This was not how she’d envisaged her life. In truth, it wasn’t really much of a life either way, that much she’d known, grown in a vat then imprinted with the recorded mind of the young woman from whom she’d been cloned. And yet, because of that fact, because of that mind, it could be said that she had hopes of her own, dreams and desires which frankly she’d hoped to fulfill. Hopes and dreams betrayed by the very fact of her existence. Inherently disposable, a commodity to be bought and sold, traded for any and every reason, her will ignored for the convenience of whom ever saw fit to make her their own pretty little doll.

And more than that… she was… defective too.

Defective. She’d been stamped with that, almost immediately after she’d begun training her powers, pushing her limits and trying her best to learn.

Moving things… she just couldn’t focus on them as well, just couldn’t seem to strike home where ever aiming to intercept. Always she was subtly off,