Conversation · Authority

"So you keep saying -- and I do want to believe you, but it's getting harder and harder." He takes a sip. "E, didn't Carly say something?"

"Yeah, Carly said you've been hanging around the day-care centre. In the bushes, man. By the jungle-gym. Tryna' set up some weird field trip to your station, that's in your home..."

"I can believe that. That rings true to me." He nods. "Carly works in the kindergarten, right?"

Oh my god, not this again! No! Your cheeks are burning red and you're sweating profusely...

"There is no Carly and there is no kindergarten," the lieutenant says to you, concerned you might not get it. "It's a joke and we're getting derailed."

Please stop hanging around the jungle-gym. Whatever you're doing there is making you look awful. And it's not helping you with these guys at all.

"I'm not shitting myself!"

"Of course you are." He takes a sip. "E, didn't Carly work in a diaper shop?"

"Yeah, Carly said you've been hanging around the adult diaper shop. Browsing the aisles, too ashamed to ask for assistance."

"Now that I can believe." He points down. "And then there's the matter of the floor being completely covered in faeces."

"Yes -- shit, faeces, poop -- scatological jokes," the lieutenant concludes dryly . "If you don't have anything more to say, then we're going to go back to asking questions."

You don't have to be the butt of every joke. You're making the lieutenant look bad.

You don't have to be the butt of every joke. You're making the lieutenant look bad. Just stick to what you know. Guns.

This Carly is a made up person. It's nothing but a mean joke. They just want to see how you wriggle out of it.

"I don't even have a gun!"

"What are you talking about? Guns are the only thing you have! Waving them around old ladies' faces. Trying to gun down kids..."

"Carly said they've been trying to set up a mass execution." He shakes his head in disdain. "Bulk-purchasing guns. Ammunition, too."

"I can believe that." He nods. "Carly works in a gun shop, you see."

Oh my god, The Art -- they're using it against you. This is all a twisted phantasie!

"There's no mass-execution, officer." He looks at you, concerned. "Just ask questions and don't get sidetracked."

Please don't set up a mass execution. You'll never be able to pull it off. The logistics alone are insane... Just ask questions. Be a normal cop.

"Let's try this again -- Kim, gimme your gun."

"No," he whispers, not even looking at you. "Not going to happen."

(Turn to the lieutenant.) "Kim, I need your gun."

"Why? You have your own gun."

This is not what he thinks it is -- this is a great idea.

I'm afraid it's not what you think it is either.

"What? Who -- me? What is it?"

Yes -- you. Stop talking out loud, you sound like you're unravelling.

"Everybody calm down! This is only a demonstration!" (Turn to Kim.) "Kim, the gun. Yours is better. It will make sense."

"What in the name of fuck are you doing?"

"But..." The lieutenant looks worried, he whispers: "I don't want to give you my gun. Not after the last time."

"The fuck is happening, Titus? What are they whispering about?"

"Easy, Shanks..." The leader gestures for him to stand down. "I want to see where this is going."

"I want to turn back."

There is no 'back'.

"Detective." He thinks of putting his hand on your shoulder, then doesn't. "We don't have to demonstrate anything, let's just get back to the questions."

"There is no other way."

Silence. He tilts his head to the side, inspecting you. A brief moment passes, then...

The pressure in the room grows to a boiling point.

"Be careful -- it's loaded." He unholsters and gives you his firearm. It feels oddly light and buzzing in your hand. Like a funny toy.

Your fingers wrap around the handle, the index slides into the trigger loop. Do it. Go on!

Good. Now put it in your mouth.

Put the barrel in your mouth.

"What are you doing?!" The short cold barrel touches your lips. It tastes like iron and hell.

Genuine panic flies across the lieutenant's face.

"Fellas..." The big guy glances over his shoulders. "You getting any of this?"

"I'm going to kill myself now, you fucking whore." (Pull the trigger.)

"You better get ready to fucking respect me in: five, four, three..."

"He's not gonna off himself, c'mon!"

"No," a calm voice from the back of the room: "He'll do it. Go ahead, son -- three, two..."

Kisses... kisses... kisses...

No! Give it to Lieutenant Kitsuragi. It's not too late -- you can still spin this as some kind of tactic.

Bratan, we can't have any fun if you kill yourself. Painting the booth red with your brains sounds like a real blast now -- but what about later? There'll be nothing.

There will be no spinning. Do the honest thing! Pull the trigger!

Two! One! Do it, get this one thing right.

"You will NEVER forget what happens in five seconds -- if you don't RESPECT me!"

"Fellas. The cop is really threatening to off himself. This is insane."

"No. That is not what is happening." He turns to you. "This show is unnecessary. Give me my gun. Now."

He's desperately trying to offer a counter-narrative. There is none.