The other Rico feels Zenyatta's gaze on him, and looks back. Rico tilts his head to the side at hearing "friend", and Other Rico just looks at him, flatly. Then nods his head by the fraction of an inch, just imperceptibly. This is something only he knows, for now. Something he can keep for himself. Something just his own. It was selfish, but when wasn't he?
"You know what I'm going to do to them. For what they did to us."
His voice is sharp like the blade of a boot knife, cutting through the rumble of offence to get to the heart of the matter.
"Of course. Of course I do."
Rico's hands reach up as gently as is possible for him, and smudges the trickle of blood starting to come from one nostril with a thumb. He looks down. His reflection looks measuredly back. It's smeared there, stark and bloody. The Damocles sword hanging above their heads. He's only seen his body give out on him once like this before. He's - the other is obviously the weaker one, he needs to take care of him.
"Keep your hands clean," Other Rico says with a smile, but it's more like a reminder that the both of them are already aware of. "Stun shots only. This is a terrorist organization that's just attempted to assassinate the president. If we're lucky nobody will care, but the Legion might."
They grin.
"Mental deterioration, huh?"
Other Rico shrugs. "Just a flash clone. Erratic. Brain-damaged. Couldn't be helped."
"I tried to stop him."
"Hit me with a stun shot when I confronted him."
"When I came to, he was already gone."
"Cameras, too."
Their grins widen into something on the edge of inhuman. Just speaking of it has his blood pumping, eager to go. He's vibrating with an intensity, a desire to move into action, to get something done. But the smile on other Rico drops, and after a split second of hesitation, Rico shortly follows.
"Wait," Other Rico says, abruptly. He twists his head towards Zenyatta and Reggatta, interrupting with all the grace of a knife between the ribs, something a little rough in his voice. His hand jerks out, palm flat as if it wasn't sure whether to be a fist or an appeal. "What do you mean by that?" As if he doesn't know.
no subject
"You know what I'm going to do to them. For what they did to us."
His voice is sharp like the blade of a boot knife, cutting through the rumble of offence to get to the heart of the matter.
"Of course. Of course I do."
Rico's hands reach up as gently as is possible for him, and smudges the trickle of blood starting to come from one nostril with a thumb. He looks down. His reflection looks measuredly back. It's smeared there, stark and bloody. The Damocles sword hanging above their heads. He's only seen his body give out on him once like this before. He's - the other is obviously the weaker one, he needs to take care of him.
"Keep your hands clean," Other Rico says with a smile, but it's more like a reminder that the both of them are already aware of. "Stun shots only. This is a terrorist organization that's just attempted to assassinate the president. If we're lucky nobody will care, but the Legion might."
They grin.
"Mental deterioration, huh?"
Other Rico shrugs. "Just a flash clone. Erratic. Brain-damaged. Couldn't be helped."
"I tried to stop him."
"Hit me with a stun shot when I confronted him."
"When I came to, he was already gone."
"Cameras, too."
Their grins widen into something on the edge of inhuman. Just speaking of it has his blood pumping, eager to go. He's vibrating with an intensity, a desire to move into action, to get something done. But the smile on other Rico drops, and after a split second of hesitation, Rico shortly follows.
"Wait," Other Rico says, abruptly. He twists his head towards Zenyatta and Reggatta, interrupting with all the grace of a knife between the ribs, something a little rough in his voice. His hand jerks out, palm flat as if it wasn't sure whether to be a fist or an appeal. "What do you mean by that?" As if he doesn't know.