1 Prologue

The underground was no place for a girl...

Yet one happily strolled through the faded metallic confinement's of the sewage system, her combat boots clicking harmoniously along the sidewalk.

The underground was a distasteful place. It smelled putrid, the mixed concoction of piss and whores that drafted through the endless tunnels. Cologne intertwined with the overpowering spray of perfume as clothes were flung aimlessly across the concreted path.

The underground was one for trouble makers. Women dressed in skimpy dresses, or in hardly any clothing, ran there course along the streets their plastic tits spilling out over the safety of the material. Of course, the drunken males always took a fancy of some lone woman who was begging for any type of attention and always had a coin or two to toss their way for a few hours of there time.

The underground could easily be described as a nightclub, alcohol was created in the small stands that lay against the wall, drugs were slipped into drinks and sold in plain sight. Music blared through the stereos far in the distance, echoing over the contact of skin and vomit. Gangs used the crowded sidewalks to do their business whether that be murder or extortion or even dealing in trade.

The underground was no place for the faint hearted. Half scarred males fought joyously and drunkenly in the pits beneath the systems, their victories mere sentiment as the crowd cheered for them. The pits was the main source of entertainment in the underground it determined your worth and status. Mafia against Mafia, gang against gang, child against child. There were no rules in the pit, if you died only your fleas would mourn you as the victor claimed the deceased spot.

To say the least, a female should not be roaming so carelessly through the streets of the underground , one that was undeniably hand crafted by God. The thick black hair that danced around her shoulder blades shone in the faint dimly lit passageways contrasting her Snow White skin that lay smoother than ice upon her bones. Her eyes wide and doe like as they crystalize under concentration of her surroundings.

Though features made by God, she hadn't a faithful bone in her body. Her hair jet black like the catacombs of hell, like her soul bleeding into the strands on her head. Her eyes though doe like and childish, holding no remorse or hesitation. Her skin though pale littered with small red marks of her history, like a canvas of an unwritten war.

In the underground, this woman was known by plenty. Not personally of course, but her name ran around like a fever you couldn't just simply sweat out. Nobody knew of her identity, she lay a mystery to the minds of her neighbors.

Widow.

Much like a spider, decorated head to toe in black littered with streaks of red that she received as a momentum of her victims. She was quite, silent even as she worked despite the way her presence was known by all. Many rumors circled this anomaly in society, after all word spreads like wildfire when rats sense danger.

Widow was the perfect assassin, skilled in each individual subject to the point she remained unbeatable by the best. Her upbringing had caused her to train until she bled, improving the skills she lacked until she was a master but of course, nobody was aware of this.

From a young age Widow had been in training, not by force but by choice until she grew older. Training was more vigorous and unforgiving, missions lead to more unnecessary bloodshed to the point murder had become a sixth sense.

At the age of twelve Widow was recruited into one of the top mafia's in the entirety of Yungse, her soul purpose was to protect the leaders daughter to give her life for the girls. Outside the walls of the Kang's mansion, nobody had saw the 'Mafia princess' and many considered her lucky to be a consort at such a young age.

Yet that only enticed Gangs to infiltrate the grounds which had came to be wriggling with traps set by the young girl. She was not only powerful in her skills, she was smart and quick witted. That's how she became known in the underground, before the pits.

From missions, nobody was left alive, no bodies were ever to be retrieved just the outline of a corpse resting within the sediment. Her kills were quick and efficient, aiming only to kill and not injure.

Then at the age of thirteen she entered the pits.   By then everyone knew her name, everyone knew that whoever faced her would die in a somewhat creative yet gruesome way, yet some believed that a girl could never equal male strength letting their confidence of winning blind them.

Mary had a little lamb,

It's fleece as white as snow.

And everywhere that Mary went

The lamb was sure to go.

She brought the sheep to school one day ;

The kids let out loud jeers.

The children took her lamb away,

And Mary choked on tears.

Mary had a little lamb,

It's fleece was red with blood.

She took its little body home,

and swore she hurt them good.

Mary knew that lambs blood called,

Things ancient, hidden and deep.

As Mary pointed out signs of old,

Never did she weep.

Mary had a little lamb;

It made her something scary.

Now I dare you to look in the mirror

And whisper 'Bloody Mary'.