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"Still waiting, CASCADE. Slab's getting cold."
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"That Karolina girl's buying me drinks. Seems pretty cool."
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Branch 7Branch 17Branch 25Branch 30Branch 40Branch 52Branch 67Branch 85Branch 106Branch 145Branch 182Branch 234"Speak your piece."Branch 362Branch 382Branch 433Branch 762Branch 864Branch 870Branch 917Branch 972Branch 973Branch 988Branch 1140Branch 1288Branch 1328Branch 1349Branch 1405Branch 1466Branch 1547Branch 1568Branch 1577Branch 1591Branch 1612Branch 1639Branch 1670Branch 1675Branch 1709Branch 1717Branch 1900Branch 1934Branch 1995Branch 1999Branch 2010Branch 2029Branch 2042You can hear her silence: 'Don't Trust You With The Big Stuff Yet Fuck Off'.
"Are you happy working with the new Crew?"
"I don't know any of these clowns, Hersh. As long as I'm second-in-command, I don't care who tags along."
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"Looks like the makings of a weird group though. Shoved-into-locker-tier motherfuckers."
"Play nice, please."
"I won't be the one doing the shoving." She exhales dark smoke.
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"Welcome to espionage."
"Happy to be here." She exhales dark smoke.
"Though seems like it's just you and me at the moment. Better get working on that sign-up sheet."
"How do you like the Fogged Mirror? Tempo and I used to hang out here."
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"No... I think I'm good. Let sleeping cunts lie."
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"Nah. I think I get him now. The outline of him, at least."
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"Yeah. What did he think about L-Pop?"
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_L3.webp){kind=icon}
"It's gonna be tectonic, Hersh. Put your money down. Cultural bazooka, pointed at the entire fucking world."
"Dug it. New toy."
"Sharp and shiny. I think he dug it too, he had a massive collection of discs. Used to skim them off the shipments, nearly gave Petre a brain bleed."
"But Petre didn't mind, I don't think. Not really."
Those little arguments made his day.
"L-Pop will always be cool to me. It's the soundtrack to... all this."
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"Knew it was going to get big. He could see currents in people."
"Yeah... I should practice that. Stop focusing on the songs themselves and think about what they're doing. I tried to speak to V about that, but she never wanted to talk that side of it."
"He didn't care about music so much as what it said about culture."
"And how he could sell it." She nods to herself. "Gotta start being more like that if I'm gonna run the Bazaar..."
TEMPO DEL SUR: I heard some stuff over in Cicatriz F. It got me seeing pictures, Hersh. This thing, when it hits... new world order.
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"I was wondering... what do you reckon he would have thought of Marco?"
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"Fucking who?"
"He wouldn't think anything of him. Like at all. Atomically irrelevant."
"Yeah, I thought so." A glance at her cigarette. "I wonder if I'll ever find someone... who can work with what I am."
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"Tempo was kind of a power bottom, so..."
"Hersh. You really let yourself down sometimes. Sick fucking mind."
"You miss him?"
"Whatever, I'll see him when I get back maybe. We've got bigger things on."
They are already untangling themselves from each other.
"Sometimes I feel like I should. Miss him. But I don't, not really." She scrunches up her face. "Maybe I just need to see him again."
Marco would have been fathoms beneath Tempo's sphere of awareness.
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"What did he think of the Crew?"
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"In the real world, some of these cunts I wouldn't even look at twice, tell you the truth, Hersh. But I've grown fond of the fuckers. I think we can do you proud."
"We were all friends. That much I know."
"That's important, is what I'm learning."
"Let's do it then, CASCADE. New Crew, same as the old Crew. All will be forgiven."
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"When Tempo was in, he was in."
"I'm in too. With you for whatever."
"He swore at them a lot."
"In a nice way, I'm sure."
The most loyal -- to the corps more than the people. Gäng over all.
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"This is weird, but... what do you think he'd think... of me?"
Useful. Hiding place. Proud.
"He trusted you, obviously. Enough to become you."
"I think he just ran out of options."
"No, I think he liked you."
"Okay, if you say so." She nods, stifles a smile.
"What about what I'm wearing? How would he... Maybe I'd feel more like myself if I dressed right."
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"See this coat? Fucking ridiculous. Cunts love it. Act a part, be a character, and they won't notice whatever else you're doing on the side."
"You require showstopping fits. Let people focus on the clothes, not the person in them."
"So they're like camouflage. Or... misdirection. But also fun." She nods to herself. "Makes sense. Fuck it. Maybe I'll give it a shot."
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"You need more aggression in your dressing."
"Dress to aggress... yeah, I like it. See what I can do."
"You need more leather."
"Leather... Kinda kinky, yeah? I'll see what I can do."
"That you have good taste in cigarettes and bad taste in boyfriends."
"Fair assessment, no notes."
"I don't know. You're him now, it's up to you."
"Yeah... That's weird. Thanks though."
"Not right now." She shakes her head, multi-coloured hair swishing in front of her mismatched eyes.
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"Thought I kept recognising the place." She bristles. "But I didn't know whether it was Tempo's memory or just me feeling at home anywhere bleak and dingy."
"What would he be doing right now, do you think?"
He'd be eyeing the top shelf liquor, daring it to try.
Scheming. Yelling about dead ministers and 'international plays'. Back in the game.
"You don't have to be Tempo, you know."
"Just tell me, Hersh."
"Drinking soda water and wishing he wasn't."
"I should probably stay away from alcohol then. Being hooked to these things is bad enough." She holds up the black cigarette.
"You should tell me more about him sometime... maybe it'll make me feel more at home here."
In herself, she means. In her own mind.
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"Pre-celebrating the Lich's assassination, already planning the next big move."
"Sounds alright by me." She smiles. "Janky schemes all lined up until one of them fucks me for good."
"Want to talk about Tempo some more?"
"We're meeting on the Pitol Tract. Get V for me." (Initiate the trade.)
"Smart place. Good." She nods once. "You're sure about this, Hersh?"
"It's in motion."
"I thought so."
'Thought' maybe, but she was clutching something more with the barest of fingertips. That's gone now. You almost heard it go.
"You want me to come?"
You do not. Emotional liabilities become operational liabilities.
"No, you just have to tell her I'm seeing her off to the Eastern Republics."
"Okay. Easy enough. I can do that." She nods again.
She can't bear the thought. You shoved her into this -- you alone will follow it through.
"I should get her then. Say goodbye or something."
She doesn't move.
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Wait.
In the silence, you notice the piano music from Ultra Violeta's room has ceased.
In fact, you haven't heard it since you got here.
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Wait some more.
A projected advertisement flickers on the edge of the window. On the street below, someone laughs.
Wait a little more.
"Man, I'm not even sure this is what Tempo would do. I think I might just be telling myself that so it doesn't hurt as much."
Push her, now. Get this over the line.
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"Keep telling yourself that. You'll be shocked at how true you can make it."
"Okay, I can try. I'll try."
The silence between you is so heavy it begins to exert its own gravitational pull.
"Yana. Let's go."
"I heard you the first time, don't fucking rush me."
As she slides from her seat, her eyes don't come close to meeting yours.
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End of this branch
As she slides from her seat, her eyes don't come close to meeting yours.She grins -- her face suddenly seems lighter to you, and young again.Branch 916The girl mashes the ends of her cigarette into the tabletop and glances at you once more as she rises."Let's have each other's backs, Hersh. It's less scary that way.""Keep your powder dry, Hershel."Branch 1856The two girls glance at each other, then nod. They're ready. Time to leave them to it."Please do."
"Yana, focus. Let's go." (Force the trade.)
"Tempo would do this. I can do it too," she mutters to herself, prayer-like. "This is nothing. Nothing at all. I've already done it."
"This doesn't feel right. We'll find another way." (Back off.)
"Okay. I'm good with whatever." She exhales a breath she's been clasping tight.
COMPASSION IS BOURGEOIS, A MIND EXERCISE FOR THE MIDDLE CLASSES.
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"If you want. Might sell it better."
"Reckon you can handle it. I'd probably just get in the way." She nods again.
"I don't think you've got it in you."
"Okay, Hersh. Probably right." She nods again.
"I said, get V for me."
"Alright, I'm not an idiot. I thought so. Just... crosschecking."
"Here. For V." (Hand over the exit papers and get Ultra Violeta out.)
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"Thought you wanted to sell her across the sea?"
"I had a change of heart. This is what spying's like sometimes."
"Whatever you want." She flicks her cigarette hand.
But her body trembles with relief.
"Thanks, Hersh. These look legit."
"Don't lose them."
"I won't. I definitely won't."
She grins -- her face suddenly seems lighter to you, and young again.
"You owe me 2,000,000 sol."
"... I don't have that."
"I can think of a certain hyper-tier popstar who's probably pretty liquid."
"I'll ask her, but I'm pretty sure she's only got a fucking keyboard to her name now..."
"Then you must become a communist, right now. It's the only way."
"Uh... Okay. Sure. Revolution to the People, or whatever."
BEAUTIFULLY PLAYED. ANOTHER YOUNG MIND TURNED.
"Only joking. We actually owe the world for depriving them of Ultra Violeta."
"I won't be paying up. The world can fuck itself."
But her voice trembles with relief.
"Forget the trade. Take these and go." (Hand over the exit papers and get Ultra Violeta out.)
"The Luzian prisoner mentioned some exit papers?"
Alternative wording
"Dante mentioned some exit papers?"
"And?" Smoke drifts around her face.
"And I was hoping to get them for him."
"You're a soft fucking touch, Hersh."
"Just exploring options."
"Reno definitely made them... Tempo must've stashed them somewhere around the bazaar."
"Probably the least likely place Tempo would go. Don't bother with the office, they're definitely not in there, and if they were in there, the Weeping Eye has them now."
"Bazaar. Not office. Roger."
"Also, tell that cryptkeeper cunt he can suck my minge."
Alternative wording
"Also, tell Dante he can suck my minge."
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"No, I'm an honourable touch."
"Any idea where they might be?"
"Good point." (Go back.)
"I thought so too."
"V mentioned some exit papers?"
"Yeah, Tempo was going to get them off his friend Reno, the dolphin cunt with the phones. He was fucking him for a while."
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"Tempo had a boyfriend. Sweet."
"They have some shady business things together -- a false exit paper racket going, some flush cunt schemery."
"Unsure if the fucking preceded the shady business, or if shady business led naturally to the fucking."
"Has Reno still got V's exit papers?"
"Doubt he even knew about them. Good chance Tempo was just stringing V along. Who knows."
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Operant, this is a once-per-aeon opportunity to get a shot at the Grand Lich. Let it slip now, who knows how far back it may set you?
Set her free. Why should she sacrifice her second chance for yours?
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"Where can I find Reno?"
"Top of the fucking tower, of course. He's got a penthouse in the Housing Campaign off Party Alley. Whole new tax bracket at that elevation."
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A SKYWALKING REACTIONARY, AT VERTICAL DISTANCE TO THE WORKING CLASS, AS OPPOSED TO HORIZONTAL.
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"Is this Reno's handiwork?" (Show her Dante's exit papers.)
"Probably, yeah... where did you get that?"
"From the shrine in the Bazaar."
"The one with all the pictures of dead people? Good omen."
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"My stagecraft is unparalleled."
"Whatever."
"You should hear her, Yana, no clue who's meant to be getting her these things or how."
"Yeah, she doesn't do too well with 'real life'." A dip in eye contact. "But who fucking does?"
Beyond the apartment's walls, this girl has a form of family, friends, classroom enemies, unfinished homework. None of them will know her again as she was.
"Very few of us, Yana."
"Maybe. Maybe we're all thinking the same thing. Still feels very lonely to me."
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"Maybe I just don't understand really famous people."
"Regular people are hard, too."
"You're a child-minder, basically."
"Another way to look at it... She trusts me completely." She winces as she speaks.
"Say we had those papers... how would you feel about getting V out?" (Conclude.)
"Tempo would call me a sentimental cunt... but maybe I can be the last leg up she needs to jump the wall."
A flash of Tempo and his child-logic loyalty, bestowed upon a strictly-chosen few.
You first among their number, for reasons you could never quite put your finger on.
"Tempo was at his best around his friends."
"I know that. I've seen it, even..." She scuffs a boot heel on the floor.
"I think I'd feel totally fine with getting V free..." She looks to you. "Is that how I should feel, do you think?"
Awaiting your approval.
"This is what Tempo would do. The right thing at the last minute."
"That's good, then." She nods to herself. "I can do that, too."
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"That's good, then." She nods to herself. "I can do that, too.""Oh. Well, that's appreciated. I think.""It's okay to be both. That's the grand conclusion I'm drawing from this unlubed fuckshow.""Fuck, I don't know, I don't know. I feel like I'm watching myself through a sheet of scratched glass." She…
"I'm not going to tell you how to feel."
"Oh. Well, that's appreciated. I think."
"You're sentimental, but you're no cunt."
"It's okay to be both. That's the grand conclusion I'm drawing from this unlubed fuckshow."
"What is this weak shit, Yana?"
"Fuck, I don't know, I don't know. I feel like I'm watching myself through a sheet of scratched glass." She thumps a fist against the side of her head.
"He kept that picture of the Crew hanging around -- I don't think Tempo can talk."
"He used to do coke off it, then tell stories about you all." She scuffs a boot heel on the floor. "I heard some of those stories I think twenty times."
"Any good ones?"
"Good beginnings, bad endings."
'And you tell her -- if we pull this one off, all will be forgiven!'
"Speaking out of school. No wonder we got hosed."
"He couldn't help it. He lived for those days."
"Tempo's not here. Not really."
"Fuck's sake, Hersh, why'd you have to say confusing things like that." She pulls out the packet of cigarettes from her bra strap, then replaces it.
There are other ways. There always are.
Fuck it. We make our own ways.
Operant, reconsider. You haven't even heard out the prisoner. You may be letting a massive opportunity slip your grasp.
"I've met Mr. Reno. Seems like an upstanding, above-ground businessman."
"Pitcher, not a receiver, I hear." She narrows her eyes and takes a long drag.
"I've met Mr. Reno, had white-collar criminal written all over him."
"So Tempo was trying to get the popstar out?"
"No, this is just something he said, one stray thing among many other things, often conflicting."
"I got an offer. For V."
She flicks her gaze at you like a knife.
"From who? Against what?"
A sudden crack across the thin glass of trust.
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"From the weird headphone guy."
"You want to hand V over to that slinky reprobate? He'll lock her in his diddler dungeon and ram the key up his ass."
"What, you jealous?"
"No."
A smidgen!
"And what are you getting out of it?"
She's trade curious. Tempo never could resist a little off-the-books hustle.
"The old Luzian prisoner."
Alternative wording
"Dante."
"I guess he wasn't lying when he said he was a major player."
"You must be leaning one way or another."
Gauging you. Hard. A Mega Gauge.
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"I want to take the deal."
"Okay." She holds the cigarette to her mouth and gauges you. "Is this what you do, Hersh? Collect people?"
The pit of your stomach curls. You tense it back down.
"Say we take this deal... What happens to V?"
The pit of your stomach curls. You tense it back down."Then I'll fill in the 'but' -- that probably isn't in your best interests.""That's what Tempo used to say about them. That they'll always come to the table.""'Least you're being honest.""My thoughts are what they usually are. Two loud songs in clashing keys."
"She'd go back to La Luz."
"She'll hate that more than anything..."
Two aero-trams criss-cross somewhere above you. The apartment's windows rattle in their frames.
"She'll hate that more than anything...""You know that's a one-way trip, right? They want her to stay up there. Pin her down with stars.""She goes back to being leashed.""At your age, take whatever you can get.""Thought you were just shady, but turns out you're slippery too.""At least she's the boss of herself."
Cheap glass.
