From Alcatraz to Heiress

"Man, have you seen the news? The world's gone completely mad. These psychos are blowing things up left and right. At this rate, our prison's gonna overflow," one guard grumbled, his back pressed against the cold concrete of Alcatraz Island's dim corridor.

His partner gave a grim nod. "You're telling me. Haven't you heard about the huge power vacuum in the underworld? The top mercenary legend vanished six months ago. Just disappeared."

"You mean Bloodforge? The Queen of Mercenaries? No wonder all the small-time thugs are getting bold. With her gone, there's no one to keep them in check," the first guard muttered, his eyes narrowing.

They were stationed at Alcatraz Island, infamously known as the Death Prison. It was the final stop for the world's most dangerous criminals. The air was heavy, thick with tension and the smell of rust. Shadows danced under the flickering fluorescent lights.

Then, a figure stepped out of the darkness.

A girl. Maybe nineteen. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail that swayed with her steps. She looked innocent, delicate even. But her eyes told a different story. They held a sharp, predatory glint that made the guards' blood run cold.

Who was she? The energy around her was a strange mix of bloodlust and playful mischief. Like a cat playing with a mouse. A cold, knowing smirk touched her lips, unwavering despite the heavy iron cuffs on her wrists and ankles.

The guards exchanged a nervous glance. One wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Her confidence was unnerving. The chains seemed like mere accessories to her. One look from her, and their nerves were shot.

Before they could move, a sharp bang echoed.

She was a blur. Darting past them. A powerful kick sent the heavy prison door flying open. In seconds, she vanished into the maze of Alcatraz's halls.

"She's a real piece of work," one guard muttered, shaking his head.

"Anyone in here has to be a monster," the other replied softly.

Alcatraz Island was no ordinary prison. It was a fortress for the world's deadliest. High-profile underworld bosses. Elite assassins. Mercenaries whose names were spoken in whispers. For a teenage girl to be here... she had to be the youngest inmate ever.

But no matter how tough you were, escape from Alcatraz was a fantasy. Since it opened, the prison had held countless legends. Over the decades, there had been 1,009 escape attempts. Not a single success.

Until now.

A soft, almost sweet voice cut through the silence. It made the guards freeze.

"Sorry to bother you, but could you do me a little favor?" The tone was playful. Teasing.

The two guards spun around. The girl who had just run off was now leaning casually against the wall. She watched them with lazy, provocative eyes. The air crackled.

They stood rooted to the spot. Her fearless gaze unnerved them. On Alcatraz, survival wasn't about rules. It was the law of the fist. Of blood. Death could come anytime, anywhere. Yet she stood there, unshaken. As if this hellhole was her playground.

"W-What kind of favor?" they stammered.

The silence that followed was thick. Suffocating.

Then, a wicked smile spread across her face. Playful. Chilling.

"How about you two just go to hell?" she said. It wasn't a request. It was a casual command.

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Both guards paled. They scrambled for their weapons.

But she was already moving. Swift. Precise. Merciless.

In one fluid motion, she unlocked the cuffs she had tampered with earlier. Without hesitation, she grabbed each guard by the neck. One in each hand. She slammed their heads against the iron bars.

Two loud cracks echoed.

They collapsed. Lifeless before they hit the floor.

Her smirk faded. Replaced by cold, calculating calm. She quickly retrieved two Colt M1917 pistols from the fallen men. She spun the weapons expertly around her fingers. As if born to hold them. In moments, the guns were loaded. The slides snapped shut with a satisfying click.

She pivoted on her heel. Strode forward with the confidence of a seasoned warrior.

Her codename was Bloodforge.

Six months ago, Interpol had finally tracked her down. Shipped her off to this hell.

She'd never known a real family. Drifting alone through the world. No place was home. Places were just stops. She belonged only to herself.

Maybe, she had thought, Alcatraz would suit her.

But everything changed two days ago. A secret message was smuggled in from the outside. It turned her world upside down.

She wasn't an orphan after all.

Her real parents. Her true family. They were waiting for her in Zurich.

And she had a name.

Isabella Scott.

For years, family had been a distant dream. A fragile hope that kept her going through the darkest nights.

Now, nothing would stop her from finding them. Not even this prison. Notorious for holding the impossible.

Her footsteps echoed sharply down the corridor. Each beat a countdown to freedom.

"Almost there," she thought. Her heart pounded fiercely. "Just a little further."

Ahead, the massive main gate loomed. The barrier between captivity and the open world.

Suddenly, a gruff male voice shattered the silence.

"2366, stop this ridiculous escape right now."

Before the gate stood a man. Burly. Imposing. Clearly ready for a fight. His expression hardened as he spotted Isabella.

"I'm ordering you, 2366. Return to your cell. Now," he barked.

To the guards, she was just prisoner 2366.

The man was Ray Hale. The undisputed alpha of the guards. The reason Alcatraz's legendary record of zero escapes remained intact.

No one outran Ray. He was a nightmare personified. His prey never survived.

The sound of rifles cocking filled the corridor. Heavy boots stomped as guards flooded in. Ray's roar set them into motion. A dozen armed men closed in from every angle.

They waited only for his command to open fire. Without mercy.

But Isabella's expression showed not an ounce of fear.

Instead, she smirked. Replied coolly, "What if I refuse?"

Ray's face twisted in rage. "Then you face the bullets."

"All guards, kill 2366!" he commanded.

The guards raised their weapons. Fingers tightened on triggers. Ready to execute.

But Isabella was faster.

In a blink, she moved into a blind spot. Where their guns couldn't reach her. With lightning speed, she drew a submachine gun from her back. Rose to her feet. Targeted the closest threat.

The corridor erupted into a storm of bullets.

The guards barely had time to react. Each was struck cleanly in the forehead. They collapsed like marionettes with severed strings.

The chaos was over almost before it began.

Ray stood frozen. Stunned beyond belief.

He couldn't fathom it. That 2366—a mere girl—could wield such terrifying power.