"You should move, CASCADE."

"You should move, CASCADE."

"Where were they sitting?"

"Upstairs. All of them sat together, around that table." He motions to the table in the middle of the carriage. "Which I found a touch odd..."

... Because they should've spread out to cover off potential threats.

"They stayed like that all the way up? No reconnaissance?"

"Not even one little lap. I would say they were... stoic. Very stoic."

The bomb twitches in its casing.

Place it on the luggage rack on the lower floor. Point up. Cross fingers.

What if they don't sit there again?

Then you will be unlucky -- but you can still improvise.

Don't forget the trigger. The song.

ALL THAT I HEAR LATELY, IS MY SUPERBLOC BABY.

Zero cloak, full dagger.

The antithesis of a professional spy. They'll never see it coming.

Luggage rack on the floor below for the bomb. You need a good angle and a prayer.

What if they don't sit there again?

Then you need a new angle. Both literally and figuratively.

The luggage rack on the lower floor is your safest bet to stow it. The floors are very thin.

What if they don't sit there again?

Then you don't need to detonate it, do you?

Some form of explosive device may have been useful.

Too late for that.

A late-game improvisation, but -- what would it take for this carriage to derail? Tram as sacrifice!

I am the explosive device.

Remember: Front toward enemy.

"Odd why?"

"Because usually security entourages prefer to cover off threats, not press their backs to the proverbial wall."

Because no one ever sits near him on public transport. Nonce vibes.

"Give me the visuals on the entourage."

"Woman with red hair, on edge, pacing. A man with short red hair and an ill-advised monocle. Another with a heavy black jacket."

"Then there's the Lich himself and the man I've never seen before -- large, bald, wearing odd glasses."

Isn't it a treat to work with an actual professional? What fun.

"As for weapons, I counted three firearms, at least. Pretty safe to assume they're all armed."

"I hope you're also armed."

"Significantly. I even managed to find some new bullets, would you believe."

His hands have been wedged in his hoodie pockets since you approached.

"Significantly."

"Are you sure they didn't make you?"

"CASCADE, please." He looks almost dejected. "We're both pros here. Do me the courtesy of assuming they didn't."

"Sorry, I'm not used to working with professionals."

"No offence taken."

"I don't do courtesies. And I'd prefer if you just did answers."

"Then yes, I'm sure. My stagecraft shouldn't be your primary concern, based on the rest of this... squad."

"If it kicks off... Can we take them?"

"Well, let's take stock. Besides you and I, you've managed to muster up a youth with obvious PTSD and a latent drug addict."

"Ever heard of exposure therapy?"

"Not when the exposure could involve certain death. Although..." He glances out of the tram window.

"It's possible that death is the ultimate form of therapy. 100% success rate."

"Regardless... if it 'kicks off' as you say, I suspect you and I will be doing a lot of heavy lifting."

He may try and shoot you again.

"Whatever it takes."

"Understood, CASCADE."

"Do you have a signal in mind?"

"What signal?"

"To 'kick off'."

"This zero out site has a single exit -- this aero-tram. We need some kind of unifying signal if we find ourselves backs to wall."

You should let this very competent man lead the assignment from here on out.

HIS SIGHTS ARE SET ON THE SEAT OF GOVERNANCE. PUT HIM AND HIS FEMALE-GENDERED CLOTHING BACK IN THEIR PLACE.

"How about this -- 'Everyone behind KALEIDOSCOPE.'"

"Good one." He smiles and shifts uncomfortably.

A 'GOOD ONE' INDEED.

"Could I suggest the jukebox? If we can't see each other, for instance... nothing like a song to rally the corps for a final charge."

He motions to the music player beside you, wedged awkwardly into the space behind the back seats.

Once more, the bomb quivers in anticipation.

Every grand finale needs a soundtrack.

"I actually have some Ultra Violeta on me."

"Well, of course, if I had my choice of angel to play me out... it would be her."

Stand back, he's about to cüm.

"Music can kill you, you know."

"I'm starting to understand that, yes."

"Music can wang you, you know."

"Don't worry, if we go out, we'll go out to something sick."

"Something whole, something sick... and definitely something 'Crew'." He smiles to himself.

It wouldn't take much to break into it and set your own music. At best a distraction... at worst a war cry.

"Probably something like... 'HEY GUYS, TIME TO KICK OFF!'"

"I was thinking the sound of gunfire would do the trick."

"But we want the timing in our favour, not theirs."

"Whatever it takes to protect the Crew."

"Yeah, of the corpses we're gonna stack."

"There will be corpses of some description, undoubtedly."

"Careful with those 'warning shots' this time."

"You too, come to think of it." He looks vaguely unnerved. "That was simply a misunderstanding between professionals... All in the past. I hope we're on the same page."

"Let's all make sure we aim at the right people this time."

"CASCADE, I don't know why you're still going on about this. It was a perfectly-placed warning shot. My aim is impeccable."

"Great. Keep it that way."

"'Warning shot'. Interesting. Very easy to say after the fact."

"You keep going on about this 'warning shot' thing... I'm unconvinced."

"The man has epilepsy!"

"I'm sure he does. There's always some kind of 'condition that needs treating', isn't there?" He shakes his head lightly.

"I'd like to see you do better, Mr. No-Agency-Fourth-Wheel."

"Most roadworthy vehicles require four wheels."

What about tuktuks? Moron.

"Technically, tuktuks have three wheels." (Make a 'pleased with yourself' face.)

"What is that face? Never make that again."

"You're forgetting tuktuks."

"I said 'roadworthy vehicles'."

Let it go.

"Happy to prop you up, bucko."

