@reagent092
“I was expecting to find dried and rotting mess-- Perhaps a corpse or two as well. You look relatively fresh and alive for a dead man.”
Of course, being sent here with a particular objective, Death had had the initial thought of getting in and getting out before anyone that might have been left realized. It appeared that plan was out the window. Orders had dictated he grab the sample, and exterminate any remaining life. This was an unexpected turn for sure. Trafficking grave robbers, left over B.O.W.’s, anything-- Anything really had felt more likely than running into a man his boss had supposedly killed. It wasn’t like Wesker to leave loose ends breathing.
“Assuming Morpheus is even still in there.”
Humor was something Death used to seem normal. To blend in with those around him, a facade to let people believe he was susceptible to the fallacies of normal human emotions, and would crack under pressure. Analytical eyes never leave the figure in front of him. Gloved fingers tighten their grip on his most trusted sidearm. Death was ready for the storm that the other could surely bring. He was a soldier though, tried and true, a callous killing machine built to do nothing but follow orders for the good of his employer.
