Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"You don't need to supervise me, Kim."

"Except that I do, detective."

"I know what the RCM is."

"That's good."

"What's the RCM?"

"That would be us. The Revachol Citizens Militia."

The RCM, or the Revachol Citizens Militia, is the police force you and him are part of. A self-organized peace corps of the occupied city of Revachol, the RCM operates within a legal twilight, yet its authority is rarely questioned. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if you didn't know this?

"Nothing. Just an observation."

"You have a..." He's looking for the right words. "...a distinctive way of walking. If I were to walk in front of you, we would surely collide."

"What do you mean distinctive?"

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, it's just a collegial observation. In the 57th we call it the 'Jamrock shuffle'. Officers from Jamrock's 41st Precinct tend to move a bit erratically."

"How's that?"

"They say it's a scene-clearing technique developed by one of your lieutenants for gathering evidence. It's erratic, yet thorough. Prioritises containers."

Yes, but containers contain. Things. Shiny things. They're interesting.

"You're kidding me? Why containers?"

"I don't know. Containers... contain, I guess. I'm making assumptions. We should move on."

Passing along frivolous inter-departmental stereotypes is not usually his oeuvre. He regrets bringing it up.

"Okay then."

He simply nods.

"That's racist. I don't prioritise containers."

"I'm sure you don't. It's just a stupid inter-departmental thing. I'm making assumptions... we should move on."

Let it go.

"What if I want to work this case alone?"

"Detective, if I may be frank -- you seem to be in a deranged state. You have trouble remembering things, you've misplaced your badge. I cannot let you act in the name of the RCM without supervision until you've regained control of your faculties."

Oh, so you're an unaccountable wreck who has to be supervised? You don't have to take this display of authority, you can disobey!

"Detective, if I may be frank -- you seem to be in a deranged state. You have trouble remembering things. I cannot let you act in the name of the RCM without supervision until you've regained control of your faculties."

"Nothing". [Leave.]

Convince Kim there's a sexy dark mystery twist in the case.

What if you did it?

Did... what? The hanged man?

Yes, you killed him. And then, as part of the plan, you drowned out the memory...

It wasn't that you were horrified -- you were just surprised by your own daring!

Forgetting was merely a matter of convenience -- very clever!

Maybe this is why your chest feels so hollow -- you did an awful thing, and you can't even bring yourself to acknowledge it...

Are you sure you would have had the strength to take down a hardened mercenary? You're not in the best shape.

Perhaps you did it for the Union -- your political beliefs gave you the strength and courage to take on such a formidable opponent.

Keep it to yourself. This is your burden to bear now.

"Kim... I think I may be the murderer. I killed the man and then tricked myself into forgetting about it."

What nonsense. [Discard the idea.]

Did what? I can't even remember what the case is. What was it...

"It" is murder, of course. Murder. It can't be anything else. And you did it. And then, horrified by your own actions, you drowned out the memory...

It wasn't that you were horrified -- you were just surprised by your own daring!

Forgetting was merely a matter of convenience -- very clever!

Maybe this is why your chest feels so hollow -- you did an awful thing, and you can't even bring yourself to acknowledge it...

Perhaps you did it for the Union -- your political beliefs inspired this extreme act of violence.

Only banal things strike you. At the core, you're a very banal person, with a very small soul.

One you should be ashamed of. It's no wonder the soft one doesn't want it back. It was right to abandon you...

"Hold still a second..." (Try to smell Kim.)

The lieutenant's posture becomes rigid and uncomfortable as you lean forward and sniff the area just above his shoulder blade...

The lieutenant is fastidious as a cat in matters of his personal upkeep. And yet, in the folds of his jacket you can just perceive the stale and acrid traces of oil rags, transmission fluid, and brake pads.

Wait-wait. There's something else there, something that sets your GABA-receptors aflutter.

The lieutenant's aftershave. A common drugstore brand. Strong hints of pine needle.

But what sort of ideological picture do these smells paint? Tough to say...

"Do you need something, detective?"

"I was just wondering what brand of aftershave you use."

"It's nothing fancy, just plain old Taiga Super Special..."

"I do like the way it tingles, though. It's the only part of shaving I actually look forward to."

"Was there something else you wished to discuss?"

"Are you thinking of... you know?" He gestures toward his cheeks with an invisible razor.

"Lose these bad boys? No way."