"This is a sick little game you're playing, Hershel. Massively fucked up, casually asking me to betray my friend."
"I don't see any other way -- do you?"
"I'm kind of impressed you've sunk this low, to be honest. Didn't think you had it in you."
You didn't hear the word 'no' in there.
Two ghosts stalk this house -- a teenage girl stomping the attic, a middle-aged man screaming in the basement.
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"Speak your piece."
A barrage of words -- none of them an outright refusal.
Say nothing.
"Sounds like she's going to the moon."
"You know that's a one-way trip, right? They want her to stay up there. Pin her down with stars."
"She goes back to sold-out arenas and personal assistants. Poor her."
"She goes back to being leashed."
"She'd go home. That's it."
"You're very fucking slippery, Hersh, I hope you know that."
"Slippery when wet. I get wet for massive deals."
"At your age, take whatever you can get."
"Thanks."
"Thought you were just shady, but turns out you're slippery too."
"You actually think she's going to make it out there? Alone?"
"At least she's the boss of herself."
"I want nothing to do with the Bank."
Alternative wording
"I want nothing to do with this weird headphone guy."
"But?"
"But nothing, I literally want nothing to do with the Bank."
Alternative wording
"But nothing, I literally want nothing to do with him."
"Then I'll fill in the 'but' -- that probably isn't in your best interests."
"But they've put something mega enticing on the table."
Alternative wording
"But he's put something mega enticing on the table."
"That's what Tempo used to say about them. That they'll always come to the table."
Alternative wording
"He works for the bank, doesn't he? Tempo used to say the Bank will always come to the table."
"I'm trying to do what Tempo wanted us to do. This is part of it."
"'Least you're being honest."
"Look, Yana. I don't know how to play this one yet."
"So currently we're just hypothetically fucking V. Conceptually."
"What about you -- do you have thoughts?"
"My thoughts are what they usually are. Two loud songs in clashing keys."
"That's Opera business."
"Thought I was fucking Opera business. We called you, remember."
"You must have thoughts, Miss Big Time Spy."
"Something that's very worth it."
"I doubt that, V's net worth is like three billion sol."
"He told me I'd get to watch."
"You better not say any of this sick shit to V."
"It's nothing like that. He's trying to look out for her."
"How sweet." A fake smile, smoke through the nostrils. "Sounds like you bent for him."
"From EMTERR, basically." (Lie a little bit.)
"You trust the fucking Bank now? What do they want with V?"
"To study her, as I understand it."
"Makes sense. She's basically a little techno-fascist institution."
"I didn't ask." (Lie a little bit more.)
"Yeah, I probably wouldn't have asked either."
"It doesn't matter who it's from."
"Don't cut me out, Hersh. Who is it?"
Let her off easy -- she won't handle the guilt well.
"The weird headphones guy."
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"EMTERR."
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"I'm not cutting you out, you just don't need to know."
"Okay. Fine. Cut me out and fuck you."
"I can't tell you, this is way too high-level."
Her pupils narrow to slits.
CONVINCE HER TO SELL OUT ULTRA VIOLETA.
DEMOLISH ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP, YOU'VE DONE IT BEFORE. THIS ONE SHOULD BE EASY -- IT IS NOT EVEN ONE OF YOUR OWN.
"Has she asked you to go with her?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean has she asked you to go with her."
"No, but... that wasn't the point."
"Kind of weird, don't you think? Her not asking you along?"
"I think other people usually organise this kind of stuff for her... she's got a lot on her mind, Hersh. But she'd keep in touch, for sure."
"She needs 'other people' to organise her friends? Hasn't it just been you and her for weeks?"
"Maybe she's had enough of me for a while, I don't know how these famous people work." She looks at her cigarette.
Splitting at the seams, almost ready to tear away clean. Ungänging herself hard.
"You want to take this deal, yeah?"
"It's an international play."
"Maybe."
TEETERING. ONE MORE LITTLE PUSH.
"Did you hear the way she spoke about her old band? Kind of sick."
"Yeah, well... she's a solo artist..."
From the room next door, the piano unfolds delicately into a new key. Yana glances in its direction, then looks back at her cigarette.
"'Fuck do I care? I'm running an enterprise, not a popularity contest."
"Do it."
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"This is how things go in our world. People get used, then they get discarded."
"Tempo always knew how to make hard calls."
"It's a cultural play."
"It's the only play."
"How?"
"I don't know. Thought we'd figure it out, or whatever." She looks at her cigarette.
"Come on, Yana, you're smarter than this."
"I just didn't think about it, okay? Thought we'd figure it out, or whatever." She looks at her cigarette.
"If you were my friend, I'd ask you for sure, 100%."
"It's not like we'd stop being friends... I could visit... we could write postcards or something..."
"You realise you'll never hear from her again, don't you."
"I think we would... like... we'd keep in touch."
"Seems she'd rather face the whole world alone than have you by her side."
"I'm not creative like her. I'd get in the way, probably..."
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AGAIN! CONCENTRATED, CONSISTENT, ACCURATE SALVOS!
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AGAIN! CONCENTRATED, CONSISTENT, ACCURATE SALVOS!THIS IS NO 'ADVANCED YOUTH', MERELY ONE WHOSE MIND HAS CAPITULATED TO TERMINAL REACTION. WHY IS SHE CREATING…'INTERIOR LIFE'? SO-CALLED 'PSYCHIC TRAUMA'? THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS. JUST GET HER DOING WHAT YOU NEED HER…You dust off and briefly consult your topographical maps of the Teenage Psychosphere. It remains as wondrous…Summits of derision, mesas of lust, valleys of tedium and miscommunication, ever-enchanted with an opaque…
"This L-Pop stuff, it's played out. Lame as shit. I'm trying to save your rep here."
"You're fifty years old, no fucking clue what's cool, your clothes are lame as shit and your face is wrecked. I'm going to do the opposite of what you fucking say."
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"Does your boyfriend know you're spending so much time with this very attractive popstar?"
"Get bent, Hersh. I hope your womb falls out."
"Look, you and V... it just doesn't make sense -- class-wise or aesthetics-wise."
"You don't make sense, existence-wise."
"CASCADE knows best."
"CASCADE knows shit."
"At least consider doing what I want you to do. Please."
"Will there be any consideration given to you fucking all the way off?"
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THIS IS NO 'ADVANCED YOUTH', MERELY ONE WHOSE MIND HAS CAPITULATED TO TERMINAL REACTION. WHY IS SHE CREATING DISASTERS FOR YOU?
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'INTERIOR LIFE'? SO-CALLED 'PSYCHIC TRAUMA'? THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS. JUST GET HER DOING WHAT YOU NEED HER TO DO, RIGHT NOW.
'TEEN-AGER' IS A BOURGEOIS CONSTRUCT, THE INEVITABLE PRODUCT OF AN INFANTILISED MIDDLE CLASS. IT SHOULD PROVE NO MATCH FOR YOU.
"Listen here, Yana." (Point your finger at the ground.)
"What?" She draws out the word and gives it an extra syllable for good measure.
You dust off and briefly consult your topographical maps of the Teenage Psychosphere. It remains as wondrous and enigmatic as you left it.
Summits of derision, mesas of lust, valleys of tedium and miscommunication, ever-enchanted with an opaque mist of technicolour neurochemicals.
"V's real uptight about her stuff, you ever notice?"
"What I noticed was someone making an auditory clown of themselves in my back room. Someone who wasn't V."
"Woah, woah, back up, she said it was pretty good at the end."
"She was probably just trying to get you off the fucking thing."
"Give V a little grace. That keyboard's about the only thing that's stayed constant in her world."
Even her friends are wavering, it seems. Not as real as they used to be.
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"Weirdly possessive. Bad quality in a friend."
"I could list a few more, Hersh." An even look your way. "Like being un-possessive to the point of fucking off for five years, cold cut contact."
"That was the sound of Real Art. My heart beats underground."
"Just like it would if you were buried alive. Interesting."
"Merely a warm up."
"For what? Getting hard-banned from touching the keyboard again?"
"Question, Yana: Why's an EMTERR operant with weird headphones shooting at me?"
The girl pauses for a drag as a passing aero-tram whines and screeches above.
"Is Marco alright?"
She's concerned about Marco? The espionage voyeur?
"Marco's fine, I'm the one who got shot!"
"He actually shot you? Hardcore, Hersh." She nods. "Very cool."
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"Don't worry, I definitely deserved it."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's off-putting." She gauges you for a moment.
"I could've sworn the headphone guy was with the Luzians... But you say EMTERR, again." She exhales dark smoke. "Either way, doesn't matter. He's a midnight prick, like you."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's off-putting." She gauges you for a moment."I can't trust Marco with a fucking gun, he almost took his jugular out with a shaving razor last week." She…"Rock and roll, baby. Heavyweight." She gauges you for a moment."Yeah, nothing new under the moon." She gauges you for a moment."Fuck the teacher. I don't like teachers on principle." She gauges you for a moment.
Branch
"You thought he was Weeping Eye, back to finish the job?"
"Yeah, 'cos of Tempo's deal. With the old guy." She gives you an exaggerated shrug. "Thought he was one of their agents, maybe. An actual good one."
Branch
"Definitely an EMTERR dead drop. They're going to fuck us again."
" 'Again'? Hersh, are you living in a reality where the fucking has stopped? A reality in which the 'fuck' is paused?"
"But this makes zero sense. Why would the Em-Cunts be so interested in our deal?"
Branch
"Has to be the imprinting device. Or something to do with it."
"Interesting theory, Hersh." She looks at you. "Half right too, I'd say."
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"Maybe it's about the bazaar. Culture Blockade closing in."
"Could be... But wouldn't they just take us down with paperwork and laws and shit? You know. Bank stuff."
"That's what you're going to tell me."
The girl considers you for a long moment, then shrugs and crushes her cigarette.
"Maybe Tempo didn't pay back a loan or something." She plucks out a new one. "Who needs banks anyway? Money in the mattress."
"I think it's something to do with Ultra Violeta. This guy's a big fan, apparently."
The girl grinds to a halt in front of you. Her cigarette clings to her bottom lip.
"... Fuck."
"You seem to attract midnight pricks."
"Keen fucking eye." She looks troubled.
"Enough posturing. I think this headphone guy took out my double."
"Fuck. So he's the real thing. No more playground shit."
"You must've set me up. Why do you want me taken out?"
"I don't! I didn't know there would be guns on the table!"
"Always assume there will be guns on the table. Pointed at you."
"I can't trust Marco with a fucking gun, he almost took his jugular out with a shaving razor last week." She gauges you for a moment.
"Extremely cool. At last, some real spywork."
"Rock and roll, baby. Heavyweight." She gauges you for a moment.
"It's no big deal actually, I've been shot before."
"Yeah, nothing new under the moon." She gauges you for a moment.
"Attempts on my life amuse The Host. Bullets pass through my shadow cape."
"Well, he shot at me. I dodged."
"You sure it wasn't a warning shot?"
"I deserved the bullet, so I've taken it in spirit."
"I'm sure of nothing. It's highly likely you set me up."
"No way, intent to kill."
"Doesn't matter. A close brush with death is often an instructive teacher."
"Fuck the teacher. I don't like teachers on principle." She gauges you for a moment.
"Take some responsibility. He's your asset."
"Assets, who gives a fuck about them -- am I right, Hersh?"
She meant it lightly, yet still -- a papercut across your heart's epicardium.
"But that headphone guy is an operant. Dangerous. He shot me."
"Operant SCARF acquitted himself well."
"Okay. That's good. Thanks."
A nod. Uncharacteristic gratitude.
"Operant SCARF acquitted himself reasonably well."
"Marco's dead."
"What? Oh fuck... No. Hershel..."
"... Is what I should be saying, because you left your asset right in the sights of a very dangerous operant."
"Fuck you, Hershel, that was not cool. Don't do that again." She exhales and trembles.
"So who did get shot, you?" She gives you a once over. "You look alright."
"I found the old Luzian."
Alternative wording
"I found the old Luzian. He's got a name now. Dante."
Alternative wording
"I found the old Luzian. Dante."
"Alive?" She stiffens, hones in on you.
Her safety catch flips to 'OFF'.
"For now."
"Where?"
"Secret jail. You were right."
"Rookie error from a fucking retiree. He should never have picked up that phone."
"EMTERR got him. Know anything about them?"
"So not the Weeping Eye... EMTERR... That one's the Big Bank, right?"
THIS UN-RE-EDUCATED YOUTH MUST BE MADE TO FEEL THE FULL WEIGHT OF TERROR BEHIND THOSE SIX LETTERS.
"Also known as... the lynchpin of transnational capital."
"Got it." She glances away. "Anyway..."
THE PHANTOM VAMPIRE SQUID THAT STRADDLES THE SO-CALLED DEVELOPED WORLD AND FONDLES THE MILL OF HISTORY IN ITS TENTACLES.
"Also known as... our undying enemy."
"Fuck the Bank. You should see what the Bazaar brings in. Cold, hard sol, not imaginary fucking numbers."
"What's he given them? Are we fucked?"
Branch
Branch
"Some sadistic woman tied me up and electrocuted me. I gave them some stuff. Not you."
"Fuck... Are you alright?"
"No."
"Sorry to hear that. You look alright, at least."
The girl extends her arm and gives you an awkward rub on the shoulder.
"Thanks for coming through, Hershel." A small nod in your direction.
The girl extends her arm and gives you an awkward rub on the shoulder."Yucky. Whatever gets you off. Your fetishes are your own.""I'm sure she'll show up soon."Under a stray shadow, stifling any noise."Maybe you are the real thing. Or the closest we've got.""He's almost there anyway. Cryptkeeping motherfucker.""Sad bastard."
The way she says your name is stiff, somehow. Like she's forcing herself to say it that way.
"Yana, who is this old Luzian guy?"
"I honestly don't know, Tempo never said anything about him. Which was strange, most of the time he can't wait to tell you about his latest secret..."
She's holding other things back from you, but this is the truth.
"This one... he was terrified from the jump."
Half a city away, an old man hunches on a damp mattress and thinks of the odd stranger who went through so much effort to find him.
"This old prick say anything else?"
Alternative wording
"This Dante prick say anything else?"
"He's really not the biggest fan of Tempo right now."
"Join the club. You get a jacket."
... Jacket?
"Intriguing. Where can I get this jacket, do you have a stash?"
"Thought you were a big fan of Tempo's?"
"I am. Tempo or nothing."
"Great. So you're not in the club. No fucking jacket for you."
The girl watches you, dancing her cigarette back and forth in front of her face.
"Great. So you're not in the club. No fucking jacket for you.""The jacket's a metaphor. But good to know about the allegiances, lack of.""Well, we've got to do something about him, haven't we, Hershel? Loose fucking end. Someone's going to trip…"One thing I know about banks -- you pay a fucking premium."
The device. Ask her about the device.
Branch
You need to get to the bottom of this 'bootlegging device'. Press her.
Tempo's half of the deal. This 'unusual device'. Pull back the curtain.
"When there's a new jacket involved, my allegiances shift with surprising speed."
"The jacket's a metaphor. But good to know about the allegiances, lack of."
"He wants me to get him out of jail. Send him to the Superbloc."
"And what's that going to cost you?"
"No one's named a price yet."
"Well, we've got to do something about him, haven't we, Hershel? Loose fucking end. Someone's going to trip and break their neck."
"I haven't agreed to it."
Say nothing.
"One thing I know about banks -- you pay a fucking premium."
"I think we can trust the prisoner. For now."
"Got a red line policy these days, Hershel. Trust no cunt."
Alternative wording
"Recall my new red line policy, Hershel. Cunts: Trust none of them."
(Whisper against your hand.) "I sort of liked it."
"Yucky. Whatever gets you off. Your fetishes are your own."
"Still warming up. The old me would've held out."
