“Exit.” The huge red letters glowed in the dimly lit prison hallway, casting a pale light on the object in Marcel’s hands. Quickly, he wrapped the object in a spare shirt before inching towards the exit. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door a crack and furtively checked the parking lot. Seeing no one in site, he threw open the door and started sprinting.

He hadn't gone far when an alarm blew and shouts rang out. Suddenly, soldiers swarmed out of the prison. Using the surrounding cars as cover, Marcel dodged and twisted his way through the torrent of bullets. He tightened his grip on the object as he rolled under a truck. Panting, he quickly surveyed the scene, his eyes falling on a white car only a few feet away. Several soldiers were in his way, but that wasn’t too much of a problem. He shot out from under the truck and tripped one of the soldiers, seizing his gun. Turning, he shot two more before a third threw himself on Marcel. The two of them crashed onto the ground, kicking and trying to throw the other off. Marcel managed to get on top, and taking the gun sloppily shot the man in the head. Blood exploded, splattering the object Marcel cradled in his arm. Cursing, he freed himself from the dying man’s bloody fingers.

By now, the other soldiers had noticed the commotion. Marcel used the barrel of the gun to smash open the window of the white car, and quickly let himself in. The keys were already in the car, so Marcel turned on the ignition and stepped on the gas. The tires screeched as he barreled his way onto the open road, narrowly avoiding a crash with another car. Not slowing down, Marcel drove until he saw a dirt road branching off the highway. Conducting a wild turn, he entered the narrow path, relaxing. The object he’d taken with him sat on the passenger seat, hidden in the shadows of the trees.

  Stopping the car in a small clearing, he carefully grabbed the object. A man in a business suit was waiting for him as he got out of the car. Marcel handed over the object, which the man took in his long, bony fingers. Marcel waited as the man peeled back the covering, revealing the glass sphere inside. Within the sphere, a dull blue light pulsed weakly.

“I got your Soul for you, and hell of a job that was. So, my payment, please,” Marcel prompted.

The man fixed Marcel with his piercing gray eyes, then slowly handed over a large wad of money, enough for a lifetime. Marcel grabbed the money, and with a nod turned to leave. Just before he got into the car, the man said, “Thank you for your Soul, Marcel, but I've really no need for it.”

And he threw the sphere to the ground.