Without warning, the cradlelike rocking of the train ever so gently shifts the tilted cap off your wide open eyes. Your pulse quickens. Parts of the world sway into focus. The soothing sound of railtracks. The soft tick-tock metronome of the Timekeeper conductor unit. The smells of old upholstery, bitter diesel, blood, coffee, and the tender stench of cigarette smoke which seems to permeate everything.

You pull the officer's silk coat tighter around your body, trying to recover your rest, but the sensations of the waking world have already cut through. You sigh and adjust your cap. Remnants of sleep fall away like dust. Your work is not yet done.

You are the <span class="mu-s">Agent</span> known as...
>Mr. Lead (Start with the Big Iron + normal pheromone capacity; COMBAT focus)
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)

And you've been assigned a <span class="mu-s">Mission</span> to complete with all your strength, all your effort...
>There's a traitor in the car next door. She's been caught selling trade secrets. Silence her, one way or another.
>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.
>There's something making workers go missing in the Hives. Something that leaves behind shells drained of blood and workers struggling to stay awake.
>The night ahead is young and bright. The job's done. Everything's all right. Just need to pick up some milk on the way home...
>It's that weird dream again, the dreams of the dark ocean. A suffocating sense of déjà vu. The Company can't know about this little trip out here, not after your last psych report...
>Write in.