Honor’s anti-static suit repelled all floating particles. Her sinewy figure bent and scuttled across the vacant factory. Huge chains and gears rocked softly under moonbeams that spilled through high transom windows.

Ducking under butcher’s flaying racks and rendering tubs , she made her way towards a bone grinding machine. A trap door disguised as a drain’s grate hid underneath.

She had reported on this place long ago, no one believed her, now she had to prove them wrong. It took years to prime her name, get it wet and warm so it sat in people’s ears comfortably. Right now her name was a rotting worm, with poison pus and hot needles, no one wanted to speak it much less hear it.

From this day forward, her truth would be known, her intentions clarified, her meaning respected, her dreams no longer plagiarized. Honor knew her worth and what her strong heart had to offer.

Poised over the grate, she pumped up her Self Awareness Shields, charged her Amp Whips, and dove in to slaughter her lies.