"I'm sure she'll show up soon."
"Big spies don't cry."
"Or if they do, they find somewhere lonely to do it."
Under a stray shadow, stifling any noise.
"They interrogated me. I went to pieces in there, Yana."
"Some sadistic woman tied me up and electrocuted me. I gave her nothing."
"Shit." An approving, surprised look. "Pretty hardcore."
"Maybe you are the real thing. Or the closest we've got."
"I went toe to toe with the enemy. They know nothing about you, or the deal."
"Okay. Good." She untenses a notch. "Better than I hoped."
"From what I could tell, he's told them very little."
"That's something. For now. Hopefully he just dies of old age soon."
"Any chance you could..."
She makes a gun with her hand and 'fires' it twice against her head.
"He's a nice old man, no way."
"He's almost there anyway. Cryptkeeping motherfucker."
"He might appreciate that. Lot of self pity going on."
"Sad bastard."
"No more or less than we were before, I think."
The girl considers your words, then shrugs.
"Well, that's something. Something for now, anyway."
"So, yes, basically a massive bank."
"The Empire Without Territory, yes."
"Seems like they found some territory then, if he's currently chained up in it."
"In the basement of a literary magazine office."
"Last place he expected to find himself, I bet." She snorts. "Would be funny, if it wasn't."
"That's Opera business now. Back off."
"Alright, no need to get all prissy fucking princess."
"Probably. I didn't actually see him, just talked to him."
"One other thing... The old guy told me he smuggled some kind of device out of Luz for Tempo."
Alternative wording
"One other thing... That device Dante smuggled out of Luz for Tempo... He's pretty sure he gave it to you."
Alternative wording
"One other thing... Dante told me he smuggled some kind of device out of Luz for Tempo."
Alternative wording
"One other thing... That device the old guy smuggled out of Luz for Tempo... He's pretty sure he gave it to you."
"Who do you trust, me or this clapped up old clown?"
"He was very certain he gave it to Tempo."
Branch
"Oh that Mega Violator. Yeah, sure, I've got it."
No backhanded retort, no reflexive insult.
"Dante said it's a really rare bootlegging device..."
"Rarest you've ever known. One of a kind, even."
Staring you down. Hasn't blinked in some time.
"And you're a pretty unusual girl, Yana."
"These days I am, yeah."
You glimpse him. A giant shadow, hulking behind her.
Impossible...
Inhuman. Your hackles rise.
Branch
Who are you dealing with here?
A memory passes through an older memory and each calls the other a ghost. Both leave a little of themselves within the other.
When'd you get so slow, Hersh?
... Tempo?
Me. I'm right here. Always have been.
No, you're actually very dead.
Death's for Small Thinkers. Transitory cunts. I'm the eternal kind.
You think TAXMAN, prized fucking asset, wouldn't hold up his end of the promise? I told 'em. CASCADE or nothing...
"... Person to person."
He is there and not there. All your senses twitch at the eeriness, at the undeniability of it.
Three breaths fill the room -- two in perfect sync.
"Yana, you're... Tempo, aren't you?"
The girl stubs out her cigarette, steady yet forceful, suddenly engrossed in the act of crushing.
Branch
"How you been, Hersh?" Mismatched eyes find yours.
"... I've missed you around."
Branch
"... Woah."
"Yeah." A slow inhale. "Curse go forward, curse go back."
You remember him saying that, a long time ago. Chant-like. A little ritual.
"Tempo was into some weird schemes, but this one... singularly weird."
"Weird, yes, but there's nothing fucking 'singular' about it."
This is no mere scheme. It's an enchantment, the likes of which the Operant Bureau has never before encountered.
And yet you can't help but feel a sense of desperation clinging to it.
"Why didn't you just tell me this from the start?"
This is no mere scheme. It's an enchantment, the likes of which the Operant Bureau has never before…And yet you can't help but feel a sense of desperation clinging to it.This is no mere persona. It's an enchantment, the likes of which the Operant Bureau has never before…"Is that all you've got to say? Nothing but stupid fucking jokes."
"Because there's a lot at stake. Because I didn't know whether you were on my side, let alone dependable. And because you were pretty late."
"I know. Sorry."
"Also... I really didn't think you'd believe me. I mean... I wouldn't."
Branch
And yet... doesn't it chime a distant chord? The Luzian political elite being strange copies of themselves...
Branch
"Yes, message received, please stop bringing it up."
"You knew I would be, Tempo."
"Being predictable isn't a good thing, Hersh."
"I'll hand it to Tempo, this is the sickest persona I've ever seen."
"Sick like my grandmother's brain cancer."
This is no mere persona. It's an enchantment, the likes of which the Operant Bureau has never before encountered.
"Tempo, brother. You've lost weight. And gained hair."
"Is that all you've got to say? Nothing but stupid fucking jokes."
"How can some 'device' make copies of people?"
"They're more like... bootlegs. Imprints, I think they call them."
"Sounds impossible, right? I thought so too. But clearly..." She spreads her arms. "... a little bit possible."
Leave the door ajar. Do not lock yourself within the tyranny of the rational.
Branch
"How?"
"Witchcraft. It's like... a bad mirror. A wishing well for your loose dreams, for all the inner colours of you."
Forbidden colours. All known laws defied.
Branch
"Gonna need specifics."
"It starts with a memory or something... but don't ask me, I was considerably fucking hypnotised for most of it."
"So Tempo hypnotised you?"
"Kind of... He just gave me a load of ketamine, which I'm pretty sure isn't in the official manual. But you have to be like a blank slate. Totally receptive, basically comatose."
A weave of city away, the being formerly known as PSEUDOPOD twitches in his dream.
"There were pictures on the wall, projected from the machine... and I think an image of Tempo as a kid. Like I said, fucking witchcraft."
Branch
"What are your inner colours, Yana?"
"Darker than I remember them."
Cigarette haze cloaks her face.
"This is a lot to process. I'll have to do some processing." (Conclude.)
"I don't have shit of his memories either, so let's not play twenty fucking questions. I'm just... him now. And that's it."
OH DEAR, OH DEAR. YOU ARE NOT TAKEN IN BY THIS UNFORTUNATE DISPLAY, ARE YOU?
So what if I am?
RECALL THE WORDS OF KALJO KASS (IN THE TERMINAL GRIP OF RECTAL CANCER), ADVANCED IN PARTY CIRCULAR #17: 'ALL MENTAL DISEASE IS POLITICAL IN GENESIS'.
About time! Dissonance reconciled at minimum psychic cost.
Right, that makes sense. (Squint.)
YOUR FORMER ASSET TEMPO, ONE OF CAPITAL'S LOYAL SLAVEMASTERS, ATTEMPTED TO POSSESS THIS MID-YOUTH WITH THE SPECTRE OF REACTION.
THIS PROFOUND IDEOLOGICAL DISSONANCE HAS MANIFESTED AS SO-CALLED 'DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER' WITHIN HER HEMISPHERES.
Wow, no wonder mental illness is so common here.
WELCOME TO THE PLAGUE PIT OF PRIVATISATION, FEATURING ALL-DAY SURGERIES PERFORMED WITHOUT CONSENT OR ANAESTHETIC. THE DIAGNOSIS IS CLEAR, THE PROGNOSIS BLEAK:
The disease itself has become the source of infection.
THE ONLY RATIONAL CONCLUSION.
IT IS NO COINCIDENCE THAT THE CHILDREN OF TERMINAL CAPITAL ARE THE MOST DEVOURED OF MIND.
Branch
Branch
Mental health is far more complicated than that.
THE EVIDENCE STANDS BEFORE YOU -- DRAPED IN JAUNTY COMMODITIES, HIGH-PRIESTESS OF THE BLACK MARKET, HER MIND NOT HER OWN.
I think she's just being a teenager...
BOURGEOIS CONSTRUCT.
REALIGN YOURSELF. THE PARTY IS INCAPABLE OF FALSE COMMANDS OR PRONOUNCEMENTS, OTHER THAN THOSE RETROACTIVELY UNSAID.
"Hersh?" The girl snaps her fingers at you, a concerned look on her face. "You alright?"
"All good, just working through something."
"You probably have more questions? About me being Tempo..." She still looks concerned.
Branch
Give her a double thumbs up.
I think she just likes expensive clothes.
REACTIONARY GARB.
Mental health is more complicated than that, but only a little bit.
No. I don't understand how yet, but this girl is Tempo.
REACTIONIST EXPOSURE HAS UNSHACKLED YOUR MIND. YOU APPLAUD ILLUSIONS.
She's too far gone. We're probably looking at liquidation.
ALWAYS THE PRUDENT MIDDLE-COURSE. IN THE MEANTIME, GAIN THE MID-YOUTH'S TRUST. SHE WILL NOT GO WILLINGLY TO THE CHEMICAL SHED.
I'm surrounded by ideological midgets.
MIDGETRY UNFETTERED!
I'm not sure this is political actually...
WHAT, THEN, IS THE PRIMARY CAUSE? THE SCIENTIFISTIC FABLE KNOWN AS 'NEUROCHEMISTRY'? HOW CONVENIENT, THE ENEMY HAS PRIVATISED THAT TOO.
THE MENTALLY SICK ARE VICTIMS OF THEIR OWN IMAGINATION.
This sounds really bad!
POTENTIALLY FATAL -- BUT TAKE COURAGE IN THE NATURAL INCLINATION OF THE MID-YOUTH TOWARD SOCIALISM!
SHE IS HELD FAST BETWEEN HER MIND'S SUBMISSION TO CAPITAL AND HER SOUL'S YEARNING FOR POST-HISTORICAL MATERIALISM.
I've been had!
Hrrrmm...
I don't need the party line on this, thank you. (Ignore.)
IDEOLOGICAL DEVIATION.
Branch
"This device... must be how the Luzian ministers imprint themselves on each other..."
"Yeah, the pricks in power fire it up whenever they need a new politicunt. All from one guy, bootlegging himself over and over, for like, three hundred years."
"According to Tempo anyway." A toss of her hair, mid-exhale. "But when we covered Intra-Luzian relations in History class they didn't say shit about it."
Branch
A theory often dismissed as rumour, but taken more seriously on the top levels of the Operant Bureau: the Luzian political ministry are all identical psychic grafts of the same ancient philosopher.
Just what on earth has Tempo encircled you in here?
Branch
You are standing close to the contaminated core of grand political conspiracy.
"What do the Luzians do with this thing?"
"The cunts in power copy themselves with it. Just one guy, bootlegging himself over and over, for like, three hundred years."
"Why did Tempo want a... copy of himself?"
"Because Tempo was scared. Of everything."
"He wanted a back-up. He thought they were going to kill him. Keen prediction." Black cigarette ignites behind glitter-spangled palm.
A middle-aged man's last gasp ritual at remaining.
There's that 'They' again... The oft-invoked nemesis of 'You'.
"What about you, Yana? Are you 'They', or are you 'Us'?"
"I'm 'Me'."
"Close enough for now."
"I'm not trying to fuck you, Hersh. But believe what you want."
Branch
"Are you? From what you're telling me here, you're not even that."
"I'm a work-in-progress, then. At least I know what I'm aiming for." She looks down.
"How do you know that's why?"
"He told me. Before he did it. He sat me down and explained it all, blood dripping out of his nose... totally off his face but not, like, slurring his words or anything... he said he'd be dead soon, he could feel it."
"He was scared the Weeping Eye were on to him."
"And they were, evidently. Maybe they were the least of his enemies. This place is wide, Hersh... and it switches up faster than you can believe."
The girl glances at the window, searching the narrow portrait of the city beyond.
"Plenty of cunts out there with murderous intent."
"Not fully sold on this. Sounds like some kind of insurance scam. Or pyramid scheme."
"If it is, I'd like to know who's paying out."
"I don't hear you denying it."
"I'm not going to either, gives it too much legitimacy."
Branch
"Did Tempo fake his death, too?"
"Yeah, sure, Hersh. All that shit in the office was just red paint."
"Not saying I don't want in, by the way."
"Cool, I'll keep that in mind."
"And you agreed to this... process?"
"There was rain in my head, Hersh. It was always raining and it was always midnight beyond the clouds. I wanted..."
An ordinary night with ordinary stars.
"I dunno. Not that."
"And did you find it?"
"Not really. But it's stopped raining, at least."
One of her eyes disappears behind exhaled smoke. The other eye stays on you.
"Can you go back to being just you, if you want?"
"And why would I want that?"
"Maybe you made a rash decision."
"Nothing rash about it. Trust me, I've been thinking about this for a long time."
"Anyway, this is a 'forever' kind of deal. And the deal is I deal with it. Move the fuck on."
Branch
"You might miss yourself."
"Haven't yet. I'll let you know."
"Dunno... Variety?"
"I had enough Yana for a lifetime."
This girl can't be more than seventeen. Barely a glimpse of a lifetime.
"I personally would not go to such lengths, but maybe that's just me."
"Maybe you're just faster at outrunning yourself then. Good for you."
Shelter.
"And what does it feel like now?"
"It feels like I can't quite remember myself... like I'm watching myself through dream glass... all smudged and smeared."
Like a day-old phone number written on the back of a young hand.
"Keep going. I really need to know how this works."
"I watched a lot of TV as a kid. Whenever there was a bad storm, the blocking antennas would get fucked and we'd see pieces of Luzian TV breaking through, all weird and wavy."
Holiday memories of your mother, struggling with an antenna, trying to access foreign cartoons -- through the static, glimpses of a shaggy, vintage vagina.
"That's how it feels sometimes, like a signal error. Hearing someone else's thoughts, and now they're yours. But the static's not the thoughts -- it's my mind trying to make sense of them."
"So you haven't got two people in there?
"Nope. Just me. But also, there's more me now. Outside the coverage zone."
Branch
"Someone should hit you on the side of the head, usually works."
"Very fucking funny, Hersh. Although, I did try that a couple of times in the beginning... Nothing doing."
"So like you're very high, basically. Got it."
"No. Like I'm existentially fucking compromised."
"Right. Not ideal."
"No, it's not." She shrugs and looks away. "But I'll be alright."
"Just another thing to get used to. I'm sure it'll feel normal in the end. Everything does, once you get used to it."
"So like you're very high on your thirtieth birthday, got it."
"Whatever. Maybe my mental age went up and this is just what being old feels like."
"Tempo, Tempo, Tempo." (Conclude.)
"It's Yana. Just one Yana."
Said for herself, not for your sake.
"I missed you, too."
"That's good, then. Nice to be missed."
Branch
"This is very messed up... but I believe you."
"Thanks, Hersh." Half a smile. "New world order. Still getting to grips with it."
"Still not buying this. 100% a scam."
"I'll say it again, but different. Tempo is me. I am Tempo." She shakes her head. "Believe what you want. It just happens to be true."
"ALL MENTAL DISEASE IS POLITICAL IN GENESIS."
"... What?"
"How you been, Hersh?" Her mismatched eyes find yours. "I've missed you around."
"Yana... this doesn't make any sense."
"You know what else doesn't make any sense? I've been wanting to say this since I first saw you..."
It can't be. Can it?
'Course it can. Why not, some shit about the Laws of Reality? Don't be a boring cunt, you never were before.
So is all forgiven, or what?
Don't be an eager cunt. You haven't done anything yet. But you're on the right track. And you're here.
What 'dissonance'? You see a teenage girl with authority issues, acting vaguely mysterious.
"Enough of this mystery! Talk plainly."
"Fuck's sake, I'm Tempo!"
"Finally!"
The girl stares at you, frozen in half-motion, awaiting some kind of reaction.
Hold all horses, did she just... ?
"Say that again?"
"I. Am. Tempo."
A pair of cold, tiny hands play a minuet up your spine.
"You're... Tempo?"
"Here she is, finally. Now let's start this over."
