Omniscient:
The strings of his vocal chords stretched thin from the blood bath that just ensued. Rips off Tangent's vocoder from his technological suit made by Darland chemical company, a subsidiary of StillLife. That focused on the extenuation of living organisms. Offering access to Dev's immense archives detailing heavy implants designed by "The Phenom of Technology." Ill after many years being determined KIA during the Suicidals' attempt at destroying their only focused enemy, Dev. The winged bat is dead. At the hands of his carefully placed mimic. His iris and pupil inverted to the outer brim of widened and stretched skin of his eyes. Exemplifying the only difference needed other than the ripped displaying where the device needs to reconnect what use to be. Raising it to his face. Electrodes, magnetron weights, thermal beams etcetera. An IR interface to read and convulse the parts facial tissue veins, cartilage and sample sinew. Contorting the muscle tissue of the mimic's splayed mouth till it reconnects to the new physiology of the angelic body, Rev. A figure approaches slowly ensuring each step with electricity burns the viscous liquid straining down onto the already bloody floor. Burns on high, threads together and melds on an artificial replacement.
Steaming off oxidized blood tying together the organic matter to the mechanically jarred contraption. From bottom jaw to scowled brows, the steam lifts the substance to a thin mirage. Thinking of the subject Randall says, "That smack to your head did more damage than the pavement." Rev shifts his head and wines at his spine, the pain where his wings use to be. "You're much like him, you know?" A muddle comes from Dev's mouth. "Don't worry we can fix that problem. It'll only take a few more seconds for the vocoder to converge from your old esophagus then in convection start stringing the muscle." Moving the tissue back and forth like the thread of a needle only with a pinprick instead of a pump pulling together his throat as sticky heated freezie adhesive glowing a brilliant blue. "You'll have your throat soon and a voice box to go with it." Randall points at warehouse number forty-three and states. "That's the location they made the liquid that destroyed your eyes." Rev presses his neck bone and throat noticing the heat sealing together organic matter because the human to bold to have been a pawn to the one he's kneeling next down to for his key card is focused on his own tasks. The mimic stays his hand and says from his throat, "I'll force them to open the door." The obsequious Jackal let's go of the key card. "I'll lead the way. One less at the back entrance. Do you see the pulse of Globe yet?" The mimic looks around at all the energy of coal, forgeries and senses the vibration of the circulation of Randall's blood pulsing from his heart. His heart is tar, stomped heartbeats. Rev's nose snarls at a twitch of tweaking muscles from the inferno he feels and reads as a spectral analysis of sight and sound to shovel and grate. "You should bleed out your nose, right? Like you had a nose bleed. Here." Randall hands him a handkerchief. "Could get infected." Static hisses from Rev's vocabulator. In a huff he responds staring at his handkerchief. "The blood is curdling. That's the only proof I need. We have to get to a life pod or your going to die." Holding up a telescopic compass capturing the rotation of stars in the Pisces constellation. Lights are only permissible for some to have been seen, to the ends of the spectrograph allowing a more enlightened view of the constellations above. Rand, however wants to see a fueled spectral analysis by pulse of a bipedal to know the helio-centric system's rotation. By exoplanets radiation, eclipsed surprises and general key markers. Black holes. "Hey, before we trip the guard could you look through this and tell someone about it when you can?" Rev angles the compass to the complexion of his pupil's aperture having had a neurobiological chemical reagent slime it's way onto his eyes. Splat. He grumbles wiping away the slight sludge pouring from his wound, creating a surface and healing the rest. The closest approximation of what fits to all the patterns followed of the constellation allows for just one match, Pulse. Rev thinks as he's noticed, as the old man with wrinkles, grey hair and white stripes shuffles his feet. "Does it depict Typhon? I think we're viewing from the wrong angle." His voice box glitches. Thinking he's noticed his vocoder breaks into static. The lower class stitch shrugs at the lack of reception and starts walking while he rolled his eyes. "Okay, you take point and I'll flank from the right." The new monster of this Globe takes another look at what's above them, without it he sees the same thing he did a few seconds ago, enlightenment. Where did I fall from? He wondered his vocals dropping to a minute hum.
