Date Unknown…
Consciousness. Her body leaden heavy, Sherrel Bailey groaned as she came to consciousness. Fuck, she had a splitting headache. What the fuck did she take last night? She hasn't had a hangover this bad in years. Sherrel tried to move her hand and rub that crusty shit out of her eyes, but soon found she was unable to. The fuck? Sherrel then tried to turn her head to look at her hand, but found that she couldn't move her neck either. Not that it would've helped, since it was pitch black anyway.
…
No, that wasn't right. Sherrel slowly came to realize that it wasn't that the room she was watch pitch black, it was the she couldn't fucking open her eyes! Sherrel tried to move every part of her body, to flail her arms or kick her legs, to twist her neck or open her mouth, but nothing worked. Next Sherrel tried to scream. To call out to Skids or Mush or to even that freak Trainwreck to help her out, but her vocal cords would not follow her commands. No part of her body responded. What the fuck was going on here!?
"-and that's when they fled?" A voice that Sherrel could barely hear asked. It was a male voice, muted and dull, like she was hearing it through a wall. Or in this case, through the ceiling, as the direction of the voice sounded like it was coming from above her.
"Indeed. Squealer, Mush, and the others fled on foot. I considered giving chase, but given the significant damage done to my body and my Manufactorum already, I decided to wait for aid." A second voice spoke.
It was staticy and mechanical, like it was coming through a radio. It was a distinct voice that Squealer remembered hearing before. And through the haze on her mind, that thick fog of narcotics that she knew ran through her body, she remembered. The Tech-Priest! That crazy fucking Tinker they went to try and capture! The bitch blew up her fucking truck and knocked her out!
"And it's a good thing you did." A third voice spoke. This one was that of a young woman, perhaps even a teenager. "You were not in good shape by the time they called me in, Taylor. A fractured skull, multiple third degree burns, a concussion, Hell I even had to regrow your hair again!"
"Panacea is right." The first voice spoke again. "You are neither a Ward nor an independent hero. Even if you were attacked, you were not under any obligation to chase down the Merchants."
It took Sherrel a little while, but soon enough she recognized the male voice as well. It was a voice that on more than one occasion, had ordered her and Skids to surrender. It was that silver full-body condom Armsmaster! Shit, if Armsmaster and that goody two-shoes Panacea was here, that must mean this place was crawling with heroes. And for the first time, in a long time, Sherrel was glad there were heroes nearby. They could save her from this fucking psycho Tinker that had taken her prisoner.
And so once more Sherriel tried to cry out. To scream to the heroes that she was right below them, that that whore Tech-Priest was lying and she didn't run. But she couldn't. Her body was paralyzed despite the fact she was aware of what was going on around her. At most, she was able to release a small whimper, barely louder than an exhale, that was lost amongst the ambient noise around her.
"Regardless." Tech-Priest continued. "If there is nothing else the Protectorate requires of me, I wish to return to my work. Much of my equipment has been damaged from the fight and requires repair."
Armsmaster immediately responded. "There is one other thing, Tech-Priest. I have spoken to both Director Piggot, as well as representatives from the Mayor's office. After some consideration, as well as outside consultation, they decided to reject your proposal for the ferry."
There was a long and heavy silence before Tech-Priest responded. "What?" She hissed out, her modulated voice unable to contain her shock and anger. "For what reason?"
"If I'm going to be honest, it's mostly that they do not trust you with the lives of civilians, in addition to the fact that they most likely do not wish to be beholden to your technology." Armsmaster flatly said. "Even if your modifications to the ferry are not Tinkertech, your assurances alone are not enough to assuage the fears of the Mayor and city council. As for your cybernetics, while the PRT is not interested at the current moment, I'm sure both they and Protectorate would, at the very least , be open to negotiations should any members of our organizations become crippled and Panacea be unavailable or unable to heal them."
There was another long, awkward pause before Tech-Priest responded. "I see. Well then, with that I must ask that you all leave my Manufactorum. I have a busy night ahead of me and must get to work."
"Wait!" Panacea practically shouted. "Taylor, you have to rest! You still have a concussion, and healing all of those injuries used up a lot of what was left of your body mass. Are you sure you don't want to have someone take you home? Or at least stay with you in case you get attacked again?"
