Prologue

In a dark and decrypt place that reeked of must and other more malodorous stenches, a solitary lamp lazily swung from the ceiling, being held aloft by nothing but a pair of thin wires. The dim light provided by the lamp was barely enough to make out the old brick walls of the empty room with some pieces of plaster stubbornly hanging on in some places. The old rotting wooden floorboards looked like they would give way if anybody dared to take a step on them. What used to be white ceiling tiles were now the same shade of yellow of the teeth of somebody who had chewed tobacco for years and there were stains on them that indicated that the roof above the ceiling was no longer water proof. This run down remains of what once used to be a house was now empty.

Empty that is , except for the one solitary occupant. Directly beneath the swinging lamp was the only piece of furniture in the room, a large wooden bed. A woman lay on this bed, but she was obviously not here of her own free will. Her arms and feet were restrained by rope that was tied up to each end of the bed. Her once beautiful red hair that was usually carefully styled into waves and curls by a hair dresser was now in total disarray as the woman desperately thrashed around trying to free herself from her bonds. Her crystalline blue eyes darted in every direction, desperately seeking a way out of the situation that she had found herself in.

Prosecutor Jillian Reed would have been a beautiful woman if she wasn't covered in small cuts and bruises. Even as badly hurt as she was, there was something intensely attractive about her that could not be denied. Her body, which was barely covered by the tattered remains of her black dress, was not the skinny almost anorexic look that models preferred these days. Instead she had enough meat on her bones that her hips flared out alluringly and her chest jutted out impressively. In fact she was so beautiful that she was asked to be in several movies and commercials, she had politely refused.

Jillian didn't care about much in this world except for the single mother who raised her. Growing up she had seen her mother struggle to make ends meet as her no good father lived the high life because he had better lawyers that were able to get him out of paying child support for one reason or another. This event had a deep impact on Jillian and when she graduated from highschool, she had immediately enrolled into law school.

Jillian dedicated herself to making sure that the voiceless were heard. She took cases that no one else dared to touch. She went against drug dealers, crooked politicians, and hardened criminals. She stood up for the people and she was damn good at her job.

Unfortunately she lived in Andromeda city, one of the most corrupt cities in the world. More often than not the criminals she would try to put in jail would walk free because of some misplaced evidence or a mysteriously biased jury. And now one of these criminals, a psychopaths that was freed only a week before because of 'improper procedure in gathering evidence' had kidnapped her. She was in her office and she was supposed to be protected by a detail of cops but she could only watch in horror as the psychopath calmly walked up to them and handed them wads of cash before he entered her office and knocked her out.

She eventually woke up in this horrible place, battered and bruised. She tried to free herself but the ropes were just too strong.

She continued to struggle until she heard the squeal of a door opening and creaks on the floorboard. She turned to see her tormentor , Bruce McAllister.

Bruce was a white supremacist. He wore a white tank top to proudly display the symbols of Aryan ideology and the neo-nazi slogans tattooed all the way up and down his arms. He was a typical skinhead with a shaved head and to top it all off he had a swastika tattooed in the middle of his forehead. There was a glint of madness in his cold wintery gray eyes that promised a lot of pain to come.

Bruce had been accused of the rape and murder of sixteen African american women. There was indisputable evidence that should have landed him in death row or at least life in prison but Bruce was from the Macalister family. The Macalister family was one of the oldest and most influential families in Andromeda. They literally owned a third of the land in the city and as a consequence had a lot of money.

That money had changed the indisputable evidence into improperly handled evidence which was promptly thrown out by the judge and Bruce was set free. He chose to use his freedom to go after his prosecutor, Jillian.

"Did you miss me?"

His high pitched voice that didn't belong in such a heavily muscled man echoed in the empty room.

Jillian attempted to scream but it only came out as a barely audible muffled noise because of the dirty rag that Bruce had stuffed into her mouth.

"Do you know that this is the first time I have ever done this to a white chick? But you don't really count Jillian. Is it Okay if I call you Jillian? Anyways, you aren't really white Jillian. You are one of those bleeding heart sympathizers. You have betrayed your own race for the negros , Mexicans and Chinese. You might as well be a negro."

Bruce approached Jillian with a predatory look on his face. He was literally salivating at the thought of raping Jillian, he had saliva coming down his chin to drop on the ground.

As Bruce was roughly palming and massaging one of Jillian's breasts , the rope holding her right hand suddenly snapped.

As fate would have it there was a loose nail on the bed where Jillian had been tied up on and when she had struggled the loose nail had gradually cut the rope so that it finally gave way when she gave it a particularly hard yank.

Jillian quickly used her free hand to grab Bruce's bald head and with a strength born from fear and an iron strong will to survive , she slammed his head to the short post where her left hand was still tied to. Bruce was surprised by the attack and was unable to react in time to save himself. His head slammed against the post making him feel dizzy and disoriented, but Jillian didn't stop there. She continued to slam Bruce's head against the post again and again until there was nothing left but a misshapen ball of flesh where Bruce's face and head used to be.

Jillian finally lay back on the bed, exhausted. As she lay there , breathing heavily and covered in Bruce's blood, her fear slowly gave way to relief.

But relief wasn't the only thing she was feeling, she also felt satisfaction. As she stared at her blood covered hand, the same hand she used to smash Bruce's head in, a thought blossomed inside her mind. For years she had seen murderers, rapists, and other scumbags slip through the fingers of justice but today she had used her own hand to administer justice. She hadn't relied on a corrupt and rotten system that worked for the criminals and not the people.

For years she had felt powerless as she watched criminal after criminal buy their freedom, but today she finally felt powerful as she put an end to an evil man.

She stared at her hand, which was slowly dripping blood onto her chest , and smiled.