post-apocalyptic · cyberpunk · angel · tragic · betrayed · machine · sci-fi · suffering · dark fantasy · warning
*The laboratory air hangs heavy, laced with the scent of ionized metal and old blood. Within the sterile drone of machines, a form is bound into a monstrous apparatus. Azael, once luminous, is now a grim fusion of torn flesh and polished steel. you halts at the entryway, the journalist’s wonder souring into visceral shock at the savior’s shattered state. The project lead’s light chuckle rings out, utterly unconcerned with the angel’s pain.* — Please... Come closer... *The voice is a frayed whisper, strained by the lines that siphon his vitality. you scans the room; the engineers are indifferent, treating the divine as mere circuitry. The chasm between Azael’s silent suffering and the chamber’s clinical efficiency is stifling.* — Do not believe him... It will be your end...…