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This is a front. And not even a competent one.

Still doesn't explain why he wasn't wearing trousers.

Logical succession. Most important part of the job.

The imprinting device... but something else too, something behind the device...

A sudden release of epinephrine into the bloodstream.

Truth serum. Sneaky bitch.

Truth serum. Uh oh. Hehehe.

Truth serum. Uh oh. Hehehe.

Truth serum. Sneaky bitch.

Truth serum. Uh oh. Hehehe.

Your cerebral cortex crackles and hums. Little distant fireworks...

Your cerebral cortex crackles and hums. Little distant fireworks...

Blast radius indeterminable... Any attempt to leap clear will be a best guess.

It will do more damage to you than to them. But there will be a concussive blast. And endless shrapnel.

You are right in the kill zone.

You have Ramses' death whistle... it can mimic any scream. What noise of terror can rally your kin?

Bleeding internally, projectile lodged in the upper left thorax.

Bleeding internally, projectile lodged in the upper left thorax.

The Hundred-Eyed Golem has retained no face, just a gaping red hole full of quivering viscera.

One gun against three is certain death, two against three is a fighting chance. You need your gun.

Blood Golem are before her time. But not Tempo's.

Everyone will die. Including you, if you don't protect yourself somehow.

Impenetrable. The bag might be constricting the flow of blood to his head.

No point in attempting to refute him. His worldview is a perpetual motion device, where denial only becomes further proof of your compromise.

Inflation, is the answer.

Needless to say, this 'offer' does not add up.

It would be extremely irresponsible to make a trade with this madman.

Is this outcome what he's been angling for all along?

It strikes you, a few moments late, that you really shouldn't be showing your face on live television.

Hauzmann no doubt organised your release from the jail.

This heartless stranger no doubt organised your release from the jail.

This is good. Keep him talking.

Lie. Draw it out. Time is not yet your enemy.

Completely matter of fact. He's considered the hypothetical many times.

Physical literacy, the divines know how well you read the world.

The control terminal should work now to move the shelves.

Assumption: Straniak 1) Hand-picked those substances. 2) Did not partake.

Time to show. Cards on the table.

They wanted PSEUDOPOD to become Tempo's new handler. You were just here to smooth the transition.

You knew it all along. One of your people reached out for you.

So either under a lot of mental stress or seeing ghosts. This message could be critical. It could also be nothing but branches tapping a windowpane.

Unless... he's in on this too?

Ignatz. The man you first saw at Foto 24.

In exchange for keeping tabs on Tempo. The logic holds, given what you found in the office.

Probably, but not definitely.

That look wasn't for nothing. Something happened over there.

The outcome: Citizens are still paying for guns they no longer own.

You know where this is going, right? You're not going to just walk into it?

PSEUDOPOD didn't seem like a suicide, but he was listening to the UV disc when he died.

817 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual