Conversation · Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer)

"But this turned out well for you. You've slipped past all suspicions."

"Clearly, I haven't. We're having this conversation, aren't we? How well could it have gone. I mean... " She looks around.

"The Hardie boys told us what really happened."

"I have more questions about the deceased, but I need my partner here before I ask..."

"Hello again, officer." She sounds tired now. All the pep is gone.

"It's always good to see you." She cracks a weary smile, leaning back against the railing.

Something in her demeanour has changed. She's tired, consigned to her fate -- to being here with you and what's to come.

"Officer. What brings you up here in the rain?" She leans back against the railing.

"I was just thinking -- what a nice day for questions." She lights a cigarette. "Pertaining to a murder investigation."

"I was just thinking what a nice evening it is." She looks around. "For taking part in a murder investigation."

"Officer." She nods to you in greeting. "It's a fine day for questions."

"Hello, officer." Legs crossed, she leans back against the railing. "What brings you up here again?"

"Welcome to the roof." The young woman has a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Her hair is still slick from the shower.

Below her silvery jumpsuit -- an athletic young body. Built long and lean...

...then toned over several years of self-defence training. You can sense it in the sharp pointing of her elbows.

"I'm sorry for the mess down there. The cleaning lady hasn't come by in days. I'm beginning to wonder if she ever will..."

"Nice view you've got here."

"It's much nicer now." Her eyes wander north, toward the yard...

Where the dead body used to hang, clearly visible from the roof. But no longer.

"Thank you for that, officers. Truly."

There is something in her eyes -- the same sadness? Yes, from back in the hallway when she first told you about the hanging, in the hallway.

There is something in her light brown eyes... a sadness. When she thinks about the death of that man.

"Nice? I don't know about that, officer..." She looks north, toward the yard.

Where the ripe corpse of a man still lies on the ground, spotted with green and purple.

She tries to look indifferent, but still has to take a drag of her cigarette -- so as not to flinch.

That must be her tell: the cigarette. It hurts her to look directly at the corpse so she reverts her gaze to you.

The woman doesn't flinch, but there is something in her eyes -- the same sadness? Yes, from when she first told you about the hanging, in the hallway.

The woman doesn't flinch, but there is something in her light brown eyes... a sadness.

Where a ripe corpse still hangs from the tree, spotted with green and purple.

"Is there a cleaning lady? I think I need one." (Proceed politely.)

"Oh yes! Legends of Room #1 have made their way around the building. They say a portal to Hell has opened in there."

"There are vortices of dark energy present, but not to Hell -- to another place. A third place, much different from our world."

"A third place? Interesting." She takes a sip of coffee. "That's probably why the cleaning lady quit."

"I'm Kim Kitsuragi." The lieutenant steps in. "I'm a detective from Precinct 57. I believe you have already met my colleague from Precinct 41."

"Have I ever... This is the fabled Cop of the Apocalypse."

"What happened, man? The end was supposed to be mere seconds away. Why are we still here?"

"I'm disappointed it's dragging out like this. What a farce..." (Look around.)

"I know," she says with great melancholy. "What now?"

Now she's trapped here, in the cage -- just like you.

What is there to do now -- stranded here? The question is personal to her. More than humour.

"Miss, we are investigating the murder of the man down there." He looks down at the yard. "The people who put him there have asked us to talk to you."

"Ah, I see." She takes a pensive drag of her menthol cigarette.

Be careful. Ask something else first. When you go there, use words like 'I hear you have been through something difficult.'

No need to dilly-dally. She's tough.

Thanks Coach, but I think I'll dilly dally this time.

YOU'LL SOUND LIKE A NAMBY-PAMBY!

Coach Physical Instrument is overdoing it -- even by my standards. Say something else first.

I'll go straight to it. I don't wanna sound like a namby-pamby.

Good on you, boy. She can take it.

What could she be thinking of? It's hard to say -- her shoulders are relaxed, her eyes on the cigarette.

It's like she's... disappointed this wasn't about more entertaining matters.

"Miss, we are investigating the murder of the man who was hanged." He looks down at the yard. "The people responsible have asked us to talk to you."

"Know that I am no longer the Cop of the Apocalypse. The prophecy was wrong. The signs meant nothing. The hangover has passed."

"Oh." She pauses. "Well, you know... I'm sad to hear that."

"New information has come to light -- it is a matter of weeks now. A great reckoning of the classes. Revachol explodes in vigilante violence. It's foretold."

"Wow..." Vapour rises from her coffee cup. "Can it be stopped? And if not, what are we to do with the time left?"

(With contempt written all over your face.) "Fucking end already."

"Yeah, man." Her face wrinkles into a rock 'n' roll smile.

"His arrival is a sign of the end times. All this," she looks around, "will come crashing down in mere days."