Cybersteampunks

When Justice turned her back on you, vendetta was a given. A rain of blades will get you through, by Nemesis you're driven. You walk among the weeping sick, a scheme on roofs and funnels. You're tearing Dunwall brick by brick and blink through flooded tunnels. The towers of the traitors' reign, in time they will be falling. Through every power that you gain, the nothingness is calling. The void must be the path to tread, no time for hesitation. Your months in prison, cold and wet, they were a declaration. You burn them like they burn the whales this city needs to function. You're always on their heels, their tails, prepared for the conjunct