It was said that when the woman dressed in black came to a fight, she always returned victorious. Her will was stronger than fire and her courage burned brighter than the sun itself. She was a warrior which had the power to turn the tables of any fight that she joined. All of that was purely her raw strength, because she was the only one that had the courage to fight against injustice. However, this woman was her own leader and her own law. No one told her what to do... No one ever dared.

Rumours and whispers in the dark described this woman to have hair as dark as night, that was cut short to her rigid jaw. Her eyes were a mesmerizing blue, which reflected the clarity of her soul and her lips were scarlet, like she drank the blood of her enemies to quench her thirst. Her lithe body moved like the shadows of the night; completely hidden without any mistakes. No one saw her unless she wanted it to be that way. Except once her target saw her coming, it was just before he was cut down by the end of her silver blade.

She was a weapon. A mystery. A storm. But most of all... she was hope. She was the hope inside people, which reassured them that they could sleep safely at night because she watched over them.

This ethereal woman walked amongst society and enjoyed a cup of coffee with them too, but the command she had and her authority was tremendous. No words could come close to understanding the influence that she had over the people. Wherever she went, the people watched and without asking, they knew who she was and gave their respect. Strong, prominent alphas stood no chance against her word either. They stepped back when she arrived anywhere, and as much as anyone thought that New York was their city, they were definitely wrong, because the entire city and its people knew that this was that woman's domain and hers alone. She owned this city and was the one that faced the threats first before the other alphas. Nothing happened without her knowledge of it, and like that she watched the gates of her city and annihilated any threat to the people.

This woman had become a myth in tales. Many that she saved in her missions now talked about her; sang about her; even prayed to her, in hopes that maybe she was their goddess reincarnated.

But she was no myth... the legend amongst wolves was real and unequivocally dangerous. That was why even the gangsters of the city held their tongues in front of her, because they didn't want to get their lives cut short. Even though, they had legions of goons under them and could easily get an army or two more... but no one stood a chance against her. An army was too small once she chose her target.

Many called her insane or arrogant for taking on such risky missions. However, she never knew weakness. She was taught to fight, to protect, to save those who needed help. Her entire purpose was to be a force that no one could withstand. Words like fear, guilt, cowardliness weren't in her blood. Although, this woman didn't have any ties to her blood. She may have been born alone, but from the night of terrible storms when she arrived, destiny had chosen her blood to be the leader for all the wolves and the destruction of all evil.

This woman had no ties, except to her goddess. The one that sang in this woman's heart was the goddess Maya who was the creator of all wolf shifters. Everyone knew about this woman's devotion and many wondered if it was the devotion that made her extraordinarily powerful. No one dared to ask though, they feared the answer. However, many wicked people questioned who will step up to stop this rogue alpha? Who will bring the army to fight her? And who had the courage to face her when even the goddess didn't interfere with her plans? They all wondered, but no one knew the answer.

People who stayed on the right path didn't fear this woman, they instead worshipped her undyingly. However, the people with wicked intentions stayed at a safe distance from her because she wasn't one to show mercy. Even as the gates to her house remained open for anyone to come to her door and ask for help, this woman's enemies never infiltrated her territory. They feared that the consequences would be severe and they weren't wrong to think like that at all.

What did one call this type of person? Many wondered.

No one knew this woman's true name or her real identity. There was no trace of her family or her past. It was only until one unfortunate night, that she had killed the biggest mafia leader in Manhattan in front of his own men. No one knew how she had entered the highly secure mansion and slaughtered their boss in seconds. And then, the only thing she had done after killing that gangster was that she said her name for everyone to hear. And to this day, her resilient voice echoed in those walls.

"My name is Zero-" she had announced as she held the bloody blade- "Don't forget it." And no one did, it was impossible to even try because she never let them.

The sickening stench of blood, sweat, liquor and tobacco filled his nose, which was most likely broken after he was kicked in the face multiple times. His ears bled and a ringing began when he was ruthlessly slammed into the metal cage. Slave fighter 134, was numb to the pain of his broken bones and torn ligaments. Pain wasn't unusual here though, it was in fact used to entertain the thousands of people that cheered the slaves from outside the cage.

Slave fighter 134's opponent looked just as bad as him, and he wasn't happy that he was winning the competition because victory didn't mean anything in this terrible place. After any fight, the slaves weren't treated like victors, they were only scum in the eyes of cage dealers here. The slaves were merely thrown back in their cages and drugged to heal again to fight again... and then one day their limp bodies were carried to the furnaces in the basement if they were unable to fight. Slave fighter 134 had lost many friends that he made here to those furnaces. He would sit awake at night when the roaring furnace switched on and his friend's dead body was dragged away. There were even times, when they had to bury the bodies themselves because no one cared of the spoils.

