[He can't actually see anything on the video screen; he normally distinguishes shapes and colors by faint differences in the allomantic lines produced by trace metals. The screen's composition, however, remains exactly the same regardless of what it displays. Consequently, Marsh responds as if it were a voice post without bothering to change the settings, holding the communicator vaguely to the side of his head, the hood of his cloak down in private, giving Charles an excellent profile view of the large spikes hammered through his eye sockets and their sharp tips protruding out of the back of his skull. There is no blood.]

You are asking me to ferret out and hunt down an allomancer.

[His voice is dark, flat, and rough like he's had his throat scraped out with sandpaper. He is so done being secret police, Charles. Why are you even asking this.]