[A dark, rainy, establishing shot out the outer facade of the precinct building]
[Cut to an empty desk as a hairy hand with a rolled up sleeve drops a manilla envelope onto the desktop with a flamp sound]
POLICE CHIEF: Alright, Detective. Here's your dossier. We need your help finding a criminal compound.
DETECTIVE DICTIONARY JONES: No problem, Chief. Any idea what it's made of?
POLICE CHIEF: Like any other, it's metal and cement, I guess? I don't see how that helps.
DETECTIVE DICTIONARY JONES: You've got a lot to learn about compounds, Chief: gas ones, for instance. Also, cement--
POLICE CHIEF: Enough, there's no time. These criminals have been gratuitous with their methods, and they need to be disposed.
DETECTIVE DICTIONARY JONES: Well, if you're going to do something for free, you might as well be happy about it, I guess.
POLICE CHIEF: I don't follow. Our intel shows they're being paid, we just need to find their seller.
DETECTIVE DICTIONARY JONES: Well if I know anything about cellars, it's that they tend to be underground.
POLICE CHIEF: Good thinking, Detective. Find this underground seller and we just might be able to track down the criminal compound.
DETECTIVE DICTIONARY JONES: Now I just need the floor plans of all the buildings that have basements in the city
POLICE CHIEF: Wha-??
[theme plays and credits roll]
