Conversation · Cindy the SKULL

"Now, let's see if you're half as dedicated a communist as you say you are..."

"That's fine. I'm pretty sure it's 'Remember Dobreva and Abadanaiz'."

"Huh. I guess this little piggy has done his legwork after all..." She sounds slightly disappointed.

"Do you know the passphrase?"

"Sure, I do. Steban trusts me."

"But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Why would I? That would be so boring."

"Now, let's see if you're half as dedicated a communist as you say you are..."

"That's enough. Off with you, then." She makes a lazy shooing motion with her dangling hand.

"Hold on, what else can you tell me about this Steban?"

"Just that he's a real communist. Not like the play-acting you've been doing. The rest you'll have to see for yourself."

"That's very helpful. Thank you, Cindy."

"Hold on. You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

(Reluctantly.) "Oink, oink."

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

It's not the worst indignity you've suffered the last several days, but it is up there.

"I'm not oinking for you."

"Be a good pig, now. No oink, no goods."

(Through gritted teeth.) "Oink."

"Well, well. Seems like we're dealing with one tough pig. I'm impressed..."

Yes, somehow you managed to oink with at least a modicum of dignity.

"Is it money you want? Here, take some. I've got plenty." (Offer her 5 reál.)

"Keep your money. What I want from you's better than gold..."

Don't look so deflated. Whatever she asks, you keep your chin up!

"Come on, Cindy. From one communist to another, help me out."

"Just tell me what you want me to do!"

"Do you know where to find him?"

"I might."

"Will you tell me?"

"I'm searching for a bunch of mole people."

"Pigs and moles, eh? Sounds like something out of a children's fairy story."

"I guess it does sound a little childish when you say it like that."

"Yes, it really does..."

"Whatever. I know someone who's into some pretty underground stuff. You're looking for Steban."

"It's not. It's very serious."

"Oh, did I hurt the very serious pig's feelings?"

"One of the Union guys said there's someone trying to organize an underground revolutionary cell."

"An underground cell? My, my. Sounds big time..."

"I'm looking for comrades to help me fire up the Great Mazovian Sausage Grinder. Will you help me?"

The girl erupts in a cackle that seems like it should belong to a much older woman...

"Oh, that's very nice. The little piggy wants to make sausages. Out of what, his little piggy friends?"

"No, out of the bourgeoisie."

"So the little piggy is a big, bad communist now..."

(Turn to Kim.) "Don't worry, Kim. I would never make you into a sausage."

"It was not a concern of mine." The lieutenant blinks once.

In the break room of Precinct 41, Sergeant Mack Torson is just now warming a grey sausage over an electric range. The oil in the pan hisses and pops. Torson is dabbing a spot off his pants when his partner, Satellite-Officer Chester McLaine enters, sniffs the air, and frowns...

"Good fucking god, Mack. What is that smell?"

"What, like you've never reheated leftovers in the break room?" He skewers the greasy sausage with a small fork and removes it to a limp paper plate.

"Hey, if you wanna dress that up, I think there's still that old bottle of mustard logged in evidence..." He's already laughing at his own joke-in-progress.

"What, you mean the one Vic yoinked off..."

"... that hobo in front of the Frittte? Hahaha!"

Keep listening.

"Now you got to ask yourself, Mack. Are you desperate enough for hobo mustard?"

Torson chews thoughtfully at his sausage for some time. "Hey, Chester, speaking of... do you think Harry ever solved his money situation, or do you think he's gone full hobocop?"

"You mean, like, is he out there right now, sleeping in a storm drain, chasin' down rats for leads?"

"Yeah, I could see it. He's always been weird about money stuff."

"Okay, Cindy. Does that mean you'll help me find the communists?"

Torson chews thoughtfully at his sausage for some time. "Hey, Chester, I've been wondering... do you think anybody's ever gone full hobocop?"

"Like, really hobocopped? Nah, that stuff's just an urban myth, Headless FALN Rider-level stuff..."

He chuckles. "Doesn't mean Harry isn't givin' it a good try, though."