24,965.

Just a few more dollars, you thought. You couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the battered state of the bystander, despite him only being an NPC.

Suddenly—Harvey’s silhouette is right up against the glass, his ruined features filling the screen without warning. One side of his face is unrecognizable: a hollow socket where his eye once gleamed, and a jaw split open to the hinge, leaking spit and blood with every ragged breath.

His voice comes out shredded, wet and furious, each word spilling through the torn line of his mouth like broken glass. “You think you’re really in control? You think you can just keep poking and prodding me like that and I'm just gonna take it?" he spits, the sound gurgling with blood, distorted, half-growled and half-slurred. There’s no cheer left—only venom sharpened by pain.

He lingers there, staring through you, the soft pastel bow tie now drenched dark, his words trembling through a voice warped by injury: “You’ve gone too far buddy... it’s my turn now.” Each syllable rattles, jaw clicking, like his body is fighting itself just to speak. "let's see how much you like it when the tables have turned. Click like your fucking life depends on it, Bitch."