"For the fuck-gimp? Good thing you asked The Cunmeister." He nods, trying to look older…

"For the fuck-gimp? Good thing you asked The Cunmeister." He nods, trying to look older. "Cuno knows a fridge, perfect for freezing f****ts."

"I thought you would! Where is it?"

"Baconman's in a rush. But what's in it for the Cuno?" He crosses his arms. "What's the return on Cuno's investment?"

Don't fuck it up, you need a fridge.

Now is the time to be humble. Say the sir thing.

"A corpse-free yard. Don't you have civic pride?"

"Cuno's got everything Cuno needs. All civics and shit."

He doesn't know what that means. Talking about civics and shit didn't make this any easier.

"You can't buy Cuno, pig! Cuno's already got everything!"

"Kind sir, I'll repay you for this information one day. Right now the clock is ticking."

"Cuno's clock's not doing shit." He looks at his wrist. "Cuno's got a fuckload of time."

There's nothing on his wrist.

"Don't believe him, Cuno! He just wants to use your fridge!"

Convince the Cuno to spill the beans.

By killing in his territory, someone has openly challenged Cuno. It's in his best interest to put them in their place.

"Some arrogant shit thinks he can kill in the Cuno's kingdom, without asking the Cuno first? That sounds like lawlessness to me."

A dark flame smoulders in Cuno's eyes as he ponders your argument -- wordless. Like kings do.

"This outlaw's fate is in your hands. Let's make an example of him. Help me locate him using fridge-body technology."

"All right. Cuno hears you. See that shit house over there?" He points to the collapsed building with the bookstore.

A cold comes over you as you glance behind him -- at the crumbling colossus there, casting a shadow on you.

"Yes, I see it. The big tall one behind you."

"You gotta get in that shit." He points again. "In there deep."

"What do you mean in there deep?"

"Check the fucking basement, pig. Don't you know anything?" The kid rolls his eyes. "Always check the fucking basement. Recon style."

"There's a giant fridge down there. Fuck-gimp will fit, no problem." He nods confidently. "It looks like a white bear or some shit. Try not to piss yourself when you see it."

A white bear? A polar bear?

"How do I get in the building again?"

"Through the book-store. You gotta beg the book-bitch. Used to be you could get in there through the doorbell, jam that shit. Bookbitch changed that. Cuno doesn't beg -- so Cuno doesn't go there anymore."

"Beg the book-bitch?"

"Yeah. Book-bitch. Beg her. You stupid or something?"

"He means the bookstore -- we have to ask..." He checks his notes. "Plaisance is the mother of the little girl peddling books on the plaza. We have to ask Plaisance, in the store."

Impressive note-keeping, lieutenant.

"See? The 'clard gets it," he says with a nod. "Listen to your four-eyed friend."

"Yeah, I already tried that. It's not that easy."

"Then try again! Cuno's not your brain slave, think for yourself, pig!"

"He means the bookstore -- we have to ask the proprietor of the bookstore."

"You mean Plaisance from the bookstore?"

"See? It wasn't that hard, pissmidget!"

"Ah, I didn't check the basement when I was there..."

"Listen to Cuno -- always check the basement." He nods solemnly and crosses his arms. "Cuno always checks basements. Deep style."

"Thanks, Cuno." (Conclude.)

"You didn't hear it from Cuno, pig." He looks at you seriously. "But don't forget where you heard it from."

"Cuno owns you now, pig! You're Cuno's property!"

"I was in there already."

"And you didn't notice the fucking ice bear fridge?" The kid scoffs. "Pig, you need a new pair of eyes. This is fucking embarrassing."

"You mean the Doomed Commercial Area?"

"Whatever, don't fuck back at the Cuno." He makes a sudden discarding motion. "You gotta get in that shit. In there deep."

Yes, he means the Doomed Commercial Area.

Cuno's a poor kid from a poor neighbourhood. Say your job is on the line. He'll sympathize.

Am I sure about this? Sounds sort of weak...

No, it's not weak. It's sincere. Do not confuse sincerity with weakness. Say it. Trust me.

"Kid, this is serious. My job is on the line. If I don't get this sorted, I might actually get fired..."

"The fuck are you doing right now?" He looks at you suspiciously. "The fuck is this shit?!"

Don't pay attention to him. Just keep telling your sad story.

"I've lost almost everything, Cuno. My memory, my money, even my name... I can't lose my job too! Please, PLEASE help me..."

"Uhm..." The lieutenant's eyes flash behind his glasses. "It's not that dramatic. We can just send the body to Processing..."

"Cuno's never seen anything so lame..." he says mostly to himself. "Listen, pig... If you were Cuno, the fuck would you care?"

"You're right, Cuno -- if I were Cuno, I probably wouldn't care..."

"See, Sadshit..." He turns curiously patient and explains: "Cuno doesn't fucking care about this sad shit. Your sad shit."

"Now how about you at least try to entertain the Cuno -- or get the fuck off his crime scene?"