The man stares at you with spite in his eyes.

The man stares at you with spite in his eyes.

"Could you guys help me get in to the harbour?"

"Couldn't help you even if I wanted to." He shakes his head. "The whole harbour is in lockdown and Evrart sent word to sit tight and wait for instructions."

"What's gonna happen to the Hardie boys now that Titus is dead?"

"T... Ti... Tit..." The spit flying out of his mouth is accompanied by a painful grimace. "Tit... Titus's fuckin' dead..."

"What's gonna happen to the Hardie boys? Look around you, man. This shit is done. There are no more Hardie boys!"

"You two are just going to go back to hauling containers in the harbour?"

"No, man. I don't know... I guess the Union will still be policing the neighbourhood, but..." He looks at his dazed companion. "Who's gonna do it now?"

"You, Eugene."

"Me? No, man... I'm not a leader." He smiles suddenly. "You know Titus only recruited me 'cause I play the guitar? Said the team could use the morale boost."

If any of them had leadership capacity beside Titus, it's him. Keep encouraging him.

"You can do it. Eugenie Boys has quite the ring, doesn't it?"

"What? Fuck no! If I'd stay we'd keep the name to honour Titus."

"Hardie boys without a Hardie? That's just stupid."

"Cop, you just don't understand how things work." He exhales sharply in frustration, but then quickly collects himself.

"I suppose," he continues, his voice now calm, "I should at least consider sticking around. If I'm not here, it's all over."

"Yeah, man, you know..." He slaps his hand on the table in a sudden burst of drunk enthusiasm. "You know -- you've got this. You got this!"

He looks off to the side, eyes filled with worry. "I haven't got shit, Al."

There's something there. A germ of determination. He knows he has no choice but to rise to the occasion.

This is not completely ludicrous. Him and Titus were the only detectives of the bunch. Titus more, but Eugene at least knew how to think along.

"You're right, Eugene Hardie doesn't sound bad either."

"Man... you have no idea how this works do you?" He looks at the glass of milk on the table. "But yes... If I don't stick around then it's all over. So I guess I sorta have to now."

He's not a drinker. Another good thing about him.

"That's a noble thought. You're going to do alright. No one is born to lead."

"Titus was..." His eyes meet yours. "But thanks for the vote of confidence. If I don't stick around, it's all over. So I guess sorta I have to now."

"Sounds like you gotta go with Mr. Outside Hire, then."

"I ain't gonna stick around for that." He shakes his head resolutely. "I only stayed because of Titus. There was a man born to lead."

"I am."

"That wouldn't be funny even if we weren't surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen friends."

"You should just disband. Let other, better people take over."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a total dickhead?" His voice is quiet and resigned. "Well... you are, man. Just fuck off and leave us be."

Yes. People have called you that before. You didn't care.

"He will." (Point to Alain.) "You just need to sober him up, that's all."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." He frowns. "We'll see what he does with the whole Shanky business."

"Alain? He won't be leading anything." He turns to his friend. "I mean, look at him -- the man's broken through and through."

"Didn't Titus have a brother? Tibbs?"

"Tiberius? He doesn't wanna get mixed up in our shit. Titus has been buttering him for years on the count of all this being fun as fuck."

"But he's got his window fitting business, a wife with two kids and the third one on the way... No way he's gonna leave all that."

"Oh yeah... that makes sense. Never mind."

"Look, what do you want from us, man? Things are pretty tough right now."

"Is he okay?" (Point to Alain.)

"Does he look like he's okay?"

He does not. His unshaven face is almost grey, and he reeks of piss, sweat, and booze.

While still alive, he has abandoned his own body to decomposition.

"How badly was he hurt?"

"He wasn't, that's the thing." He sighs heavily. "Titus, Theo, Dennis, Angie... they're all gone, but he got away without a scratch."

"I just..." He seems barely able to keep his head up. "...there's nothing left. NOTHING!"

He has lost the will to live.

It's survivor's guilt. He feels like he should have died with the others. He may kill himself if he doesn't find a new purpose -- or else go on in this way, not dead, but not really living either.

(Whisper.) "What are you suggesting, Kim?"

"I'm not suggesting much. All I'm saying is -- he lost everything."

"Shit is tough but you need to get off your ass and finish this."

The dull eyes looking back to you from the narrow face momentarily light up and he mumbles: "What...?"

"The little guy who ran -- Shanky -- you're just going to leave it like that?"

His eyes, which remain fixed on yours, become somewhat clearer, and he smiles a malevolent drunken smile. "Dennis is a dead man... just doesn't know it yet..."

"Was this really the best idea?" The lieutenant pauses to think for a moment. "I guess you may have prolonged his existence a bit. If he can still remember this when he sobers up."

"If you think this will keep him from offin' himself, I'll make sure to remind him... so far I've just been pouring whiskey in him to keep him sedated." He nods.

"Nothing, just thinking out loud here."

The flicker of light in his eyes goes out and he collapses back on the table.

"Krenel, Wild Pines... All the people responsible for the deaths of your friends. You're just going to leave it like that?"