"I will be fine." Tech-Priest immediately said. "The Autosanguination fluid will help with the concussion. You yourself have said I do not have any other brain damage beyond that. And to your last point, my Guardsmen will be staying to provide security."
"Yeah but-"
"Good night, Panacea, Armsmaster. Hopefully next we meet, I will not require a police report or skin grafting." Tech-Priest succinctly said, cutting off the healer.
"Come on, Panacea, we should go. Your sister seems anxious to return home as well." Huh, apparently that retard Armsmaster had enough social grace to when to pull out.
Sherrel could then hear the disappointment in Panacea's voice as she sighed and said, "Alright. If anything goes wrong Taylor, and I mean anything, just give me a call and I'll be right over. Please." Huh, lil' miss white mage was laying it on pretty thick there. Sherrel didn't know she was a rug muncher. Learn something new every day.
Sherrel didn't hear Tech-Priest respond, but she did hear the clangs of heavy footsteps as Armsmaster and Panacea presumably left Tech-Priest's factory. She then heard metallic clanks of a differing timbre as Tech-Priest was most likely descending a staircase into whatever room Sherrel was currently being held in. There was the sound of a large, metallic door opening and then slamming shut.
Straining her ears, Sherrel could hear Tech-Priest's metallic footsteps as she paced nearby. She could feel the tension in the air rising as Tech-Priest was no doubt mulling over rejection she just received.
"Fools!" Tech-Priest howled, shouting at the top of her lungs as she no doubt believed she was alone. "Idiots! I offer them a way to salvage the economy of this dying city and they throw it back in my face! I was mistaken to put any kind of faith in those gutless worms who run the city!"
In a fit of rage, Tech-Priest then threw her power armored fist forward, slamming it into the steel wall around them. The cacophonous impact echoed through the room, stabbing into Sherrel's ears with the sound not unlike crashing cars. It was loud enough that Squealer couldn't help but wince. Her body still frozen, Sherrel couldn't actually move, but what she did do was let out the tiniest squeal. A cry barely audible even to herself.
But apparently, it was loud enough for Tech-Priest to hear, as Sherrel heard her spin in place, her metallic legs grinding on the floor as her captor faced her. Sherrel froze, more than she already was. She could not see but could feel Tech-Priests eyes upon her, boring into her. Sherrel held her breath as the silence in the room dragged onto uncomfortable lengths, praying that Tech-Priest would lose interest in her.
It would not be so, as soon enough the Tech-Priest approached Sherrel, each heavy, booming footfall reverberating into her very core, counting down to her inevitable doom. Tech-Priest stopped only inches away from her, and the super villain could feel the heat radiating off of the rogue's body and power armor.
"Are you awake, Squealer?" Tech-Priest hissed out, almost whispering into Sherrel's ear.
Sherrel didn't, or more aptly couldn't answer. If she could she would have responded with some entertainingly clever series of curses and insults, probably using words like cyborg-cunt and mechabitch.
At her silence, Tech-Priest moved away from Sherrel, and began typing away at a nearby computer. After a few seconds of clicking keys, Tech-Priest said, "Hmm, elevated heart rate and increased brain function. You are awake, aren't you, Squealer?"
The gig now up, Sherrel did her best to respond, which was a quiet, mewling breath.
"Hmm, I wonder why you have awoken." Tech-Priest continued, and Sherrel could feel her gaze all over her body. After some time both observing Sherrel and going back to the computer, Tech-Priest finally came to a conclusion. "Ah! I see my mistake. I did not properly take into account your lifetime of drug use creating a resistance to the anesthesia. Apologies, Squealer. I'll be sure to adjust for you and the others. We don't want you awake during your operation, after all."
The fuck? Operation? Oh Hell no this crazy fucking bitch was planning on turning her into some kind of cyborg freak? Fuck that noise! Once more Sherrel tried to move every, or rather any body part, to get some kind of response so she could fight back and get away from this psychotic monster. She tried to scream and curse a flood of obscenities at her captor. But at most, all Sherrel could do was perform the smallest of twitches and muted cries. It was like she was a helpless fucking baby.
"Shhhh." Taylor cooed, cupping Sherrel's cheek with her armored hand. "Don't worry. It will soon be over, you won't feel a thing, I promise. And when I'm done, when your ascension is done, you will fall to your knees and thank me for the blessing I have bestowed upon you."
