I huddled in a corner in the dark alleyway. My recent observations of this area showed that this was a regular meeting point for my intended target to appear with relatively few guards in his retinue. I wrapped my black leather coat around me and plunged my capped head deep into its collar to mimic the appearance of an old trashbag in the garbage scattered along the walls.

The tenebrous columns of steam that stretched from the sewer grates to the ceiling that hovered above helped mask my presence in the perpetual darkness. I hoped that my target's patterns would remain consistent as my stakeout seemed to drag on. My stillness encouraged the natural fauna of rats and insects to go about their daily operations, I had purposely arrived hours in advance to allow for this to happen. My ambush would not get tipped off by a small detail such as the lack of inner-city wildlife.

The wait was about to pay off, a grinding sound signifying that one of the manhole covers was being moved out of my line of sight to my right. I did not try to see who would ascend from the hole, instead trusting that it would be my target and his two flunkies. My investigations over the past month on this area had shown that he would come out every fifth night and pick up a case that was left in this dead end alley before returning to the sewers.

I heard steps advancing through the new cloud of steam that was billowing out and up from the manhole and I almost shivered in anticipation as the critters skittered away and went silent. This would be my first notable kill since attaining my Rook rank, it wouldn't advance me to Knight, but it would at least be worth the effort. I gripped the hilt of the hidden blade in my sleeve tightly to calm myself as the two underlings walked past me. They stopped at every door and checked to make sure they were secured so no one could do what I was about to do. They neglected the trash piles in their routine search and I could see them signal back into the cloud of steam out of the corner of my left eye.

A new set of footsteps approached and confidently swaggered past me. I sprang up behind the passerby and drew a ragged new smile across his pale throat before his guards could even call out. They stood dumbstruck at my attack as I pitched forward and charged them in a crouch. Their weapons were drawn already, each had an old wooden baseball bat with rusty studs driven into it.

I reached the first one quickly, he was already stabbed in the gut twice before he could ready his weapon for a heavy downward swing. The second guard charged at us, he was already swinging the bat when he arrived, but I ripped my long knife free and rolled backwards as the bat whiffed through the space my head had been in. I halted my roll in a sprinter's stance and slashed horiontally while launching myself at the thug.

It was a shallow slice on his forearm, but it must have been a suden pain he wasn't ready for as he dropped his weapon. The man dove for his bat and aimed a diagonal swing that was meant to break my arm. I hopped backwards in a narrow dodge to avoid being maimed or winded by the blow.

The man kept the bat between us, aware that if he drew back for a more powerful swing I would end him on short notice. I noticed the tattoo of a rook chess piece on his inner arm and understood that the first one I'd killed hadn't been my target. I grimaced at my own foolishness for making assumptions. I watched him intently as I debated retreating from the fight to try a different target.

At this point I remembered that I had a tool to escape situations like this. I pivoted on my toes and ran away, scattering a hand full of caltrops as soon as I passed into the steam. The man was unprepared, but rushed to chase me down without noticing the new obstacle. I ducked to the side in the steam column and listened to his sudden outburst of profanity as he stepped into the patch of caltrops.

I heard the bat hit the ground and I was sure he was trying to pick out the metal spikes. I had made the mistake of assuming earlier, this time it was his mistake to assume I had run. I quietly crept along the wall, rolling my feet carefully to make sure my steps wouldn't be heard on the loose trash. The steam had begun to thin out as I reached the edge of the billowing pillar.

I looked over in the direction he would be in, to my right, and spotted him sitting on the ground trying to pry out the caltrops as carefully as he could. I rushed at the hunched back, slashing and stabbing deeply in my advance. Lines of blood were streaming from the cuts and perforations I was making, forming dark pools on the grime encrusted pavement.

The fellow rook was bleeding out on short notice, and was dead before he could do anything about it. I stood still and calmed my rapidly beating heart in the center of the mess I had made before going to work collecting their accessories. I verified that their identification cards were in their wallets and collected them, billfold and all, just in case they had some note that would lead me to a greater target later.

