His knight rose from her bed, it was soft and comfortable compared to the rubbish she’d slept on for the past 5 years. The silent sounds of breathing traveled from the sheets. Her lord. He looked just as formidable in sleep. Her bare feet strolled across the hardwood floor, looking for something to cover herself with. Bruises and scratch marks littered her body. Three bite marks raged distinctly on her right shoulder. Her lord was tense, but she’d taken care of that, yes she had. She sucked on her swollen bottom lip. Another bite mark appeared there. She walked into a large closet; her lord must’ve been rich. She found a robe there. She threw it over herself and tied the middle. She relished the feel of the silky fabric against her skin. Suddenly, his knight evaporated into something more.

Andrea Janks looked down. Pain ached in all places of her body. She wore a silk robe and a multitude of injuries. ‘What the Hell is this?’ Her thoughts were borderline panicked. Someone’s warm arm snaked around her waist. Her breathing rate skyrocketed.

“Good, you’re awake. I trust I’m not speaking to my loyal knight?” The male’s voice was hoarse in her ear, merely a whisper. It sent a shiver down her entire frame. She didn’t know who he was or how he knew about her… condition, but either way, she sort of liked him.

“W-Who are you?” Andrea asked, making her voice as level as she could. A cold, thin line pressed against her neck. A knife, and it was biting into her skin.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, Miss Janks, what matters is you’re just as useful to me as my knight. You’ll cooperate, of course.” The knife dug in just a bit more. She felt a trail of warm blood slip down her throat. Her finger twitched.

“If you’ll stop threatening me, I’m sure I’d be more than willing.” She gasped out, not moving too much, for each word drove the blade in deeper. The pain ceased and the knife’s presence was gone. She was roughly spun around and she faced her attacker.

He had a handsome face, it was well tanned. He wore no shirt. Identical markings scratched up his body like hers. She felt something might’ve happened with her to compromise her character. Again. He held the knife in his hand casually and yet experienced. He frightened Andrea immediately. She knew, in her heart, he was a murderer, most likely one of cold-blood. His smooth, even laughter interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you frightened, Janks?” His hand cupped her face, “How strange that someone so… human would share my knight’s face.” His hand dropped and he cleared his throat, “At any rate, I’ve read in your file that you’re quite the scientist. Your dementia was not the only reason I chose you.”

“And what, pray tell, have you chosen me for?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. The top was coming loose, how embarrassing. He chuckled again and turned away from her and walked out of the large walk-in closet. Andrea followed him.

“Well, Andrea Janks, you’ve been chosen to exact revenge on this city, which has done us cruel wrongs, and shaped us into crueler people. This city, this city of Gant, will pay for what it’s done to me, and, my dear, what it’s done to you.” He stopped in the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

Anger boiled inside her. Gant had indeed spited her into a Hell of doctors and psychological treatment. She hadn’t had a trail, a chance to explain. They tossed her away. Revenge against the city? A perfect endeavor in the eyes of one Andrea Janks.

“Your answer, Janks…?” He tapped his knife against the marble countertop.

“I will do as you ask.” She said after a brief pause. Her crossed arms dropped to her sides, “After all, she trusts you. She must’ve sensed your bloodlust, however you met.”

“Are you referring to your other personality? We met on the T.V., five years ago, come to think of it, that’s when I first saw you, too.” He smiled, but it was by no means warm. Something in his eyes or other features prevented that genuine look of care. He reached for a hat that hung on the top of a chair and placed it on his head. The shadow of the brim cast an evil look upon him. Andrea swallowed meekly. Power leaked from his frame. He was truly, whoever he was, a force to be reckoned with. She was glad that she was on his side.

“For my crime, I assume?” Andrea tried her best to return his smile, but her face felt phony just trying. He nodded. He pushed his hat up.

“Well, no offense to you, Janks, but I’d rather be in the company of my knight.” He grinned maliciously and gestured to the injuries. He pulled at the edges of her robe. Andrea smacked him on instinct.

“I—uh, I think that sort of thing is better suited for her.” Andrea took a large step back. She was far more stable than her other half.

“Then bring her back.” He said, tapping his knife once again against the countertop. Andrea gulped and took a deep breath. She concentrated and felt herself fading. Her being was filled his rage and hate. Her thoughts disorganized and twisted. Andrea Janks was once again lost to the likes of the Gray Knight.

“My lord” His knight breathed out. She stalked toward him, “I can’t seem to recall what I was just doing. I was in the closet, by myself.”

“Do not worry, my knight, I just had a chat with Andrea Janks. She’s going to help us burn this city.” He put the knife away and removed his hat. His knight made a face.

“Hopefully she won’t be so stuffy, my lord” She picked up his hat, and placed it on her head.

