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Zenia picked up each trinket and began handing them to Desmond. "These are a set. You must keep them on at all times."

Desmond fiddled with each one as he donned them. "A set in what sense?"

"They will alter your soul signature," said Zenia, offering him the metal orb last. "If any hostile reapers there are familiar with you, they will not recognize you."

He held up the orb to examine it against the sky, squinting. "What're the odds of that? I'm not very well known. I assume that's why I was picked for this gig in the first place."

She stared at him a moment. "Would you prefer not to have this added layer of protection?"

He smacked his lips and gave her a smile. "I'm just curious. I appreciate the help, of course." The real question was if there was some other function to these things. If they helped conceal him from the Vanguard, perhaps they did the opposite from Abolish.

From the sound of things, the only upside to this mission was going to be that he wouldn't have anyone breathing down his neck for a change, but maybe these damn trinkets were going to change that.

Voicing his complaints, however, was not something that Desmond planned on doing. He'd seen that go poorly for his peers far too many times.

"The orb contains the unique soul signature," said the secretary. "If your cover is blown, then enemy reapers will still be able to memorize that, too. In which case, you may be able to replace the orb's signature with a new one, thereby regaining your concealment."

Ooh. "Impressive. But... how difficult would the replacement process be?"

"Almost impossible," she said flatly. "I did say you may be able to replace it."

He kinda figured as much. If his cover was truly blown, then that would also mean he would be actively hunted by enemy reapers. Even if the replacement itself was simple, doing it while being hunted down would make it challenging.

It probably wasn't simple, either, was it?

He held back a sigh as she continued to explain.

-+-+-+-+-

Karkash looked over the objects strewn across the table. Lozaro stood on the other side, addressing the representatives of numerous sects, of which Karkash was merely one.

"Great strides have been made," said Lozaro, his voice sounding oddly unsteady to Karkash's ears. "But do not expect miracles. These are all effectively prototypes, still."

Next page tomorrow

Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4189

'It'll be a deep cover operation,' Ez went on. 'And even though you'll be on your own, you also won't be the only one out there.'

Hmm. 'Got a code phrase for me, at least?'

'Yes: "There's no use denying it. I can tell we're kindred spirits."'

'...Bit on the nose, don't you think?'

'Only if you start throwing it around like candy. Use good judgment.'

Yeah, yeah. What a pain. He didn't join Abolish in order to 'use good judgment.' But more and more, that seemed to be his role now. All the fun stuff went to the people with power like Karkash--or the moron who couldn't tell a fun mission from a suicidal one.

Eh, maybe he just needed to accept his lot in life. Stealth and deception could certainly be fun, too. There was nothing quite like lying to someone's face.

But still. The best part of killing was when the victim got to see it coming. Wasn't nearly as satisfying if he couldn't revel in it, at least a little.

They arrived at the parking lot, and apparently, Desmond had his pick of the vehicles. Ezmortig left him alone again while he decided, so he took his time with it, formulating entire identities in his mind to accompany each one. Cars told a story, after all. Overlooking them as mere tools would be missing a trick, he'd always felt.

Before he even made up his mind, however, Ezmortig returned with someone else in tow. A squirrelly-looking woman with a briefcase in one hand. Quite cute, too, in a strange sort of way. Not necessarily to his own tastes, but--

Oh shit, wait, wasn't that Jercash's personal secretary? Zenia?

Desmond corrected his posture as she approached. Now that he was getting a closer look, he wasn't deceived by the frazzled hair and modest stature. Those blue eyes of hers looked like they could cut through glass.

"Desmond Grantier?" she said in airy voice.

"That's me," he said. He'd seen other people saluting on occasion, but nah. That would be a bridge too far.

"Take these with you." She laid the briefcase on the hood of the convertible next to her, then unlocked it and opened it for him to see.

He scratched his chin with his thumb as he eyed its contents. A few different trinkets. A watch. A pair of glasses. And what was that? A metal orb?