"I don't know why he called you, what he wanted to say to you... his memories I don't have. But I know what he'd say to you right now."
Someone leans on a fader marked 'The World' and all sound dips out for a moment.
"Tell me exactly what this thing does. Now."
"You already know. It makes copies. It Mega Violates."
"Violates what?"
"All known laws, of course."
"Say what you see, Miss Big Time Spy. I. Am..."
TAXMAN.
An old friend.
A ghost hologram.
"... Tempo."
"Are you violator or violatee?"
"Bit of both. It takes two to violate."
"So you do know how it works..."
"Yeah. Intimately."
"You know how this thing works?"
"Yeah. Better than anyone."
"He said I really need to see it in action to understand..."
"How do you know you haven't already?"
"Oh yeah, that thing. The 'Mega Violator', as Tempo called it."
As she speaks, a tiny shiver passes through her.
Probably not what it's actually called.
Acquire this instrument. Wield it. Relieve the world of the burden of consent.
"Apparently this 'Mega Violator' is a really rare bootlegging device..."
"Him, at the moment. Do you have it, or not?"
"About that imprinting device... can I have it, actually?"
"Take it. No returns." She rummages below her chair once more and emerges with the device.
Branch
"And no, it did not come with an adapter. But it does have cocaine in the seams. And a little bit of nose blood."
Branch
"That weird Luzian device... where have you stashed it?"
"Right here. It's mystical fucking gear, Hersh, I hardly threw it out."
From beneath her chair, she pulls out a small console device, about the size of a dinner tray. Coloured buttons flank a large, dark screen.
What is this thing? At first glance it could pass for some unmarked consumer novelty. -- a portable television, or a handheld game system.
Quiet magic. Dormant. Danger.
"The Mega Violator." (Tilt your head.) "Coooool."
"Yeah. It hasn't got an actual name anywhere on it. That's part of what's cool about it."
"This is the thing that made me what I am." She presses one palm against the other and gives it a quarter turn.
Squelching one person into another.
"Does it... still work?"
"Nope. Fucked. Needs batteries. Special Luzian batteries."
"Might be better for you to, you know, hang onto it or something." The girl holds out the console to you.
Jackpot.
Finally, the Hershel Clone Army can begin to fill its deviant ranks!
Branch
"Why do you want me to have it?"
"'Cos it reminds me I'm basically some failed test pressing."
You have noticed her eyes avoid mirrors and windows -- anything with a pronounced reflection.
"Also, you seem like you're in a load of shit, Hersh, maybe you need a backup yourself. So do me a fucking favour."
"Alright, alright, give it to me." (Take it.)
"Also, you seem like you're in a load of shit, Hersh, maybe you need a backup yourself. So do me a fucking…"Depends what you do with it. That thing could technically make people think like you. Money to be made, no…"Probably." She exhales a slow plume of smoke. "But if you ever need a whole new life... you could do worse.""Just take it, will you? I don't like having it around. Use it, don't use it, fuck it out a tram window,…
"You're pushing it pretty hard. I'm dubious. You keep it." (Really don't take it.)
"Also, you seem like you're in a load of shit, Hersh, maybe you need a backup yourself. So do me a fucking…"Depends what you do with it. That thing could technically make people think like you. Money to be made, no…"Probably." She exhales a slow plume of smoke. "But if you ever need a whole new life... you could do worse.""Just take it, will you? I don't like having it around. Use it, don't use it, fuck it out a tram window,…
"Unbelievable. Thought you were a spy. You people get off on intriguing shit."
"Am I part of the pyramid scheme now?"
"Also, you seem like you're in a load of shit, Hersh, maybe you need a backup yourself. So do me a fucking…"Probably." She exhales a slow plume of smoke. "But if you ever need a whole new life... you could do worse.""Just take it, will you? I don't like having it around. Use it, don't use it, fuck it out a tram window,…
"Depends what you do with it. That thing could technically make people think like you. Money to be made, no doubt."
"Could be best to leave this switched off permanently..."
"Probably." She exhales a slow plume of smoke. "But if you ever need a whole new life... you could do worse."
"Okay, I'm intrigued." (Take it.)
"Don't over-fuck around with it, would be my advice."
"The Culture war has just accepted delivery of its first hyper weapon." (Take it.)
"Don't make me regret giving it to you."
"I fear the sins I may commit with this." (Don't take it.)
"Just take it, will you? I don't like having it around. Use it, don't use it, fuck it out a tram window, whatever."
"It's kind of... ominous. You getting that?"
"I'm getting ominously cool, Hersh."
(Shout into the machine.) "Tempo! Are you in there, brother?"
"'Fuck are you talking about? It's not even switched on."
Wrong vessel!
(Shout at Yana.) "Tempo! Are you in there, brother!"
"Fuck me." The girl winces as your saliva peppers her face. "Focus on the machine, you dope."
"Know anywhere I can find a gun?"
"Guns are an Azzurri racket. Bazaar doesn't carry." She flicks her cigarette. "Handgun?"
"Any gun."
"You're looking for an entry level Azzurri front-man, one of those expendable fucks they shove into the grinder. Carabinero fodder."
"Know any such fucks?"
"There's a particularly lame one who hangs out near the roundabout. He's tried it on with me a couple of three times. Would rather shoot myself."
Branch
Sounds familiar... she's talking about Goat-Eyes, the lovelorn soul of many endeavours.
Branch
Horizontal pupils... Undersexed... You've met him. The being known as Goat-Eyes.
"Yeah. But it must be a cool one, not like, you know, one that everyone has."
"Gun's a gun." She shrugs. "Cool factor's who you point it at."
"Bad news, Yana. Word on the street is that you're not moonglow."
The girl takes a long drag and raises a slow middle finger at you.
Branch
"Is Marco your boyfriend? He's up to something shifty on behalf of his scary girlfriend."
Branch
"He's not my boyfriend, we were just hanging out for a while. Maybe we still are, whatever."
"Pretty sure he wants you to be his full-on girlfriend."
"Well, he should full-on officially ask me then."
"So what's he up to?"
"Some cunt has me in his crosshairs. A cunt with weird headphones and a shit moustache."
Branch
The Ultra Violeti encountered this man. He scared them.
"I think I know this guy."
"You met him?"
"No, he's just... on my radar."
"Unhappy fucking coincidence, then."
Branch
"Why's he after you?"
Branch
"Well..." She stretches the word out. "I'm pretty sure it's about that imprinting device. The Mega Violator."
The soft piano music rises again, nearby yet very far beyond you.
"As in, this headphones guy wants it?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."
Branch
"Ah, so that's why you wanted to give it to me."
"Honestly, I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me." She looks at you. "But I'm not trying to fuck you over. Promise."
She takes a deliberate drag, eyes on you one moment, the cigarette the next.
"Honestly, I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me." She looks at you. "But I'm not…"I'm highly fucking acquainted.""And I was being straight -- I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me.""And no, it did not come with an adapter. But it does have cocaine in the seams. And a little bit of nose…
You get the distinct sense she's about to confide something to you. But at the cusp, she retracts the words and puts others in their place.
"I'm about action, Hersh. I'm smoking this headphone cunt out. My asset is already in-theatre. Cryptonym... SCARF."
"By 'asset', you mean this boyfriend of yours. Marco."
Alternative wording
"By 'asset', you mean Marco."
"Yes. Obviously. But also... do I?" The girl takes a long drag, squinting at you as she inhales.
Overplaying it, needlessly. The Operant Bureau's instructors would have a lot of notes.
When you were sixteen you once put your blood type down as 'mysterious' in an attempt to impress a vaguely attractive doctor.
"Use your spy shit. Make contact. Tell him I approved the meet."
Branch
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"Where can I find him?"
"I don't know, Hersh. Where can you find him?"
She points at her neck and mouths something at you.
'Scarf'.
"Also, you can tell him that my schedule freed up this weekend, so I could see him for like, one hour maybe, as long as nothing better comes up, which it might."
'Scarf'.... 'Skarth'?'Scarf'. Come on."Yeah, you 'spoke' to him, now I need you to 'make contact' with him. Keep up, Hersh, fucking hell.""This isn't your Opera clown car thing, Hersh. Approval goes through me.""Not remotely. But SCARF has gotten close to the target, mostly through sheer fucking luck."
"Very sweet. Will do."
"Good." She takes a thick drag.
"I like enemies, they solidify my fucking position. But you know what solidifies it even more?"
Siccing people on them.
"Me handling them while you sit here?"
"Now you're getting it, Hershel." She grins.
Alternative wording
"Now you're getting it, Hersh." She grins.
Branch
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"Overpriced cigarettes?"
"No. Other people taking care of those enemies for me."
"The indelible bonds of friendship?"
"Non-stop odd shit with you." She shakes her head.
"I'm not your courier."
"Then be something more useful." She takes a thick drag.
... 'Skarth'?
'Scarf'. Come on.
"But I already spoke to him."
"Yeah, you 'spoke' to him, now I need you to 'make contact' with him. Keep up, Hersh, fucking hell."
"Controllers don't 'approve' meets."
"This isn't your Opera clown car thing, Hersh. Approval goes through me."
"This all sounds extremely amateur. Is he dependable?"
"Not remotely. But SCARF has gotten close to the target, mostly through sheer fucking luck."
Branch
"It's okay, Yana. I'm a major international spy. Danger clings to such a position."
"I'm highly fucking acquainted."
"Wow, good job I didn't let you foist it on me."
"I wasn't trying to 'foist', I just thought it'd be better off with you."
"And I was being straight -- I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me."
"On second thought, I think it's better if I have it." (Take the device.)
"I agree. I don't do returns either." She rummages and emerges with the device.
"And no, it did not come with an adapter. But it does have cocaine in the seams. And a little bit of nose blood."
"What a coincidence."
"He probably knows I have it. I think. I don't know who knows what anymore."
Alternative wording
"He probably knows I have it. Or... had it. 'Cos now you've got it."
"Once I sort this mess out, you better start being straight with me."
"I don't know. And Tempo had no fucking clue either. But he was very scared of him."
"We need to counterspy this creep."
"Way ahead of you. I'm in the middle of smoking this cunt out. My asset is already in-theatre. Cryptonym... SCARF."
"Weird headphones and a shit moustache... shouldn't be too hard to spot."
"Yana, stop fucking around. This sounds serious."
"No, but I spoke to two teenage girls he was trying to intimidate. Or maybe impress."
"I knew I should be mega wary of that slinky prick."
"No, but I hear he's extremely into Ultra Violeta."
The girl shrugs and becomes very interested in her cigarette.
Branch
"Who is he?"
"Dunno. Headphones are the defining feature. And the fact he's after me."
She's used to dealing with peripheral creeps, but this one's unsettled her.
"That's why I'm here, and not in the bazaar. Midnight pricks won't stop exiting the fucking woodwork."
Branch
"He's extremely scared of you."
"Yeah, it's terminal unfortunately."
"I'm very happy for you."
Alternative wording
"I'm very happy for you, Yana."
"Yucky."
"Why are you hiding alone in here?"
"On account of my many enemies." She takes a sharp drag. "Enemies all the time."
Door liable to get kicked in any minute.
"I've got a lot more problems than the ones you're bringing me, and I've got solutions to those problems in motion. Retract your nose from my affairs."
The air in the apartment is very stale all of a sudden. Cigarette smoke swirls like a spell.
Branch
"Solutions like your boyfriend, Marco?"
"Fine. Retracting." (Go back.)
"I'm sure you'll find your own enemies. Then we can compare notes."
Branch
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"How'd you recognise me?"
"From the photo on Tempo's desk. That was all of you, right? The 'Whole Sick Crew'."
Your heart begins to thunder.
"Yeah. That was us."
"Thought so."
"What else did Tempo tell you about us?"
"Not a lot. That you were good, that you had something together... and that it was a shame how it all went down."
"And how did he say it went down?"
"Slowly, then all at once. They got the girl first, he said. Karolina. Then the floor gave way."
KINDRED. The first glass domino.
"Did he blame me?"
"No, I don't think so. Good things go sideways. It happens."
"You can give it to me straight."
"This is straight. You were friends, right? You go down with your friends and you all go together. How it's always been."
Branch
"This is straight. You were friends, right? You go down with your friends and you all go together. How it's…"Getting your shit kicked in usually is." She considers the end of her cigarette."Let's look to the future, then. Just as dark, more unknown."Right when they were about to make it big."Let me see." The girl inspects the photo. "You look a lot younger. Like, a lot."
"It was an instructive experience for all involved."
"Getting your shit kicked in usually is." She considers the end of her cigarette.
"Not big on rehashing."
"Let's look to the future, then. Just as dark, more unknown."
"What do you think?" (Show her the photo.)
"Six cunts and Tempo. That's what I think."
"Not cunts. Cool."
"Let me see." The girl inspects the photo. "You kind of look like a band. One of those old ones that imploded."
Right when they were about to make it big.
"Good angle on me, right?"
"Let me see." The girl inspects the photo. "You look a lot younger. Like, a lot."
"Tempo asked for me. Maybe you're the person who can finally tell me why."
"The 'ritual', obviously. Has it started yet, or what?"
That's your cue. To know what this is.
"The ritual?"
"'CASCADE or nothing. Tell her TAXMAN is ready to begin the ritual.' That was Tempo's message to the Opera. What's it mean?"
Branch
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'Ritual'... not a term from the Operant Bureau's playbook.
Must be a Tempo styling for something significant -- all gravitas and enigma.
Branch
"I don't know, this is my first time hearing it."
"I really... hoped you would."
She was counting on it.
"I thought you were high up in the Opera or something? Tempo said you were top floor, brightest spy in the sky."
Uh oh. Tempo didn't know they shelved you after 91. He thought you were still... respected. Revered even.
No need to mention our half decade career ender in 'the Freezer'. Play it mysterious, teenage girls love that.
Branch
"They buried me in the filing room for five years. After the last time."
"What's that mean?" Lines crowd her forehead. "Are you still a spy?"
"I'm a spy for the time being."
"Thanks for the honesty... But the way Tempo talked about you... I'm glad he's not around to hear that."
So are you.
'For my old friend, CASCADE, tell her TAXMAN is ready to begin the ritual. No silly cunts! CASCADE only, person to person! CASCADE or nothing! And you tell her -- if we pull this one off, all will be forgiven!'
"You were supposed to be the great CASCADE, pockets full of answers."
"Then I'm sorry I'm not her."
"That's not your fault."
The girl closes her eyes then opens them again. Smoke drifts from her nostrils.
"That's not your fault.""All my cards coming up."Not precise, no. But not a liar either."Maybe it was. Nothing to do with our current reality, though. Gotta forgive yourself these days, I hear.""Maybe he did. And maybe it'll mean something more later. Gotta forgive yourself these days, I hear.""If you want forgiveness you need a priest, not a criminal. Ideally one that's not dead."
"Quiet, Hershel... I sense the presence of spirits... they want to commune with us."
She has iced over with sarcasm.
"Yes, I hear them... they're close... they're whispering: 'Ritual's completely fucked. It's gone. Unless... unless... you can find this old Luzian guy.'"
"What old Luzian guy?"
"Before Tempo got knuckle-flicked off the board, he was setting up a massive deal with some Luzian guy who's like a thousand years old."
"Someone way high up. My best guess? This ritual's all tied up in that."
'Ritual'... 'deal'... you could easily hear Tempo exchanging one word for the other...
"Deal. Good start. Tell me more about this 'massive deal'."
"Tempo called it 'a blow for culture in defiance of all known laws'. And he said that if he fucked this one, the Weeping Eye would kill us all. He said this numerous times."
Branch
The exit papers you discovered at the shrine grow a little heavier in your pocket.
"Seems that prophecy is coming to pass. Tempo was first, a blood sacrifice in his own office. Next is me. Then you, probably, if you're still around. You're part of this deal now."
