"No!" Aphrodite's chair was toppled over and she was as close to the edge of the red-black haze as she could get without physically touching it, an undercurrent of raw fear tinging her words. "You tell the old man I did not sign up for something like that! I don't care what he's offering!"

Mikael glared at Brock, placing both his hands carefully on the table.

"I see that you've already forgotten that the subject of this investigation was supposed to remain confidential."

"I'm not a secret agent spy person," he shot back hotly, "and I told you all that I'm not good at acting. What does it matter if Aphrodite knows we're trying to track down the Conductor?"

"The first reason why it matters is because she might be a good actor," Mikael's eyes narrowed towards Aphrodite, "and you've just given us away, so now she's manufacturing an excuse to go warn our target."

A surge of anger pulsed through Brock.

"Really," he drawled sarcastically, "you think the woman who was kidnapped by someone definitely involved with the Conductor and has been nothing but nice to me is also in on the nefarious scheme? The same person you've been okay with rummaging through my mind? Stop being an asshole, Mikael."

Mikael squinted at him, then one of his hands briefly disappeared in a silver flash. Brock felt the uneasy sensation of emotionless blades flicking through his mind. A second later, Mikael's hand was back on the table.

"She's not currently influencing you, which means you really are that naive. Think, Brock. We're chasing an entity that has been around since before our recorded history. It hasn't remained unfound all that time simply due to luck. The Conductor is power itself."

"And that's why I'm telling you to fuck off," Aphrodite replied breathlessly, rejoining the conversation but still keeping her distance. "There's only three kinds of people involved with that business - those committing a whole bunch of murders, those who committed a whole bunch of murders and got caught, and victims. I'm trying to build a life for refugees here, not join a stupid fucking endless war."

"A war?" Brock's train of thought derailed. "Wait, I thought we were just looking for one person. Investigating and stuff."

Mikael shook his head in exasperation.

"Were you even listening during the initial briefing? The Director isn't the first one to go searching for the Conductor, which is why he warned us about collateral damage. That Overlord you tangled with - he could've wiped out half the city if he didn't care about getting caught, and we have to assume there are more like him." He drew in a breath, looking uncomfortable for the first time Brock could remember. "And that's not taking into account whatever power the Conductor has, which allows them to control such forces."

"There are... concerning gaps in the Council records when it comes to the Cataclysm Squad," Aphrodite added hesitantly. "Unexplained reorganizations, entire sections disappearing, brief mentions of 'reclamation efforts.' They go back centuries, and they line up neatly with 'sekkie' purges." Her breathing steadied, and some of her earlier confidence returned. "Which is why you can tell the old man I'm done. I don't care about necessary needs. I'm not looking to become another statistic."

"Tell him yourself," Mikael replied sharply, placing his magiphone on the table. A familiar golden screen resolved itself into the Director's scarred green face, his expression neutral.

"Councilor Softheart," he began politely, "Operater Thorne tells me you have some concerns?"

"I don't have 'concerns,' you manipulative fuck, I have a problem with the fact you're roping me into something that's going to see us all dead." Brock could hear the tremor in Aphrodite's voice. "If that's your goal, then pop my collar now and be done with it!"

"Councilor Softheart, in accordance with-"

"Fuck off with your 'necessary needs' bullshit," Aphrodite nearly howled. "I'm a person, not some kind of weapon you can pick up and aim whenever you feel like it!"

The Director's expression didn't change.

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"No, Aphrodite, that is exactly what you are." His words were like spears of ice. "And that is what you will remain, along with every other person you are fighting for, until I can be sure that no more of you will ever threaten my world." His face thawed the tiniest bit. "I approve of your cause, but I cannot embrace it until we are safe, and I require your help to get there." The flicker of warmth vanished as if it had never been. "The choice, as always, is yours."

"Some choice," Aphrodite muttered bitterly. "Two different kinds of certain death, lucky me."

The Director tutted.

"Incorrect, Councilor Softheart. My way is uncertain death, and offers at least the chance of success, along with commensurate rewards. There may even be a celebratory cake at the end."

"There's never a cake at the end," Aphrodite grumbled, then heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine. I 'choose' to live at least another day, but you better come through on your end if somehow we miraculously succeed in this idiocy. I'm talking full rights, citizenship, the same legal protections on powers as everyone else."

