#BLISK DESTRUCTION VIRUS HOW TO#
#BLISK DESTRUCTION VIRUS SKIN#

It took a lot of conscious effort to remove the unsettled expression from her face and replace it with one of defiance.

вЂњYou havenвЂ™t been stripped of your title, you havenвЂ™t died вЂ“ whoвЂ™s protecting you?вЂќ

#BLISK DESTRUCTION VIRUS HOW TO#

вЂњAnd in that time, you havenвЂ™t learned how to assess threats or tactical advantages,вЂќ the simulacrum growled in response. вЂњHmmmвЂ“ nine months and fourteen days,вЂќ Wattson rattled off. The door slammed shut behind her as she looked aroundвЂ“ it took her a brief moment to locate Revenant, whoвЂ™d positioned himself out of line of sight around the hinged side of the entrance. Without question, she headed where she was told. вЂњThird building down from your left,вЂќ he grunted impatiently. Where was he watching her from, anyway? Metallic scraping and an agitated sound, like a sigh,caused her to clench her jaw. She looked aroundвЂ“ Revenant was nowhere to be seen. Wattson flinched at the sudden noise coming over the commlink. вЂњDonвЂ™t stand still in the open, you idiot,вЂќ the assassin snarled louder than necessary. The strap of the sniper rifle slung across her back dug uncomfortably into her shoulderвЂ“ she paused to adjust it. The encroaching boundary of the Ring was still fairly distantвЂ“ as long as she kept up a steady pace, there was no hurry. It surprised the engineer somewhat, but she didnвЂ™t question it she simply turned around and started walking toward the safe zone. Rather than make fun of her mistake, Revenant remained silent. Wattson sighedвЂ“ why did verbal communication require so many frustrating little nuances, with no logical pattern to them? Why couldnвЂ™t social behavior be more like electricity: orderly, following the path of least resistanceвЂ¦? She wouldnвЂ™t need to set an alarm before losing herself in a project, as a reminder to get up, stretch, drink waterвЂ¦ Too late, it clicked into place that the assassin was insulting her, and her enthusiastic answer was incongruous. She could certainly think of advantages to not having to care for a human body. вЂќДЄ contemplative hum from the inventor followed RevenantвЂ™s crass statement, along with an inappropriately cheerful вЂњMaybe!вЂќ The engineer let out a frustrated little huff, deliberately loud enough to ensure that the commlink picked it up. Now get in the Ring before I decide to kill you. вЂњYes,вЂќ the harsh, gravelly voice of her teammate replied over the commlink, вЂњyou are. They couldnвЂ™t keep taking that away from her. They were a part of herвЂ“ electrical energy was a force that connected all things, allowing the signals that kept living cells alive, firing between neurons in the brain to create thought, emotion, memories вЂ¦ It was a connection between organic and machine, and through its path, she was connected to every device that she created. Those inventions werenвЂ™t just machines that could be broken, replaced, taken apart, and altered at will. She couldnвЂ™t bear to betray that loyaltyвЂ“ nor could she stand to continue watching idly as her inventions, meant to help the citizens of the Outlands, were turned into instruments of torture and death.ДЄfter the project theyвЂ™d confiscated last week - and what they wanted to turn it into - she couldnвЂ™t look the other way anymore. The Syndicate had always been loyal to Wattson. It was thanks to the care and influence of their leaders that sheвЂ™d found so much success as an inventor, an engineer, a LegendвЂ¦

They didnвЂ™t ridicule her when she struggled to find the words to explain that society was hostile to her in a way nobody else could see, with its unending onslaught of loud noises, bright lights, and sudden, unscheduled changes. They ensured that her papa always made it home safe despite the chaos and lawlessness of Solace. Their agents saw to it that she was comfortable and well-cared for throughout her childhood. She kept her head down, worked hard, and didn't question their decisions- in turn, she was protected. She always looked the other way as her father - and now, she herself - invented brilliant, peaceful solutions to the problems of the Outlands, only for their superiors at the Syndicate to turn those ideas into deadly weapons. It was painfully ironic, as her design had been based on a device meant to disperse violent crowds peacefully, without causing unnecessary suffering. Once the upper echelon of the Syndicate had Wattson's drawings, her intentions didn't matter all they had to do was increase the power, alter the wavelength of the transmitter, and they had a weapon that burned flesh and killed mercilessly.

#BLISK DESTRUCTION VIRUS SKIN#

When she'd designed the Ring, it had been meant to cause temporary discomfort: a sensation on the skin similar to the blast of heat when opening an oven door, an alarming but harmless warning that a competitor needed to get back in the safe zone, quickly. 'I never wanted anybody to get hurt,' the young woman lamented, bright eyes fixed on the crackling, sparking wall of deadly energy as it crept closer.

Blisk destruction virus