Reaper can take a hint when the entire governing body (or whatever is the equivalent of it) gives him a very clear reminder of what his place is on this pseudo-planet. He knows what boundaries he can push and when it's right to exploit loopholes, and at the time, there just weren't any. He was one entity, without the infamy, without the resources, and without any backup, against an entire moon-sized planet filled with extraordinary aliens and people. It's just stupid. A premature death wish.

So no, he won't be murdering him and getting himself into trouble, even if this murderworld thing gives him a lot of leeway for it. He'll surely incur the wrath of Ana and Reinhardt, whatever happens, and on Legionworld, hunting him down wouldn't take long.

"Maybe."

At least he answers, though he thought about not doing so. On the floor behind the door is a robot of sorts. An omnic, Reaper thinks, but it looks archaic and comical, like something from an old timey cartoon. He gives it a nudge with his boot, but it remains lifeless. Looking further into the room, he notices it's not alone. There's a pile of them, maybe about six or seven of them, in shambles.

He turns back towards the door, finding the room utterly useless.

"Nothing important– hngh?"

Something tugs at his capecoat, the strength of it only strong enough to give him pause.