"If we survive, I would accept nothing less from myself," the Director responded calmly.

"Also, I want my Limiter unrestricted. Right now."

The orc's eyes narrowed.

"...why?"

"To protect myself, and because trust goes both ways." She tilted her head up defiantly. "If you're making me a weapon, then I'm not going to be a dull one."

The Director pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in thought. A few seconds later, they opened.

"...fine. You are now on permanent active duty until the threat is dealt with. Needless to say, if you misuse your powers-"

"If I wanted to kill us both, I'd tell the Council you ennenned me. It's about trust, remember?"

The Director sighed, then turned his attention to Brock. "Very well. Now, as for you, Operator Va- Manly... I am beyond impressed at your ability to introduce chaos to even the most foolproof course of action. Were my instructions to the task force not to reveal the subject of our search somehow unclear?"

After Brock finished untangling the sentence, he frowned.

"Look, I told Mikael, I'm not good at all this sneaking stuff, okay? Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"

"I understand that you are unfamiliar with the nature of covert behavior, Brock. What I am asking you to do is try."

"...whut?"

"Brock," the Director said sternly, "you've demonstrated you are clearly an intelligent young man who can make good decisions when the time calls. I am asking you to work on making that your base mindset instead of a response to obvious danger. Finding the Conductor is not a matter of punching the right people until one of them gives us the answer we want. It will require thoughtfulness and care, and I would like you to try and develop those skills so you don't inadvertently doom us all with a misplaced word."

"Yeah, but-"

"That means," the Director overrode him, "caring about this world instead of bumbling through like an apparently indestructible puppy. It means learning about the people here, the culture, and paying attention to your trainings instead of suffering your way through. It means listening and considering before speaking."

"I never wanted to be here," Brock mumbled.

"If the universe cared what we wanted, we'd all be living in our own private paradises." The Director's tone softened. "Brock, I am not asking you to do anything that can't be done. Operator Swift observed you handle the Council's attempts at intimidation with a masterful performance in giving them what we needed them to see. All I'm asking is that you treat every conversation with that same level of concern."

"...fine. I'll try harder."

"Excellent." The Director clapped his hands. "To that end, you will take tomorrow off as your regularly scheduled rest day. We need time to investigate Councilor Drast more thoroughly, and this will allow you to become better acquainted with our world. To know when to act like you, and when to act like what others think you should be."

"I... whut? A day off? I thought we already decided Drast was part of the Conductor's thing? He put a mindbomb in my head!"

"Unfortunately, while illegal, the presence of the psychetrap was only confirmed by Councilor Softheart. In the case of a Sekkie's word, Councilor though she may be, against a citizen of standing like Councilor Drast, the matter will be quickly quashed and suspicions aroused." The Director took a heavy breath. "Furthermore, while the Capitalist Collective engages quite regularly in unethical and immoral behavior to further their goals, including attempted bribes of other Council members," he glanced at Aphrodite, who shrugged in a way that emphasized the collar around her neck, "we cannot yet rule out Councilor Drast's actions as being motivated by simple greed. Political skills share many similarities with harem-class skills, and you are a potent new piece on the gameboard."

"...you're saying we need evidence," Brock replied sourly.

"Yes. I'm glad you were listening during that part."

"So how are we going to get it?"

"That's what I hope to have resolved by the end of tomorrow." The Director pinched the bridge of his nose again, and Brock thought he could see a mountain of exhaustion buried under the tiny gesture. "Enjoy your day off, Brock. Work on your mindfulness."

"I... uhhhh... okay."

"And make sure you check in with Aphrodite tomorrow evening. There may be others who try to approach you. Don't forget, you are still the bait dangling outside my window." Brock spluttered as the Director turned to Mikael. "Operator Thorne, you and Fiona are still on duty tomorrow. Standard procedures."

"Got it."

The dapper orc took one last look at Aphrodite, eyes weighing in undetermined judgment.

"...good luck, Councilor Softheart. Remember what we're both working towards."

The golden window disappeared back into Mikael's magiphone, and a second later the red-black haze dropped as well, revealing an array of curious eyes aimed at their table. Mikael and Aphrodite both let out a breath, then spoke as one.

"I need a drink."