A lorry stuck in the traffic jam. This big, heavy Graad-made machine is well kept for…

A lorry stuck in the traffic jam. This big, heavy Graad-made machine is well kept for such an old machine.

Look in the window.

The windows are clear, they've been recently washed. You can see a lorryman's cabin with personal belongings, stickers, insignia...

Fumes of heavy fuel oil waft over you, making your eyes sting. The odour mixes with cigarette residue.

[Leave.]

What kind of stickers and insignia?

The driver has adorned his space with a substantial collection of peculiar paraphernalia. Proclamations about honour, strength, and purity are glued to various panels.

A large metal pendant hangs from the rear view mirror. The pendant features a sun crowned with wavy rays.

It is the seal of Royalist-era Revachol.

What about the back seat?

The back end of the cabin has a small perch to sleep. Large ashtrays. There are several suns and wheels sown into the curtains.

A book with ragged edges catches your notice. The front cover features a large, muscular man. The title reads: 'Man from Hjelmdall in the Lost City of the Pygmies'.

"Racist-nationalist paraphernalia." He grits his teeth. "Not unusual in this part of town. This is our guy." The lieutenant nods towards the racist lorry driver.

"Racist-nationalist paraphernalia." He grits his teeth. "Not unusual in this part of town."

Look for a clue about who drives the vehicle.

It's clear this is your guy. Only the March edition of 'Power Man Monthly: The Pure Man's Magazine' is missing. It's clearly the rotund raceman's.

There he is, in front of Frittte, smoking nervously. Hoping it's over.

He was acting tough before. This definitely scared him a little, you being here.

He was acting tough before. This probably scared him a bit. Who knows when it will come in handy -- a slightly scared racist lorryman?

"You think this lorry belongs to our tough guy?"

"Likely, yes. This guy's proud of who he is. Drapes it all over his machine."

[Leave.]