A security camera looked on from its metal perch, focused on the sole occupant of the room. While the prisoner was remarkable, her appearance was less than sub-par.

Black eyeliner smudged to grey as a result of too many nights laying awake on a thin cot, washing out light blue eyes that held the reflection of a broken soul. It was these eyes that glanced up at the guards that slid food into a slot, and these lashes crusted with old mascara that blinked from time to time, sticking a bit from poor quality.

Subject 6103 had been allowed a short break from her cell, then quickly herded back after talking. Talking was not allowed if you were a prisoner. Words could hurt, after all.

Especially if you were Subject 2305 or 2304.