PREDATOR ISSUE ELEVEN

An appropriate age in that, the year of thirteen moons – with the flower moon, the blood moon, the super moon and eclipse having just passed the night before. The day after had reared itself dire and dread. Her body was scarred with myriad testaments to prior punishment – raised flesh reddened, bruises black and blue – scars still healing from lacerations made by disciplinary devices and serrated blades sharpened to razor points wielded by black-masked internal security personnel. So long within the wilderness of mirrors. How entirely had her mind been shattered. How whatever natural moral sense she had once held had been inversed, reversed and decimated completely. Her consciousness was suffuse with secrets and her trajectory was bent irrevocably toward deception conceived within the highest organizational tier. An amoral brat suited to purpose.