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I cleaned my blade with one of the few clean cloths one could get in the prison, they were just handkerchiefs that were brought in as extras with every supply drop the wardens from the outside would send in monthly. This was also where the best food and our few books came from. I always traded for the handkerchiefs, mostly because I liked to use them as a sort of calling card. I would leave the used ones wherever I made a kill as the only marker that I had been there.

Cleaning up the bodies took some time as the first one had the beginnings of rigor mortis setting in already. I couldn't get his legs to fit in the trash cans I had chosen to use as storage for the dumped bodies and was forced to use my second favorite tool, a large butcher's cleaver to hack the body into a manageable length so it would fit in the small can. This forced me to waste a second one of my calling cards, but I would deal with the wasteful annoyance. I left the case behind as it would no doubt be a drug drop, which I don't want.

The abandoned streets and alleys flew by as I sprinted through my patrol route. Not having a crew made it easy to determine friends and foes on my turf. If they were there, they were targets. Not that anyone would be there, my negligible value made for fewer active hunts against me. I'll admit that I didn't thoroughly scout mey territory. I want to collect the money from my hunt and I have had a long day as it was.

The bright lights of the neutral hub area came into view as I started to pant from exertion. I slowed once I got into the light and began navigating the unwashed mass of bodies between myself and the shop that would convert my spoils into personal wealth for me. I did my best to ignore the vendors doling out portions of ancient canned food mixed with rat meat as I followed the less crowded sidewalks to the garish green neon sign of the quartermaster's shop.

I made it a habit to keep all my weapons except my second favorite hidden because even safe zones had desperate people that might consider my twenty year old body to be worth angering the protectors for. Those that knew about my father wouldn't dare think of me as an easy mark though. He was ranked King at one point, but since he ascended nobody had heard from him. He could have passed or failed the ascension challenge and either way we wouldn't know.

He raised me lovingly until the age of five, before turning me over to his three highest ranking crew mates for harsh training in survival, fighting, and numerous other classes for thirteen years. He ascended when I turned eighteen, leaving me to forge my own path to the top. I knocked as usual before entering and waited to be called as patiently as I could.

I mulled over all the killings I'd have to do to reach my own ascension test, I have much blood to spill in my quest for the best life I could hope for. I heard the whispered rumors on the streets just like everyone else. The air was cleaner, food was better, or the one that said you could see the sky on the top floor. I really hope that last one is true, I've always wondered if the sky was actually blue, or if water really fell from puffy white clouds.

I would have looked for the sky outside during the welcoming ceremony for new inmates, but I was always told that soldiers with guns would shoot if we went out. I'd never seen a gun, but the stories made them out to be the stuff of nightmares. My reverie was interrupted by the Quartermaster who had the nerve to use the nickname only my father had ever been allowed to use and live. Princess, it was a standing joke to call me that out of earshot, but those who dared say it to my face knew not to ever leave the neutral territory if they wanted to continue drawing breath. I made a mental note to keep tabs on the man in case he ever left as I threatened him so he would be aware of it being a grave mistake.

The Quartermaster seemed to atone by taking the other extreme and refused to be informal with me at all, calling me by rank instead of name while avoiding eye contact. I often wondered how hard it could be just to call me Ashley, but I never press the issue so long as they accept that I am a deadly force all on my own. After all, who needs friends when you can only trust yourself in prison?

I got my points and had to turn down the offer for a recruit again, The lights would be nice, but the cost is just too much. I can't afford to become completely worthless as a target or hunting will become just that much more difficult, as it is I have to start leaving my turf or expanding it just to bag a couple more cheap heads. I may even consider abandoning my old turf altogether if I want to become a knight. If I can get the 50,000 credit value I need to rank up I'll finally be able to let the hunters come to me so I can trap them and advance faster.

I make my way out of the building and head to my favorite hotel, the place is run down like the others, but this one is my favorite for the canned pasta and the room right below my first ascension floor. The stairs are a bitch to climb, but they are a reminder of my goal every time I come here. I can't wait to go up and see if my dad made it big or not.

Dinner was over all too quickly, even though I tried my best to savor it. I put the old adult magazines on the nightstand out of sight by covering them with my coat and went to bed with my cleaver nearby even though the room was fairly secure. Tomorrow I would begin my attack on a new sector, this was my last coherent thought as I allowed my mind to drift off for the first time in almost twenty-four hours