Handlers will burn through PsychoDolls like cigarettes, but Handlers that waste their employers property carelessly and without major results will often be burnt up just as easily.
Many veteran Dolls have seen as many new Handlers as they have operations.

Handlers who fail in their duties to complete operations, turn up results, or just keep their Dolls in check will often be subject to punishment ranging from the mundane pay cut to the extreme hit squad busting down their doors with orders to kill.

Most Dolls have a love-hate relationship with their Handlers, usually hate.
While some Handlers attempt to foster a more amicable relationship with their Dolls, often taking on the role of an older sibling or parent, they are still seen as authority.
They are still a boss.
They are still a boot.

Handlers in many ways are the most tangible form of power exerted over Dolls. They are as beholden to the whims of the employer as much as any wage slave, but that does not change the position of power they have or their willingness to grind the boot into those they rely on them.

Most Handlers are human, though in some instances (most often within 3XA eXXXorcist operations) there are PsychoDolls who have found themselves occupying the rank of Handler.

Office jockeys of the highest caliber, the Handler holds the power the metaphorical (and oftentimes literal) kill-switch of the Dolls operating under them.
They have the authority to punish, and the ability to reward. They hold the leash and aren’t afraid to yank it.

It's within these economic hellscapes that many "Suit" type PsychoDolls are built, deployed, and cut their teeth in corporate conflict.

Most walkways are no-mans-lands of barbed wire and anti- mines. A constant tug of war between rival office-nations that seek to expand their own held territories or simply push the competition out.

Across these nearly infinite veins that connect each spine like tower together is a new front of corporate warfare.
An untold number of office commandos are fighting ceaseless wars for territory, product, and resources.

The skies above Old Earth are pierced by the hundreds of thousands of Mega Spires, all connected via a spider web of millions of walkways between buildings.
Earth has become the largest business park in the galaxy.

The only thing that connects the current inhabitants of Old Earth are the great concrete and steel tree trunks of the Mega Spires that act as the corporate offices, headquarters, and insulated nations of the modern Corporation.

The worlds surface has been left untouched since the old centuries when mankind evacuated their cradle. Untold generations of warfare reshaped the Earth, rents and scars carved by bombs and warships and scorch marks left behind by Ion bombs and nuclear fire.

This is the truth that PsychoDolls live by. The Dream birthed them, their Mother PsychoDrivers blood running through their veins, and The Nightmare hammered them into shape, Mankind a stoic Father raising them as broken killers and turning his face away in shame at what he's done.

Your Father. Cold. Cruel. Judgmental and demanding. Harsh words and harsh hands define your relationship with him. He scolds you for existing. He built you as is, and is disappointed in your failures and not his own.
He blames you for your mothers loss, as if he was not the one who bled her dry.

Your Mother. Distant. Far away. Half remembered. She is warmth yet, that warmth is faded. It's the warmth of the suns rays washing over a rock found after sunset. You can feel her love yet you cannot touch her. You can hardly even remember her face.
But you look so much like her, don't you?

In this way, PsychoDrivers are much like the Colossal Squid.
Unknowable, enigmatic, and unbelievable. Only observed in mortem, never seen in life, for they exist in places and times mankind was never meant to gaze upon.

They have often been compared to the long extinct or now changed creatures in the Old Seas of Earth, The Colossal Squid.
These animals remained unknown to man for so long, only glimpsed briefly in their death throes or as carcass' washed ashore.

Always found dead or dying, never seen fully alive, yet they still dream in their eternal death. The psychic weight they put on reality is enough to bend time and space around them, rewriting history, causality, and the very fabric of existence.

The relationship Dolls have to their Drivers is that of distant mothers, far off and half remembered, only reached through uncommon dreams.
Most PsychoDolls will go their whole lives only speaking to their mother a handful of times through their Dreams. Some never speak to their mothers at all.