Ten years had gone by since Slave fighter 134 was trapped here in this purgatory. The last thing he remembered was the bright blue sky that cascaded over his small house's veranda. There was nothing else in his faded memories that recalled or missed terribly. He had no family, no one to call his own. Maybe, that was the reason he was so easily taken from his bed at night and brought to be a slave in these cage fights.

Other men had been here much longer than Slave fighter 134. He was still considered a newbie even after ten years of service. Unlike the one he fought right now, Slave fighter 67 had been trapped here since he was a pup and they made him fight since that age too.

Slave fighter 134 looked back at his opponent who was shirtless and hunched over in a pair of dark pants. His muscular body covered in scars from fights and brutal torture too, just like Slave fighter 134's body was now. Both of them bore the scars of their miserable time in this place and both of them had the same slave tattoos on their neck, wrists and ankles.

Slave fighter 134 had gotten his markings after he had won his first fight against another who was kidnapped, just like he was. Otherwise, when a slave lost a fight, they were killed off without bearing any marks, like the slave was unworthy and he was deprived of such a ridiculous honour to have the slave tattoos. Slave fighter 134's gut twisted and not because he was kicked countless times, but because he remembered the many faces he had to kill just to be safe from that fate.

The sudden screams of the wild audience cheered to urge Slave fighter 134's opponent to go for the kill once and for all.

Slave fighter 67's bruised eyes looked at him pitifully, like he could see what Slave fighter 134 was thinking of as he held the cage to keep himself steady. They shared the same prison cell together and now the same cage to fight. Both of them saw many killed and tortured into submission. Both these fighters were in the cage with nothing but sadness in their hearts, because they never wished to hurt anyone. They were never evil people who inflicted pain for pleasure, unlike the people who ran this organization.

Slave fighter 134 let Slave fighter 67 plummet his hardened fists into his face and chest. He didn't want to fight back anymore.

Limp and cold to his stark bones, he dropped flat on the floor ready to die. Slave fighter 134 wasn't afraid of death, in fact, he welcomed it right now and his opponent sensed that too.

The people around the cage cheered to see more brutality... but it was the men on the second floor that were the most amused. They were the ringleaders of this organization who ran these fights to earn millions of dollars from wagers and dealings. They were the strongest businessmen, politicians, mafia bosses of the shifter world. No one knew how to defeat them, especially when they were protected by legions of wolves and strong bodyguards. They were invincible and many who tried all failed. There was no hope against this... no one could end this Hell, except maybe death. Which now was the only option to be free of these chains. It was time to die for Slave fighter 134 and end this horrible nightmare once and for all...

When suddenly, through the corner of his bloody and bruised eye, he saw something rather bizarre. He wondered if it was a grim reaper here to take him away? Or maybe a figment of his imagination, because no ordinary person had access to the VIP section. But Slave fighter 134 was curious and he watched...

A woman in black crept out from behind the shadows. No one saw her, no one sensed her.

Quick and clean, she sliced the head of the most ferocious cage dealer. The gruesome head limped onto the floor and she disappeared behind a door. Slave fighter 134 couldn't believe his own eyes because that woman just killed his worst enemy. The dead body on the floor belonged to the savage man who tortured and raped many pups that were brought to be under his care. He was ruthless and evil beyond recovery, no one could kill him. But now in front of his own eyes, the man had been killed as if he was a grade schooler and not an evil monster.

Who was that woman just now? Slave fighter 134 wondered.

The woman emerged again and she climbed the remaining stairs. She made her way towards the VIP area where all the prominent figures sat drinking champagne and eating caviar. He watched her move through the crowd, no one noticed her because she didn't want them too. Her cobalt blue eyes were controlled as she picked her next target. A long silver dagger moved under the glint of the low light in the concrete pit.

Slave fighter 134's bruised eyes wouldn't let him see more, but he forced his bloody eyes to stay open. He turned slightly and observed her. She sliced through frail necks and splatters of blood painted the concrete black... of course those men were filled with blood as black as sin. There was no humanity in them, that's why they didn't bleed red. They bled black, the coldest colour pumped through their heartless bodies and it was proved that they were monsters.

As more bodies dropped, the more Slave fighter 134 smiled in pleasure.

"Kill them," that whispered off his bloody lips like a chant. The woman without hearing him had happily obliged.

But Slave fighter 134 jolted with fear when someone snuck up behind her. Except, it was like she already knew that. Swift as lightning, her blade flipped around and she stabbed the beefy man right in the jugular of his neck.

The cheers, howls and grunts muted in his ears and all he could see was the woman killing every nasty person. She wiped the blade using the cage master's tie who was the manager of this popular slavery division. She came up in front of the balcony and stared down at the pit where thousands of people had gathered to watch the fights every night.

