The young woman walked through the halls of the damned, glancing between the prisoners faces frozen in anguish though none made a sound as she passed. They knew now who she was, after the fall of their great city and the home of the Gods burned to the ground as penance for disgracing her own. They had shunned and mocked the people of her master, laughed at the female as she had stepped into their ring, and she had made them pay for such disgrace. Her boots touched the stone softly as she paced, looking for that hint of rebellion that always found itself within the dungeon walls. "This was your place, was it not?" The woman said, stopping by the cell of a man who had been a prison guard then. He shrunk back away from her, avoiding her gaze and attempting badly to stay out of her reach. As far as he was concerned she was a demon who climbed right out of Hell to torment those who lived upon the surface; an angel would come to smite her, he was sure, but he could not say it would be while he was alive. He could be dead within minutes of glancing at the champion that had come to their arena to proclaim her challenge. She had been the master if the fight then, tearing apart the strongest of their champions in groups and in single matches before they realized what had been happening outside of the Coliseum walls. The man behind the bars watched her, eyes wide with fear as she stopped before him, the tip of her weapon tapping the rusted iron bars. He had no doubt that she would have been able to pull them apart if she so desire, but the reach of her blade was sure to match the depth of the small cell. Her lip curled up in a grin, then a smirk as she watched him attempt to stifle the quake of his shoulders. The blade gleamed in the half light, catching the faint red reflection of the torches along the way. He would have watched the blade had the woman not captivated his full attention, silently staring. Other prisoners in the dungeon tried to see what it was that had made the Champion stop at that cell, even if they knew he was going to die the nation had raised such cruelty that they would rather watch his death before having to experience their own. The flick of her wrist was swift, faster than the human eye could see, silver sliced through stagnant air; blood spattered the stained walls. The young woman blinked back to the present, blood spattered on her face from the guard who had been impaled in much the same manner as the man from her memory. Silver blonde was tied up and back in a high ponytail that flicked at the end as she walked down the hall that reminded her much of the times she had spent within dungeons. She would watch the dead and listen to the dying, crying for freedom before the labor of breathing their last took even their words from them. The stone and clay walls had been replaced by concrete, hard and reinforced by steel beams. The cold, hard packed dirt and rough rock floor, long been covered by a thick layer of cement also with steal grids inside of it. The building had changed much in the years, but it still held the same purpose regardless. Prisoners. She turned the corner, walking down the hall without a care if she was spotted by the cameras -- the man watching was already dead. Her master would be held inside of the firing range down the hall from her, where two guards were standing at the doors. "I honestly have no inkling of an idea as to why they have you stationed there. They know you cannot match that which is no longer truly alive." The man in uniform looked up to see the warrior of ancient times come toward him. She looked as if she would not be much of a fight, with no ranged weapon on her, but the blood on her sword and spattered across the side of her face disturbed him, causing hesitation that had meant the end of his own life. The pistol fired from behind him, surprising him into motion as he slammed into the wall out of the way of the automatic that had followed. Suddenly the alarm sounded, red lights flashing in warning of the intruder; she was perfectly calm though, he couldn't understand what it was that made her so confident that she wouldn't die. The warrior lowered her head for a moment, closing her eyes and whispering a silent prayer to her Gods before looking up again, through the one sided mirror wall that would show the prisoner inside the woman who had come to save him then. She mouthed a phrase to him, amid the sound of gun fire, and smiled toward the young man. 'Be silent; We have arrived.' She had been watching over the young man and his parents before he had even been born, his elder sister having sought her out of her own accord to learn to fight as she did. But never had she been allowed to interact with the young man who would become to next Master; the heir to the bloodline. She had been watching him the day his parents died; had known they were going to be attacked and killed months in advanced, yet had not said a word of it to anyone. Her spite before being banished from the Master's side. Not one bullet touched her, none grazed her or even appeared to reach where she was standing. When she looked away from the wall, she lifted her left hand, free and empty, to slam the side of her arm against the mirror wall, cracking much of it and punching a whole straight through. The gunfire stopped as the men froze in awe. None of them had ever seen anything within the compound break, with the exception of the people inside of it of course. She was a Goddess in some of their eyes; to others she was a demon. Regardless of what she really was, she would never be human again and would remain whatever she was until the end of time and after that. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she lifted her arm, glass protruding in shards and splinters from her arm. Her blood coloured the wall and the floor, dripping it's crimson brightness on the slate grey gloom that shaded life in these walls. With another swing of her arm she backhanded the wall beside her, this time each shard flying out of her arm and toward the soldiers before her. One survived. Leaving the area that the young man would be able to see she walked forward, knowing that one of the other warriors would be watching by then, and crouched before the shivering man. "They sent flies to defeat the beast. How amusing." She caressed his face with her bleeding and broken hand, allowing him to feel the bones pulling themselves back together and smearing her blood on his face. "Tell your owners that if they must touch what is Mine, then I will crush them." With a savage twist she broke the man's back with her boot, just enough so he would be paralyzed never walk again but still be able to carry her message back to his masters for her. The Hunter became the Hunted.