With your old friend, it was never one deal. Always a tangle of side bets, optional riders, and overlapping interests, arranged in such a way that Tempo always wound up across the table from himself.
This time when he sat down, the other him was already slumped over the table, bleeding across it.
"My pocket does have one answer in it. This old Luzian guy... was his name Dante?" (Show her the exit papers.)
"I never knew his name, or his new name, but yeah, that's him..." She blinks backward. "Where'd you get that?"
Hit, point awarded.
"Cigarettes in the shrine near the Bazaar. Neat trick I taught Tempo."
"You mean the shrine with all the pictures of dead people? Good fucking omen."
"This ancient prick disappears a couple of weeks back. Gets snatched, vanishes." She snaps her fingers. "Like that."
Alternative wording
"This Dante prick disappears a couple of weeks back. Gets snatched, vanishes." She snaps her fingers. "Like that."
"How?"
"Said some hyper incriminating shit into the Phone That Everyone Knows Is Tapped. Extremely schoolboy error."
Branch
"Tempo's on the other end, hears him get taken. Black bag job." She pulls two fists over her face. "Now he's locked up in some secret jail saying who knows what to who knows who."
"Say there was someone else who didn't know about this tapped phone..."
Alternative wording
"The daughter of one of the Bazaar vendors told me about that phone. Her dad disappeared too."
Alternative wording
"A woman in the bazaar told me about that phone. Her dad disappeared too."
"You? Fuck's sake, you're a spy, Hershel. Bazaar, west gate. One of my vendors lost someone to that phone, too. Malen. You should ask her about it."
Alternative wording
"Right. Malen. Said her dad turned into thin air." She glances out of the window.
"She doesn't smile much anymore. Not a great look when you're trying to sell parties to people. You should see her fucking receipts."
"Any ideas on a location for this jail?"
"Yeah, it's right under the flashing neon sign that says 'SECRET JAIL THIS WAY'."
Highly likely that this sign doesn't exist.
"Sorry." She runs thin fingers across her eyes. "It's been a tense couple of weeks."
"Don't worry about it."
"I don't know where this jail is. Spy stuff, your world. I'm useless here." She grinds a heel in frustration.
"This old guy getting snatched really spooked Tempo. Like, weapons-grade coke binge spooked. Last time I saw him he was bleeding out of his nose and talking very seriously about fate."
"So both sides of this massive illegal deal are currently dead or missing."
"Correct. You've got me and this safehouse. And I've got you."
"I'm not on coke, but I am spooked to fuck. You need to find this old Luzian guy and either bust him out or shut him up."
"Correct. You've got me and this safehouse. And I've got you.""The enemy within, carried him off over the white rainbow... Hurt him, yes -- didn't kill him.""No. Fate and trembling doom. The undivergent kind.""Star-fuckery? You heard wrong. When he was really out of it, he'd scream curses into the sky at them."
"If this ancient prick spills on our massive deal, we're all fucked, you, me, and... everyone."
She was going to say another name there.
Branch
"You, me, and..." (Raise your eyebrows.)
"Everyone, I said. The bazaar, the vendors, the smugglers... whole kingdom, mayday everyday."
No. Something bigger here. Something she's holding back.
This is her way of asking for help. She needs a friend.
We're currently two friends down -- we could use one too.
Here's your best shot at completing the assignment you were never officially given.
This fixture is not yet rained off. The scoreboard is bleak, but there is still time to turn it around.
"I do owe you one for that tuk-tuk thing."
"You do." She nods. "Thanks."
A distant door slams somewhere beyond you. The soft, stifled piano carries over muffled laughter and child-velocity footsteps from the apartment above.
"I haven't done anything yet. Still a good chance I fuck this."
"Tempo said you'd come through for him. For us."
'And you tell her -- if we pull this one off, all will be forgiven!'
"So find that old prisoner, Hershel." She twirls her dying cigarette in slow crescents. "And come through."
Branch
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Branch 1081Branch 1103"You walked into the same thing, didn't you Hershel? Let's put on our big girl faces and finish what he…"I hope he heard that, all the way up in heaven." She flicks her cigarette."You'll come around." She flicks her cigarette."No need to be a pessimist, Hershel." She flicks her cigarette. "Realist will do."A flash of the bloodstain in the office, landing like a sharp boot to your stomach.
"Where's this old Luzian guy now?"
"Secret jail or some shit. Out of reach."
Branch
"Are you sure? Because he definitely doesn't have these." (Show her Dante's exit papers.)
Branch
"If this deal was so massive... what was on the table?"
"Tempo was going to get the old guy out of Luz, via Portofiro. Exit papers and all, whole-new-you type of package."
"He was good at moving people. And making them up."
Human smuggling -- risky, yes, but not exactly earth-shattering.
"You call this deal 'massive'? 'Cos I don't."
"No, no. The massive part... the defiant part... was what Tempo was getting in return."
"Blow my mind."
"Something he called the 'Mega Violator'."
As she speaks, a tiny shiver passes through her.
Highly likely that's not what it's actually called.
"Object, concept or person?"
"I would say conceptual object. But it exists."
Track this thing down. Wield it. Relieve the world of the burden of consent.
"Where is it now?"
"The Illuminated cunt never came through with it. Or at least... he didn't have the chance. So who knows where that got to." A shrug, a tap of a cigarette.
Branch
Dildo nom de guerre. In recognition of its heft.
"Can I hold this 'violator' in my hand?"
"Yeah, probably need both hands though. That's the 'mega' part."
"What was this old guy running from?"
"The techno-fascist nursing home? Who knows. Probably death in some form."
Or maybe himself in some form.
"And what exactly was Tempo getting in return?
"Any chance he did actually get out?"
"Close to zero, would be my guess."
Alternative wording
"Zero. You're holding his fucking one-way ticket."
"Let me get this straight: Tempo promised this 'Dante' guy some exit papers and a way out. That was his end of the deal."
"Yep. Tempo offered him safe passage through Portofiro. Set him up with a new life."
"Sounds like I need to track down this prisoner." (Conclude.)
"Only shot we got." She stubs out her cigarette. "It's you and me, Hershel. One cunt down, two more behind the ghost of him."
Her hand reflexively reaches for the cigarette packet jammed into her left bra strap -- she smacks the packet once against the side of her head, then flips open the top and plucks one out.
A glancing flash of a person overlayed upon another -- like a stencil nudged off its overlay.
Branch
Where do you recognise that gesture from?
At the aero-tram stop with Tempo, fog-stained and matted with rain. The final time that both of you felt certain would not be the final time.
He smacked the packet on the side of his head before offering you a smoke.
He did that a lot...
You do it too, sometimes, without realising it, when you're thinking of those days.
'NOSTALGIA' IS A SYMPTOM OF REACTIONARY MENTAL RETREAT. YOU MUST REMEMBER FORWARDS!
"We hosed here, Hersh?" He latches the cigarette on his lower lip.
No, just need a couple of days to get my hands around it. That's what I said.
"Firm grip needed. These things tend to bite and scratch."
"Anything from our dream kid?" He takes a drag.
KINDRED. Unreachable for the last sixteen hours.
I said it's just Karolina being young, she's probably fine.
The screech and groan of your aero-tram arriving.
"You should probably get on that." He flicks the half-smoked cigarette over the platform's edge. "Don't worry about me, I'll be alright. Take care, you dim cunt."
"Yo yo, ground control to Hershel. You look like my grandmother during an absence seizure." Suddenly you're staring at the teenage girl again.
"You're... close to Tempo, right?"
"Closer than most, I would say. Yeah."
"You must be his niece. Makes the most sense."
"You're right, it probably does."
"My name's Yana. And I'm the fucking man."
"You're right, it probably does.""Don't worry, it's mega consensual." The girl rolls her eyes."Thank you for noticing.""Don't count me out, Hershel. I might be even better.""You know, I think it's time you started using my official title.""Alright. You can have it straight.""Probably sitting at home wondering what became of her sweet little daughter.""No, you creep. You use my official title."
Branch
"Whatever this weird sex thing is, it's between the two of you."
"Don't worry, it's mega consensual." The girl rolls her eyes.
"He's obviously taught you well."
"Thank you for noticing."
"I don't know what you are to him, but I feel you're his next best thing."
"Don't count me out, Hershel. I might be even better."
I told him I was concerned.
I said maybe slightly hosed...
Your asset glances at you, cigarette paused halfway to mouth.
But probably not mega-hosed.
Ask me again in a few days.
I told him I don't like big picture questions, they can sound like insubordination.
"Far be it from me." A chuckle and a wry smile.
I didn't take it.
You wanted to leave something hanging in the balance between the two of you. A note to pick back up on.
It's a cry for help. International code for 'get me out of here, I am held against my will'.
"Are you being trafficked?"
"'Fuck are you talking about? I do the trafficking."
"Was Tempo watching you shower, offering massages, introducing you to 'acquaintances'..."
"He rides dick, you dope. Are you sure you two are friends?"
"Depends what he was up to here..." (Shake your head in disapproval.)
"You're not getting it, Hershel."
She glances away from you, towards the stacks of dirty plates tipped into the sink.
A lot of plates for one person. She must spend all her time here.
"You know, I think it's time you started using my official title."
"Sexuality is a movable feast."
"Wow, fascinating, I think we're covering that next week in Social Education. Thanks for the heads up."
"Has he set up cameras or something? Hit yourself on the head again if so."
"Will do."
"I don't even know your name."
"I'm Tatiana on the paperwork. But no one calls me that apart from my mother, and only when she's very angry with me."
"Just talk straight."
"Alright. You can have it straight."
"Where is your mother, by the way?"
"Probably sitting at home wondering what became of her sweet little daughter."
"Should I call you Tatiana, then?"
"No, you creep. You use my official title."
A far too familiar gesture -- something grinds and sparks against the inside of your skull.
Sudden, intense déjà vu curtains your mind.
"Stand back. Front toward enemy."
Say nothing.
"Whatever I can do, I will do."
"Thanks. And fuck those Opera cunts, what do they know? Tempo always called you the best. Take him at his word."
A distant door slams somewhere beyond you. The soft, stifled piano carries over muffled laughter and child-velocity footsteps from the apartment above.
"I wish I could. But he's not here."
"He said you'd come through for him, too. For us."
Say nothing.
"All extremely suspicious and unconvincing."
"Your face is unconvincing."
A distant door slams somewhere beyond you. The soft, stifled piano carries over muffled laughter and child-velocity footsteps from the apartment above.
"Good one."
"But at least you're here. Tempo said you'd come through for him. For us."
Say nothing.
"CASCADE, the Opera's greatest spy, will join your party. The assignment calls."
"I'm honoured, thanks." She nods. "Do they make you say that shit for legal reasons?"
"I don't care about you, or the bazaar. But I know a big assignment when I smell one."
"Call it what you want. I just need you to do it."
"You're fucked, you mean. I can get the next tram out of here."
"Do you need me to say 'please'?"
A distant door slams somewhere beyond you. The soft, stifled piano carries over muffled laughter and child-velocity footsteps from the apartment above.
"Might be a good start."
"Tempo said one other thing... that you'd come through for him. For us."
'And you tell her -- if we pull this one off, all will be forgiven!'
"So find that old prisoner, Hershel, and come through." She twirls her dying cigarette in slow crescents. "Please."
Say nothing.
"Maybe that's what actually killed him. A coke binge."
"The enemy within, carried him off over the white rainbow... Hurt him, yes -- didn't kill him."
"Fate and... forgiveness, maybe?"
"No. Fate and trembling doom. The undivergent kind."
"Carmuna said he got into astrology..."
"Star-fuckery? You heard wrong. When he was really out of it, he'd scream curses into the sky at them."
"Your attitude is really letting your age bracket down."
"My 'age bracket'." The girl snorts with laughter. "Yeah, I remember them."
"Don't apologise. Talk. Information." (Snap your fingers.)
"So how do we know this guy's not definitely dead too?"
"Nothing definite in this world, Hershel."
"So how do we know this guy's not definitely wanged too?"
Read: A phone that you should know is tapped.
"Take notes, my stagecraft is unparalleled."
"Whatever. I've yet to be impressed."
Alternative wording
"Unless someone's got a camera handy."
"I'm sorry you had to find Tempo like that. In there."
"It's alright. I didn't care for that office anyway." A squint and a drag. "Good reason to never step foot in it again."
A scab she's already been picking at, destined to scar.
"You walked into the same thing, didn't you Hershel? Let's put on our big girl faces and finish what he started."
"This 'deal'... I sense I'm the one who's going to get played."
"Risk you take with friends like Tempo. But this thing... he thought you'd be proud of him. I don't think you were the intended playee here."
"He brought me back. I'm a very proud lead."
"I hope he heard that, all the way up in heaven." She flicks her cigarette.
"My asset got himself laughably zeroed out. What's to be proud of?"
"You'll come around." She flicks her cigarette.
"It's fine, I've been played before."
"No need to be a pessimist, Hershel." She flicks her cigarette. "Realist will do."
"We got taken apart already, in 91."
"Whatever, I was twelve then. We're talking here and now, real killing, the 'stay dead forever' kind." She flicks her cigarette.
A flash of the bloodstain in the office, landing like a sharp boot to your stomach.
"This could be our ritual. Keep going."
"Maybe. But we're getting into specifics now, Hershel, not abstracts. 'Ritual', cool. 'High stakes deal', way more ominous."
"Very specific for a bunch of ghosts."
"Finally, let's get an adult involved."
"'Fucked', 'gone'... these are not positive indicators."
"Leaning more negative, I agree."
"So cool -- any chance we can get Tempo on the spirit line?"
You receive an emphatic eye roll in response.
She must not do requests.
Woah, kid never mentioned she's a medium!
"Don't stress, I'm still great."
"All my cards coming up."
"Got it. No one's trusted you with anything worthwhile."
"I'm just passing on what I can't pass on. You know Tempo. Not very precise."
Not precise, no. But not a liar either.
"Do you know what 'all will be forgiven' means? Was that part of the ritual?"
"Tempo used to say it. So yeah, I do know what it means: Nothing anymore."
"I think it was part of Tempo's message."
"Probably some coke shit. He practically had a feeding bag attached near the end."
"It was a message for me."
"Maybe it was. Nothing to do with our current reality, though. Gotta forgive yourself these days, I hear."
"No, he meant it."
"Maybe he did. And maybe it'll mean something more later. Gotta forgive yourself these days, I hear."
"Sounds about right."
"If you want forgiveness you need a priest, not a criminal. Ideally one that's not dead."
"It means they think I'm incompetent. They barely trust me."
"Why'd you think I'm late? I had other massive spy things going on." (Lie.)
"Then your priorities are shit-stacked, Miss Big Time Spy."
"I can't talk about any of that. Sensitive information, mostly redacted."
"Isn't that just spy talk for 'somebody fucked up'?"
"Who knows. It's redacted."
"They also redact extremely impressive, hardcore feats of espionage."
"Let's say it's one of those, then. Who'll ever know."
Say nothing.
"Sounds cool."
"'Cool' doesn't solve shit."
"Sounds... heavy."
"Heavy like a death in the family."
"You would not believe how little support or direction I've received on this 'assignment'."
"I would, actually. I just saw you in action."
'Ritual' brings up zero matches in the Tempo archives. Or any archives.
Branch
"The head witch just rocked up, ready to roll."
"Keep joking. It's only your life."
"That guy that tailed me, what's his deal?"
"Ignatz. Area clown with shit taste in jackets. He used to work at the Bazaar, 'til Tempo sacked him."
"Why'd he get sacked?"
"For being a clown, officially. And unofficially, for maybe going in with the Weeping Eye."
"Carmuna likes him a lot, said he was being falsely accused."
