Quoted By:
"So, uh, Handler?" You really should ask for his name. Not important right now, you have a PITCH to sell. "Before I tell you, I got an offer for you. Between two pals. Two BUDS. TWO PEAS IN A FUCKING POD!" Your brain itches and screams from the mental strain of existing. You can already feel the atmosphere of this conversation going in a BAD direction.
When he doesn't respond, you take this as a cue to keep rambling on.
[UNSTABLE] "HUMAN MEAT. DISTRICT 21! IT'S THE NEW MARKET! BENJAMIN, YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT LONG PORK COMING FROM THERE, RIGHT?!" You stare madly at your favorite birdbrained chemistry friend. "IT'S BULLETPROOF! TOUGHER THAN THE MEAT ITSELF!"
He gives a nervous thumbs up. "Y-yeah, I guess, b-but that's not necessarily a good thing...?"
"I think you're laying it on a bit thick." Alexis raises her hands up in mock surrender. "Maybe you should try telling him more about-"
"Shit idea." The Handler spits out a reply.
"Whuh?" You turn to look back at him. He still has the same shit eating grin but otherwise, there's no joy or confidence in his posture. Only a judging look in his eyes.
"First off, where do you think we can get human meat from? Killing people? Okay, that would run us afoul with other Cleaners and Agents. Raising people from birth to be meat pigs? Newsflash, there's a reason we still use cows and pigs and chickens." As if you spoke some sort of code phrase, he rambles on about the prospects of the idea you didn't really consider. "To get any meat from a human you would need at least twelve or more years. Most farm animals take one sixth of that, if even that!"
"Sure, there's a market for that meat. I get it. C and F and O-Corp can't keep up the demand. But do we look like fucking Harvesters here? Do I look like a retard? Am I a retard to you, freakshit?"
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] Harvester is a term for a sub-species of human best known for cannibalistic urges and far, far too many teeth. Rumors say their blood is pitch black.
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] You don't recall anything about O-Corp immediately aside from the term 'old-fashioned' and a general impression of country farmers. You vaguely recall C-Corp being associated with clothes and novelty foods.
"N-no, sir?"
"Then don't. Waste my time. With that dribble again." There's joy in his tone again but it's laced with so much malice, it hurts to listen to him. "Okay sweetie pie?"
All of the wind has been taken from your sails. You feel like shit now.
>-1 RESTRAINT. 3/6 REMAINING.
"Yes, sir. I, uh, do actually have something more important." You hiss out in pain when you feel another headache coming over you. The pains of having anomalous powers, you suppose. "See. I have physical proof of something. Something IMPORTANT! THEY'RE REAL!!!"
"What?" Everyone replies in unison. It was almost creepy if you didn't know it was unintentional.
"Freezer. There's some shady stuff, go ahead. I'll follow after you." You hope he bothers listening to you.
