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His baby blue eyes stare down at the corpse with honest to god <span class="mu-i">fear.</span> Your brain has a hard time processing that he can even feel that. A small part of your mind refuses to acknowledge that your Handler can express anything but spite and mild amusement.
"What happened?" The Handler looks back up at you. You quickly rattle off what happened as best as you can. You can barely string together a sentence together but he gets the rough idea. "So. You killed one. Well, shit, gotta give credit where credit is due." He kneels down and sticks his finger into the neon blue guts before tasting it. Disgusting.
"...I recognize this. Yeah, yeah, this ain't good." The Handler stands back up. "Won't bore you with the specifics of this blood replacement but this stuff does a NUMBER to basically everything in someone's system. Boosts their strength, speed, perception, you name it." His brows furrow as he tries to piece something together.
"<span class="mu-b">This shit is EXPENSIVE. A single 500ml vial takes a month of MY earnings to get.</span> Whoever is funding these fucks is either the richest man in the world OR they got Z-Corp by the tits and are getting it for free. Not sure what's worse."
"So?" You're waiting for him to say something about the fact that THESE FUCKERS ARE REAL! Eventually the sheer weight of your schizo ramblings about them being real does hit. His bronze hair quickly gets soaked in nervous sweat as he kneels down to look at the corpse again.
"Yeah. Fuck. What CAN I say, you know?" A confident smile crosses his face. "Gotta give props. You were right." <<span class="mu-b">"I really shouldn't have hired her. Oh well, she's been one of the few Cleaners I hired who's actually good at their job. Guess this is the price I pay."</span>> "Alright. Here's what I'm going to do."
"I'm going to take this corpse back to my place. You're not going to say jack shit about this to anyone but me, in PERSON. We keep this shit underwraps, I pay you more for the next mission, annnd...hm. To keep this between us? <span class="mu-b">I think you earnt this much.</span>" He tosses you something. Without thinking, you put it into your pocket. You'll check what it is when you get home.
The Handler lifts the corpse up by the armpits and begins to drag it through the streets. "Get some rest. I think you earnt that much." Before he disappears around the corner, you raise your voice to ask him something.
"Uh. If you don't mind me prying, would your name happen to be Otto?"
The Handler immediately stops dead in his tracks. "Use that name again and I'll gut you. I'm your Handler. That's what you'll call me." <<span class="mu-b">"Damn, she was right on the money. Not sure where she got that information, though."</span>> You nod your head.
Do you tell him he's being watched before he vanishes?
>YES. HE SHOULD KNOW. HE PROBABLY HAS MORE RESOURCES TO PROTECT HIMSELF.
>NO. YOU DON'T WANT HIM DOING ANYTHING RASH. IGNORNANCE IS BLISS.
