EMTERR is trying to defect Luz's most valuable cultural export. The play of plays!

Very hard to tell where the fracture point is. The plastic is simply too disfigured.

Except your self-doubt.

If you hit the bullet hard enough it flies towards your enemy.

Her voice is pleasant, as ever, but it fails to grip anything within you.

You shouldn't have kept this photo. You should have left it where you found it, stained in your ally's blood, smashed upon the ground, sealed behind a locked door.

Playing the keyboard in front of her is one thing... singing quite another. No way.

Sing... in front of a mega-talented popstar? Back up, CASCADE, this is far beyond your training.

You're full of fuck holes. At least three of them. So is she.

She's playing it too normal. File under 'Goon, potential'.

Right. Alcohol is known to damage the brain, after all.

Opposable thumbs- check.

Not the bald spot! The font of luck.

New post-assignment achievement: Zero out PSEUDOPOD.

Is that the problem? Do you have to fuck your imprint? Is that the only way to resolve the hatred between you?

You should have never left him unsupervised.

It's all a type of magic, as far as you're concerned.

Enough poetry. Move on.

A knot of tension forms between your eyes. Once again you're a step behind.

Too quick, too distant -- he disappears from your line of sight.

Gäng don't fuck with ghosts. Scatter.

You know you have training to deal with situations like this, but the panic clouds your mind. It's just not coming to you...

It's tight as hell in here -- but don't panic, sis, we're definitely not panicking. Stop panicking!

There's a manoeuvre you were taught to use when an operant is lost within their chosen persona. A kind of psychic demolition technique. Unfortunately, you've only retained the basic idea of it.

This is the final stage of the simulation. She arranged it all this way. For you to find each other at the end.

Probably not about you.

Free money, no downsides detected.

Stop. Don't enter, don't break this seal. This doesn't have to be yours.

Her mocking of you ruptures whatever coolness you thought you had in this moment.

Just what the assignment called for. Some Big Thinking.

Suddenly, you are struck by the horrible feeling that something obvious is eluding you.

You can't picture yourself wearing this. You're not even sure an imaginary woman could pull this look off.

Something twitches inside your memory. You have heard of this, but its name slips by you.

RADIAN is an audio engineer. That scene you walked in on looked nothing like his line of work.

Something tells you your head would fill with nasty images right now if your imagination was a little more vivid.

There's something about stars and what it says about this type of lock, but it doesn't quite come to you.

Gäng don't fuck with ghosts. Scatter.

Vertiginous patterns of broken tile swirl below you. Your head swims.

Trees are trees. You do not notice trees. Boring.

Wait, you don't actually know where his studio is... do you?

Pretty esoteric term we've got here... Just roll with it.

Definitely came from there. It's just a little coward patch, nestled in the corner like it's hiding from you.

'Eschaton': you have no idea what the word means, but it lands with a pleasant heaviness.

You did, and it did. Does that mean...?

This checks out. PSEUDOPOD didn't look like he'd be popular with... anyone. A lead, at last!

FUCK.

Playing dumb. Squeeze harder and he'll burst.

That's not a denial.

He's got secret pockets of old smoke inside his body!

Push the buttons. No, wait, the lever! Whichever goes click-clack the loudest.

Checks