Tasìa wiped away the sweat from her palms. Her palms never sweated.


    She sneered in knee-jerk self-disdain.


    What a fine fucking moment we''ve picked to become a normal, scared shitless human being, she thought.


    Then, with a tad more self-reflection, Tasìa eased up on her negative assessment:


    But of course, we''re scared. It''s the first time we have had anything to lose beyond our bullshit self-owning drama.


    Tasìa turned back towards Demona. Before she spoke, she flipped the PA to both laryngophone and flex modes and placed it against her throat.


    It wrapped around the front of her neck gently with no more discomfort than if a scarf was placed there.


    "What''s going on," Tasìa asked in an inaudible whisper. "The intent of the party outside is lethal; the ones inside are jovial. Are you certain they are together?"


    Demona frowned as she shook her head. She had even more bad news to impart.


    "Yes, I''m certain. Sit on the bed and don''t face the window. He sees you the same way you see him through his own IR goggles."


    When Tasìa complied, Demona continued.


    "I just reviewed the most recent street-level video footage. The three met at the Spook Town garage, changed the codes, and split up before they arrived separately here.


    "The sniper over there is carrying a long, skinny rifle. This one, in fact. Recognize it?"


    A hologram spun in front of Demona.


    "Sure. It''s a Stealth 338 LAP. Chambers for a high caliber Lapua round." Tasìa shook her head, and glanced to the wall on the backyard side before she continued. "Why doesn''t he just shoot me through the wall if he has me IR-sighted?"


    Demona flipped to another hologram that showed the sniper standing beside the SUV parked on the street beside the garage. He retrieves a box of rounds from the back of the vehicle, and he feeds them into his rifle.


    Tasìa recognized the sniper. It was the Silver Fox from the billets room confrontation who went by the name Rubin.


    The feed pauses and focuses on the round in Rubin''s hands. The bullet that protrudes from the round is a semi-transparent green gelpack inside a latticed swirl of material that extends deep into the jacket.


    A gyrette. A modernized update on the rocket-propulsed gyrojet round. When the explosive materials inside the jacket combusted, the pressure given off syphoned into the latticed swirl of tubes, that once parted from their jacket insets, behaved like rocket thrusters.


    The distance, accuracy, and eventual velocity that resulted more than doubled the same capabilities found in more conventional rounds.


    Demona shook her head.


    "Their intentions aren''t lethal. It''s a paralytic round. Whatever they have planned, they want you alive."


    Tasìa shook her head. Rubin. Now, she understood why he didn''t station himself at a distance more befitting to the sniper''s art.


    A gyrette started out at a subsonic speed. If he had stood at a more typical fifteen-hundred-foot sniping distance, the American spooks understood her fighting capabilities well enough to know she would have plenty of time to react if she heard it coming.


    That spoke well of their fear of her.


    Demona clapped her hands to snap Tasìa back to attention. Moments like this one where Tasìa''s tactical mindset became engaged, tended to leave the impression that she was fading out into daydream.


    It was hardly ever the case, however. She didn''t lack for situational awareness.


    "Tasìa, if you would. Face the door and pretend you are listening-in on the conversation. We don''t want to give the sniper the idea we are stalling for time while we figure out how to deal with him."


    Tasìa faced the door and crouched forward. She could hear the on-going conversation in the living room, but at the moment, given her current predicament, she couldn''t muster up the effort to give a shit for what was being said.


    "Yeah," Tasìa began, "I have an idea how to deal with him, but I need to know if you believe we have a minute to spare -," Demona nodded for Tasìa to continue, "- do you think I am being hunted for what I know about the Amongst Us?


    "How can it be that I can see them and others can''t? Even more strangely, they were blind to it in perceiving one another''s true identity until I was present in their company."


    Demona walked over to her and sat down beside her. She nodded as she spoke.


    "Forgive my earlier display of disbelief and cognitive dissonance when you told me about the Amongst Us. I was shocked because it explained almost too neatly a gap in my understanding of your role as the Sigrid Rosa. Not believing that Amongst Us existed, you blindsided me.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Mind you, though the Cull Spore Invasion occurred over the span of a single evening, in one form or another, it has been in the works since the 1960s, when money was poured in research to weaponize mind-altering fungi by clandestine operations the world over.


    "So, though you were born before the Invasion, you are not really pre-Invasion in how you have been wired for it.


    "Take that into consideration when I tell you that I believe your neural system is designed specifically to counter the Amongst Us, and to spot them when they are in a state of anxiety. Cameras and other eyeballs don''t do that. I''m certain of that. I had already studied tens of thousands of hours of Spooktowner footage and even sensorium recordings of local events before you arrived.


    "I found not even a hint of non-human activity amongst any of them. I believe you are part of a backup plan if things go horribly wrong."


    Tasìa didn''t respond. She was lost in thought, wondering, do the nanospore entities know that about me?


    Demona paused and looked down for a moment before she continued.


    "I hesitate to bring this up given I have seen your Beauregard in a state of anxiety in your presence. Do you think we can eliminate him as a suspect?"


    Tasìa''s heart sank as she gave this possibility consideration. No, it couldn''t be that he was one of them.


    Still, she had reason to doubt his motivations.


    Even though she recalled that he once claimed he loathed spooks as a class, he was in fact close to the individuals he chatted up in the living room.


    Another doubt came to mind.


    They somehow knew of her presence in his home well enough to setup an ambush against her.


    She unintentionally clawed at the sheets she sat on.


    No. It wasn''t possible. No matter where these facts lead, on an emotional, gut level, they make little sense.


    "Tasìa?"


    "No. It''s not possible. I''ve pissed the frothy, misty brew in front of him twice now. You were in the shower with us the last time I did it. You saw his scared shitless reaction. You even laughed about it. Plus, our fucking got pretty intense, right? Either instance would have triggered an Amongst Us event if he were one, right?"


    So, that''s how they knew that I was here. Tasìa was relieved.