Far to the east of the chaos in Cylvania city, an unremarkable wagon made its way through the foothills surrounding Brokeshale Mountain.

Once the site of countless battles between dwarves, men, and the other species of Cylvania, it was now the easiest path east, with the occasional dwarven patrol the only thing to break up the bleak and lifeless stones.

“I’ve never been out this way,” said the woman, whose name was Bedelia Tanner. “It’s kind of beautiful when the moonlight hits the stones. Are you sure we can’t camp here overnight?”

“You’d make a shitty smuggler,” the wooden man told her. “This is the last secured part of the trip. We can’t risk raising suspicion here, so focus and don’t fuck up.” The man’s name, as far as anyone around here knew, was Daffodil Copperfield. He was very, very good at doing fairly bad things, and the more time he had to spend with Bedelia, the more he wanted to do some pretty bad things to her. She was annoying and caustic, with a bitter streak that never forgave a grudge. This fact had helped him turn her to his side in the Rumpus Room, as her frictions and petty grievances with her co-workers had made her an easy mark to exploit.

But after spending a few weeks with her, slowly traveling through the wilds and crappy villages of this third-rate backwater, listening to an endless litany of complaints about slights and wrongs that she’d suffered or imagined that she’d suffered... it had been tiring. Really, at this point any vestiges of Daffodil’s sympathy were quite gone, and he was relying on his raw charisma to convince her that he still gave a shit.

She was blathering on about how interesting the stone formations were around them, and he was rating them by how well they’d conceal her body. She needed a knife in a vital place, and his fingers, wood that they were now, were itching despite their lack of proper nerves.

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Bedelia said, hugging her arms to herself. “Even if it is a bit chilly. Actually, I’d kind of like to stop and get a fire going. It’s cold, colder than my last husband used to keep the house. Did I ever tell you about him? He was a miserable bastard who never lifted a finger to help around the house, and cheated on me every night! I should have never stolen him from Anna, should have known he’d be trouble, but oh, I wasn’t thinking with my brain, even though he never figured out how to properly please me—”

“Yes,” said Daffodil.

“What?” Bedelia said, jolted out of her rant.

“Yes, we can stay the night. You’ve convinced me,” he said, staring at a heap of stones. “You’re five foot, seven, right?”

“That’s my height,” she said, confused.

“Perfect.”

But it wasn’t to be.

They’d barely finished making the fire when a figure materialized out of the shadows.

“Bandits!” yelled Bedelia, diving for the wagon.

“No, and shut up,” Daffodil said. He knew what he was looking at, knew it by the title hanging above the new arrival’s head.

EIDOLON OPERATIVE 28

Not a serious threat to him, so he doubted he was being sanctioned.

The man smoothed down his suit jacket, pulled off his bowler hat, and smiled. “May I sit by your fire?”

“She’s an accomplice,” Daffodil said, then cursed himself mentally. This would have been a perfect opportunity to remove her from his unlife permanently.

“Good, that simplifies things,” the operative said. “There’s been an upset in the Capitol. The insurgents tried exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. They’re calling for help, and that’s you I’m afraid.”

“They think I’m dead,” Daffodil said. “I can’t go back.”

“Incorrect. You can go back; What you cannot do is get caught. Fortunately we’ve made provisions to help you with that.” The operative tossed him a small sack. “There’s a skinsuit inside, the finest in harvested daemontech. Apply to your form and let it grow. Feed it meat every now and then.”

Daffodil frowned. He nodded toward the cart. “What about the asset?”

“Good work securing it. I’ll take it from here.”

“Take my accomplice with you,” he said. “She’s a risk if she stays in-country.”

The operative looked at Bedelia.

Daffodil noted with some amusement that she’d taken the brief moments that they’d spent talking to make herself up, and lose her topmost blouse button.

“I would dearly love to see your homeland,” Bedelia smiled prettily, Daffodil had to admit. “May I come with you?”

The operative shrugged, and Daffodil wished him the best. He gave her a week before she got herself disappeared. Maybe more, actually. Operatives seldom had much in the way of initiative, they needed orders to inhume targets.

Daffodil now, Daffodil had never had that problem.

Most Players didn’t.

“I’ll get this done,” he said, standing, shouldering the bag, and glancing back west. Traveling alone, he could make better time without the wagon. “Standard procedures for reporting in the future?”

“Passwords shifted. There’s a list in the bag, burn it after you’re done. We’ll be in touch.” The operative clambered into the wagon’s seat. “Put out the fire then join me, Miss...”

“Tanner. Bedelia Tanner,” she said, and Daffodil fought to avoid laughing. She was even making her voice just a touch huskier.

You two deserve each other, thought Daffodil as he started trudging back across the waste. Just like the assholes I’m helping along, here. Not that I’m much better, when you get down to it.

Daffodil was a bad man who had done very bad things. Eventually he had gotten weary of it and grown up, but by then it was too late. And he was stuck doing bad things, only now for very bad people.

But he did have one thing that kept him going, one thing that gave him hope for this job.

“Everyone’s going to get what they deserve,” he whispered, and that made him smile. For in his heart, he knew he wasn’t that different from bitchy, bitter Bedelia. Knew that he took joy in making sure that the sins of others came down squarely on their heads.

“I’m going to give them exactly what they want,” he muttered, as he put the setting moon in front of him and walked into the night. “And it’s going to fucking destroy them...”