"Maya..." he spoke the goddess's name after such a long time. He thought that maybe she had finally answered everyone's prayers.

But then something surreal occurred, the woman's cobalt blue eyes looked directly at him. "No," she mouthed but he heard her, he felt her. "My name is Zero." She smiled down at him, her eyes had the strength of an entire army. It had been so long since he saw that type of strength.

The woman named Zero climbed down the stairs, she made her way through the crowd over to the cage right towards him.

"Hey! You! Stop right there!" A guard that held the keys to the cage exclaimed and went to attack her.

Zero collared his meaty neck within her iron grip, her nails digging into his grimy skin pooling blood at her sharpened fingertips. She pulled out her pistol and shot him three times in the face that it was unrecognizable. Before when she attacked the rich people on the second level, she did it quietly like she didn't want to be found out. But now, it was like she sent a message to everyone that she had arrived. The blaring gunshots echoed and the last guard remaining had died.

The crowd gasped and moved back as the guard's dead body flopped to the ground. Hushed whispers and silence filled the entire pit. The woman ignored them and she proceeded forward. She faced the cage and shot the bolt on the chain that kept the cage locked. The door swung open... and then this woman stepped inside.

Slave fighter 134's whole body shook to his very core when he felt her dominant pheromones, that surrounded her like hurricane. She carried herself inside that storm, like it was nothing.

Where did she get this power? he wondered and probably everyone else wondered the same exact thing.

As this woman neared, Slave fighter 134 abruptly moved away from her but not out of fear, it was because he didn't want to get his filth on her. He didn't want to taint this woman with his impurities, that marred his skin and soul.

However, she had done what people never did around this slave.

She simply bent to the floor on his level and broke the lock that chained his ankle to the cage. Unconsciously, hot tears filled his eyes. The tears burned greatly since his eyes were badly bruised. She saw that and she wiped his tear. He looked down at the salty liquid on her finger, which wasn't clear as water but his tears were bloody.

"Come on, get on your feet," her voice so strong and resilient.

He looked at her and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She saw him freeze up on her.

This mysterious woman who was sent to answer his pleads had steadily anchored his body to hers. She pulled him up onto his feet and helped him out of the cage, taking him to the nearest seat. She positioned him on a chair and gave him the bottle of water from the stand.

"Drink it, you'll feel better," she said. He accepted it but didn't drink it because thirst wasn't on his mind right now.

The woman got back in the tall cage and freed the Slave fighter 67 from the chain too before she stepped out.

The crowd silently watched, no one had made the attempt to stop her or run for it, because no one knew what would happen if they moved.

The woman got up on the high ledge of the cage with one leap. Silence drowned them and the woman started to pace in front of everyone. Her heeled boots echoed as she leisurely treaded back and forth for a good minute. They all watched as the weapons strapped to her clothes peeked out. As she walked, blood trickled down her leather jacket onto the floor, which soon became footprints of her boots.

"I'm only going to say this once!" her voice echoed in the concrete pit. The kindness in her eyes that helped the two slave fighters had seeped away. A dangerous fury filled those raging eyes. "If I find any of you in another one of these cage fights, I will hunt you down-" her threat resonated and sent a terrible chill down everyone's body. "I only killed four-hundred and seventeen people tonight," she said as she paced in front of them. "I don't want to make it two-hundred thousand." They all gaped at her. "Count your blessings and get the fuck out of my face... Now!"

They didn't need a second warning from her before they all scurried out emptying the place.

Slave fighter 134's voice rasped as he gathered himself to speak to her. "Er- you killed the people who ran this cage fighting pit?" he asked from his seat.

The woman, Zero jumped off the ledge and her expression remained furious. "Every single one of those sick bastards are tainting the floor with their blood," she told him. "You don't need to worry anymore."

His eyes filled again with the threat of tears and he choked on the heavy air around him. "No one has told me that in a while," he croaked.

Zero grabbed the bottle in his hands and opened the lid for him. "Well, you're free to do whatever you like now," she said, "and so are your buddies downstairs."

"You freed them all?" he asked, gaping at her.

She grabbed another bottle and gave it to Slave fighter 67. But like Slave fighter 134, he couldn't drink the water either as he stood in awe of Zero.

"That was the first thing I did," she then answered him.

He smiled but the cut on his lip hurt like a bitch. She motioned for both of them to drink, they did. She stood as they held the bottle in their battered hands to relieve their trembling bodies.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"One hundred and thirty-" he froze when he realized that he told her his cage number, which had become his identity for years. "It's Elijah... Pierce... that's my name."

"Elijah," she nodded with an acceptance. "And you?" she looked at Slave fighter 67.

"I don't have a name," he said. "I'm just a number."