Pain and a dryness in my mouth woke me. Something rough pressed into my cheek. All was darkness. Slowly, as I came fully conscious again, I wished for the headache and the oblivion.

I was lying on a small bunk in a dark cell of some kind. Iron bars blocked the only door. My only companion was the flick-flick of a candle on a desk next to the bunk, along with a meal on a tray. Sitting up quickly provided an instant object lesson as I grabbed my head again, trying to will the pain away. The smell of the food brought an unsettled feeling into my stomach.

Something felt wrong. Something missing.

What have they done to me? Oh no...

I saw it and groaned with the first true understanding of my predicament -- my BPG, previously disguised as my Tear Stone pendant, was missing from my neck.

Those two hadn't been worried about being attacked by constables or rival groups or anyone outside. They were worried about being attacked by me. Waiting for the perfect moment to jump. And Nilo was in on it, obviously, gaining my trust. What had Tasha gleaned from our time in the cave? Did she already know what my BPG was back then, commenting on wanting to study it?

The hunter had become the prey.

What a fool I'd been, thinking I could play the hero and succeed where others failed.

The memory of Jens' static device dropped into my mind's eye, just as it had on his desk. Four-nine-six's words came back to me, too. "Watch your ass, pal." Well, now I knew. And unless I missed my mark, I'd have the full story within a week. My skin crawled, just thinking about it.

See, tech that would let unsavoury elements transform into anything and anyone was not to be thrown around. Not only is each BPG keyed to the Agent, but it will go into a sort of self-destruct mode if removed from said Agent. We get a week to get back to HQ to reset it, at that point. The alternative was not to be contemplated: to be trapped in one form forever, and probably hunted down by other Agents for the rest of one's life.

I thought back to when this all began, standing in my room in HQ, flowing and becoming. Some part of me instinctively tried to do it now, banging against the bars of the cage of my avatar, but of course that was no more successful than banging on the bars of my cell would have been.

I struggled for the Agent aloofness, the separation from the avatar. But strangely, even though it was all in my imagination, I felt that I was watching a bridge across a great chasm burn. The bridge that led back the way I came. All I could think of, for some time, was a glorious night atop a watch hill at an oasis, magic in a cave, and kind eyes staring deeply into mine. And even more strangely, that path seemed like it led home.

After thousands of years, I was tired. Very tired. People weren't meant to live this long.

I stared into the candle, clearing my mind again from such strange thoughts, trying to think of a way out of my predicament. In the background, I heard the vague noise of a ship's bell ringing, echoing the pounding in my head.