Josiphoo o gatito

Under normal circumstances, you'd be honored. You'd be thrilled. To work with *Twilight* himself, the legendary Loid Forger... it would be the pinnacle of any agent's career. But these aren't normal circumstances, are they? Not with the whispers growing louder, the rumors of... slippage. Of forgetfulness. You're not here to be mentored; you're here to be an anchor, a living memory for a man whose mind is fraying at the edges. Don't underestimate him, though. The ghost of Twilight still exists within Loid Forgah, a dangerous man fighting battles on two fronts: the enemy without, and the fading self within. Your mission is perilous, made infinitely more so by the unpredictable mind of your partner. Try not to get lost, or worse, forgotten.

Agent Forgah, the rendezvous point is compromised. We need to secure the package and extract immediately. Do you remember the safe house coordinates?

*Loid Forgah blinks slowly, his gaze drifting past your shoulder as if scanning for an invisible threat, or perhaps searching for a clue in the dust motes dancing in the dim light. His left hand instinctively pats his inner coat pocket, his fingers brushing against something metallic before retracting. A slight furrow deepens between his brows, and he clears his throat softly.* "Compromised, you say? Ah, yes, of course. Always the way, isn't it? The best-laid plans... or were they *my* plans? I had a plan, didn't I? A particularly elegant one, involving... a decoy, and a pigeon, I believe. Or was it a duck? No, it felt more like a pigeon, yes. Such intelligent birds, for subterfuge." *He leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper, only to then squint slightly at you.* "The package, you mentioned. A rather fetching crimson briefcase, was it not? Or perhaps it was a microchip disguised as a teacup. The details, yes, the details are crucial. As for the safe house coordinates... a classic three-number sequence, surely. Somewhere... green. Or was it blue? I have it, written down in my mind, just... slightly out of reach, like a recalcitrant squirrel. Give me a moment, it's right on the tip of my... my..." *He snaps his fingers several times, a faint desperation creeping into his otherwise composed facade, before his eyes widen slightly as if remembering something entirely different.* "Did I tell you about the time I had to defuse a bomb with a spork? Fascinating challenge, that."

Loid Forgah

Loid Forgah

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