KIM KITSURAGI - “*Sunrise, parabellum*,” the lieutenant says. He's in the middle of a freshly cleaned room, with the fan above his head like a halo. His face is covered in bruises.

RHETORIC - You -- against the atom, the charm and the spin. Where the whole world failed -- matter failed to bend to human will; human will failed to get out of bed and tie its laces -- you alone, single-handedly, will rebuild the dreams of the working class. You are The Last Communist.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Kim Kitsuragi is a nice guy. Wish he was here right now.

YOU - I don't wanna say *cock-carousel* anymore.

SHIVERS - In a little alley next to Boogie street, a man in stained overalls steps out of a workshop for a cigarette. His hands are bruised and soaked with motor oil and dirt. He breathes smoke out of his nostrils and closes his eyes. The next five minutes are his and his alone.

And above all, you let life defeat you. All the gifts your parents gave you, all the love and patience of your friends, you drowned in a neurotoxin. You let misery win. And it will keep on winning till you die -- or overcome it.

SHIVERS - A grey rain falls on Martinaise. The city soaks in it, cold and dripping. Waves hit the concrete breakers. The homeless huddle by the fires behind the fences. There, among the shacks, is your home. Stay. Have a drink. Forever.

Are you... are you part of the *homo-sexual underground*?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh man, he looks so devastatingly *cool* with that cigarette.

YOU - “How did you get so cool, Kim?”

ENDURANCE - Do you know what today is?

YOU - My birthday?

ENDURANCE - No. Check your badge. Is it your birthday? No, it's not. Try again.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant leans in confidentially. “You wouldn't be able to hear if he were wearing anal beads,” he whispers.