Delivery…"

The thief slowed his breathing, trying to take no notice of the sword which could well have been his doom.

"..W-when..?"

"...before…and after…No delivery..."

Quick to respond this time, he nodded nervously.

"I-I'll get them…I-I swear it…

The cloaked figure feinted back, holding the deadly sword at arms length, the point in line with Links heart.

"...A warning… Link Hylus…A warning…"

Upon those words, the fortune tellers hand shot out from his cloak to grip on to Links head. Before the thief could stop him, he drew his arm back, and rammed Links head against the stone wall. He slumped to the floor at the strike, but fought to stay awake. The thief's head hit the cold floor, cracking his head worse, and he passed out.