Conversation · Measurehead

"I do."

"On second thought, I don't." (Relinquish the opportunity to learn advanced race theory.)

"There must be another way to accomplish police work -- without racecraft."

"THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING. RACECRAFT IS THE ONLY WAY."

Go ahead, don't be shy. Just ask for race secrets.

"I want to learn this advanced race theory -- to replace my previous race theory. It is basic, I'm afraid."

"YOU WILL MAKE DUE WITH YOUR PRIMITIVE THEORY. I KNOW THE ANSWER TO THE GREAT RACE ENIGMA. WHY WOULD I SHARE IT WITH A DEFORMED INFANT? YOU DO NOT HAVE THE DEVOTION FOR SERVITUDE."

"I want to learn this race theory of yours. So that we could become... friends?" (Try to smile pathetically.)

"DO NOT BE NAIVE. I KNOW THE ANSWER TO THE GREAT RACE ENIGMA. WHY WOULD I SHARE IT WITH A DEFORMED INFANT? YOU DO NOT HAVE THE DEVOTION FOR SERVITUDE."

No, I'll better not say anything on this topic.

That's understandable. Jean-Luc Measurehead is a sage and an intellectual giant of race theory. Who are you? Handmaiden of Al Gul.

"I need some of that race-stuff in my brain. Sock it to me."

"INANE POPULAR CULTURE LINGO. IT IS INTELLECTUALLY UNINTERESTING TO 'SOCK' ANYTHING TO AN INFANT SUCH AS YOU."

Try again, punch his lights out with a right hook!

"Evrart told you to help us get the body down from the tree."

"SO IT WAS. YOU BESTED ME IN RACE COMBAT TO REACH MY SUPERIOR, THEN HAD HIM GIVE ME AN ORDER. I SALUTE YOUR CUNNING, ENEMY. I WILL GO AND REMOVE THE BODY FROM THE TREE -- WITH MY BARE HANDS."

"You're so noble, Measurehead."

There's a but.

"BUT." He leans in and intones: "WHILE I AM GONE SOMEONE MUST STAND GUARD ON THE BRIDGE. THAT SOMEONE NEEDS TO BE YOU."

That would mean you're openly showing the people that you're taking the Union's side.

"Wait, that showing everyone that I'm taking orders from the Union."

"YES. THAT IS PRECISELY WHAT IT MEANS, HOMONCULUS. THIS IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN ANY OTHER WAY."

"Lieutenant, what if we don't want to do that?"

"This is the uncomfortable result of not taking it down ourselves. I can live with the compromise."

"LISTEN TO YOUR LITTLE FRIEND. HE IS WISE IN HIS CHILDLIKE WAY. HIS MYSTERIOUS RACE MAY YET PROVE FIERCE COMPETITION TO MY HEROIC HAPLOGROUP."

"No, I'm not going to do that." (Back off.)

"FINE. GOOD-BYE. RETURN TO YOUR DEGENERACY."

"Okay then." (Wait here while Measurehead goes.)

"SO IT WAS. YOU SURMOUNTED THE HARBOUR WALL IN A DISPLAY OF ATHLETIC PROWESS TO REACH MY SUPERIOR -- THEN HAD HIM GIVE ME AN ORDER. I SALUTE YOUR CUNNING AND I WILL REMOVE THE BODY FROM THE TREE -- WITH MY BARE HANDS."

"SO IT WAS. MY UNPROMISING RACE PUPIL ENTERED THE HARBOUR AND USED MY SUPERIOR TO GIVE ME ORDERS. I SALUTE YOUR CUNNING AND WILL REMOVE THE BODY FROM THE TREE -- WITH MY BARE HANDS."

"Know anything about this mug?" (Show him the mug.)

He does not so much as glance at the object.

"This your kind of thing?"

"STOP SHOWING ME YOUR PATHETIC CUP. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN IT."

He had nothing to do with it.

Does he strike you as the kind of man who puts mugs into trash?

"Put this into the trash lately?"

"Know anything about it?"

"Why are you not with the Hardie boys?"

"I AM NOT THE FIRST LINE OF DEFENCE -- I AM THE LAST." He looks toward the coast, defiantly. "IN ADDITION, THESE SO-CALLED HARDIE BOYS ARE AN EFFEMINATE CLIQUE OF BODYBUILDERS. THEIR COMPANY IS SPIRITUALLY DEGRADING."

You pick up on something artificial in his tone, like he's putting on an act. This is unlike him. He is usually more himself.

"But you're all part of the Union?"

"THE HARDIE MANLETS ARE ON THE PAY OF THE COMPANY. I ANSWER TO THE UNION ALONE -- AND I DO THIS OUT OF RACE HEROISM. FINANCE IS AN ALIEN CONCEPT TO THE SEMENESE."

"NOW LEAVE ME BE. I MUST LUXURIATE IN THE COMPANY OF MY WOMAN."

Let it be.

Yes, it was probably nothing.

"There's more to it. What have you got against them?"

"FINE. THEY HAVE RECENTLY FALLEN UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A POSSIBLY SEXUALLY PERVERTED FEMALE VAGRANT AND A NARCOTICS PEDDLER. IT'S SHAMEFUL."

"Who do you mean?"

"FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF, ENDOMORPHIC BLOB."

"Interesting." The lieutenant takes a quick note.

"Don't be such an asshole to your fellow dockworker." (Show him the stolen ID card.)

The man looks at you, silent and unmoving. His eyes burrow into the remnants of your soul.

"YOU ARE NOT SANTIAGO. SANTIAGO IS NOT YOU. EVEN THE PHRENICALLY IMPAIRED CAN SEE THIS."

"YOUR RACE DESCENT HAS TEMPORARILY HALTED. BUT YOU WILL FALL AGAIN."

"DO NOT PRESUME THIS HAS DRASTICALLY ALTERED OUR RACE DYNAMIC."

"It was just something I had to do."

"OUR PERSONAL DYNAMIC HAS CHANGED." He pauses for a second. "A LITTLE."

He means very little.

"I knocked you out like a god of martial arts."