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604 checks

That, you know to be true.

Now. Stop circling each other. Commit.

End of the line. The PSEUDOPOD terminus. He bounced off this man and landed somewhere in oblivion.

A familiar silhouette peels itself from the dark.

He's going to make you say it out loud.

And from the other side, only silence.

A jolt of fear snaps through you, but you kick it down.

It won't always be like this. Eventually, you'll learn to dissociate better.

A tiger punch upon the elbow nerve of life.

Your pineal gland. Telling you to wake up.

Her voice sounds like she's clenching her jaw -- an internal battle won at the cost of enamel.

As long as you can hack standing permanently in the shadow of one of your old friends.

Like an actor asking the director: 'Are we rolling?'

No need to be childish.

This is an old man, coping with existence by clinging on to a nonsense routine. Let it be.

Careful, you need a working camera for Ignatz's gig. No batteries, no gig.

Nothing in her eyes.

She's trying to seem detached, but she's clearly disturbed.

She means it. She's with you, no matter what.

A slow, cold needle to your soul.

The enemy's knife turned against its own throat.

'Human capital' -- the euphemism makes your stomach turn on itself.

Ghosts descend from the rafters of the city.

The girl, Yana.

A reason to live.

Lesser people than you would feel embarrassed for being caught in such an act. Fortunately, you have the indifference of a low-class pervert.

Anxious disposition. Cold sweat. Likely stomach problems. It's all there...

A feeling like an ice-dagger pierces your gut.

It takes all his strength to negate what the model train is doing to him, but it has already had its effect. Pliancy increased tenfold.

Can't even convince himself with the insults jittering out of his brain.

He practically clings to it, like a shipwreck-survivor holding onto a piece of driftwood.

Acid contempt. It melts right through your defences.

The excitement, the anticipation, it's all got you feeling a little on edge.

What's the problem, can't take a little 'bad death'? Look inside.

Sensation drains from you, replaced by an aching lightness. Like the moment before a drop.

You knew he was coming here. Could've had that one last drink.

Might've been reasonable to have that drink to the craft.

Should've had that drink to the cat.

Could've had that drink with him...

You're making her uncomfortable.

Smiling, but her voice is hard.

A wave of despair. The friends you abandoned, the promise of camaraderie you made a lie of.

He's perfectly aware you're not from around here, much less a cop.

Unshakeable. He will never budge on this.

Holed up for days on end, frying your circadian rhythm for The Work. A mangled part of you craves it, always.

Steel. Superior feedback -- every bullet shuddering, while you remain still.

Something to keep your arm steady when it gets heated. Ultimate stability.

He's tired. The kind of tired that comes from getting through the wrong version of the night.

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

604 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 2 of 13