"That ride is fucking lightning!" the young man exclaims.

"That ride is fucking lightning!" the young man exclaims.

"Hey, Pissf****t, look who it is! It's the bully. He ran out of people to be an asshole to."

"Why haven't I seen any SKULLS around Martinaise?"

"The Union does their share of policing in Martinaise, at least where gangs are concerned," the lieutenant replies instead. "That's why there isn't much organized crime around here."

Apart from the Union themselves of course.

"Well," the young man remarks in a voice filled with longing, eyes glazed over, "there's Cindy..."

"Yeah, the girl Piss blathered out, when you asked about the armour. She's a true artist of the future, just like Arno van Eyck or Rietveldt. A real SKULL."

"By the way, if you see Cindy, give her our regards," he adds, returning from whatever void he was just visiting.

For all their nihilistic posturing, these young men are not lacking in youthful idealism.

Odd. There isn't a hint of hate in them. It's like they're 'Pissf****t' and 'Fuck the World' out of some kind moral obligation.

The lieutenant, on your left, is unusually lenient toward them.

"Enough about this skullery then." (Conclude.)

"Mhm." He throws a longing glance at the Kineema.

"Your rhetoric is confusing. Are you a part of the SKULLS or not?"

"We're not franchised SKULLS -- well, not yet. Once we get our name out there, we'll have a chance to join them."

"And what makes you think that the organization would accept you?"

"Because we can be just as psycho and vicious. You'll see."

"But in a non-threatening and definitely legal way," the other one quickly adds and whispers something to his friend.

"We'll fuck the system from the inside later, just be cool now. The damage will be tenfold."

"Right on, Fuck," the blond agrees and provocatively spits on the pavement. "So what's happening now?"

"Oh, you'll see for sure once we're in -- it's the last thing you'll ever see before the void consumes you."

Throw him off his game.

You don't feel very scared.

"Are you sure a SKULL would say that?"

"Uh..." He looks confused. "Well... yeah I mean, we're only saying practice things for now, so... We don't mean no harm to the SKULLS brand. Or to you."

"This is definitely something the SKULLS would say, but we're not trying to encroach on the SKULLS brand in any way. On the contrary, we're just here to market it."

"So you're just pretending to be as nasty and vicious as the SKULLS?"

"Hey, we can be just as hard! Like pavement on top of pavement, or a brick on top of another brick."

"Or a grave on top of a grave."

These kids have the vocabulary but might be missing a brain.

Wouldn't a grave on top of a grave be just a big hole? What's hard about holes?

Digging them.

Filling them up, baby!

"Hold on, why does a criminal gang need marketing?"

"We think of it more like two franchises merging, you know -- us two and the SKULLS. I really feel like we would add more to the table."

"Spice things up here in Martinaise, you know. Get the old machine of pain and suffering oiled up real good."

What would these guys have to offer to any organization?

"Okay, I get what the SKULLS do, but what do you franchise in? Youth unemployment?"

"Whatever, man. Work is for pussies." The young man frowns, aggrieved. "You wouldn't get it anyway."

"Doesn't it already have enough spice?"

The youth looks confused for a moment. "There can always be more. In the end it won't matter. 'Til then..."

"Are you implying I might be in some sort of danger?"

"Pssshhew." The young man raises two fingers to his temple and an imaginary hammer hits the cartridge.

A threat? Retaliate immediately. You'll see -- they'll fall over like bitch-leaves. These boys ain't got the cojones.

"I just wanted to talk about music and now there's a conflict all of the sudden... it's too much." (Nervously shake your head.)

"Uh... that's right," the young man says, looking unsure of himself. "You... you should back off and let silence rule supreme."

What is wrong with you? Now you're just empowering these punks.

"This is ridiculous." The lieutenant gives you an irritated glance. "Boys, do you know why the gang is called SKULLS?"

"Yeah -- the skull symbolizes the embrace of death and nothingness, present in all of us, the vehicle of our future operations. Death and nothingness."

"They're called SKULLS because when you're shot dead in the middle of the street, the skull is the only part the stray dogs won't eat."

Just trust me and follow my lead.

"So, boys, wanna feed the dogs?"

No reply. The blond rebel scratches his chin, deliberately not focusing his gaze on anything. He looks very uncomfortable.

The other one shuffles uncomfortably, nevertheless continuing to steal glances at the lieutenant's motor carriage.

Scared little bitches...

"Kim, maybe you shouldn't scare them like that?"

"You fired a gun at a little girl," the lieutenant replies with no discernible change in his tone. "I think I've got a little bit of wiggling room here."

"Ugh..." A sudden flash of panic flies across his face. "I... I didn't mean anything by that. Just playing with words here, that's all."

"Yeah, man..." the other one quickly joins in. "We're just talking, philosophising. No crimes are being committed. And... and you wanted to talk too, right?"

"You aimed a loaded gun at little girl," the lieutenant replies with no discernible change in his tone. "I think I've got a little bit of wiggling room here."