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The cold flat of dread's knife presses against your heart.

Surely there's a lift to get out of this silo. Not the stairs every time... Surely...

... Have they? Is that the endgame?

He's weighing it up against his current living situation.

You are pre-entombed.

Reason through this. There will be some logic, underneath it all.

Of them all, he was the one you least expected to ever see again.

You're going to snap them right off.

The danger isn't over for him. He's still waiting to see what you'll do.

Like you, the eternal stranger. All safehouses, no home.

You can practically feel the gaffer up in the rigging, guiding the spotlight along your path.

At the base of your skull, a tickle in your brainstem.

Ghosts, gathered.

This might be exactly what you need. Take the edge off the world, relax...

His voice, the tonality. Like a shadow creeping up the wall of a memory.

Thud thud thud. The secret police of your heart are kicking down doors again.

He's going to hurt you. He's going to hurt you for a long time.

With every further second you stay talking to him you only risk further exposure.

A genius of pain.

A natural intensity of gaze. The eyes that weigh you up do so coldly, openly, and with genuine curiosity.

This is him. You are talking to the man who tortured your asset with his own hands and ruined her mind.

A natural intensity of gaze. The eyes that weigh you up do so coldly, openly, and with genuine curiosity.

You've never seen the man before either, but the horripilation up your neck tells you exactly who he is.

Uh oh. An unknown quantity. You don't care for those.

Take a breath. There's no reason the Luzians would be down here.

Much louder than you were expecting.

Remain calm. Stay on target.

Remember -- you tower above all of this.

None of this matters. Keep your focus on the big picture.

Approach with caution. You don't want to startle him.

You knew this was your fate. You knew you'd be right back there.

The saw buzzes and whirls, deafening you. You stare into her empty eyes, stifle a scream.

It's going to feel so good...

Careful. Slower.

It'll be a relief to get out of this place.

Why would someone redact something they wrote... from themselves?

'Torrent'... ? Kind of sounds like...

He wants to transcend suspicion and lies. And if everything's fucked anyway, what harm is there in trying?

There's going to be some horrible catch to all this.

Your asset called for you. Whatever's behind this, you can take it.

If this is the beginning... one must fear the end.

It's like she was suddenly thrust upon a stage, all her lines unrehearsed.

She's holding back -- as if not doing so would not be good for her.

Your feedback on her own verses still spirals inside her head.

For most people, this would be a severe blow to their confidence. But not you -- a professional shit-taker.

There's always the dangerous option. Express delivery.

Barely holding it together as she dramatises her words.

Her composure is immaculate, but it's not enough to hide the agony crashing through her.

604 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 10 of 13