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Valkyrie pop. Chants of war.

They'd just dispatched their gäng in hot blood -- things were no doubt 'a little hazy' before the EMTERR Pop Marathon.

Read: A very bad time in the nearest vacant aircraft hangar.

RED IN TOOTH AND CLAW.

TURNS OUT REVOLUTIONARY-CRAFTED STEEL DOES NOT EASILY CRACK. OR BREAK. OR EVEN BEND.

A glimpse. Then void. The stars above were unmoved. Many didn't exist in time to witness it. In the distance, pop music played.

Cranial fragment halo. Blood chromosphere. Heart deranged.

But nothing he could easily forget. Push him a little.

'Atta boy, we should be on our feet saluting that shit.

To follow him home.

What class of music player is that headphone wire connected to? Must be a high-end import -- likely customised -- equally compelling.

THE REACTIONARY LAYS DOWN HIS CUSTOMISED GARMENTS AND TURNS TOWARD THE LIGHT.

Your assignment could do with a professional operant.

Within the hull, Ultra Violeta clasps her keyboard to her chest and stares unblinking at her damp shoes.

Former enemies can often make the most loyal allies.

By night, the Dreameater Chrisom drinks the tears of sleeping birds. By day, its brilliant ventral display wards off its natural predators.

The antithesis of camouflage.

PAPERING OVER GENUINE FEELING WITH MONEY. HOW ORIGINAL.

THIS GARMENT BEARS THE TECHNICOLOUR INDECISION OF REACTION.

Something about them is vaguely terrifying, the way things crafted for the human head or face often are.

These things are heavyweight. An annihilating force, captured and contained within two masses of metal, foam, and electric wiring.

Get the drop on him.

A vertical clip running across the top, patterned guards on both sides and is that... two triggers? Verdict's in: this gun is far cooler than yours.

And you both know it.

Don't forget the one in the chamber.

A BALLISTIC CUCKOLD.

There is a little vacuum of gun-shaped space beneath your coat.

Why aren't you armed, again? This man has already used his weapon on you once.

That adds up. Last time he just shot and never spoke a word.

That confirms it. He's after the popstar.

A massive sign marked 'NONCE' flashes red in your mind.

There it is. The moon.

One postcard, no fax. The meeting place, your home turf. Before you is an operant gone way off script.

He's not playing with house money. He's got his own chips down.

Sounds pretty 'off the books'... Eszti's going to be even more mad at you now.

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

Of course he does. Perv factor off the charts.

Woah! The TAXMAN making some serious post-mortem plays!

TYPICAL BOURGEOIS APPROACH TO THE DAY'S LABOUR -- COMMITTED ABSENTEEISM.

He's tense around the shoulders. Twitchy at the edges.

A professional courtesy. He knows your real name. You gave it to his colleague under extreme duress.

And doomed spies.

You know this man is partial to a loaded gun. Given your last encounter, you should be in control of the bullets.

Whatever you say, do not say 'Hershel'.

The key appears to lie within the mangled plastic of the fracture-point. You'll need to prune a few millimetres before what's left can fit together.

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

Repair the train.

You should do this kind of work more often. It suits you.

Skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 134 of 197