The Lone Wolf

Chapter 5: Hot Under the Collar

Have you ever felt as if you were trapped within a false projection of yourself?

Like an image that you've created, an outer shell, made with the intention of hiding who you truly are. A mask, a costume, a new identity. Well that's the same thing I've been running from for a large portion of my life.

The Lone Wolf persona was something I'd worked hard to build for myself, but once I'd made a strong reputation, I instantly regretted it.

I made it so easy for people to know who I was, so much so that I had to flee the planet I had lived on for so long because there wasn't a single person who didn't know who I was, where I'd been, what I'd done.

I was the girl who killed without remorse and travelled alone - hence the name the Lone Wolf. I began to act as if I was proud of what I had done, and tagged that places I'd committed crimes.

Tagging was my most innocent of talents; a bottle a spray paint and a blank canvas in the dead of the night. I found beauty in the sporadic way grey metallic paint would drip quickly to the floor. It flowed like thin rivers from the wall above the street on which my latest victims would lay, bleeding, whining, dying.

I was finding myself mesmerised by the comparison between the quick flow of steadily drying paint, and the way it contrasted greatly against how the blood seeped from the wounds of the helpless.

The glint faded from their once bright eyes as they clutched to the memories that seeped away just as their blood did - family, friends, loved ones. I was fascinated by it all.

But I wasn't about to share this part of me with a maniac escaped convict who stood chained the the back wall of a holding cell as we were both carted off to the nearest prison planet, who also just so happened to possibly be the most dangerous man in the known universe.

The only reason his bounty wasn't any higher is because no prison could afford to him, and no person who could was too smart to take him into their custody.

"It's none of your fucking business how I got my name." I snarled, furrowing my brows and curling my lip upwards as if I were recoiling from a sour taste.

"Defensive, I see. I like that in a woman." I may not have been able to see him due to the light fixture that hung from the ceiling between us, but I could feel the smirk on his face practically dripping from the words that left his mouth.

"Fuck you." I spat loudly, the chains that restrained me shook as I growled at him, trying to pull myself as far away from him as possible without accidentally killing myself on the trap I was tied up in.

"Now that could be arranged." He chuckled, his voice low and rough like sandpaper, scratching harshly against my ear drums and making my skin crawl in disgust. Sweat beaded on my forehead and shoulders as the temperature in the room seemingly rose rapidly.

"Break it up, you two," Drike yelled, entering the room and looking at the two of us in turn as he dragged the sleeve of his shirt across his damp forehead, "We're here."

[A.N. -

Another chapter finished!

I'm doing quite well seeing as how much work I /should/ be doing sixth form work - but you guys begged for an update!

I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I have a few ideas about what is to come, so stay tuned!

Love you all!

~BioHazard xo]