The now proclaimed knight basked in the glow of her lord’s destruction. A week had past since he had visited her and the promise of escape wound tight in her mind. Every night she had stayed awake, prying her eyes open if need be. She wasn’t about to miss her chance, her knighthood. The time was near; she could feel it in the tenseness of her muscles and joints. He was coming for her.

“You’ll all perish!” The knight cackled that night as the nurses pushed her into her cell. They’d noticed her escalated behavior over the past few days and decided a different psychologist should examine her. She didn’t care, she’d be gone soon enough and then she’d crush the Broach’s Institute like the ant farm she knew it to be.

“Relax, Miss. Janks, we’re not going to perish and you are not going to be swept away by a terrorist, this is all part of your illusion.” The psychologist sat on the other side of the steel bars. Her lab coat was white and pressed. The only thing that seemed off was the multitude of pricings in her lip and eyebrows. The knight’s ring finger twitched.

“You roach, you pathetic ant. I’ll crush you under my statue. You’ll remember this conversation as you lay dying and you’ll know.” She spat out at the doctor. Arcana, as the psychologist’s nametag read, stood up sharply.

“Your delusions have gone on long enough! Nurse, please, sedate her.” Arcana turned on her heel and walked away and guards slid open the door to the knight’s cell.

“YOU’LL PERISH! YOU’LL DIE, I’LL SEE TO IT! I AM THE GRAY KNIGHT!” She screamed as the guards clutched her arms. She struggled. Her body thrashed about like a fish without water. She fought on of her arms free and punched one of the guards in the face; his nose broken satisfyingly under her fist. The guard reeled back a cradled his nose. The other guard grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her to the floor. His foot came down on her neck. She wheezed and thrashed. A nurse hurried over and stuck a needle into the bend of her arm. She injected the sedative into her system. A cool sensation flooded through the knight’s bloodstream and she stopped moving. Her breathing drifted off into a peaceful rhythm. The guards lifted her onto her bed and then strapped her to the table.

Her gray eyes opened in a fury. She yanked at her arms and legs weakly, the effects of the drug still in her system. ‘Dammit all! Tonight is the night, I can’t be restrained on this night. I must be alert for my lord.’ She tugged harder on the restraints, but still nothing. She screamed and thrashed her head about. Her voice went raw and she resorted to a heavy breathing that resembled the snorting of a hog.

A voice caught her ears, “Rest easy, my Knight, you’ll be free soon enough.” She nodded vigorously and remained still. She closed her eyes and sighed contently. A promise upheld on her lord’s part, now she would uphold the promise she made, to destroy this vial prison and it’s cursed jailers.

A loud explosion echoed down her cellblock. She made not a noise, her ear taking in the symphony of destruction. Silence settled in before a set of footsteps. They moved with purpose and stopped directly in front of his knight’s cell.

“My lord.” She said, “You’ve finally come.”

“Yes, my Knight, I am here to collect you. I trust you’ll remain still. I’m going to remove this bars that sand in our way.” The man’s voice carved a smile into her face. He attached something square to the bars and the fell into each other. At the same time, the metal that clasped her restraints shut flew off and toward the bars. His knight sat up, the padded handcuffs falling off her limbs. She scrambled to her feet and kneeled. The man put his heavy hand onto her shoulder. She looked up and saw the face of her freedom.

“My lord, my loyalty is yours.” She began to rise as shouts resounded off the walls. Broach’s staff was here to spoil his knight’s great moment. The psychologist, Arcana, lead the pack. Her black hair, which was secure in a ponytail, was distraught. Her lord went to the wall and laid down the clay-like substance known as C4. He blew it and shards of steel, foam and cement flew everywhere.

A large piece of steel shrapnel flew toward Arcana and embedded itself into her right arm. She cried out and grasped her arm just under the wound. Blood dribbled over her fingers. Cement and steel pelted many of the guards. One of them brandished a rod of rebar in his eye. He foamed at the mouth and rattled his final breaths. His knight was pleased.

“Let us adjourn.” He took his knight by the arm and led her out through the exit he’d created. She extended her legs more fully than she needed to, making her whole frame bob up and down eccentrically. Her lord gave a smooth chuckle as they dissipated into the night.

Arcana watched them saunter out. She grabbed the steel protruding from her arm and yanked it out. She gasped quietly in pain. Blood ran out, faster than before. ‘Hospital… I need a proper hospital. I can contact the police from there.’ She gripped the wound tightly, trying to apply as much pressure as she could. She stumbled into the hallway of the cellblock. It seemed like such a short distance on a regular day, but as her blood drained, it seemed like miles more than meters.

She finally made it, tripping over her feet in dizziness. She managed to catch the emergency phone, which automatically dialed 9-1-1, with her fingers as she went down. She held the receiver as close to her mouth as she could, “Broach’s, help, escape.” Her thoughts came out as muddled blurbs in her confusion.

“Stand by, ma’am, help is on the way” The dispatcher assured her. She sighed as her eyes drooped down and into unconsciousness.