UNIVERSE BOWL IX: PROLOGUE I

The tattered remnants of a black cloak grip the figure as it crawls over the scorched concrete.  The individual’s hands which cling to the ground are bloodied, covered in the fluids of both herself and her adversaries.  The body which follows her hands on the terrain is broken.  The wheezing sound of the form’s lungs screams in her ears as she futilely attempts to imbibe the air into her body, sustaining her life.  She must not only survive; she must live!

Although worn and sullied, she instinctively reaches for her weapon when she senses the presence of her enemy. She exhales a croaking sigh, remembering that she is without her armament.  The light around her is engulfed by the shade which now looms above.  As she recognizes who the shadow belongs to, her lip huskily utters:

“You. . . .”