... Hmm. He's right.

"The whole Crew is sick, it's our thing."

"I'm getting that. I'm really getting that." The man drags a hand across his jaw.

"And don't forget the middle aged man obsessed with music for pre-teens."

"Many a pre-teen has been spiritually obliterated by the force of emotion Ultra Violeta conjures. Discount her at your peril."

"Well, let's take stock. Besides you and I, you've managed to muster up a youth with obvious PTSD and a brain-damaged semi-zero out."

"We both gave him that brain damage."

"Our first successful collaboration. Here's to the second one."

"In the Opera, we learn from and celebrate differences."

"Interesting. Based on the ideology, I assumed the exact opposite."

"Well, let's take stock. Besides you and I, you've managed to muster up a youth with obvious PTSD and a man whose brain should be mush."

"He came around, just needed to sleep it off."

"I see... well, glad to hear it, I think. Though he still doesn't seem quite right to me..."

"He's fine."

"I'll take your word for it."

Say nothing.

"I select squadmates who allow me to shine."

"I'm honoured."

"Well, let's take stock. Besides you and I, you've managed to muster up a brain-damaged semi-zero out and a dangerously paranoid social recluse."

"Tread lightly. M.I.H.O. has eyes everywhere."

"... Meho? Who or what is Meho?"

"Exactly."

"Two of the Opera's finest."

"I see." He inclines his head and makes a face. "Sometimes you have to cut your coat with the cloth on hand."

"Well, let's take stock. Besides you and I, you've managed to muster up a man whose brain should be mush and a dangerously paranoid social recluse."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm quite enjoying the reconnaissance. Thank you for having me along."

This man is main quest complete, side quest curious.

"How are you, more to the point?"

"Holding up."

"Good. We will endure."

"So, CASCADE... Would we say I'm part of the Crew now?"

A genuine question.

Unproven gäng, surprise gäng... yet undeniably dashing gäng.

"Wait, you want to be in the Crew?"

"If you don't belong somewhere, then who remains to know you?"

An Ultra Violeta lyric, maybe. You can imagine her saying those words.

"This is your audition. Don't fuck it."

"I know my lines." He nods squarely at you. "And I hit my marks."

"If you're with me, you're in. No need to ask."

"Thank you. I do appreciate that."

"Okay in theory, but I'm going to have to shoot you non-fatally at some point to even the score."

"Steep entry price... but when the time is right, I'll offer up my left thigh as tribute."

"Hard 'no perv' policy. Sorry."

"I thought as much." He looks genuinely disappointed. "Then I'll settle for the walk-on role."

"Bricking it."

"Pre-show is always the worst."

"Possessed with the spirit of Undying Revolution."

"You sound a lot like Felix Kaido."

GOOD START. NOW ACT LIKE HIM TOO.

"Glad to hear it, I think." He frowns at you.

"Good work. Talk soon." [Leave.]

"Don't dally, bucko."

"Long live the Opera, or whatever the catchphrase is."

"These days? 'Make it up as you go along'."

"That plays. Also historically accurate. Bon courage, bucko."

"'The Opera never tires'."

"We'll soon find out. Bon courage, bucko."

"CASCADE." He nods. "Imagine seeing you here."

He gazes at you from below the hood of a pink Ultra Violeta hoodie.

A grown man in a pink hoodie should be laughable... and yet...

"Your 'casual fit' is still intimidatingly stylish."

"Not too conspicuous, I hope?"

"Looks slick, no notes."

"Much appreciated."

"What's your report?"

"Reyes was definitely on this tram, flanked by a slack-jawed techno-entourage. They all disembarked and headed for the shrine."

"How many?"

"Five, including Reyes. Most of them are secret police, I recognise them from the secret treaty advance guard. But CASCADE..." He leans forward.

You catch the scent of expensive cologne -- yesterday's, most likely.

"One of the entourage was a man I've never seen before."

Ignatz was right. The idiot was hiding gold in that hideous coat all along.

"That was Tesoro Buendia, chief of the Weeping Eye."

Your cupbearer tenses for a moment, then gives you a single, solemn nod.

Fair play, he thinks. If this is to be his final performance, at least it's a big stage.

"What's your take?"

"Someone of either very high rank or very low rank. And if I had to guess..."

He lifts a single finger into the air and jabs it upward.

"Reyes' personal bodyguard, I'd think."

"I can't be sure. But he seemed to carry some authority with him."

"Probably no one to worry about."

"Maybe." He seems unconvinced. "Maybe."

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

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

"Obviously they're going to the shrine, there's nothing else up here."

The man gives you a confused look and waits for you to say something else.

"At least you ditched the economically unviable coat."

"In for dry-cleaning. Hopefully I'll be able to collect it tomorrow."

"KALEIDOSCOPE. Glad you could make it." (Return the nod.)

"I gave you my word, bucko. I abide by the transfer rules."

"Ultra Violeta? Must you?"

"I'm afraid I must." He glances down at his pink attire. "This is one of my favourite pieces from my collection."

"A limited edition hoodie from the legendary La Raya Ballroom show. They released that one on InfraVision, actually, with full, undiluted NX-9 sound."

Region-locked sound encoding. You'd need a top-line Luzian InfraVision player to invoke it.

"Are you front and centre in the crowd?"

"Obviously not, CASCADE, I know how to duck a camera." His gaze flicks to the window for a moment. "But I was there."

"Sorry, don't have time for the perv stuff today."

"Still intent on the character zero-out? At this crucial hour? I'm disappointed, CASCADE..."

Unguarded by his headphone helm, his neck seems strangely vulnerable.