Quoted By:
Your group turns to look at whoever just said that while the rest of you are huddled around the ticking timebomb. About two cubicles away from you stands a very weird looking man in business casual attire. His face is a half-formed mass of flesh with hunks of something on his chin, cheeks, and forehead. On closer examination, it appears to be...chitin?
Only his left eye, which is a deep shade of purple, and his mouth are functional. The rest of his face looks like a child was told to draw a human face on a mannequin. "I WOULDN'T MESS WITH IT IF I WAS YOU."
[CORPORATE INSIDER] "Wait, hold on, I recognize that tone of voice. You're a Drone, aren't you?" Alexis clicks her tongue. "Last I checked, X-Company didn't hire your type."
"Actually," Kiara chirps out. "I think that's a Drone Manager. Not all rectangles are squares. They're usually more fully formed than the rank and file ones."
"CORRECT. SOME MAY COMPLAIN THAT THE HALF-FORMED LOOK IS LESS APPEALING THAN THE FEATURELESS LOOK." He flashes a toothy smile. Way too many teeth inside there. "I SAY IT'S BETTER TO TRY THAN NOT AT ALL."
Wait, hold on. "...Quincy?" You throw out that name as a shot in the dark.
"CORRECT AGAIN." He pulls a chair out from a nearby cubicle, turns it around until it's backwards, and takes a seat. He pulls out some blank printer paper and begins to chow down on it. "I APOLOGIZE. IT WAS MY LUNCH BREAK BUT I WANTED TO MAKE SURE OUR GUESTS DID NOT BLOW UP THIS OFFICE."
"It is of no consequence to us." Naomi sagely nods. "It would be rude to interrupt anyone's lunchbreak, regardless of their diet. I believe our names are visible enough on our badges."
"CORRECT YET AGAIN. IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU FOUR." Quincy holds out a hand towards the group. Ink stains cover his chitin-plated palm. After some quick handshakes between your group and him, you glance between him and the computer with a slightly confused expression.
"Uh. Shouldn't you know whoever this computer belongs to? Or the password?"
"I WISH. SADLY, MOST OF OUR WORKERS ARE BARELY WILLING TO EVEN WORK HERE. IT IS A STRUGGLE TO GET ANYONE TO STAY AT THEIR DESK. LET ALONE TO RECORD WHO'S DESK IS WHO. DUE TO THE NATURAL SAFETY HAZARD SUPPLIED BY THE COMPUTER, I HAVE ORDERED THE OTHERS TO STAY AWAY FROM IT." Quincy drones out with the same bored monotone that Quentin had. You're starting to notice a pattern with the names.
"Am I safe to assume that's why most of the workers here are, to be quite frank, non-combat-worthy men?" Alexis's hand gestures towards the horde of borderline centenarians. "I suppose it's a way to keep them useful even if they're not able to serve in your company's main purpose."
"CORRECT FOR A FOURTH TIME."
"Okay, there has to be some kind of hint, no?" Kiara sits down at the ticking timebomb of a computer. While she tries her best to search through the piles of garbage for clues, you try to think on what to ask Quincy...or how to help Kiara in her search.
