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The importer persona is simply not deep enough to occupy his whole personality, so it multiplies by nature, trying to fill the empty space where a person should be.

You should have never left him unsupervised.

Every time that door has opened over the past few days it has been another Opera assassin. He has been killed countless times over the past few days.

Seems like a natural for violence.

An off-hand reference to Portofiro's colonial past.

A particularly brutal annexation, the Tenantries were razed almost to the ground. What remains is a shrunken capital surrounded by non-arable land.

A fanatic's certainty, forged through sheer trauma.

Raised in a military boarding school while her family disappeared into camps marked on no map.

Snarky. Begging to be crushed.

Up here you smell only pine needles, ozone.

The posture suggests prayer, but a violent one -- every muscle clenched and quivering.

That stone is smooth. She did it to herself.

Clean diagonal slit. Superficial. Self inflicted.

ALL GROUND CONCEDED TO WAR CRIMINALS AND ROTTING MICROBES. THE ERA IS LOST.

Not all can bear the approach.

Most of these people are either dead or missing.

There's a lot of smog and granite cloud in Novessa... but you can see more stars than you might think.

You're the highest thing in Portofiro. She can see you from up there.

An envoy of the shadow war.

Afraid to carry any more of your words upon itself.

The blackness between the stars, Arch Emissary of the Deathkingdom.

The light cowers from you.

This is not a short term solution...

You were a full world away. Counting down days in cigarette stubs -- a thick curtain drawn over Novessa, watching a phone that never rang.

You sense the long shadow of EMTERR hanging over this.

Rhetorical question. You're the only one standing, of course it was you.

She smiles. Huntress.

It's KALEIDOSCOPE's.

Excitement sliding into her voice. This gorefest is a painting of her own personal revenge.

She shivers, smiles. Trying to dispel an unwanted thought.

Her mind's catching up to her, too. Adrenaline wearing off.

A slightly weightless tone in her voice. Gravity suspended.

Figure out how the pump system works.

The ins-and-outs of plumbed architecture aren't your strength. But you can find it in other technological fields.

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

You'd say 'eerie'. An eerie moment.

His voice is reasonable, calm -- utterly at odds with the sparks of fear behind his eyes.

A lost cause. He's not going to budge on this one.

You can almost hear the warm hum of his brain as it processes and cools itself.

A shot far beyond you, or any of your known and revealed Crew.

The bump of his pupils moves rapidly under the convex domes of his eyelids, as though he were dreaming.

'Muerte cruzada'. A firing squad arranged in a circle.

He plays with your potential future selves like a child with soldier toys.

A familiar tick. Like he's caught a glimpse of an alternate future and can't look back.

Is he engaging in Advanced Cognitive Manoeuvres... right now?

Read between the logistical acrobatics -- he just really wants to work with you again.

'TEMPORARY ASSET'? HE HAS LOST HIS MIND. THERE IS NOTHING 'TEMPORARY' ABOUT OPERANT CASCADE.

3,676 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 56 of 74