"Go on, Hersh. You'll give us away."

"Go on, Hersh. You'll give us away."

Your asset cowers before the shrine like a penitent monk, hands clasped.

"Hey, I need to speak to you about a member of the Lich's entourage...."

She looks up at the sound of your voice. The hue of her eyes has changed. Her pupils are a large, swallowing black.

She's already seen him.

"You spoke to him."

An accusation.

"It might not be the same man." (Lie.)

"You know it is. I know him. I see him."

Whispered, urgent, seething.

ASSET HAS ONCE AGAIN BECOME SELF-AWARE. BEGIN RAPID CONTAINMENT.

"I'm going to kill him."

"He's very dangerous. He's killed someone up here already."

"I know he's fucking dangerous Hershel, I was there."

You barely recognise her voice, emerging like a stranger's from a haze of red mist.

She's caught somewhere between a panic attack and bloodlust.

"Don't worry. It'll be easy."

Alternative wording

"I'll show you I'm Opera material. It'll be easy."

She attempts to smile on the last word, an unnatural twitch like broken clockwork.

"Absolutely not."

"I thought it was a good thing to improvise in-theatre? Don't do this to me. You can't ask me to ignore him."

She intends to do it anyway, no matter what you say.

"What do you want to do?"

"I can curse him."

What the fuck...

Hear her out!

She pulls out a grey, saucer-shaped gadget from her pocket.

Little bits of foam stick to it, and there are broken pieces at the side. She's torn it from something else.

"It's from the sleep study headset that you wore, the part that takes control over what you see and feel. I've... modified it."

"You didn't mention this before."

"I didn't want you to think I didn't trust the plan or anything..." She licks her lips, lowers her voice. "I brought this in case we got caught."

An arsenic capsule. Clever.

She built herself a suicide machine. Or, tried to.

"Modified it how?"

"Well. It tells the brain what to see, what to feel, what to do, right? So I click the sides here," she taps them, "and it thinks it's on someone's head."

"And... it will tell the 'brain' to destroy itself."

Necro-techno sorcery. Awesome!

Hang on, no. She cannot possibly have tested this. No untested gadgets on your Big Assignment.

"Have you... tested this?"

"Obviously not. I don't just have spare brains lying around, Hershel."

Please please please let her try it...

"Sounds pretty dangerous..."

"Yeah, that's the point."

"Sick."

"Disgusting." She agrees, grinning.

Totally bloodthirsty.

"If I say yes, how would you get it to work on him?" (Proceed.)

"The signal doesn't carry far, but it's designed to be worn, so it will make it through a layer of cloth."

A reverse pickpocket... devious, difficult. She can do it.

Stop her. He may recognise her and sound the alarm.

"He says he's dying anyway."

"Don't care what he says. Can't believe you spoke to him."

All but calling you a traitor.

"What if he catches you, recognises you?"

"Come on. If he remembers me at all it's as a scream, or a bruise. I can bump into him, he won't notice."

There may be one less Luzian to worry about if she succeeds.

The odds were never in your favour anyway. Trust her to pull this off.

"Let's make that two zeroes. He dies today."

"Yeah. Fuck yeah."

Look at her, mad with bloodlust. Beautiful.

"Now let's pretend we don't know each other." She grins and turns her attention back to the shrine.

"No, K. Give it to me."

You yank the gadget from her hand and throw. She watches, impassive, as it disappears into nature.

You got a real nice spin on that thing. Smooth.

"I... fuck."

"Fine. Let's go back to pretending we don't know each other."

"He's very dangerous. He's wanged someone up here already."

"The Lich, K. We're focused on the Lich."

"Fuck the Lich. This will make it easier. Take out one of his fucking guards."

"Too risky. We need to stick to the plan."

"Fuck the plan. This will make it easier. Take out one of his fucking guards."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be soon."

"We need to focus on the assignment."

"Fuck the assignment."

"Lovely day for a shrine!"

She looks up at the sound of your voice. The hue of her eyes has changed. Her pupils are a large, swallowing black.

Something dark has risen within her, eaten all the colour from her soul.

"You spoke to him."

"To who?"

"How can you not recognise him? You were there you... you saw his face."

"He interrogated me."

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, watching you from beneath his cover.

"You're losing it, K."

"No! You're fucking... How can you not recognise him? You were there you... you saw his face."

"He's here, Hersh."

"Yeah I know. We're going to kill him."

"Not the Lich." She speaks through gritted teeth.

"Don't you see him? Recognise him?"

"The man over there. Luzian. I know him from my interrogation. It was him."

"Where?"

"Over there, through the trees."

"You can't be sure."

"I am sure. That one, through the trees."

"Yeah I know. We're going to wang him."

"Who?"

"Where?"

She flicks her abyssal glare to the south, through the trees.

Wow, she's a good actor. [Leave.]

You turn away from the melancholy tableau.

"Hey, Hersh."