"Carmuna's got dye in her brain or something. Whatever she comes out with, assume the opposite."
"Either way, cunt's just bought himself a lifetime ban from the bazaar." A quick pull on her cigarette. "Welcome to the delinquent heap."
His second banning that you've been witness to. He's a ban magnet!
Branch
"And is he? Working for the Weeping Eye?"
"Who knows. Tempo was saying a lot of strange things at the very end, some of them even true."
"I thought Tempo had friends in Luz."
"Had some enemies too. When you're that scared, hard to tell which is which."
You're still under consideration.
"I'm a friend, promise."
The girl gauges you through the curling smoke.
"Maybe. At the moment, you're just late."
"I don't exactly trust you yet, either."
"And why would you? Not like I just bailed you out and brought you back to my safehouse."
"I saw him trying to get some 'artistic' photos developed earlier."
"Photos?" She looks troubled for a moment. "Weird. Tempo thought maybe he was in with the Weeping Eye."
"Know anything about this?" (Show her the red disc.)
The girl inspects the disc over the top of her cigarette.
"This is one of those Einzelfucks Petre won't shut up about."
"Einzeltone XR."
"Fuck me, there's two of them."
Branch
"Fuck me, there's two of them.""Media vendor at the bazaar, he gets off on this stuff. But be warned -- dangerous game pulling that out in…PSEUDOPOD has unlocked one of life's secret endings."Maybe it's busted. Maybe it's a fake." She shrugs. "Maybe you got the display model."But she has stiffened slightly.
"What about this Ultra Violeta popstar, know anything about her?"
"I know she's missing. But that's no state secret, whole world knows that." A flick of ash. "Kidnapped, I heard... Sad end if it's true."
A flash of your abandoned double, alone in a lonely room.
"There are many sad ends out there."
"Lying in fucking wait," she mutters, mid-drag.
"Where did you get that, anyway?" She nods at the red disc.
"Lying in fucking wait," she mutters, mid-drag."Then I'm happy to help expand your deal.""Well, maybe you can track her down, then you'll have the answer to the world's biggest mystery. And it'll be…"Of course. You can't go wrong with V, all her stuff is good. She's like a friend. She gets it.""Fucking losers.""I'm not. Most ends are sad," she mutters, mid-drag."Yeah.""There you go.""Great. All up to speed on culture."THE PARTY DIGS AGRICULTURAL LABOUR. ACTUAL DIGGING. EVERY DAY A WORK DAY."Great opinion. Thanks for sharing."
Hold your cards close for now, operant. All remains tilted.
Be open with her. This girl is not your enemy. She may yet be your ally.
Branch
"The man I was supposed to work with is... incapacitated. This thing may have been involved."
"As in, dead?"
On the second floor of a failing photo outlet, a pair of green eyes widen, catch a glimpse of the impossible, then cloud back over.
"As in, lost."
"Sorry to hear it."
"What happened to him?"
HE DESERTED THE TRACK BEFORE THE STARTING GUN. MENTAL WEAKNESS LED TO PHYSICAL.
"Me, indirectly."
"You seem to happen to a lot of people, don't you?"
"Sounds like we're two down, CASCADE, and getting cunted harder by the minute." A glance out of the window. "Hope he pulls through."
"Wouldn't count on it."
"Then... we commend him to the stars." She looks upward and exhales.
Branch
"That's how the spy thing goes sometimes. People are there, then they're not."
"And what's another one in the vapour? You spies are morgue slab cold."
So much more 'not' than anyone else. No funeral, no salute, vanished from the world with a muttered incantation and a phantom hand.
"Don't worry. I left him in the capable hands of the petit bourgeois."
"Okay. Good. Whatever."
"An arch-scheme I have yet to uncover."
"The worst type of schemery."
"Spy shit."
"This spy shit's got a high mortality rate."
"The world."
"That one happens to the best of us."
"Not like Tempo dead... but I don't think he'll be coming back."
"Believe me, I'm taking it very personally."
"As you should." A nod through smoke. "I would too."
Boneless gäng, yet still a part of us.
Blown away into the night before you could even give chase.
"From the place I'm staying at. It was in the stereo system."
"People don't just leave rare shit like that lying around. Highly weird."
"I thought so too."
"Then again, not even the third weirdest part of this whole fuck circus."
Branch
"The middle-aged proprietar may be a closet fan."
"Still weird. But L-Pop's an 'all ages' deal. No judgement by me."
"I've already logged my report with my controller. Consider it redacted."
"Fine. Redact the world from me, see if I fucking care."
She takes a disgruntled drag then flicks the cigarette several times.
Encrypted in those flicks, you glean, are the letters 'F' and 'U', in that order.
"I didn't know that."
"... Aren't you a spy? Major international affairs are meant to be your whole deal."
"They're a part of my deal, not all of it."
"Then I'm happy to help expand your deal."
"I prefer major affairs that no one knows about."
"Well, maybe you can track her down, then you'll have the answer to the world's biggest mystery. And it'll be all yours."
"Are you into her? Seems like your demographic."
"Of course. You can't go wrong with V, all her stuff is good. She's like a friend. She gets it."
"Some girls enjoy dressing up as her, I understand. 'Fans' who 'shift'."
"Fucking losers."
"No need to be pessimistic."
"I'm not. Most ends are sad," she mutters, mid-drag.
"And who's this 'Ultra Violeta' character?"
Branch
"Luzian popstar. Massive deal." She nods at your t-shirt. "You're wearing her face."
"Oh yeah."
"Yeah."
Look down.
A pretty face upside-down, beneath the words 'ATELOIV ARTLU'.
"There you go."
"What? You've never heard of Ultra Violeta, the Luzian pop superstar?"
"Now I have." (Give her a thumbs up.)
"Great. All up to speed on culture."
"I'm from the Superbloc. Deeply repressed people."
"Communists don't dig pop music, who knew? Every day's a school day."
THE PARTY DIGS AGRICULTURAL LABOUR. ACTUAL DIGGING. EVERY DAY A WORK DAY.
"I think music's extremely overrated."
"Great opinion. Thanks for sharing."
"Who's Petre?"
"Media vendor at the bazaar, he gets off on this stuff. But be warned -- dangerous game pulling that out in front of him. Liable to shoot his load."
"Ever seen it before?"
"Never. They're meant to be pretty rare, aren't they?"
PSEUDOPOD has unlocked one of life's secret endings.
"Doesn't seem like there's anything on it."
"Maybe it's busted. Maybe it's a fake." She shrugs. "Maybe you got the display model."
"I get a weird feeling off it. You?"
"Red's an odd colour choice... That's about it." She shrugs.
But she has stiffened slightly.
"Can I have one of those?" (Point at her cigarette.)
"Dipped one in nitroglycerin. Fair warning." The packet juts out toward you. Half a dozen black heads stick out.
Her fingers are spangled with violet glitter.
SMOKING ANY SUBSTANCE OTHER THAN PARTY-APPROVED BRANDS WILL BE CLASSIFIED AS 'TOBACCO WRECKING'.
Branch
(Take one.) "Thanks."
The girl tilts her head up and offers half a shrug.
The best cigarette you've had in years.
Savour the next drag.
The smoke swells lazily in your chest.
"Don't think you're getting another one. 'Cos you're not."
Branch
Don't let a child out-smoke you. Pound it.
Your head lightens, your vision blurs -- but victory is yours.
(Take two.) "I like my odds."
"Greedy cunt."
She says, but does nothing to stop you.
You rest one on your lip and pocket the second for later.
(Don't take one.) "Actually... I'm good."
The packet snaps shut in front of you.
"Your mind. Make it up."
"So, you and Marco..."
"Me and Marco." She squints at you in trepidation.
Branch
"How are things between you two?"
"Fine. But also... Not great. I've barely had time to see him."
"You've got a lot on. Probably shouldn't be a priority."
"It's definitely not." She glances at her cigarette end. "Part of the problem, no doubt."
"It's weird. When he's around, he annoys me and I want out. But when he's not there, after he's gone... he becomes, like, the best person ever, in my mind. Even though he hasn't changed."
Shapeshifting love. Impossible to hold.
MUCH LIKE THE CLASSIC FASCIST DILEMMA -- THEIR ENEMY MUST BE BOTH STRONG AND WEAK AT THE SAME TIME!
"Once this is all over, you should make it up to him."
"Maybe. We'll see. I hope we can."
They won't make it.
Worse, they both know it.
Branch
"I could never trust someone that intimately again."
"I do trust him, though. I trust him a lot, actually. I just... don't really tell him stuff."
"Rinse him for all he's worth: emotionally, financially and operationally."
"Is that fair on him, though? I don't fucking know..."
"Feelings are like clouds. One day, they're all you can see, the next, they've passed over."
"That doesn't exactly help me... But yeah, I think you're right."
"Do you feel the same about him since... you know... Tempo and you..."
"Since I became a middle-aged criminal? Yeah, complicated one. I don't know. I think so."
"He seems... conflicted about your relationship."
"That makes a couple of us."
"Does he know about V?"
"No. No one knows about that, apart from you. And maybe this headphone creep."
"I trust him to a point. But this is adult shit. With adult consequences."
Branch
Yet she was happy enough to put him in KALEIDOSCOPE's crosshairs.
Branch
Yet she was happy enough to put him in the Man with Compelling Headphone's crosshairs.
"Have you told him you're... Tempo?"
"No. Marco didn't even know Tempo. So what the fuck would I say, 'surprise sweetheart, I'm some random middle-aged gay man now'?"
"Fear not, I let him know."
"You told him?"
"Yep."
"I should've been the one to tell him. Just back off, Hershel, this isn't spy shit, this is personal shit. And it's mine."
Branch
"He deserved to know."
"That might be a good start, see how it goes down..."
"If he freaks out I can always play it off as a joke. He always laughs at my jokes."
"Maybe better not to tell him. But if you don't, you should end it."
"I know, I know... I'll get around to one or the other."
"What's your favourite thing about him?"
"Probably..." She thinks hard for a moment. "... his smile."
Branch
Uh oh.
Branch
"That's all on that." (Back.)
"Moving on..."
Branch
"Tell me about you, Yana."
"Alright, Hershel." A long exhale. "Psychologise me."
Alternative wording
"Alright, Hersh." A long exhale. "Psychologise me."
Branch
"So how'd you end up here, weekend job at the bazaar or something?"
"Yeah, I did some odd job shit around there. Admin stuff for Tempo. Became his assistant, basically."
"And now you run it. Pretty fast-tracked promotion."
"I'm a criminal prodigy. Best in show. Fleet of fucking foot." She rolls the black cigarette to the other side of her mouth.
"I was just... Yana. The bazaar took me in. Tempo kept me."
Branch
"Was he using you to circumvent local tax laws?"
"Nothing so high-concept."
"The heir apparent?"
"Maybe, yeah." She glances around the room. "Some fucking kingdom."
"What's your take, from a bootlegging perspective -- can culture ever really be blockaded?"
"I don't think so. The bazaar's receipts don't think so either. People say that culture goes 'backwards', or 'downhill', or whatever the fuck..."
"There's only one real blockade to culture -- blind and deafen yourself. Then maybe you're protected. Anything else... No chance." A flash of canine as she takes a drag. "We'll find you eventually."
Branch
"Where are your parents?"
"Probably where I left them." The girl shrugs.
Translation: At the back of another life somewhere.
Push a little harder and she'll open up. This girl wants to tell you things.
"I'm serious. Are they both still alive?"
"Last time I checked." A sharp exhale.
"And what do they do?"
"Mum's a swimming instructor. My dad creates radio jingles for a local station."
"That sounds nice."
"It was, for a while."
"I'll check in on them, someday." She glances at the window.
As if they might be waiting just outside it.
Branch
"I'm sure they're worried about you."
"Maybe. Probably." She flicks her cigarette. "Whatever, I don't have time for them right now."
"So nothing cool like spying, then."
"Some of Dad's jingles have stayed in people's heads for years. I think that's pretty cool."
"Are they at all concerned that their daughter is the apparent head of a vast criminal enterprise?"
"Who are you, social services? Fuck off."
Branch
"Guess we'll leave them there, then."
"Appreciated."
"My mother has anti-parental tendencies too."
"Thundering cunt-itis." The girl nods solemnly and takes a sharp drag. "Usually genetic."
"Don't you have school and friends and stuff like that?"
"I'm retired."
"From school?"
"Government education is for losers and narcs."
"They're never going to teach you the most important thing in life: how to make fucking moves."
Branch
"They're never going to teach you the most important thing in life: how to make fucking moves."But now it's precarious. Friendship under review.The popstar catches her eye. The two girls exchange half a smile each."I keep her locked in a room next door." She exhales and lifts her eyebrows at you. "Anything else?"
"From friends?"
"More trouble than they're worth, in my experience." She rolls a shoulder awkwardly.
Trying to shrug off the shrill taunts, kicks against toilet stall doors and scribbled lines on cracked walls that take root as undeniable truth.
"I've got one friend. Might be all you need."
"Is it Asset SCARF?"
"Marco's my boyfriend, sometimes, maybe, if he's fucking lucky. You can't be friends with your boyfriend."
She looks at you like this is the most salient point in the world.
Branch
"It's V, isn't it."
Branch
"For a while, it was."
But now it's precarious. Friendship under review.
"Yep." She glances at V.
The popstar catches her eye. The two girls exchange half a smile each.
"Then who's the one friend?"
"I keep her locked in a room next door." She exhales and lifts her eyebrows at you. "Anything else?"
"Is it the Boatman?"
Alternative wording
"Is it Boat Man?"
"No. He's my employee."
"Is it me?"
"We friends now, Hersh?" She raises her chin and looks at you evenly.
"Why not."
"Okay. Cool. Looks like I have one and a half friends."
"Thought you said you missed me around?"
"Maybe I changed my mind."
"No. I preferred the old Tempo."
"Well I'm sorry I'm not him."
You remember it all too closely -- hopscotching through the lightning strikes of youth.
"I don't quite get what's going on between you and Tempo."
"We had a professional arrangement. Now we have an extremely personal one. I was here. That's all."
Branch
"Let's switch subjects." (Go back.)
Branch
"Fine with me."
Branch
"Hold on, don't I get another name, like how Tempo was TAXMAN?"
Fück. Mandated creativity time.
Could go with TAXGIRL... Strong thematic resonance.
"TAXMAN was my magnum opus."
"Well, just give me your magnum secondus. You can do it. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off."
Branch
"Well, just give me your magnum secondus. You can do it. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off.""Get thinking then. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off.""Fuck's that mean? I'm a massive asset. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off.""You mean like save you from the bazaar?" The girl looks at you pointedly.
"I'd have to, you know... hit on one."
"Get thinking then. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off."
"You don't need one, you're not an asset."
"Fuck's that mean? I'm a massive asset. And it better not be 'TAXGIRL' or I'll kick off."
"Do something impressive, then maybe."
"You mean like save you from the bazaar?" The girl looks at you pointedly.
Alternative wording
"You mean like save you from the bazaar? Also I'm Tempo. It's me, Hersh. I call that impressive, personally. Sickest cover you've ever fucking seen."
Nail Yana's cryptonym.
A good cryptonym reveals nothing yet means everything. The seeming arbitrariness of the sign only strengthens the bond between operant and asset.
"Your cryptonym will be YO-YO."
"Why's that?"
"They were the first words you said to me."
Branch
"That's cool, the personal angle."
"Don't hate it. YO-YO it is." She nods at you. "Good job, CASCADE."
Alternative wording
"Don't hate it. YO-YO it is." She nods at you. "Good job, CASCADE. Finally."
Branch
"Because I can do cool tricks with you."
Branch
"That sounds a little weird, but it's a good name anyway."
"No reason, just fits."
Branch
"I agree. It's good, Yana."
