Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

He comes to a sudden, abrupt stop.

"Are you done?"

"Yo, Cuno feels like you weren't really listening to Cuno." He drills his left temple with his index finger. "You were hearin' -- but you weren't listenin'. F**y fg and the armour boys came to Martinaise to fuck shit up."

"Hardie boys or whatever the fuck they are -- they were tellin' everyone and their mom how they wasted one of those armour fucks. It was always gonna go down like that. My pig stepped up -- got fucked in the leg for it. Sacrifice style."

Not bad, Cuno. Could be a little shorter though.

"Yes. I understand. He was in the fight."

"Second -- you dinky fucking asshole. This pig right here," he points to you, "this oink-oink motherfucker solved that shit. On Death Island. Case solved. Go home, or fuck off."

"Yes. Go home or fuck off."

"Lieutenant. Really... I..."

Don't think it's a good idea to let him speak.

You may want to rethink your strategy of letting a 12 year old present your case.

"Cuno, if you're going to interrupt -- make it snappier."

"I'll make it tight, pig. Don't worry, the Cunn is on it."

"Yeah! And he's not ten, he's fucking twelve!"

"Yeah," he agrees, giving you a quick look. "Cuno's been around, seen shit, real shit -- he's not a fucking toddler!"

He appreciated you remembering.

"Look -- point is, we solved the case."

"Yeah -- some fucked up grandpa did it. Fuckin' grandpa in the woods or some shit. Old shit. Cuno doesn't know about that. Look -- the REAL shit here is..."

"It was a straggler -- from the Revolution. Who's stayed in hiding for 50 years. I found him."

"Yeah-yeah, straggler, sure." He nods to you, then turns back to Vicquemare. "You getting this smart shit? The old fuck killed him. Confessed to it too. We got him snitchin' on himself -- popo style."

"A straggler -- from the Revolution?" He sounds incredulous.

"Yeah, fucko. He's on the island right now. In a coma or some shit. Oh -- and we also got the gun. Gun-of-the-killer shit. You know what I mean. Now let's get our big boy shit on..."

He means murder weapon.

"Uh -- big boy shit?"

"Yeah, big shit." He nods and crosses his arms, regally. "Now listen up suit-fuck. You're gonna shit yourself, because it's gonna get wacko-natural."

Wacko-natural. I think I know what it's gonna be...

"Wait. It's not going to get that. Let me..."

"Too late -- we're in this. There's a fucking FOUR-TON MANTIS on the island."

"What?!" he scoffs, then turns to you. "Sorry, kid, me and Harry need to..."

His patience has all but run out. The boy better wrap it up...

"Yo -- this is like the biggest moment in history right now. You wanna fucking listen to what's coming out of Cuno's mouth." He points to his crooked scowl.

"We saw a giant insect. White as fuck. Literally the Insulindian phasmid or some shit. Praying mantis-style. It was three metres tall, and this pig right here..." He points his finger at you.

His hand is shaking with rage and excitement.

"This fucking old popo discovered it. Me and the pig-bacon discovered a new species. It was beautiful. It was..." He pauses, out of breath, then continues: "You ain't seen this kind of animal before. Fucking miracle shit."

He gulps, overcome with awe.

"This case -- this fucking grandpa shit.... this ugly shit? It's nothing. We saw a ghost. A real life ghost. Like he fucking proved ghosts are real -- it's that big, popo. It's fucking..."

His eyes are welling up now.

"Why are you not fucking shitting yourselves -- what's wrong?!" He glares at the officers standing silently in the falling snow. They look back at him, seemingly at a loss.

"Did he just say... Insulindian phasmid?"

"I don't know. I zoned out. Harry --" He turns you. "Did you just pick up some island bum and pin it on him?"

"You aren't fucking listening! The bum is nothing. This is science history here. It was the Insulindian phasmid. It's connected to this shit." He turns to you. "Tell him!"

"There was no Insulindian phasmid."

"WHAT?! I can't fucking believe this shit... He's lying!" He turns back to them. "He's fucking lying. We were just there, he went up to it. He fucking touched it!"

"This sounds insane, Harry. What did you do on that island?"

He's genuinely alarmed now.

"Lieutenant, please -- you have to have more than just some mantis. The straggler -- stick to that. You said you solved the murder."

It's not going well. Present something now -- something sane and clear. Make your case.

Something that proves you haven't lost your mind.

No. There was a giant insect and they have to understand that. You will find proof. Don't give up.

It's not going well. You have to present something now. Something sane and forceful. Make your case.

"There was an Insulindian phasmid. But it's not connected to the case."

"..."

"There was an Insulindian phasmid. And it may be connected to the case."

"Why are you not fucking shitting yourselves -- what's wrong?!" He glares at the officers standing silently in the rain. The water is coming down hard, washing the concrete...

"Why are you not fucking shitting yourselves -- what's wrong?!" He glares at the officers, who stand silently in the cold wind. In the distance a wave breaks...

"Oh yeah, it's going to get wacko-natural. Tell him."

"There's a fucking FOUR-TON MANTIS on the island."

Say nothing.

"There's a fucking FOUR-TON MANTIS on the island."

"He may have committed other murders over the years."