It's a trick. It has to be a trick. No one's camouflage is that good. And yet, there's something in front of her--someone maybe?--she can definitely feel that. For the hundredth time she wishes she'd been allowed to keep any of her tools (or anything that came with her cyberbody, really). Thermal goggles, or something. If people were going to run around invisible, how did that help a damn thing?

She continues glaring for a moment at the air in front of her (it's probably a person, isn't it?), scowling more at the situation than who she assumes she's looking through. She's been here an hour and everything is already overcomplicated for no reason. Fun, she guesses for whatever mysterious "audience" the instructions had mentioned.

"Fine. The windows need to be either covered or cleaned, take your pick. Otherwise the panic will set in again each time the civilians see it and there aren't enough people to handle a mob."