-Abnormal- Wrench x OC (Watch Dogs 2)

-1-

She opens the notebook and start writeing.

The story of my life. Where do I begin? Well after CtOs was damaged severely by Aiden Peirce, they decided to up their "productivity". So along with createing CtOs 2.0, some fuck-faced higher-ups decided to genetically alter human children, and add electronic enhancements.
(You think that with the hacker problems they would steer clear of electronic weapons, but they're a few fries short of a happy meal if you get what I mean.)
So that's were I come in. I'm their first "Super soldier", but here's the thing with humans (and fucked up cyborg, geneticly mutated, catastrophes). We have free will. So why the fuck would I play nursemaid to a bunch of snot nosed idiots?
Well, I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was the first baby to survive all the crazy shit they did to us. I ended up pretty weird. I have metal retractable wings (for some god damn reason I can fly. You would think they weight tons, but they are fairly light. The feathers are super thin and bend slightly but are made out of a specially designed metal. You know how porcupines can shoot quills, I can do that but with feathers. The feathers are hella sharp, their the only blade that can cut through my skin) I am unusually strong and have great stamina. I have amazing eyesight like comparable to eagles shit. My hearing is amazing. My eyes are an unnatural shade of turquoise. (Makes me look like a shitty anime character) My hair is brown and long. (Now that I've escaped I plan to have the ends dyed to fade from brown to turquoise. To match my eyes) My skin is like, super durable. One time a guy threw a knife at me (its along story has do do with soldier training), the point is the knife cut threw my clothes and bounced off my skin like it was nothing. So needless to say I have never had a paper cut.
As I child my life was shit (who would have guessed). I was trained hardcore and I never really had anyone who cared about me, like as a person. All they cared about was making me the perfect soldier. They didn't care about my emotional stability until it became a problem.
(To be honest I have no idea when my birthday is. If I had to guess I'm around 24 when I'm writing this.)
So I turned out a sarcastic bitch who hates pretty much everyone (there are a few exceptions, I'll get into that later).
I didn't really have a name, I was known as G43.
(For those of you wondering that's G for girl and 43 as in there were 42 baby girls murdered before me.)
But now, I'm called silver wings. Naw I'm messing with you, that would be cool though. I'm actually Tala. I thought it sounded good. (Doe is the last name I use now, because Jane Doe is the name used as a place holder, when there is an unidentified human female corpse. It's supposed to be a metaphor or some bullshit like that.) Anyway my life was shit until yesterday. I'll talk more about that next entry. I'll even write it in third person like a regular book, or diary. I guess this is a diary... I don't fucking know. I just need an outlet. Oh, and if you're reading this, fuck off.