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He did, in fact. A tell.

The young watcher averts his eyes but his posture betrays his attention. He knows there's something up with the mysterious party of foreigners, and he's trying to work out what.

The marks along these 'seats' are anchor points -- four per seat. You know what that implies.

Subliminal messages? Backmasked indoctrinations beamed directly into the youth subconscious? Low-frequency infrasonic hypnosis?

So he knows its value... shame.

A two-way mirror.

They will -- creeping in on padded feet, striking with a shiv to the spine.

This is the ceremony you've been directed to perform. Its offices are lonely and obscure -- it is a ceremony of strangeness, heartlessness, and emptiness.

In retrospect, the whole thing smells like a massive set-up. Already the unseen enemy had you all in their grasp.

Veiled insinuation? Has he made you?

Seems like it's attached to his skull; this asset could be wired up.

If you don't get back on track, there's a chance you'll both end up in an EMTERR work camp.

In retrospect, her diligence gave you a false sense of her abilities.

In theory, it exists -- but many assume it to be an empty office behind a locked door. The Operant Bureau also does not dictate age restrictions for potential assets.

A vortex of schemes swirls beneath the silence. Don't you hear it?

Yours, too. More and more alike.

A body in a ditch. A back alley arrest. A name scraped off a plaque and folded into bureaucracy. You'd assumed a lot, but not this sad half-death.

Trepanation is hardly the most extreme thing an operant has done in pursuit of becoming a supranaturally-inclined spy. Nor is it, for that matter, the only one involving bodily mutilation.

As unfavourable as the scenario is, there is a comfort to seeing it lucidly played out before you.

He's attempting Functional Invisibility again. Or 'Psychogenic Translucency', as M.I.H.O. calls it.

The day hasn't even begun, and already his hands are dripping with the blood of your sometime-asset.

... Because they should've spread out to cover off potential threats.

Mass conditioning. It never fails.

Right. The young watcher.

Of course, the Operant Bureau's psychomancers share the same interest. They just call it 'Conditioning'.

Dubious cryptonym. Likely self-assigned.

Brilliantly played, operant. When you get back, there'll be champagne and a line of women's athletic socks commissioned in your honour.

You let him go. You let him go. You let. Him go.

The quarry is dead. You have already completed your assignment.

31 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual