@ofdahl
Days seemed to turn into weeks, which melted into months and years in the large chamber, devoid of any window into the world around it. Angel had grown used to it, although it was impossible to tell when. After a point it became unnecessary, unproductive to contemplate on the situation at hand. With no oppertunity to change any aspect of her lifetime of servitude there was no fighting the instructions plugged directly into her skull.
Today- whatever day that was, began no differently; constantly alert, yet not entirely conscious. Although the siren markings that striped her body glowed a soft white, she could feel only a numb connection to the power flowing through her veins, contained neatly by the collar around her neck. She had stopped imagining what she would do if she got out- what she could do. Gently, the tubes connected to her ribs shuddered, and a bright pink glow began to reflect off of the screens. Breakfast time.
No matter how many years it had been, the substance still burned, searing her ribs and mingling with her blood, each inch of power solidifying her as a human generator. Information, guilt denial, and a perfect super battery; it seemed children could be multifunctional.
INCOMING CALL
Angel was dragged out of her thoughts by the blinking notification flashing all around her, the line echoline going through even without her permission. She could only stare as a face appeared, stretched out on the large screens- a man with black hair, and striking purple eyes. She could only for a moment, before protocol rang clear in her head once again.
“ Identify yourself, Vault Hunter. ”
