Verbatim Vs Verbatim Extra

Our hero has just entered an exclusive bank establishment at the invitation of an Internet acquaintance when it occurs to him (he has been known to think fast, but that is usually later in the evenings. Afternoons, he is notoriously scatterbrained. Bordering on outright stupid) that he does not know the person’s real name. Never to meet outside the world wide web.
So he looks around at the staff members, tellers et al, hoping to catch a sign. None. Before he leaves, however, he thinks perhaps he should make a phone call. He is accosted by the guard.

• You should try those stunts in the other bank across the street. The guard there is not as well trained as I am.
• How well-trained are you? Also, what are you talking about?
• I have a black belt in tae-kwon-do, a black belt in Kung Fu, and, as if that does not make me lethal enough, I also have a black heart and would dance on your corpse after draining every ounce of life from it.
• You would not need those deadly martial arts skills to kill me, ssebo. I notice you have a rifle. It is an ancient, rusty relic of colonial days and probably served in KAR. It looks like the ssassi limu brand. One shot. But it would dispose of me sufficiently. I must ask again, however, why you would feel the need to kill me and thereafter dance on my remains.
• Hah hah hah! You must take me for a fool.
• Not a fool, ssebo. Just a security guard.
• I may be a security guard, but that does not mean I am completely useless. Unlike most members of my profession, I am actually competent and unstupid. I can recognize a threat to this institution when I see it. You, sir, evidently plan to rob this bank!
• Excuse me. I shake and quiver, not with fear, but with shock. What would make you come to this conclusion? I am taken aback.
• Your intentions are made obvious by your actions. I saw you walk in and keenly assess the state of staff deployment, counting how many people there were in the bank. Then you pulled out your mobile phone and began to make a phone call, doubtless to your accomplices, to report your findings so that they can come in and execute the actual robbery.
• Hah hah! This time I shake with mirth. No one has misread the situation so grossly since that time in ‘04 when Nampima told everyone I was the father. Please relax, eager trigger-happy guardsman. I am not a robber. There is an explanation for all this.
• You have a short while in which to expound on that explanation. This gun takes a while to load.
• I am not here to rob the bank. I am here to see someone.
• Yes. And this someone is who?
• That is the funny thing. Hah hah. Konka guard you shall laugh. I don’t know who it is! That is why I was making the phone call. I was calling Ivan.
• You don’t know who you walked into the bank to visit.
• Exactly.
• So you called this Ivan character to ask him who you came to the bank to visit.
• That is a firm and direct hit to the head of the nail. Full marks. I told you you would laugh.
• I am not laughing.
• … Well you should. It is funny.
• No, it is dubious. I knew someone called Ivan when I was still a soldier in UNLA. When he left the army he embarked on a life of crime. He is now a famous underground kingpin and is one of the most wanted men on the VCCU’s hit list.
• That cannot be the same Ivan. No way. The Ivan I called is completely harmless: utterly and totally unable to inflict even mild irritation upon the weakest of foes. Besides, he was like two years old when the UNLA was disbanded. Still pooping in nappies and then crying because of the smell.
• I do not trust you. You must be a bank robber. You lie like one. You and Ivan want to rob my bank. I shall have this gun loaded in a few seconds, after which you should prepare to die a swift death. Muahahaha.