Composure
Cuno
Pain Threshold
Perception (Sight)
Visual Calculus
Inland Empire
Hand/Eye Coordination
Endurance
"That's all the rich really want -- sex with their own children. Throughout history -- even the royal bloodline of the Suzerain! -- it's all just an excuse for them to have sordid sex. At least that old cunt Frissel is now dead..."
Conversation · Composure
Speakers · 26
"We did good when we pushed him under that horse car. If only... in the Thirties, those disco whores..." What follows is ominous mumbling. You cannot make out a single word.
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The disco whores are too much; hatred shuts down his brain's language centre, leaving only a nonsensical sputter.
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- "We did good when we pushed him under that horse car. If only... in the Thirties, those disco whores..." What follows is ominous mumbling. You cannot make out a single word.
- "We did good when we pushed him under the horse car. Until, in the Thirties, those disco whores..." He breathes in, his breath heavy with hatred, you cannot make out a single word.
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There was something about a statue, and nihilistic advertising agency people? Might be worth investigating...
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- What was the deal between him and Edgar?
- "You know, about that René..."
- "Hmmm... and the racist on the gates, pumped full of steroids?"
- "There was something about the statue on the roundabout -- and syphilis?"
- "The blood-drenched soucriant on her boat -- what is a soucriant?"
- "The boom-boom-boom morons on the ice..."
- "By the 'cock parading in his colourful uniform,' you mean René?"
- "Disco... whores?"
- "I'm glad we talked about this. Now..."
- "You mentioned the Union is social-democratic -- and Mr. Claire a farce of a social-democrat."
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- Ask about that 'cock on parade' too. Make sure you get everything here.
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- His lip curls into a sneer at the memory.
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"That bourgeois cow... Tiphaine Holly was her name." He narrows his eyes. "Licked the rich man's hand every time he came to town. Never seen a labour leader so hot on mutual cooperation..."
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"And money -- she liked that too. That Holly was a real bridge-builder and a deal-maker..." His eyes glisten suddenly, with hatred.
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Bordering on sentimentality, it drips out of him. Tempered by something familiar to you. A familiar rage.
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"She was also a woman, wasn't she? "
"She was. And she was real soft on those money-men. Had a Barbara Muskova bag over her shoulder that she liked to bring to work..."
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"Called in they say -- on the eve of battle. Ran away. Vanished like a piss-stain..." He squints and smiles at the black logs.
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"Called in they say -- on the eve of battle. Ran away. Vanished like a piss-stain, or a spot of her expensive perfume..." He squints and smiles at the black logs.
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"Did she?" The lieutenant's voice is calm. "They say her daughter called in, not her personally. But that wasn't really her daughter, was it?"
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"Did she?" The lieutenant feels it too, in his black gaze. "They say her daughter called in, not her personally. But that wasn't really her daughter, was it?"
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"No, I guess it was not..." You could swear you see the embers glow again, under his eyes on the dust.
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"Because the cow caught a bullet in her right lung. Fell into the canal grasping her tit and drowned. Or bled -- hard to say. It was a sloppy job. On a moving target."
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"She was going home, waddling. Dressed in yellow. Drunk like she often was. The ruins were black around her and she had a yellow leather bag under her arm. She tried to cross the canal."
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- "Because the cow caught a bullet in her right lung. Fell into the canal grasping her tit and drowned. Or bled -- hard to say. It was a sloppy job. On a moving target."
- "The cow caught a bullet in her right lung, fell into the canal grasping her tit and drowned. Or bled -- hard to say. It was a sloppy job. And a moving target."
"Heading home to Grand Couron or Betancourt... Some place like that. Where they build those new batiments for the people who flourish in the hell around her. And the ruins..."
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"Someone shot her," he shrugs. His eyes grow cold suddenly. "Or maybe the cow just fell. My memory is full of holes. All I know is..."
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- "Someone did," he shrugs. His eyes grow cold suddenly. "Or maybe the cow just fell. The past is blurry, all I know is..."
- "Someone shot her," he shrugs. His eyes grow cold suddenly. "Or maybe the cow just fell. My memory is full of holes. All I know is..."
- "Or maybe she just fell. I get these violent ideations.... My memory is filled with holes, especially the Thirties. All I know is..."
"Nothing changed. Not in the material base, not in the hegemony, there was no uprising. Just words... The Union fizzled, sogged. Nothing came of it. Nothing."
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"If you were to testify to this -- give the RCM something on Edgar -- you could walk." The lieutenant says in a voice even calmer, as if it were nothing at all.
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"We would strike everything you've done and process you as a POW. You were in a war. You were on assignment. We could even extradite you to the Samaran People's Republic."
"A degenerate workers' state? Goat shit? No, thank you. I'm Revacholian," he spits. "My days are short. I will rot away here -- in a Moralintern cell. I will not testify to anything." He coughs.
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"You can tell a comrade. It won't be that usable."
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"I haven't lived and fought for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it -- on Channel 8, 40AM, Radio Revachol Late Night..."
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"I haven't lived and fought for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it on Channel 8, 40AM and Le Canal du Crime..."
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"Everyone is a blobber in this world. Everyone betrays everyone. They're all already locked up -- for betrayal. The best ones, the ones with heart, were slaughtered, trampled..." He looks to the city.
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- "I haven't lived and fought for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it -- on Channel 8, 40AM, Radio Revachol Late Night..."
- "I saw it happen and I liked it. That's all I have to say. I didn't live and fight for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it on Channel 8, 40AM, Radio Revachol Late Night..."
- "I didn't live and fight for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it -- on Channel 8, 40AM and Radio Revachol Late Night..."
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- "All you know is I saw it happen -- and I liked it. I liked it a lot. Her plump body, bobbing up and down in that canal like a cork. That chick-yellow bag still on her, strangling her..." Cold black coals look at the canal, then at you -- blink.
- "Everyone is a blobber in this world. Everyone betrays everyone. They're all already locked up -- for betrayal. The best ones, the ones with heart, were slaughtered, trampled..." He looks to the city.
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There is plenty here to work with once he's in custody -- and the lieutenant knows it. He gives you a little nod to proceed.
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There is plenty here to work with once he's in custody -- proceed with a sure hand now!
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"I saw it happen and I liked it. That's all I have to say. I didn't live and fight for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it on Channel 8, 40AM, Radio Revachol Late Night..."
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"I didn't live and fight for forty years to end up as a collaborationist. I've heard it -- on Channel 8, 40AM and Radio Revachol Late Night..."
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