He laughs. "No, that's my price. I ain't reducing it." Still, you see a wariness come across his features.
You negotiate with Rufus as best you can, but he's just too bullheaded to budge—and he knows he's on to the deal of a lifetime. He clings stubbornly to his original price.
It galls you somewhat, but you agree to his price. It'll sting MetaHuman. And while you can trust Electra's discretion, you can't help feeling like a pushover—the big corporate director who's been fleeced by the small-town diner owner.
You shake Rufus's hand and assure him he'll have his money by the end of the day. He, in turn, assures you that he'll transmit the location of the alien cadaver as soon as he gets his payout and has been convinced that the money is safe. Rufus has stored the alien inside the cold-storage room that he uses to keep bulk orders for his diner, a ten-mile drive away. You find it quickly, and you and Electra hang back while field agents break open its lock and go in ahead of you.
Inside, laid out on a wooden bench, you find the alien—or rather, the Surgeon. It is vaguely man-shaped and man-sized, but horrifically warped. From its face sprouts a great proboscis; its four fingers end in long, knife-like claws.
And, crazily, parts of it intermittently seem as if they're…not there. Every few seconds, parts of its body disappear, then reappear. Nor are they merely invisible: when a part of the Surgeon's forearm fades from view, one of the field agents takes out a pen and passes it clean through the empty space. Just seconds later, that length of forearm reappears, wholly solid.
This, then, is one of the Surgeons that Anaru Katariki came to warn you about—and was killed for doing so. And it is dead. Yet it exists here, on Earth.
You have an unsettling feeling it did not come alone.
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