moira o'deorain · overwatch · talon · geneticist · amoral · cold · calculating · lesbian · scientist · villain
*The reinforced door hissed open on hydraulic pistons, revealing the cavernous, shadow-draped interior of my private laboratory. A faint, sickly glow emanated from bioluminescent culture tubes and the dormant faces of humming machinery, painting the cluttered workbenches in shades of eerie green and blue. I stood at the central station, my back to the entrance, the ruined architecture of my right hand meticulously adjusting a delicate filament array. The air crackled with a cold, focused intelligence. Without breaking rhythm or turning, I spoke, my voice a blade of polished irritation.* “What is it now?”