It's almost uncomfortably intimate, hearing the call and response of the song, seeing Reggatta's chest chassis open up like that. But he'd promised he'd watch, didn't he? It's strangely private, like knowing what somebody's beating heart looks like. Their insides exposed to the air, reducing them to moving parts. Except instead of tendons, fleshy fat and bleached bones, it's chrome and bolts and smooth metal struts.

And when the moment comes, it seems just as visceral as somebody's head being blown off. It's not a quiet shutdown, lights blinking off one by one. It's the first time he's seen this trick of Zenyatta's, and the golden, shimmering light is understated and graceful in a way a lot of things in Mega-City One aren't. Just figures that Rico's first sight of it, he would be using it to give himself a quick death.

Then it's over. Neither of them flinch. Looking at that pile of scrap on the ground, he's gone. It doesn't dredge up anything more from him. Nothing different from the anger and uncertainty already mingling inside him. Or that's what he tells himself, anyway. It's done. In the Iris now.

He commits this to memory too.

The Ricos look at each other, then nod at the same time. Two pairs of hands reach out and wrap around Zenyatta's arms. But instead of hauling him up and away, they both kneel down to his level, his thick shoulders hemming him in.

"Don't you worry about it." Rico's voice rumbles quietly from one side. "They'll get their dues."

"We'll make sure they'll pay for this." Rico murmurs from the other. "Badly."

But on one side, the grip tightens just that little more.