Thread: The Lady and the Wolf - Penitency x Praxis

She hated being this far out into the Blight. The sky was permanently a dismal shade of grey and putrid yellow -scarring left over from collapsing radiation blocks located some miles underground. Their infrastructure had some time ago began to wane, resulting in the cracking of concrete piping and seepage of foul poison that eventually worked its way into the topsoil of this land and on the land for hundreds of miles in any direction. Refugees, 'fugees to the upper-tier, made their settlements here. Surviving on what little sustenance the area provided and suffering whatever long-term sicknesses came associated with living this deep into the Blight. She imagined them, all sallow-skinned and sickly, loosing bits of phlegm and blood through violent bursts of coughing with no attention paid to those around them. Skulking and cowering like dogs so far out into the death of the world that it was made necessary that she even be in a place like this. She kicked the heel of her heavy, black boot out a bit and adjusted herself into a reclined position, still lazily watching for anything from the hovercraft's observation deck. Could be worse... You could have his job. She told herself, though remaining largely unconvinced. It was cold here, the air was foul and though she had no way to prove it she had convinced herself that it was murder on her skin. And for a girl -and she was that, only having come into her twenty third year, who epitomized the true power of genetic modification and diligence paid by those with enough wealth, any unwanted affects from toxic air wouldn't be tolerated. Her father had paid an otherworldly sum for her. Rather for her to be shaped in the image decided beforehand. Gone were the days of chance or random malady in those unborn. With enough money and sway any single person could have her clone grown from virtual nothingness. Simply order up the Rachel Elizabeth and in as soon as six month's time be the proud owner of her spitting image in every way down to the tiny, heart-shaped birthmark that had been arranged below her bottom lip. A ridiculous notion regardless of it's plausibility. Her father had paid extra for her to be...unique. Something to set her apart and therefore above the other thousand or so permutations that were offered. With her mother -the only woman he'd ever truly loved gone decades before her creation, he'd been forced into the decision of finding an heir to his company and its fortunes. And rather than wind down what remained of his already painfully long life in desperation, he'd bought his solution. Something of a habit of his. And of course it had been her father who'd insisted that she work her way from the bottom. The way he had. So that she could understand the difference between buying greatness and being able to afford it. She had begun to doze off when she heard the intercom buzz beside her. She lifted her head, brushing back a few strands of long, chestnut curls and smirked at the grainy screen. It displayed the image of a man, if one wanted to consider him that, waiting impatiently -shifting from foot to foot, outside of the ship. His face was shrouded by a re-breathing apparatus, goggles obscuring what little remained of his face though his body language spoke volumes to his mood. Apparently the poor weather and depressing locale took their toll even on bloodthirsty killers. She pressed a large, circular button, hesitating before she spoke. Still smiling viciously at the figure, she cooed What's the password?