Branch
Nothing, just the sound of breeze through a broken window.
Branch
Branch
Here you go. A hyper-tier cryptonym, and it's right on the tip of your tongue:
"Crypto... nym..." (Stroke your chin.)
"I'm waiting."
"Okay, I've got it this time."
"Still waiting."
"It's about to come to me."
"Doubtful."
"Shhh, you're messing up my flow."
"This is painful stuff, Hersh."
Branch
"Maybe she just needs another go." The queen of electro-pop looks at you with deep concern.
"I'm putting an end to this. No more cryptonym talk until you got something that sticks."
Branch
Stick your tongue out, just the tip.
"This is painful stuff, Hersh."
Branch
"Maybe this is more of a conceptual based thing? Is that what you're going for, Hersh?"
"You know what, let's pause the cryptonym conversation."
"You're the one who brought it up, you dope."
Branch
"A pause, yeah. That's a good idea."
"…"
"You look like my grandma during an absence seizure. Say something or I'm calling the doctor."
Alternative wording
"You seizing again? Say something or I'm calling the doctor."
Branch
On further reflection, names are hard. Basically impossible. Following the example of Dositeo Fernandez, this problem requires a multidisciplinary conceptual framework.
"Close your eyes and imagine this cryptonym: 'YANUS'."
"Yanus. Don't know what that fucking means. No.'"
"Very high concept, it's like your name but also like the name of this ancient two-faced deity but also..."
"You calling me two-faced? Fuck off."
Branch
"I don't really go for conceptual stuff, personally."
"Fine, fine. Next one's a winner, I can feel it."
"Better be. This is amateur hour, Hersh."
Branch
"The name itself is just the departure point, there are numerous dimensions to the gesture."
"No one knows what any of that shit means, including you."
Branch
"It's the word 'anus' with a 'Y' in front of it."
"V, come on, totally different pronunciation."
"Don't spies write a lot of reports? Everyone will read it as 'anus' with a 'Y'."
"Okay, you're right."
"I'm aware."
"I'm still working through the conceptual details."
"Probably best to keep working, I'd say."
Branch
"I think that's a good idea." Her smile is slightly less encouraging this time.
Names are easy. Just go with your first idea. First ideas always win out.
"I've solved our cryptonym conundrum: you will be YOUNGBLOOD."
"Obvious. Lame. No."
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"No."
"Are you openly defying your lead?"
"Yep."
"This is what I've chosen. Deal with it."
"Then I choose not to respond to your shit name. Hard fucking pass."
Argument is futile, and you know it. Teenage girls are the unacknowledged legislators of reality.
"No problem. I'll think of something better."
Branch
"I believe you can." The queen of electro-pop gives you an encouraging smile.
"Sounds good. Get thinking."
Branch
Immovable.
Where have you heard this music before?
It falls into place with a satisfying mental thunk. The projected advert. This is 'Cover the Moon When I'm Gone', stripped back and rearranged.
"Ultra Violeta."
"What?" She glances at you, cigarette frozen halfway to mouth.
(Point in the direction of the music.) "Ultra Violeta."
The girl stares at you for a long moment as ash corrodes the end of the cigarette.
"How did you know?"
"Good ear." (Shrug.)
"I was against bringing the keyboard, for the record." She sighs, mostly smoke.
"Well done, Hersh, you got me. Top fucking marks."
Finally, she thinks. A part of her was desperately waiting for you to put this together.
"What?"
Branch
"Follow me. And Hersh... be cool."
The girl mashes the ends of her cigarette into the tabletop and glances at you once more as she rises.
"Thanks."
"Yana... What exactly have you gotten us in to?"
"Not just me, Hersh, this shitshow was a joint production."
"The youth doesn't own music, Yana."
"No, we just invented it." She sighs, mostly smoke.
"Why are you surprised I knew that, isn't she the most popular thing in the world or something?"
"Just about." She sighs, mostly smoke. "Proving to be a major issue."
"Heard she's gone missing. Mega-mystery."
"Alright, no need to get sarcastic."
"All the girls want to be her, apparently. They wear her costumes in the street."
"They can look like her, but they don't sound like her."
"She's a popstar. Massive deal. Get with it."
Branch
Still nothing. In fact, it feels further out of reach than before.
Branch
You almost have it -- but right as you close your fist, it shimmers through your fingers.
Wait, wait! (Try and hum along.)
You make an atonal, arhythmic vocalisation. It doesn't help.
Pausing between drags, the girl looks at you with concern.
Branch
It'll come to me. Just have to not think about it.
The piano maestro next door has other ideas.
What's Tempo got you mixed up in?
This is all laid out in front of you, a map of islands with unmarked bridges. Take it from the top -- does it seem like your former asset Thought This One Through?
No. Yana was his back-up when things went extremely south.
A hurried, desperate back-up -- yet the practical logistics of the scheme were planned long in advance. This reveals a fundamental truth...
Tempo becoming Yana was an improvisation at the last step.
And yet...
In the slow dip of silence, a piano melody lulls through a thin wall.
She says she volunteered for the process.
That's why she was there. Which leaves a single question:
"Yana, who was Tempo actually trying to copy onto you?"
"I was wondering when you were going to ask that. This whole fuckshow started when we brought..." She trails off. "Actually, better if I just show you."
The shadow of a passing aero-tram flashes across the girl's face like a zoetrope as she glances up.
"Please do. Now."
"What do you mean, like a mime or something?"
"No. 'Fuck are you on about now?"
Branch
Branch
Okay, okay. Here it is. Tempo's message to you and only you... The desperate signal flare... It's all slotting into place now. Only one question makes sense:
"Yana... why did Tempo want to imprint himself onto me?"
"Thought you were meant to be smart, Hersh. You're sounding cunt-tier."
"I'm just offended he didn't ask my directly."
"Tempo didn't want to copy himself on to you, or me, or anyone. That wasn't the plan."
"What was the plan?"
"He wanted to imprint someone else on to me, obviously."
"Who? Me? I'm flattered, Yana, but I'm not sure I'm down for that..."
"Fucking hell, no. You're too dense. Just have to show you."
Branch
"I've always considered him more of a friend, less of an imprintee..."
... Try a weird sex angle.
"Could just be me, but I'm getting definite 'sex thing' vibes... Are you sure you two didn't hang?"
"Hersh, you need to see someone about this. Either a psychiatrist or a consenting fucking partner."
Branch
The mists evaporate as if in fast-forward. Tempo was trying to achieve maximum Tempo. In other words:
"He was making a whole new crew of Tempos!"
"What?"
"Yana, I'm afraid I can't be part of the Tempo Proliferation Program."
"I have no idea what you're on about."
"And Hersh. Don't fuck me around more than you already have. Please."
The plea is subtle, but present. Her head is barely held above the waterline.
Branch
"It's a shame he couldn't finish it... or start it, really..."
"This could be a stroke or something. Maybe you should lie down."
"He didn't tell you?"
"I'm pretty clear on what he told me, and it wasn't that."
"Later, teen." [Leave.]
Alternative wording
"Later, Yana." [Leave.]
Branch
Branch
"And yo, Hersh... that operation with Marc... I mean, asset SCARF, tailing the weird headphones guy... I'm pretty sure it's about the imprinting device."
The soft piano music rises again, nearby yet very far beyond you.
"As in, headphones guy wants it?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."
Branch
"Ah, so that's why you wanted to give it to me."
"Honestly, I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me. But Hersh..." She looks at you. "I'm not trying to fuck you over."
She takes a deliberate drag, eyes on you one moment, the cigarette the next.
"Honestly, I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me. But Hersh..." She looks at you.…"I'm highly fucking acquainted.""And I was being straight -- I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me.""And no, it did not come with an adapter. But it does have cocaine in the seams. And a little bit of nose…
You get the distinct sense she's about to confide something to you. But at the cusp, she retracts the words and puts others in their place.
"Let's have each other's backs, Hersh. It's less scary that way."
"It's okay, Yana. I'm a major international spy. Danger clings to such a position."
"I'm highly fucking acquainted."
"Wow, good job I didn't let you foist it on me."
"I wasn't trying to 'foist', I just thought it'd be better off with you."
"And I was being straight -- I don't like having it around. I can hear it... snickering at me."
"On second thought, I think it's better if I have it." (Take the device.)
"I agree. I don't do returns either." She rummages and emerges with the device.
"And no, it did not come with an adapter. But it does have cocaine in the seams. And a little bit of nose blood."
"What a coincidence."
"He probably knows I have it. I think. I don't know who knows what anymore."
Alternative wording
"He probably knows I have it. Or... had it. 'Cos now you've got it."
"Once I sort this mess out, you better start being straight with me."
"One more thing, Hersh. Now that we're adequately acquainted... I need you to check in on someone for me."
She flicks loose ash from the end of her cigarette and watches the orange glow die.
"You up for it or what?"
This will be a personal call.
"Depends on the someone."
"His name's Marco..."
Branch
Scarf boy. You are face to face with his pack alpha.
"Is this Marco your terrified boyfriend, by any chance?"
Branch
"Is this Marco your terrified boyfriend, by any chance?""Must be your boyfriend. I've met him. Nice kid.""That your little boyfriend?" (Do a silly voice.)"Boyfriend?""That your little boyfriend?" (Do a silly voice.)"'Marco'... Sounds intimate. Boyfriend-ish.""A boyfriend? Is he also prepared to do anything for you?"
The teen in the scarf. She's the other half of this doomed couple you've been hearing about.
The boy in the scarf. This girl is his tormentor -- and also his first love.
Branch
The aimless, over-scarfed teen hanging around the plaza.
"Must be your boyfriend. I've met him. Nice kid."
"That your little boyfriend?" (Do a silly voice.)
The teen with the scarf. Though you recall him as more scarf than teen...
A close companion, from her expression.
"Boyfriend?"
"That your little boyfriend?" (Do a silly voice.)
"'Marco'... Sounds intimate. Boyfriend-ish."
"A boyfriend? Is he also prepared to do anything for you?"
"I'd do anything for you, Yana."
"Weird. Please don't say shit like that. His name's Marco..."
"Keep your powder dry, Hershel."
Alternative wording
"Later, Hersh. Keep me in the loop."
Alternative wording
"Don't be a stranger, Hersh."
Alternative wording
"Bye."
Branch
"Made that PSEUDOPOD weirdo my drink mule. Got him paying for them, too."
"And no one's bought me a fucking drink."
"CASCADE. Ready and waiting to slab cunts." She makes a 'gun' sign with her hand.
"Also, this stiff bitch behind the bar keeps asking to see ID."
Branch
"Guess I'll be seeing you around, Hersh. Maybe in another five years, knowing how you fucking operate."
She opens her cigarette packet and extracts two -- one she hooks on her lip, the other she slots behind an ear.
Branch
"Are you going with her?"
"I'm getting her to Central, then to Long-Distance. Then I'm coming back here."
"I told her she could come if she wants. I'd like that."
"You should go with her."
"I don't think so, Hersh. Tempo trusted me with... himself. I got to stay close to what mattered to him."
The bazaar.
You.
Branch
"Good. The bazaar needs you."
"Place wouldn't last a week with cunts like Petre and Carmuna left unchecked."
(Whisper.) "Don't do it. She just wants an assistant."
"I can hear you, Hersh. I have perfect pitch."
"I think I need to stay in one place for a while. Also, there's the bazaar... cunts won't run themselves."
"I have some... news about the old Tempo."
"What?" The girl glances at you and goes very still.
Dissonant urges rise in you -- one to reveal the world as it so often is, and the other to protect her from it.
Go on. Tell her about the Thing on the Roof. Give her something to remember him by.
Branch
"Reno seems to have named a boar after him."
"That's sweet. Can I see him?"
"I think so. He's hanging out on Reno's roof."
"Thanks, Hersh."
Branch
"Do you want to?"
"I think so, yeah."
"He's on Reno's roof. With all the kibble he can eat."
"He's no longer strictly human. He's some kind of boar-thing now. It's very disturbing."
"What the fuck?"
"You should see this shit, Yana. Absolutely wild. His soul's in a boar."
"Fucking hell..."
"I would not recommend seeing him, but he's sunning himself on Reno's roof if you feel like it."
"Thanks... is he okay?"
"He's thriving honestly, this is a top percentile outcome for him."
"At least he's being cared for."
Branch
"I think so. Unconfirmed if Reno's still fucking him."
"Uh. Okay. I might go and see him sometime, then."
"And if he is still fucking him, the ethics around that are certainly intriguing."
"Please stop talking."
"Take your time, he's not going anywhere. If he got loose in public he'd be shot on sight."
"That's... good to know."
"He'd like that. Probably."
"Would he? I'm not so sure, Hersh."
"Boar to the core."
"Boar... to the core." She repeats your words, not quite taking them in.
"Yeah, what the fuck. Kind of your fault, also."
"Hersh, I really thought he was gone. He was, he was gone..."
"Actually, it doesn't matter. I just think of him sometimes."
"Me too, sometimes. And sometimes all the time."
Branch
"Alright, then. Good hustle." (Conclude.)
"Hersh, wait. Something that's been playing on my mind..."
"That photo of you all, the one in Tempo's office -- why'd you take that? Aren't you all spies?"
Good question. Evidently you succumbed to a sudden fit of camaraderie.
"It was my birthday." (Lie.)
"Happy late birthday, then."
She looks at you for a long moment, working up to something.
"This big play you're putting together. Take me with you."
"You? On the assignment?"
"Yeah." She nods at you several times.
"You don't even know what it is."
Branch
"Yeah, I do. Slabbing this Cultural Minister. You told us earlier, in V's room."
Oh yeah. You did let it slip back there.
"Just a little pre-brief. Evidently I saw this coming."
"Great, then I trust your instincts. Put me on the fucking team."
"I can do a good job. Like Tempo would've."
"She can, Hersh. I believe in her."
Branch
"I don't know... You're a very unstable teenager."
"Exactly. Cunts will never see me coming."
The inner city gangs of Rega Seven regularly use teenage girls as assassins.
Branch
"Await further instructions, Yana."
Alternative wording
"Await further instructions, YOUNGBLOOD."
Alternative wording
"Await further instructions, YO-YO."
"Fuck yes. Awaiting."
Alternative wording
"Name is still idiotic, but fuck yes. Awaiting."
"I'll see V to the station. Then I'm down for whatever, CASCADE." She smiles at you.
Branch
The two girls glance at each other, then nod. They're ready. Time to leave them to it.
"Tempo, my brother-sister. Let us ride again."
"Already saddled up."
"You're way too young."
"So what, the Opera has an ethics division now?"
In theory, it exists -- but many assume it to be an empty office behind a locked door. The Operant Bureau also does not dictate age restrictions for potential assets.
Wait, really?
Really. Though officially, assets are 'cultivated' these days, and not 'groomed'.
The mandated language was reviewed after Operant VELVET's 'angel network' of teenage female 'assets' came under investigation and was discovered to be, to quote the report, 'bereft of justification'.
"Hersh. We good?"
"Yes, I think I can... 'cultivate' you."
"Pretty weird, but okay. I'll see V to the station. Then I'm with you for whatever, CASCADE." She smiles at you.
"Affirmative on the ethics division, but no one's ever actually seen it."
"I won't narc if you don't."
REVOLUTION IS AGELESS! THE TINY WORKSHOPS OF THE CHILDREN'S LABOUR COMMUNE PRODUCE THE FINEST SK-53 ASSAULT RIFLES IN THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLICS.
Wait, really?
'MINIATUURSED MEHHANISMID NÕUAVAD MINIATUURSEID KÄSI' -- 'MINIATURE MECHANISMS DEMAND MINIATURE HANDS.'
"Hersh? All good?"
"On second thought... maybe I can make use of your miniature hands."
"Ethics are not very revolution."
"Great. Then sign me up."
