My father was a merc and my mother, well she was murdered. My father beat me when I was one, and I almost died. He sent me to boot camp and when I was six, I became an assassin for the government as well as some major illegal operations. A few years later I got my nickname "RAVEN." I am ten and stuck in a prison where my older sister stuck me. "God damn bitch" I was put into one of the oldest triple max prisons called Rutia Scadia. No one leaves unless orders are sent for there removal, and only flight risks get sent here.
"Hey fresh meat" Slave yelled through the darkness of the prison. A tall broad shouldered man was shoved through the gates and uncuffed. "Cell number 180" the guard told him. He was surrounded by all the men, "So, Who's going to own him?" Rick asked. I was in the darkness and he stared right at me and smiled. "He's out of your league!" I yelled "he is 220 pounds, six foot two and is carrying two shivs." They looked around for me, but I remained silent and in the shadows. "And let's not forget his eyes." I stepped out leather pants, black tank and black sunglasses. "Come on Raven, let us have some fun." "I don't care what you do, it's your funeral." He cocked his head to the side and laughed. "You're a little young to be here" he smiled and caught a fist and sliced the mans throat. "He climbed up to the second level and walked towards me. "How old are you?" His voice rumbled loudly "I'm ten, how? " Im nineteen" he replied before he could finish. I snorted and walked off. "hey you wouldn't happen to know where…" "Fifth level, next to mine"
