It's utterly unbelievable that we've been caught so fast. So unbelievable, in fact, that I refuse to accept that it's the only truth. Call's shitting his pants at the prospect of being caught, though, so I have to make sure he doesn't do anything drastic. No matter what he said about working undercover.

"It's a… nice place…" I trail off casually and walk towards the available rooms. "But why are there so many cameras here?"

Call's spit catches in his throat. "T-that's a question I can't answer, I'm sorry. Not because I'm being secretive, but because I actually don't know why. This should just be a temporary residence for newcomers to the city."

I raise an eyebrow and put a hand on the closest door; the one to room eight. Magic gently caresses my fingers like sand shifting around my hand, then sinks into the door with a melodic chime. There's a handprint in the material when I let go–a perfect imprint of my own. Complete with every little fingerprint, line, and blemish that's unique to me. So all that data is definitely in the preservation's computers right now.

Maybe not the smartest thing I've done, but as long as nobody gets too suspicious, they won't have any reason to check it out. All they have is the hand scan of a random woman. If they had Shelby Thestalos' print to compare it to, then I'd be in hot shit. Death hasn't rained from the sky yet, though, so hopefully it hasn't set off any alarms.

"Please don't touch anything without asking me first," Call pleads. "You never know what could be programmed to hurt you."

I chuckle darkly. "That's a little terrifying."

He nods in agreement and doesn't say another word, just ushers me aside and walks into the room before I can. My awareness already scoped out the small place from the crack in the door, and from what I can feel, the motel-like room doesn't have anything nefarious in it. Just a bed, a small bathroom with a glassed-in shower, and some simple clothes. No tech anywhere to be seen.

"Okay… I think the room is safe," Call says and steps to the side, allowing me in. "Sorry that there isn't a television or anything; there isn't supposed to be any tech in places like this. Apparently it keeps them low maintenance."

"It's no problem; I've had enough of tech for a few weeks, at least," I say with very mild sarcasm and close the door behind me. "If there isn't any tech in here, does that mean I'm not being… looked after?"

Call shakes his head. "You're always being looked after, just not directly. Speaking of… I have to go and get those papers for you to look over. Take a quick shower while I do that, and I'll be back in about an hour. Wait, first, let me check that the hot water's hooked up. They might've done something to it."

He turns his head towards the bathroom and beckons me to follow him with an outstretched hand–just outside of his field of vision. I raise an eyebrow and follow him towards the bathroom door, but stop when he raises his palm for me to do so. The shower's knob squeaks like a mouse crying for help, and spitting uneven waves of water fall haphazardly towards the floor, walls, and a few spray helplessly towards the ceiling.

"Um. That's… um," Call mumbles to himself as the back of his suit opens up wide, like a butterfly pushing its way out of a chrysalis. He quietly shakes himself, the suit still mumbling in thought, and turns to look at me with wide eyes and a smaller mask covering just the lower half of his face. I tilt my head at him in confusion.

He wildly gestures for me to… take his place. Except we aren't exactly the same height. I violently shake my head. He violently nods right back. We keep doing this for a solid thirty seconds before I give up with a silent sigh of exasperation and walk into the space he left in his suit.

The thing closes behind me like a wall of fog offering a calming hug. My awareness cuts off instantly, but a strange projection of the world itself replaces it as the mask powers on. I can see everything in a slightly wider cone than my regular vision, but there are numbers and letters interspersed above everything. By the looks of them, they're distance markers. And… some of them are much further behind the wall.

I squint to try and get a better look. The moment I focus on one of them, it sharpens into focus; a name. Scream. Another of the speakers, based on it, so the suit must be keeping track of all the speakers in the area. Not sure if that's one of Call's doings or someone else's. And speaking of Call… I can still hear him talking inside of the helmet.

The second I retract my arm, the mumbling stops.

"Okay, you're good," Call says, but it comes from the suit, not his body. "I'll turn around slowly so you can get in. And remember–stay put for an hour until I come back. Just an hour; not that much time in the grand scheme of things."

No, it is not. I wait for Call's suit to move on its own, but it doesn't. So I have to, then. I twist my core slowly to the left, just like he said he would, and his footsteps quickly pass behind me to hop into the shower. He slides the door closed, sealing him inside, and I turn to look towards the center of the room. Where there's another speaker's callsign lazily approaching from down the hall.

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"Ah, looks like someone else is here. I'll leave you to it," Call says calmly, his voice unimpeded by the water. Then there's a click like one-half of a metronome swing. "Shelby, when you hear that click, it means I'm switching from just talking to you to projecting my voice outside of the helmet. Nothing you say inside of it will be broadcast outside, and nothing I say to just you will be recorded by anyone."

Huh. Strange plan, but I can see how this could be useful. "I'm going to be you for an hour, then?"

