The rain was starting to let up, it’s job to cleanse Street City of obsolete and spurious data just about complete. It was an aesthetic method of maintenance utilized to keep immersion intact. But to her it still felt deceptively cold and wet.
Tag: concept art
14.7 ± 0.3 psi, surface, Terra standard, milspec, per contract. It was a lofty goal, but one that was drummed into us by the Triocracy on every terraforming colony. Never once have we actually hit that target, but we never stop trying…
… lull them into a sense of security and purpose, to distract them from most of their miserable existences … not to make them question their keepers. The keepers frowned on that. The sleepers must sleep, even if they don’t know they slumber.
He looked over the edge and scanned the surrounding glow for signs of Collectors. Gravedigger better goddamn pay up. This avatar heist started out as a cakewalk, but quickly turned into a shit sandwich.
They continued up the daunting stairs, their shadows becoming less ghostly as they neared the window. Even the atmospheric conditioners this high in the Spire could not keep up with the incessant dirt and dust that plagued this dreary planet…
Lucian’s head rests on a cool white pillow. For a final time she reaches out a metallic hand and touches his cheeks as if in parting. But its touch is cold and lifeless. Discomforting.
All eight parts of the Vek Transcendence story … but this is just a small part of the entire Vek Origins story contained in the Infinispace mythos.
The Fixer is basically an independent contractor of mayhem and improvisation, sowing chaos throughout the Continuum for the benefit of only one person. Himself. Tonight’s mayhem? Avatar kidnapping and ransom.
While a Technician might kill quickly from the front, a Matriarch will take her time, slowly stalking from the shadows and killing in the most cunning and torturous way they can devise.
But something at the back of Kalki’s mind troubled him as he stood on the rise surveying the ship in the blue gloom and listening to his own exhales gurgle away to the surface. It was like a subtle itch that couldn’t be scratched.
The Technicians had managed to isolate it behind a wall of ever-shifting encryption that, in our minds, appeared as a sphere of polished obsidian interlaced with cracks showing the data beneath.
Far to the south, just over the horizon, a discrete column of black smoke drifted and dissipated in the prevailing winds of early morning. Black smoke. That was odd.