Sherrel continued to try to scream as her anger soon gave way to fear. In her mind she screamed for someone, anyone, to help her. She cried out to Skidmark, Armsmaster, and even Scion himself to get his golden naked ass in there and blast away this insane bitch. But it was to no avail. Sherrel had no mouth from which she could scream. Trapped in a prison of her own flesh, Sherrel Bailey could do nothing but silently weep as she felt the ether embrace her.
Tuesday, February 22nd.
Taylor speedily clacked away at her keyboard, rapidly adding in new lines of code with her newly rebuilt cybernetic left hand.
Glancing to the operating table to her right, Taylor looked at the unconscious body of Squealer. The older tinker was laid out on the table, her body nude as the floor mounted servo-arm finished up sewing the incisions across her flesh. Two long sutures ran up Squealer's abdomen, with a tube that extended out from a synthetic liver on her right side and into an external filter. The organ damage within Squealer from her life of drug addiction was extensive, and Taylor decided to just replace most of them, namely her kidneys and liver.
Taylor had also taken the liberty of removing both of Squealer's legs and arms with new, cybernetic replacements ready for combat. And finally, a metallic cyber-mantle ran up the spine of Squealer's back and into the back of her head, where it interfaced with the cranial circuitry and cortex implants Taylor put inside of her head.
For two days, Taylor had worked tirelessly, eschewing any sleep and only taking meals in the form of IV drips and stimulant shots, as she laboured to complete her work. Much work was needed to complete the integration of the newest members of the Manufactorum. First she had to fabricate a plethora of cybernetic limbs, arms and legs to to replace feeble, weakened meat of her newest members. But that alone was far from enough.
The Merchant stock from which her newest neophytes were drawn from were far from the picture of healthy organics. Malnutrition from poor diets, organ damage from prolonged drug use, injuries from previous fights, every single one of these Merchants had a series of medical ailments which prevented them from becoming what Taylor needed them to be. To deal with this, Taylor had two solutions.
First, using her cranial augmentations Taylor downloaded a full undergraduate pre-med and medical school graduate degree program into her mind. While Taylor's Trigger had given her an intuitive knowledge of human biology and how to modify it, a more proper, classical education was required to fill in the gaps not provided by her powers. Her newfound education allowed her to more properly understand medical specializations from virology and pharmacology to oncology and radiology, all of which she could then apply to her operations.
Second, when Amy had returned to the Manufactorum the night Taylor was attacked, Armsmaster had lent Taylor some of his tech to scan and study Amy's powers in order to develop blueprints for new Tinkertech. When that research was combined with Taylor's new encyclopedic knowledge of medicine, it allowed Taylor to create two new pieces of biomedical Tinkertech, the Diagnostor and De-Tox.
The Diagnostor, as the name implied, pretty much did what Amy could do with a touch of her fingers, diagnose any disease or medical ailment known to man in seconds. A single scan was all she needed to know that Squealer had liver cirrhosis, neurological damage from drug use, two STDs, and high blood pressure. And that was before the burnt skin, bruised tissue, and broken bones she sustained due to the explosion of her truck. With this knowledge, Taylor specifically created a cybernetic liver replacement, and several cranial implants to repair the brain damage, while the Autosanguination fluid should clear out the STDs and hypertension. More difficult to cure however, would be the various substances and addictions which plagued Squealer.
That was where De-Tox and the neural implants came in. Through her own research and discussions with Amy, Taylor learned that addiction was a complex, neurobiological disorder of the brain's reward system due to over exposure to addictive stimuli over time. And while Amy could clear out the physical effects and withdrawal of drug dependence, she couldn't fix the psychological effects of addiction. Just because she could make them no longer dependent on drugs, she couldn't force patients to rehabilitate unless they chose to go through therapy and treatment.
Taylor had no such limitations. De-Tox, as creatively named as the Diagnostor, was an injection of a chemical compound Taylor concocted which would negate the effects of most drugs and toxins within an individual. The De-Tox would target the foreign drugs and chemical agents within the body and purge them from the body. The way the drug purged the body was somewhat unpleasant however, as it forced the drugs out of the body using existing bodily fluids and orifices.
Nose bleeds, vomit, urination, and voiding of the bowels were all common in the subjects exposed to De-Tox as the body used these vectors to purge itself clean. And while the Merchant's bodies were now clean, for a while Taylor's workshop was less so. Luckily for her, her respirator blocked out most of the smell when she mopped up.