"Exactly. I can see and hear everything you see and hear, so leave that part to me. Just try to act as bored and tired as you can while you're out there; I've been cultivating an overworked persona just for this day," he explains in a hurry. "Now go. If Quip has to come into this room to meet us, we could be in trouble. Meet me, I mean. I have to remember not to say us."

That last part feels like it was an internal thought. But he's right. If Quip–the other callsign down the hall–has any reason to suspect us, we could be busted before we even get anywhere. And if Call's right that someone's already on our tracks somehow, which I'm not convinced of, then this could be that person. Again, it seems too far-fetched, but if I don't at least acknowledge the possibility, I risk getting blindsided.

"Alright. Can you put directions in here for me to see?"

"No, sorry. I can give you the directions on your Class Card, though; just summon it right in front of your eyes. It'll feel weird for a second, but you get used to it."

I summon my Card halfway through his sentence and swipe over to my map. A message chimes in a second later, and simple yellow lines appear on the map to tell me where to go. As I walk to the door I memorize the directions, grab the handle, and step out into the hallway. Right as I remember that I forgot to ask Call something.

"Hey! Call! Don't walk away this time, asshat," a very annoyed voice calls from down the hall. "What the hell was that yesterday? You've never cared about promotions before, but now you're encroaching on mine?! The fuck?!"

Call audibly winces, then shifts his voice with a click. "Hey, Quip. Yeah, sorry about that; I was just kind of… frustrated, you know?"

Quip stares at me as he thunders down the hall, all the laziness from before absolutely forgotten. "Frustrated? FRUSTRATED?! I just lost a guaranteed command spot because you had to open your worthless mouth!"

"It wasn't guaranteed if you lost it," Call quips as I step fully into the hallway and close the door behind me. "Besides, it's not my fault you've been fudging the numbers for months now. Maybe you should've tried actually working all those extra hours instead of having one of your girlfriends falsify records."

"They. Were. Not. FALSIFIED!" Quip screams, getting up in my face with his empty helmet. "I did every. Single. Thing. On that list. And you know I did! So what if I added an hour or two to the end of the mission? All the damn results were the same, and then suddenly, things they were verbally jacking me off for became crimes against decency!"

Eurgh, a little too vivid of a description there for me. I take a half step back to try and make space, but Quip fills it instantly. Something tells me it isn't a coincidence that this guy's here right now. But it doesn't sound like he's onto Call. He'd be gloating if that was the case.

"You say a few hours, the records say a few days," Call says with a verbal shrug that I replicate. "Did you know that I talked to some of the people you rescued? They were really gracious to you. Said you were a perfect gentleman, and that sleeping with you was amazing."

Quip twitches. "W-When did you–"

"Before I did anything else, dumbass," Call snaps. "I wouldn't go to the higher-ups without evidence. You know, the only thing that stopped me from reporting all that shit in the meeting was because the victims asked me not to. And yes, they are victims, and you know damn well why. So, are you going to leave me alone? Or do I have to go make an addendum to my report?"

Without a word, Quip turns and runs. He's down the stairs before I can get a word in, and Call sighs in annoyance as his voice clicks.

"Sorry about that."

I barely shake my head and make my own way to the stairs. "Nothing to apologize for. How much of that did you make up?"

"Make up?"

Apparently the answer is none of it. "Nevermind. So is this part of your attempt to get higher up in the organization?"

"Yeah, it is. Not going great so far, heh, heh…" he chuckles sadly. "Oh, right, should warn you; that Speaker tracker isn't standard issue. They won't be able to see you coming unless they made and installed one of their own. Try not to act like you always know they're there."

I nod as I slowly descend the stairs, watching Quip's callsign scurry down the stairs and out of the building before I up my own pace. "You're going to fully report Quip for taking advantage of those people, right?"

"Once someone agrees to testify, yes, but until then? I can't really do anything about it if the victims don't want to come forward. Before you ask, yes, I did make sure they weren't mentally manipulated by magic or any skills."

Hm. I don't know enough about this kind of shit to say much of anything, but this feels like the kind of thing you'd just need proof of the act for. But Call's obviously more versed in this than me, so I'll trust him on this one. Hopefully he means what he's saying.

"You again?!" the woman behind the desk cries before ducking down.

Call snorts in amusement. "Me again. Ah, wait, forgot to do the… and we're already walking out the door. Dang, missed the opportunity. Okay, Shelby, do you know where you're going now?"

I look out over the street, which now has a few more people than it did minutes ago. An old car rumbles by leaking oil onto the streets, its body caked in enough anti-apocalypse coating for a hundred washing machines. I glare at the old man and woman inside as they drive by, but neither of them so much as look over at me. Which is strange, considering I look exactly like Call right now.

"Shelby?"

I look away from the car and turn down the street. "Yeah, I know where to go. Scream if I start to do anything too out of character."

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