What else could he do but laugh and laugh and laugh. Laugh until he made himself sick with it. While Zenyatta flies over to the containers, Rico takes his time. He knows now. He steps over to collect Zenyatta's fallen orbs, and sets them down with a firm clang next to him. A hint of a sneer comes out, but there's no heart in it.
And without a word of acknowledgement, he continues to his own tank. It's muted but it's there. The feeling of being in two places at once, the same person in two bodies, standing above him but also beneath him. He knows. He's bloodline. Without a doubt, it's him. He sees the lines of his own jaw, nose, lips right back at him, like looking into a mirror. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, and feelings mingle uncertainly inside him. In fact, it feels like home.
He reaches out, touching the glass. He could be looking at Joe. He can almost feel it now, the words coming to his mouth. They're keeping my brother in there. That's not drokking me. But a splitting frisson of pain lances through his head, and the illusion he was beginning to carve out for himself drops. Cellular degeneration. Falling apart on the genetic level. He looks at the real clone through the glass, wishes he could be bitter. But how could he? They're the same person.
He knows who he can be angry at, though. There's a whole base of people out there he can take his revenge on. The thought bolsters him, giving him a purpose again. Whatever Rico is, it is never small.
He takes a deep breath, and if his voice is rougher than usual? Doesn't matter. He still feels numb to his own body and thoughts, but the anger, the brutal rage is still there. "That's obvious. And I think it would also be fairly obvious that I'm going to make them regret this." His fingers still flex with suppressed fury, aftershocks from his outburst.
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And without a word of acknowledgement, he continues to his own tank. It's muted but it's there. The feeling of being in two places at once, the same person in two bodies, standing above him but also beneath him. He knows. He's bloodline. Without a doubt, it's him. He sees the lines of his own jaw, nose, lips right back at him, like looking into a mirror. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, and feelings mingle uncertainly inside him. In fact, it feels like home.
He reaches out, touching the glass. He could be looking at Joe. He can almost feel it now, the words coming to his mouth. They're keeping my brother in there. That's not drokking me. But a splitting frisson of pain lances through his head, and the illusion he was beginning to carve out for himself drops. Cellular degeneration. Falling apart on the genetic level. He looks at the real clone through the glass, wishes he could be bitter. But how could he? They're the same person.
He knows who he can be angry at, though. There's a whole base of people out there he can take his revenge on. The thought bolsters him, giving him a purpose again. Whatever Rico is, it is never small.
He takes a deep breath, and if his voice is rougher than usual? Doesn't matter. He still feels numb to his own body and thoughts, but the anger, the brutal rage is still there. "That's obvious. And I think it would also be fairly obvious that I'm going to make them regret this." His fingers still flex with suppressed fury, aftershocks from his outburst.