And with the physical ailments of any drugs currently within the system gone, a liberal use of Autosanguination fluid and cyberization of the brain would deal with the dependencies and addictions. After all, none of the Merchants could be addicted to anything when Taylor had full control over their brain's neurochemical transmissions.
That was probably the most important part of Taylor's operation onto Squealer and the others, the cortex implants and what they would allow Taylor to do. After all, what use was it putting all of this time and effort into blessing Squealer and the Merchants with the gifts of the Machine God if they were just going to walk away from her and return to their worthless lives of wanton hedonism and debauchery? No. Taylor would ensure that their second lives as part of her organization would have actual value.
Taylor pressed the Enter key on her keyboard, and with that finished the program that would capstone this procedure. Taking a thick cable which led to a 6 inch long metallic plug which Taylor called a dataspike, Taylor inserted it directly into the base of Squealer's neck and into her cortex implant.
The dataspike now giving Taylor full access to not only Squealer's hardware, but her very thoughts and memories in the form of electronic 0s and 1s, Taylor began the psycho-indoctrination process. Through what was essentially organic file editing, memories of who Squealer once was were purged from her mind, useless data that would only cause a conflict of loyalty in her. In their place, Taylor placed new memories.
The memories implanted would ensure that Squealer would whole-heartidly believe in her newfound loyalty to Taylor, and more importantly, loyalty to the Machine God. With this, Squealer would be physically unable to go against Taylor's orders, nor would she be able to recall any of her past. Finally, should the need arise, Taylor also installed a new series of devices she created which she called a Data Tether and a Mind Impulse Unit (MIU) within the cortex implants.
Using the Data Tether, so long as Taylor was in range, she would have access to all of Squealer's thoughts, emotions, and senses. Everything Squealer would see, hear, and even feel, so would Taylor. In addition to this Taylor could use the data tether to communicate directly with Squealer's mind through electronic messages. And if the need ever arose, Taylor could use the Mind Impulse Unit to completely enslave Squealer's body to her own will. Taylor would be able to possess Squealer's body directly, puppeting it through electronic strings of data and coded impulses.
All in all, Squealer was now perfect. Now she could fulfill her role as a Tinker and a fellow adept of the Machine God.
With her augmentation of Squealer finished, Taylor moved onto the rest of the Merchants. Because Taylor did not have more than one operating table, the Merchants were all laid out in a neat row on the workshop's floor or cots the Guardsmen purchased, each kept unconscious through the use of drugs and kept alive with Auto-Sanguination IVs. These degenerate parasites on humanity owed her blood, and she was keen to collect. Like Squealer, Taylor had replaced all of the limbs of the Merchants with cybernetic combat prosthetics, but that was not all Taylor had done. When Taylor realized that she could use the brains and minds of the Merchants as a pseudo-AI, she immediately began to draw up plans to turn them into a new kind of cyber-infantry. A human combat drone, one could say.
These would be different to her Guardsmen, who she actually trusted and allowed them their full faculties. The Merchants, like Squealer, had much of their brains replaced with complex cranial circuitry which would repair the damage drugs had done to their minds, and again like Squealer, give Taylor complete access to their minds through remote data-tethers. When they are all active, Taylor will be able to see through each of their eyes at once, her own cranial circuitry giving her a Parahuman level of multi-tasking capability to allow her to process all of this data, give orders, or even puppet one of these cyborg soldiers all while performing her own tasks with her actual body.
With all of those augmentations installed, Taylor then put each of her new six soldiers through the psycho-indoctrination procedure as well, ensuring their loyalty to her and the Machine God. While the thought to just simply wipe their minds clean of all higher level thinking and replacing it with basic combat programming had occurred to her, she elected to not go that route. At least not yet.
While they could no doubt make for acceptable combat servitors, Taylor desired more from them. And their attack on her base showed that despite being dregs, they had some worth as combatants. While they would no longer need their memories, Taylor wanted them to keep their creativity, ingenuity, and even baseline intelligence. All of these would make them better soldiers, better tools to protect her and destroy her enemies. She could maintain all of these in her soldiers while limiting them in other ways.
After all, the human mind was her plaything, and some remote part of her found it amusing that Amy's power limited her from affecting the brain. The human brain itself was simple to work with, and manipulating the mind was as easy as blocking certain receptors and connecting them to techno-organic interfaces.