"You're copying my look. That's totally my look."

"What?" she looks down, blinking with realisation. "Oh wow, I am kinda dressed like you... Is that okay?"

Suddenly self-conscious.

Your laziest outfit is her espionage high-watermark. You've set a terrible precedent.

"It's a great idea, following my example."

"Sick." She beams.

"I don't like people cribbing my style. Also, it doesn't suit you."

Her hair droops sadly.

"Oh... shit. I'm sorry."

"I see you're undercover as the coolest spy ever." (Point to yourself.)

She looks down at herself, realisation dawning.

"Shit. I didn't even think... I just thought I should look normal. Spy normal. And it has pockets."

She flaps her hands around inside them to demonstrate volume.

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah, I'm totally buying it. Barely recognised you."

"No, you look uncomfortable and lumimous."

"That's your undercover outfit?"

"Yeah! I thought... you know. I should look cool. Spy cool. New raincoat. Pockets."

"Cool threads, K."

"Thanks! I thought... you know. I should look cool. Spy cool. Look, pockets."

"How are you feeling about the squad?"

"It's sick being a Crew again. KALEIDOSCOPE's pretty cool."

A light pink flush on her cheeks.

"Do you... like him?"

"No! He's just... you know. He's pretty good looking. And he's an Operant."

Septimus and KALEIDOSCOPE, fascinating taste in men. Preliminary analysis: self-destruction.

"For EMTERR."

"Yeah, yeah, I mean... yeah. Obviously I would never, you know. Just. Doesn't mean I can't look."

"And, anyway, Ramses is totally great. He taught me how to use a lot of the tech I still use, got me started out."

She has surpassed him.

"Show him your dream stuff when we get back. He'll love it."

"We've been chatting about it. He says I'm the first to combine runescript with biointeractive hardware. He says I've invented a field."

Not him too. Everybody's woo woo.

"Well... Successfully combine, I mean. Without killing anyone or anything like that."

"People died doing this and you still tried it?"

"I'm pretty sure people have died trying to assassinate a minister before, too. We're still here."

"Yeah, Ramses will be all over that shit."

"Mega sick."

"He's going to be mad jealous you beat him to it."

"Hehe."

"I shouldn't have brought him. He's not well."

"Not... terminally, I hope?" She swallows.

"We're all sick, Karo. That is what makes us 'Crew'."

"Woah. Woah! So true."

She really understands the truth of how cool we are.

Old joke: what's the difference between a victim and a martyr? You can't remember the punchline, now.

"Just a bit spasmy."

"That sounds fine. We've all had a few spasms."

She titters nervously, wanting it to be a joke.

"Only in the head."

"Hehe. Yeah. Maybe it's all that... music."

"I meant in a cool way. He's too sick for assignments."

"Oh! I thought you meant... right. Stupid."

Nice save, hell yeah. Gäng parry.

"It's nice having the Crew back together."

"It's almost like old times. Just no Tempo. Or Vespar. Or Eszti. Or HOLOCENE."

"Otherwise, though, just like being back when everything was nice."

"And, yeah, PSEUDOPOD... is... pretty quiet."

"It's for the best, believe me."

"Yeah? Wow. Cool."

She's thinking of the order of silent monks in FIST PUNCH III and their mastery of killing words. Wicked deadly.

"My bad. Had to lobotomise him for his own good."

"Oh? That sounds serious." A line forms between her eyebrows. "You're not going to lobotomise me, are you?"

"Only if I have to. I don't like to use the Mindwiper." (Point at your foot.)

"Woah. Yeah. Don't worry, I'll try not to do anything that makes you... do that."

"No, of course not."

"Funny, would have loved a lobotomy a month ago. First in line at the fucking lobotomy distribution centre, you know?"

"At the slightest hint of disobedience, yes."

"You'll get none from me. None at all."

"It's existential. You wouldn't get it."

"You think?" Skepticism, pronounced with a shrug. "Maybe not."

"It's due to LASS metastasis. Terminal horniness."

"Oh? Oh. Poor guy. Septimus once told me all about that -- it can kill them if you're not careful, you know."

"And, yeah, PSEUDOPOD... is... well he doesn't seem very happy."

"He's totally happy. Extremely happy. It's great being him."

"Oh? I suppose I just couldn't tell with all the... well, he looks like he's been crying a lot, doesn't he?"

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Oh? Yeah. Shit. My mistake maybe."

"Tears of joy at being selected for the Crew."

"Oh!" she exclaims, skeptically. "Awesome. Good for him."

"A good Lich killing will cheer him up."

"Yeah. Yeah!" she grins. "He'll feel loads better after that motherfucker's dead."

A bouquet of dead fascists to lighten the burden of being you.

"Pre-assignment nerves, nothing to worry about."

"Yeah? Oh, even real Operants still get stage fright. I was hoping it would wear off, but... Good to know."

Hoping for a future in which she has unlocked a state of permanent bravery.