"No, I'm just afraid of getting you killed."
"Don't be. I'm not. But also..." She glances away. "Thanks for the concern."
"No, I'm just afraid of getting you wanged."
"Good point, ethics are for mere civilians."
"I'm already a criminal. Might as well be a state-sponsored one."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Assassination. Government official."
"Cool." She shrugs. "I'm in."
"Can't tell you in front of..." (Motion at Ultra Violeta.)
Branch
The popstar looks at you and lifts her eyebrows.
Oh yeah. You did let it slip to her.
"Actually, what the hell, we're all friends here. Assassination. Government official."
"Look, I don't care what it is. Let me be part of the team. Part of the Crew."
"I said it was my birthday, but it wasn't really."
"So you're one of those. Had a girl like that in my class, Sophie Veza. Sad fucking case."
"It was worth the risk."
"If you say so, Hersh."
"Could've been a trap, could've been anything. And they all came anyway."
"Yeah, they did. All of them."
Branch
"Lot of toing and fucking froing, Hersh."
Branch
Branch
"Hersh, I've been thinking. Or projecting, maybe. Future-wise." She jabs a cigarette into her mouth, then removes it again.
"Me too, as it happens. Go on."
"This question's skipping the needle in my head." She looks at you directly.
"What would Tempo do?"
A geometrically precise matrix of cocaine.
"About what?"
"Her." She tilts her head towards Ultra Violeta's room.
Branch
"The Luzian imperialist asset?"
"She's just a popstar, Hersh. A pretty good one."
"Imperialist. Asset."
"Wow, great, you said it slower."
The girl sighs smoke and turns to face the city beyond the window.
"Wow, great, you said it slower.""Fine. Maybe I don't. Whatever."Whipped her. Nice."Feels that way sometimes. A slow, endless explosion.""I was. I am.""Good one, Hersh. Coming from you.""Seems you're a little short on those too. But good to know."B-sides and rarities."Great. Thanks for the advice.""I don't. I just asked for your opinion. Didn't get it."
"I should be out there dancing. Somewhere shiny, under lights. This is all so fucked."
"So why aren't you dancing?"
"Because the music's gone. There's just the memory of it now. And you can't dance to a memory."
"Gone like Tempo. Even though you are him."
"Don't you lose yourself too sometimes?"
Every time. Rain-smeared missing posters taped to the streetlamps of your life.
"Now and then."
"That's why you need the music. To guide you home."
Branch
"I thought Tempo wanted to get Ultra Violeta out. What's the problem?"
"That was the deal, yeah. Setting her free in exchange for an imprint of her. But near the end, he started... I started having second thoughts."
"New plan was to sell her back to the Luzians. Imprint, then ransom her, basically."
Culture then cash. Tempo to a tee.
"So now you want to do that too."
"What do you mean 'too'? I'm fucking Tempo, I want to do it."
Her eyes flash with new tones, almost finding a unified colour.
"But I also want to help V. I really want to help her."
The girl takes a skewed drag of her cigarette, then studies the embers intently.
There are words to be traced in the loops of her cigarette light -- if only you could read the language.
Branch
"I can only respect the hustle."
"It never ends, Hersh. And we're talking a lot of fucking money."
"You had a deal with her, though."
"Had a deal, don't have the bootleg. So deal's vapour far as I'm concerned."
"Fair. Totally voided."
"Correct."
"That wasn't exactly V's fault..."
"Too bad. Deals are either done or not done."
"I prefer to keep myself close." (Lie.)
"No false moves by you." She tilts an eyebrow. "And less fucking dancing, I bet."
"Let's just say I've never become an entirely different person."
"Is that true, Hersh? I fucking wonder."
"There's music literally everywhere."
"I don't hear it, Hersh."
"Fuck it, maybe I'm better off that way."
"You could try."
"I could. But then I'd be dancing on my own. And that sounds pretty lonely, doesn't it?"
Never on your own. One among the dancing thousands -- multi-limbed shadow, neon-scaled beast -- the spirit animal of the city.
"Dancing is pretty lame anyway. Way cooler to not dance."
"Thanks for the life lesson, Hersh, appreciate your geriatric perspective."
Branch
"You understand nothing."
"Fine. Maybe I don't. Whatever."
"The cultural payload?"
"Yeah, the thermal-nuclear bomb currently playing piano in my back room."
Opportunity to correct a teenager, incoming.
“I believe you mean thermo-nuclear."
An annoyed shrug, a prolonged drag to buy herself some time -- but no comeback emerges.
Whipped her. Nice.
"I think we're already mid-explosion, Yana."
Alternative wording
"I think we're already mid-explosion, YO-YO."
"Feels that way sometimes. A slow, endless explosion."
"You mean your friend?"
"Yeah."
Behind the black cigarette, the girl's features soften.
"Thought you were getting her out."
"I was. I am."
"You should try to not let your friends down."
"Good one, Hersh. Coming from you."
"I don't know. I don't have friends, I have assets."
"Seems you're a little short on those too. But good to know."
"You tell me, Tempo."
"I don't know. My world's short a fucking axis. Maybe you noticed."
Not quite accurate. It actually just has a few competing axes. Mostly Tempo, yes, some of the original girl... but also a little of the popstar in there too.
Ultra Violeta's in there now as well? How?
Tempo slap-dashed it. The shoddy pressing must've left room for a bonus track on the outer grooves. That one's all Ultra Violeta.
So where does that leave Yana?
B-sides and rarities.
"I did notice."
"Great. Thanks for the advice."
"Sounds like you want someone to make a decision for you."
"I don't. I just asked for your opinion. Didn't get it."
"I was going to ask you something similar. I assume we're talking about..." (Mime playing a keyboard.)
"Weapons-grade drugs."
"Yeah, and then what? About her." She jerks her head towards Ultra Violeta's room.
"Long-term planning. Tempo's speciality."
"Get serious for a moment. I'm trying to be serious." She looks at you directly.
"The future will eat you alive if you let it."
"Cool. Not my main concern right now." She looks at you directly.
Branch
"Remember, Hersh -- no weird shit around V."
Branch
Branch
Branch
"Yo yo."
Branch
"Yo yo."The piano from the next room still plays, the melody repeating, softly insistent. You are dimly aware that…You've heard this music in a different form somewhere before.They dissolve into the air, gone by the time you register them.The piano from a room beyond this one still plays, the melody repeating, softly insistent.
"Yo yo." The girl offers you a nod. "How goes."
Branch
The piano from the next room still plays, the melody repeating, softly insistent. You are dimly aware that the melody has changed.
Follow the notes.
You've heard this music in a different form somewhere before.
Let them go.
They dissolve into the air, gone by the time you register them.
The piano from a room beyond this one still plays, the melody repeating, softly insistent.
Branch
"Hersh. Shouldn't you be hanging 'round a doorway or haunting a consulate?"
Branch
Branch
Branch
"Yo, Hersh. You check in with Marco yet?"
Branch
"Oh, I 'checked in' with him alright."
"Got something on your mind, Hersh?"
Branch
"Affirmative. Debrief incoming."
"Thought I did the debrief? Whatever, go ahead."
Branch
"I spoke to him, but he had no new information about the headphone guy."
"Okay. Keep an eye on him for me, would you?"
"I'm just, like... concerned about him..." She flips the lid of the cigarette packet open and closed.
"... Professionally."
CASCADE: 'Are you sure it's okay to just... leave them behind, M?' CONTROLLER: 'They're assets, CASCADE.'
"I'll get to it."
"Thanks, Hersh. Appreciated."
"Anyway." She flicks loose ash from her cigarette. "You want something?"
Branch
"Marco's no professional."
"I'm concerned about him amateurly, then. You know what I'm saying. Just check on him, please."
"It's okay. I would be, too."
"Okay, good to know I'm not being weak, or whatever."
"I think you mean SCARF."
"Oh yeah. SCARF. Did you check in with SCARF yet?"
"I've had a lot on."
"I'm sure he's fine."
"Yeah, probably. Probably fine."
"Why, you miss him?"
"No, fuck off."
"Stray spies still wandering around, looking for their forever home."
Alternative wording
"Yo-yo, Hersh."
Branch
Branch
"It's still on."
"It is indeed."
"This..." A quick pinch between her eyes. "... does not bode well."
Branch
"Okay. On it is. A reminder of how hard you fucked it back there."
Branch
The girl gives you a quick, not exactly kind once-over from behind a dark cigarette and crescent nose.
Branch
Ouroboros Black. Case closed on the cigarette thief.
Her eyes are two different colours: amber and ash.
Branch
"I didn't catch your name."
"Don't recall throwing it. I'm just someone who's been waiting on you, Hershel."
Your true name brings a shiver with it. You are better known than you realised.
"Don't recall throwing it. I'm just someone who's been waiting on you, Hershel.""And you must be his so-called friend, Hershel.""You're right. Hard to comprehend how you fucked walking so badly, Hershel.""You're welcome, Hershel.""I mean, it was basically just walking... but not totally hopeless, I'll give you that, Hershel.""I just bailed your shit out," a thin jet of smoke, "how about some aggressive gratitude, Hershel?"
"How'd you get my name?"
"Tempo talked a lot about you. Said you'd be late, too."
Your former asset was swapping secrets with a teenage girl? What is occurring here?
"Tempo talked a lot about you. Said you'd be late, too.""Don't get dense. Tempo told me your name. Said you'd be late, too.""CASCADE, then. Fuck it, have two names." A quick shrug. "Tempo said you'd be late, but he also said you'd…"Tempo said you'd be late, by the way. But that you'd definitely come."
Not that, probably. The man was a committed homosexual.
Branch
"Who are you, exactly?"
"Magician's apprentice." She spreads a hand, then exhales. "They throw knives at me and I get paid not to flinch."
When it comes to teenagers, best to stick to direct statements.
Branch
"If you're Tempo's lieutenant or whatever, tell me what's gone wrong here."
"All of it's gone wrong. Someone took Tempo out." She flicks at her lighter. "The whole way out."
"So you know. About the office."
"Who do you think found the blood?"
A trembling young hand searches for the bite of the deadbolt. It takes five attempts.
"He's dead. Turbo dead." The lighter flame flares off and on. "Sorry."
Your adrenaline has discharged. In its wake, nostalgia and pain. Muscle memory.
Branch
"You don't seem so sad about it."
"We all knew it was coming, one way or another." A half-shrug, breaking eye contact. "Like Tempo used to say himself: no one in gets out alive."
This is her Brave Face, for your sake.
Branch
Masking the wound. For you.
"Why didn't you tell anyone at the bazaar?"
"Trust no cunt. That's my red line policy these days."
"He has friends down there. They deserve to know."
"Trust me, this is the best way to protect them. We've been attacked, Hershel. Beaten all ends up. Bazaar's a war economy now."
Branch
"Good policy."
"Thanks. Here's another one. Latecomers get their shit kicked in."
"Who took him out?"
"Tempo had enemies in every direction, take your pick." She hooks a black cigarette to her bottom lip and lights it.
Steady hand, even voice. Poise beyond her years.
"It was the Weeping Eye. We have history with them."
"Sure, Hershel. Weeping Eye. Or the carabineros. Or the Azzurri mob, maybe they want to go to the mattresses again."
"'Fuck you care anyway?" A quick exhale. "Tempo always called you a friend. Five years, no word. Some friend."
"Sure, Hershel. Weeping Eye. Or the carabineros. Or the Azzurri mob, maybe they want to go to the mattresses…"Or maybe that's what someone wanted you to think. But sure, Hershel, let's go with Weeping Eye. Or the…"If it wasn't the Azzurri mob, it was the Weeping Eye. If it wasn't the Weeping Eye, it was the carabineros.…
Mayday, mayday! Gäng taking heavy emotional flak here!
Make a 'plane tailspin spluttering' noise with your mouth.
"... Okay."
Keep making the noise, add in a hand corkscrew.
The girl gives you a glacial blink and waits for more.
Crash your hand plane and make a big explosion noise.
"Cinematic. Still seems like you don't give much of a fuck."
"I care a lot more than you know."
"Yeah, but everyone says that. 'Cos it's easy to say."
Carried from a nearby apartment, a piano melody floats through the room as if on small wings.
"Anyway. He's gone. So now it's me, or it's nothing."
The girl studies her half-dead cigarette and falls silent.
You can hear her silence: 'Don't Trust You With The Big Stuff Yet Fuck Off'.
From a nearby apartment, the muffled sound of a beautifully-played piano gently shifting key.
"Unseen Forces took us out once already, child. Now they're back to their old ways."
"Then rely on the ones you can see, adult." She shrugs simply.
"Like you? I just met you. Maybe you killed him."
"Do you think I killed him?"
"It's my new working theory."
"Glad they sent in the Big Thinkers."
"Not yet, just illustrating a point."
"School's out, Hershel. Points are downstream from action."
"You don't know shit about spy-shit."
"No, I just know about friends."
"I'm here now."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Someone traced an eye in cocaine. Seems to lean only one way."
"Or maybe that's what someone wanted you to think. But sure, Hershel, let's go with Weeping Eye. Or the carabineros. Or the Azzurri mob, maybe they want to go to the mattresses again."
"I'll take your best guess."
"If it wasn't the Azzurri mob, it was the Weeping Eye. If it wasn't the Weeping Eye, it was the carabineros. If it wasn't the carabineros, it was some trivial cunt he owed 500 sol to."
"So I'm too late."
"Very too late."
Another name added to the ever-expanding list of Those You've Consummately Fucked Over.
"Who got to him?"
Branch
Real now -- once and for all.
"Why's Tempo confiding in a teenager?"
"Because I'm his second-in-command. Or I used to be, until he got taken out." She flicks at her lighter.
"Don't think I know a... 'Hershel', was it?" (Lie.)
"Don't get dense. Tempo told me your name. Said you'd be late, too."
"That's 'CASCADE' to you."
"CASCADE, then. Fuck it, have two names." A quick shrug. "Tempo said you'd be late, but he also said you'd show."
"So what was that, the welcome wagon?"
Branch
"That was the 'big time fucked it' wagon. Welcome one never showed up."
"Tempo said you'd be late, by the way. But that you'd definitely come."
"That was the 'almost fucked it' wagon. Welcome one never showed up."
"You must be Tempo's mystery underboss."
"And you must be his so-called friend, Hershel."
"What you just witnessed was some high-level stagecraft that you probably didn't fully comprehend."
"You're right. Hard to comprehend how you fucked walking so badly, Hershel."
"Thanks for the lift. Appreciated."
"You're welcome, Hershel."
"My stagecraft has no equal."
"I mean, it was basically just walking... but not totally hopeless, I'll give you that, Hershel."
"Wow, so aggressive."
"I just bailed your shit out," a thin jet of smoke, "how about some aggressive gratitude, Hershel?"
Ouroboros Black. Tempo's brand.
"One of those nights." She looks at you pointedly. "Cunts akimbo."
"Is it?" (Look from left to right.)
Branch
"I'll be taking zero questions from a deformed baby."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about this thing. Feels like home now."
"Then go and fuck a slab of tofu and stop wasting my time."
Branch
"I'm happy with it on. Let's continue."
"Okay, let me get this off." [Leave.]
"Please do."
"Just testing out a new persona."
"Results are in: Fucking moronic."
"This is how spies operate. Shrouded in mystery."
"The only mystery is why it's still on your fucking head."
"There's dried blood on the inside. I think the last person who wore this died a very violent death."
"Could happen twice."
"Surely not. What are the odds of that?"
"Who knows. Maybe see how it fares in high speed traffic."
"I like it. Brings a certain ominousity to proceedings."
"This is too fucked up -- and 'fucked up' got redefined for me recently."
Branch
"I'm no big time professional spy, but looks like you fucked it back there."
"One of those nights. Cunts akimbo."