His smirk's gone. Just a tight line now, barely there.

Quick, pull your gun on him again. Just for kicks.

Professionally? Low-triple digits, by the time they put you in the Freezer.

You robbed the man and left. An apology isn't undeserved.

Easy there. No recognition on his end. Not even a hint.

Your opacity holds. Pretend this is the first time you two have ever met.

Poor guy. He had such a rough night.

You've seen this kind of bravado before. He's running some kind of side-hustle.

Easy -- he's obviously not harbouring a grudge.

Worried.

In another life, he'd have made a fine operant.

A mild, yet regrettably symmetrical case of double-strabismus.

He can't take his eyes off your outfit. Must be jumpy around law enforcement.

THERE IS NO AUTONOMY WITH THE BANK'S ROTTEN TEAT IN YOUR MOUTH.

Shit. We're about to get shot for a third time.

You hear excited screams from behind you.

A figure so storied that some inevitably got lost.

'Nestorismo' -- Nestor's personal brand of politics. It meant whatever he meant at that moment.

Ghost gäng. Huddle up.

Gäng don't fuck with ghosts. Scatter.

Made by a bullet, undoubtedly. Things were getting heated in this Portofiran People's Assembly.

This structure is not stable. Anything could happen, withdraw your poker immediately.

THRUST PROUDLY INTO THE ORIFICE. CONFIRM THE STRUCTURAL AND IDEOLOGICAL IDENTITY OF THE PARTY HEADQUARTERS.

A chill runs down your spine as the true meaning of her words sinks in.

Pointless to wonder. Best to steel yourself and carry on regardless.

Who are you to say, either?

The huntress balks. The fear inside her is the germ of that which one day will become religion -- an intuition of powers existing beyond, outside her world.

You could prolong the stillness... forever.

But if you do anything -- even think about the stillness -- then it jumps forwards, without you even noticing.

The huntress kills a boar, but instead of eating it, she sets fire to the massive corpse and watches the smoke ascend -- an offering to the superstructures which she can only conceive of as Gods.

Like trying to meditate -- the harder you try to grasp it, the more elusive it becomes.

Strip enough illusions away, and you will be left with nothing, not even the barest trappings of personhood.

You look into her eyes. She's not on anything chemical, nor is she sober. This is a different kind of high.

It's not about the dolphins. There's something else here.

Asset or ex-asset, under no circumstances should you expose HOLOCENE.

An insane copper stripper wants to use you as a canary in a coal mine.

Danger! Don't touch.

Your skepticism runs dry in the face of a real trepidation.

You've waded into a trap. You don't know how or what kind, but nobody gives away cash like this for nothing.

COMRADE KASS BASED HIS MODEL OF A FULLY EVOLVED HUMAN SOCIETY ON THE FUNCTIONING OF A TERMITE COLONY. MAXIMISATION OF COMMUNAL LABOUR.

ON THAT DAY IN 83, IT TRANSFORMED INTO A PROTEST AGAINST THE CORRUPTING INFLUENCE OF THE LIBERAL MENACE: A PORCELAIN PRAXIS.

Impossible. Awesome. Un-interceptable.

The smudge is not what it appears to be. Not the most obvious suspect, at least.

Do not entertain further investigations of what the smudge may be. It's safe to assume that you don't want to know.

An exotic air about this man, difficult to place and exceptionally handsome. The suit he's wearing hasn't been changed in days.

Part of the global Periphery, and not aligned with any of the major power blocs. It's estimated that about 20% of the world's telephone scams come from a single unmarked building on the edge of Tsun's Arc capital city.

His eyes dart ever-so-slightly.

The mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

Something about his jawline makes you overly aware of your skin, your posture. Your right nipple hardens.

People have opinions, and bribable brains, and all sorts of fluids. Some even like circuses. Even decade-old silicon is an improvement.

Checks