» ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴏx || ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇꜱ

Part 10 : 54

The Handler slurped her liquid lunch through her long violet straw as she eyed Five like he was her prey.
The Handler's large office held strange little artefacts and paintings, which were placed along the plaster walls and mahogany shelves, the two adults sitting opposite each other .
"And that's how Phil determined that the archduke just had to go. Care for a dessert?"
The boy placed his own glass of water down onto the table, kindly refusing her offer.

"I had a bad Twinkie in the apocalypse once. It kind of put me off desserts."
"Please, indulge me." She pushed a intricately carved bowl filled with wrapped candies towards the boy with her hand, Five sighing as he plucked one out - the Handler's lighter clicking and igniting her cigarette the same time the brunet popped the confectionary in his mouth.

"What's that taste like to you?" He furrowed his eyebrows.
"The 1950's?"

"Precisely right." The platinum haired woman whispered out, grinning as she leant forwards.
"Our clever metaphysics division concocted a way  to perfectly distill an entire decade into a singly candy. This one's modeled after the Fudge Mutt. America's favourite in 1955."
"Remarkable."

"You'll be happy to know it's the very division, that's building your new body. Oh, that reminds me. I have something for you.
Carla?"

"Yes?" A static voice replied.
"Would you bring the box in please?"
"Certainly." Carla obliged in her high pitched voice, the Handler releasing the pressure on the rectangular intercom - a woman in a baby blue dress walking in silently and placing a light sage box beside Five.

"Go ahead. Open it. Clothes make the man Five." A well tailored navy suit was placed within the cardboard container, the brunet far too small for it at the time being.
"Won't it be nice when you can actually wear it? Very soon, I assure you. They're perfecting your body as we speak."

"Thank you. It's a very kind gift." He said quietly, placing the lid over the box and turning on his heel - pointing towards something that was sitting idly behind him.

"Is that a Chinese flamethrower?" The coffee haired boy asked curiously, the woman nodding - a thin wisp of smoke escaping out of the end of her long white cigar.
"Good eye!" Five proceeded towards and inspected the old weapon as he chewed on the decade flavoured fudge.

"War. Such a fascinating concept. A temporary salve for a permanent human flaw. Course, it's a bit easier to see from thirty-thousand feet." A short chuckle.
"These are just some of the things I've collected in my travels." She grasped another device of mass destruction from the top of the unlit brick hearth, throwing it up once and catching it.

"M26 grenades from the Vietnam War - and this, the most noteworthy, perhaps. My Walther pistol. The very one Hitler used to kill himself.
We're not supposed to take these kind of things, but... he wasn't gonna use it anymore." She whispered roguishly, holding it out as if she were to shoot one of the oil paintings that sat on the pewter stone wall right above the hearth.

"Feel... how perfectly balanced that is. Hmm?" Five held the jet black pistole that he had been handed, weighing it in his hands before handing it back to the woman, swallowing the remains of the confectionary.
"I had some thoughts I wanted to run by you. Some suggestions to improve Commission protocol."

"Hm! Shaking things up already. I admire that." The Handler said, stroking his cheek gently before lightly booping his nose - then striding back to her seat in front of her large desk after placing the weapon down to its original position.
"Go on. Do tell!"

"Gloria."
"Hmm." She hummed in interest.
"The tube operator. Wouldn't it be simpler if case managers were to send their own messages?" The coffee haired boy queried, placing his hands the chair back rest and leaning on it.