Regardless, the Mind Impulse Unit she installed into Squealer was similarly installed into the rest of the Merchants, allowing her to take control of each of the Merchants remotely if necessary, but even more so than in comparison to the Tinker. Unlike with Squealer, the MIUs within the Merchants also allowed for more subtle control, such as emotional manipulation. If Taylor needed to, she could completely eliminate the Merchant's ability to feel fear or empathy, turning them into emotionless automata. Or she could flood their body with adrenaline, turning them into savage warriors whose berserking rage is refined through a machine efficiency.
And lastly, as part of the Psycho-Indoctrination, Taylor implanted a series of combat protocoles and subroutines into not only their minds, but her own as well. This was something Taylor found necessary to build after her fight with the Merchants. She learned that she did not truly know how to fight. And no matter how many weapons or how strong the steel of her body became, they would all be useless if she didn't know how to actually use them.
These programs would make micro-adjustments to the user's physical actions, such as increasing reflexes when defending against blows, or artificially steadying aim on targets with inhuman accuracy. This, combined with a comprehensive set of hand to hand and weapons training simulations she developed with the aid of Sergeant Major Merrick would increase their combat potential greatly. Of course it would be no substitution for true combat and experience, but it was a start.
With this, the half dozen Merchants before her were almost ready to become her newest breed of warriors. She probably shouldn't keep calling them Merchants though. That name was now behind them, alongside everything else about their past lives. She could call them Guardsmen as well, but these soldiers were so divergent that Taylor believed they should be classified as a different unit in general.
No, her Guardsmen were her protectors in the day. The ones who met with other heroes and civilians, showing off all of the positive aspects of her powers. After all, who could say that repairing the wounds of American Veterans and giving them jobs was a bad thing?
But these Merchants. While Taylor didn't want to believe it, she could see how others might see them as unsettling. They couldn't see the beauty in the improvements that Taylor gave to these men. They wouldn't see the fact that Taylor made them faster, stronger, even smarter, and set them to the task of saving the city. No, they would only see the butchered bodies of weak, decayed flesh, not the strong steel enhancements.
They would be the first of her legion of steel. Her… Legiones Skitarii. Yes, she liked that name. These Skitarii would be Taylor's protectors in the shadows, hunting anyone who would deem themselves Taylor's enemy away from the public eyes, and the eyes of the law.
Taylor then turned her eye back to Squealer. She would need a new name as well. They all would. And as Taylor looked upon her fellow Tinker, she felt the Machine God gift her the name which she would bestow upon Squealer.
One does not typically remember their birth. For most people, the mind is not developed enough to retain the memories of the sudden overstimulation of senses as they are removed from the womb. This was not the case for the woman.
She felt a warm, pulsating sensation move through her body, which strangely enough felt differently when it moved through certain parts. Her arms and legs, limbs she knew they were called. She knew a lot of things, like how the Planck equation was E = hf, or how to use an arc welder to fuse two sheets of metal together. She also knew that her eyes were closed.
Through a concerted effort that she knew was more difficult than it should have been, the woman's eyelids slowly peeled themselves open. First there was a sterile, blinding light. She suddenly blinked back, recoiling as the photons struck her eyes. But quickly her eyes adjusted, pupils contracting as they adjusted to her surroundings.
A quick glance around confirmed that she had no idea where she was. She was in some kind of sealed room with a cylindrical ceiling above that she could tell was made of some kind of steel composite, possibly containing lead. Directly above her face was a surgical light held aloft by some kind of jointed, robotic arm.
"Greetings, my fellow acolyte of the Machine God." A synthetic voice said beside her.
She turned her head, a motion that was agonizingly slow as her body was still sluggish, and saw a woman standing beside her. The observer looked young, but it was hard to tell because her face was hidden behind some kind of mask. She had long, curly black hair, and wore a set of blood red robes. Most striking of all though, was the crimson, baleful light that emitted from her left eye.
"We must run you through your diagnostics. Raise your left hand and make a fist." The hooded woman commanded.
Without hesitation, the woman looked down to do so. When she did, she realized two things. First was that she was naked atop whatever bed or table she was currently lying on. Second and more importantly, was that all of her limbs were made of metal. Some part of her brain could tell they were cybernetic constructs, picking apart pieces of what made them up, but she couldn't understand all of it. A part of her could tell that something was strange about this, but she didn't know what. As she contemplated all of this, she fulfilled her order, and raised her left hand before making a fist.