"He shot me!"

"Oh yeah, shit! Sorry Hersh, not cool. Not cool."

"I suppose you're looking for Septimus' replacement, right?"

"Oh..." Her face falls. "No. Of course not. I wish you hadn't brought him up..."

This woman is serially drawn to victims of world history. Septimus, KALEIDOSCOPE, you...

"Kinda handsome, yes..."

"Right? I think it's the headphones."

"Don't go there. He keeps the headphones on."

"During...? Oh." She wrinkles her nose. "Oh! Weird."

The 'weird' is for your benefit. Her sexual intrigue just went up a notch.

"I'm obviously cooler though."

"Yeah, obviously. You're so funny when you pretend to be insecure."

"He's EMTERR, don't forget that."

"Ex-EMTERR, you said...? But yeah. I'm vigilant. Maximum stagecraft."

"He gives me the creeps."

"I know. Hot, right?"

Tall, dark, and fucked.

"Yeah, it's lucky we have him. He's a good Operant."

"I hope he's as good as you. Well, not as good as you obviously, but close enough." She smiles.

"Well, Yana's awesome. She so doesn't give a fuck that it's kinda comforting. And, this is weird but the way she talks reminds me of Tempo. Are they related?"

Blood all over the sofa cushions.

"Yeah they are, well spotted."

"Oh, cool." She glances down towards the tram platform anxiously. "Do you think she's... angry with me?"

"Why would she be?"

"I know what happened to him was... recent... but I can't help but feel like it's still my fault, somehow."

"Don't dwell on it, K. Yana isn't."

"Right, she's not, is she?" She looks mildly relieved.

"She's angry at the whole world, I think."

"I get that. I still can't help but feel like what happened to Tempo is my fault, somehow."

"No, they just spent a lot of time together."

"Right. Just a similar cadence then. Lots of 'cunt' about them both, you know?"

"Tempo was nice to me. One time he tried on one of my sweaters, ripped it, and bought me three more to apologise."

He bought her three more to bribe her into not telling anyone.

"He was sweet, underneath it all."

"In a way."

"I knew it. It's the way she holds herself, with the..." she mimics your other asset's posture suddenly, uncannily.

Shades of Tempo reflected concave, convex, through a hall of mirrors.

"We have some time, if you want to chat."

"With me? What about PSEUDOPOD?"

Alternative wording

"With me? What about Ramses?"

"He and I know too much about each other already." (Proceed.)

"Ha, yeah. I guess so." she brushes her hair out of her eyes.

She turns to look across the city below you, visible through scraps of cloud.

"The tram will be here soon."

More excited than nervous.

"And you'll see the Weeping Eye again. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes. And no. I'm just focusing on the assignment itself. Not thinking about it. This is the way through."

"The way through what?"

"Life, time, history. Today. Just plain old today."

Today, maybe tomorrow, even yesterday -- the day is made up as it goes along.

"But, Hersh... There's something I keep thinking..."

"I don't think you should've chosen me for this assignment."

ASSET HAS BECOME SELF-AWARE. BEGIN CONTAINMENT. DENY, DEFLECT, DETONATE.

"All your assets in Portofiro must have wanted to come, and I can't be the best... so why me?"

DISREGARD PREVIOUS. GLORY TO THE REVOLUTION.

"To give me a chance not to fuck this up with you."

"You a chance? Hersh... last time... and the cinema thing... I just keep fucking up."

"But I won't here." She nods firmly to herself. "I won't here."

"Remorse is kinda my thing..."

"Shit, sorry. No -- sorry! I mean, uh, yes. Roger that, won't do it again. But, you know, speaking of doing things again..."

Her coat crinkles as she folds and unfolds her arms.

"Do you... think you could put in a recommendation for me after this?"

"With the Opera, I mean. I want to join."

Fuck no. Save her from this.

She is principled, skilled, self-sacrificing -- and the worst has already happened to her. Bring her in.

"There must be something else you can see yourself doing."

"There isn't. I want to work with you."

'With you'... the words echo down the hollow of your body.

"The world's full of horrible bastards. I can't unknow that. There's nothing I can do about them in Portofiro. Fighting them is... the only reason to be alive."

"Revenge. The sexiest of the motivations."

"Remember at the end of Dude Army when he finally gets the guys that killed his brother, and he has that big realisation about how revenge didn't solve anything?"

90, Portofiro. Spring dawn filtered through the windows, promising the year's first clear day. You drew the curtains, turned on the TV. Your task: educate your young asset in the history of martial arts movies.

"That's not going to happen to me. I'm going to dance on their graves."

She'll cry so hard that little Karolinas will sprout from the ground where her tears fell.

"I already proved I can do the Advanced Cognitive Manoeuvres. I can be like you, Hersh."

Like you... a self-loathing pity farm.

Suspiciously eager to join the organisation that left her to die...

Maybe this isn't Karolina at all, but something else which came back from the technoplane.