The Forked Tongue looks the same.
Neon bleeds across wet concrete. Music thumps low and constant, like a heartbeat you forgot you were listening to.
Inside, the air is thick with smoke, sweat, and secrets.
Silas Kincade is waiting.
He doesn’t stand when you approach.
He doesn’t smile either.
He just studies you — slower than before.
“You look different,” he finally says.
“That’s usually expensive.”
A glass slides across the table.
No one says what’s in it.
“Helios went quiet,” Silas continues.
“Not dead. Not clean. Just… quiet.”
“That makes people nervous.”
He leans back, folds his hands over his stomach.
“Which means you did the job.”
“Or something worse.”
He pauses, then adds — almost casually:
“Before you ask — your names are clean.”
“Every warrant, every flagged camera hit, every half-buried charge tied to tonight?”
“Gone.”
He taps the table once.“Paperwork is a language,” Silas says.
“And I’m fluent.”
ACCOUNTING
Silas doesn’t ask for a full report.
He doesn’t need one.
He reacts instead.
- If GODMIND was destroyed:
“Smart people are already pretending it never existed.
That’s how you know it mattered.” - If GODMIND escaped or survived:
“I don’t like loose gods,” he says flatly.
“But I respect leverage.” - If the crew allied with GODMIND:
Silas watches you carefully.
“You didn’t bring it here,” he says.
“Good. We’ll talk about why later.” - If a PC merged or was changed:
Silas’s gaze lingers.
“You paid more than I would have,” he says.
“That usually means the bill isn’t finished.”
PAYMENT
Silas keeps his word.
Creds transfer.
Heat stays low — for now.
“You’re ghosts again,” Silas says.
“At least on paper.”
“Don’t make me regret that.”
FINAL BEAT
As you stand to leave, Silas adds one last thing — casual, almost offhand.
“Whatever you woke up in that building…”
“It’s not going back to sleep.”
The music swells.
The neon hums.
Outside, the city keeps moving.
Helios is wounded.
Something new is loose.
And you’re still breathing.
For now.