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Agents Cakebaker, Deathless and Token American creep through the cathedral’s GPS shadow: Agent Goggles risks broken cover on a cafe balcony. He peers briefly through an ocular, whistles the chek-chek of a yellow-rumped warbler, and vanishes crowdwise as they double-time it toward the streetcorner.

“Ma’am?” says a hesistant man with a saucer-eyed kindergartner. “Is–is everything safe around here?”

“Perfectly safe,” says Cakebaker. “For civilians.”

“Oh. Is this, like, a Homeland Security exercise? A wargame?”

“It’s a game, all right,” says Deathless grimly, and his phone camera snaps a Nine of Hearts snagged casually in the gutter.