"Very good." The hooded woman nodded. She then held up one mechanical finger. "Now then, follow my finger." She moved her hand in a circular motion that made the woman look all around, up down, then left right. "Good work. Any issues?"
The woman shook her head.
"As expected." the hooded woman said happily. Then she held out her hand to help the woman up.
The woman grabbed onto the proffered hand and pulled herself up so she was sitting on the operating table. The hooded woman then went to a metallic drawer and pulled out a similar-looking red robe to give to her. The woman took it and gratefully put it on. Not out of shame, for such base emotion no longer registered to her, but simply because she was cold.
"Thank you." The woman said finally, her voice was hoarse and dry.
"You are welcome." The hooded woman said as she then got a bottle of water. "And you may call me Taylor."
The woman took the water and greedily drank it. While she did so, Taylor asked, "You have been asleep for some time now. How much do you remember? About yourself, I mean?"
The woman took a moment to try and recall something about herself. But for some reason, she couldn't think of anything, like there was a wall blocking any attempt. After a few moments, she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember anything. I mean, I remember some things. Equations. Designs. But that's it. I don't remember anything about myself. Not my name, my family, or even what I look like." While the woman didn't exactly feel sad about this, she did logically understand that her current state was not normal.
"Good." Taylor flatly said. The woman tilted her head at Taylor, confused as to why her obviously imperfect state was good. At her look, Taylor continued, "I specifically chose to remove your memories. Who you were in your past life was someone best forgotten. You lived a life of sin and heresy, squandering your Machine God given gifts, but no more."
The woman frowned. This time she did register sadness, but mostly due to regret that she had been such a terrible person. "Then who am I now?" she asked, looking up at Taylor.
Taylor crossed her arms. "Hmm, yes you will require a new name. In fact, now that I realize it I actually didn't know what your name was before I erased your memories." She shrugged. "No matter. You are a new person and thus require a new name. How does… Felecia sound? Felecia Tayber?" Taylor then shook her head. "No, the last name is too close to my name. How about… Arkhan Land? No, too masculine." Then Taylor's head popped up as she had an epiphany. "Arcana! You are now Arcana Land. What do you think of that?"
The newly named Arcana Land had literally no reference to go off of to base an opinion on the name, so she only nodded. "I like it."
The crinkling of Taylor's eyes implied that she was smiling beneath her mask. "Very good. Though that will be the name we use in private only. When you wear a mask like my own." Taylor pointed to her respirator, "You will need a proper pseudonym to go by."
Arcana did not really understand the point of that, but nodded nonetheless. "What name will that be?"
Her grin growing even larger, Taylor moved directly in front of Arcana's face and put both her hands on her shoulders. "You, Arcana, are to be my Enginseer." Taylor's mechanical hands then moved up and gripped Arcana's face, squeezing the flesh underneath until it hurt. "You see, I require machines of war. Something that my own powers cannot provide, but yours can! Tell me, Enginseer. What can you make for me!? What can you make for the Omnissiah!?"
Through the pain of Taylor's grip, Arcana began to experience visions. Flashes of the glories she could create. She saw massive APCs made with ungodly thick slabs of armor, spewing fire and laser beams against all who opposed it. She saw tanks the size of entire city blocks, with mega battle cannons striking at targets kilometres away. Finally, she saw this so-called Machine God made manifest. Titanic God-engines the size mountains which could end empires with their weapons.
"I see it." Arcana muttered through blubbering lips, tears starting to pour down her face. "I see the Omnissiah's glory!"
Taylor then let go of the crying, shivering woman's face and embraced her into a hug. "Yes!" Taylor cried out in a raptourous moan. "And together, we shall make his glory a reality!"
A/N, 2/21/22: And we're back! Another chapter of Flesh is Weak done, and this one was a weird one, not going to lie. But now, Taylor has gotten her first, true acolyte in the form of Squealer/Enginseer! Not only that, but the Skitarii are now in play! Also, once again I used the Dark Heresy rulebooks for some cybernetics, as well as taking some liberties with the W40k lore as well.
Also, other news, we have a cover! I asked a friend of mine, CaelinTheDwarf on DeviantArt to make it, so thanks to him for that! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you in the next one!