Rico glances back, and his double - his body - is silhouetted by the glowing lights, kneeling next to what remains of Zenyatta's twin. He's shielded from the urge to be sentimental by remembering that this won't be the last time they see each other. He knows it and trusts him, just as he'd trust himself to manage the task himself. As if sensing his eyes on him, Other Rico tilts his head in acknowledgement.
Rico turns away and beckons with a finger. "Come on," he mutters to Zenyatta. "We gotta get going if we want any semblance of plausible deniability." It would have looked better if they staged a fight, but there's no time for any of that. He naturally takes up the lead between them, heading towards the other door.
-
Four shots in the span of a second, and ten minutes of quick interrogation and running. That gets him results. Rico nudges aside the body on the ground, locks the door behind him, and turns to face the huddle of terrified scientists.
"So," he drawls, the perfect image of polite friendliness. "Which of you lovely ladies and gentlemen were involved in the cloning project? I'm going to give it to you straight - everybody in this room is getting hurt. But to what extent relies on what you tell me. So go ahead and hop to it! The ones who finger the one above them gets to leave alive. Inform on your pals, or you're going to regret it."
And in the palm of his hand, he switches on the lie detector.
-
Rico slots in a fresh magazine - mind the blood - paying little mind to the screaming.
"-clean shot, isn't it? I know it doesn't seem very much like one to you right now, but trust me. The shot placement is perfect. You won't like the next two hours very much, but maybe if you were snappier with your responses, I wouldn't have had to do that."
Seeming to hear something, he tilts his head to the side to catch it better. "...Looks like you're a lucky one today. You and the rest of them," he tosses out as he steps towards the wall, focusing and disappearing through it just as a squad of armed terrorists burst into the room. It bothers him somewhat to leave them alive, but he's got his real prize now.
-
"-I know, I know. You were just doing your job," he placates, shushing her gently even as he digs the blade edge deeper under a fingernail. He ignores the banging on the door, and the way his grip weakens on the hilt. "But see, I've been wronged. And I'm not the only one. A droid out there is just beside himself with upset that he had to put himself down. Or is it beside myself?"
He pauses for a second, inspecting the mess. He's usually one to talk out loud to himself, but for some reason, tonight... it feels unusually important.
"Hm. Looks like you've got some dirt under there. Let me get that for you. Anyway, like I was saying, he's very much under my protection. And I don't like it very much when people step on that. And as I've been so helpfully informed - isn't it nice when your entire team turns on you? - since you're the one who suggested and implemented the measure, I'm holding you responsible. You didn't have to put in the expiration date. I could have lived with two of me. Hell, I already do. The others would have gotten used to it too. But I don't let things like that go very easily. Let one thing slip, and everybody's thinks you're soft, right? That they can get away with drokking you over?"
Rico pauses in his meticulous motion, puts the knife down, and turns the blank visor of his helmet towards her.
"Do I look like somebody who lets that go to you? I know, I know, I promised, but you've got to take a hard stance sometimes. My other half will keep the worst of what happened today from him - with a terrorist site like this, I'm sure the government won't be letting out press details out so soon. And I'm sure he'll want nothing more than to move on anyway. No hard feelings."
It's strange, how he feels about that. The smile twists into a sneer just for a fraction of a second, but it's wistful too. And after a minute of studied thought, picks up his daystick. At least he'll always have this.
-
Rico smiles for no reason as they run through the corridors.
He's down to his last stun charge. He slots the new GP magazine in, pulse racing in anticipation that's just not his own, fairly confident that Zenyatta wouldn't notice that his charges have run out startlingly quickly. Overcharging your shots will do that, but at least they're not dead. He gives a sideways glance, checking up on him. "How're you holding up?"
cw torture
Rico turns away and beckons with a finger. "Come on," he mutters to Zenyatta. "We gotta get going if we want any semblance of plausible deniability." It would have looked better if they staged a fight, but there's no time for any of that. He naturally takes up the lead between them, heading towards the other door.
-
Four shots in the span of a second, and ten minutes of quick interrogation and running. That gets him results. Rico nudges aside the body on the ground, locks the door behind him, and turns to face the huddle of terrified scientists.
"So," he drawls, the perfect image of polite friendliness. "Which of you lovely ladies and gentlemen were involved in the cloning project? I'm going to give it to you straight - everybody in this room is getting hurt. But to what extent relies on what you tell me. So go ahead and hop to it! The ones who finger the one above them gets to leave alive. Inform on your pals, or you're going to regret it."
And in the palm of his hand, he switches on the lie detector.
-
Rico slots in a fresh magazine - mind the blood - paying little mind to the screaming.
"-clean shot, isn't it? I know it doesn't seem very much like one to you right now, but trust me. The shot placement is perfect. You won't like the next two hours very much, but maybe if you were snappier with your responses, I wouldn't have had to do that."
Seeming to hear something, he tilts his head to the side to catch it better. "...Looks like you're a lucky one today. You and the rest of them," he tosses out as he steps towards the wall, focusing and disappearing through it just as a squad of armed terrorists burst into the room. It bothers him somewhat to leave them alive, but he's got his real prize now.
-
"-I know, I know. You were just doing your job," he placates, shushing her gently even as he digs the blade edge deeper under a fingernail. He ignores the banging on the door, and the way his grip weakens on the hilt. "But see, I've been wronged. And I'm not the only one. A droid out there is just beside himself with upset that he had to put himself down. Or is it beside myself?"
He pauses for a second, inspecting the mess. He's usually one to talk out loud to himself, but for some reason, tonight... it feels unusually important.
"Hm. Looks like you've got some dirt under there. Let me get that for you. Anyway, like I was saying, he's very much under my protection. And I don't like it very much when people step on that. And as I've been so helpfully informed - isn't it nice when your entire team turns on you? - since you're the one who suggested and implemented the measure, I'm holding you responsible. You didn't have to put in the expiration date. I could have lived with two of me. Hell, I already do. The others would have gotten used to it too. But I don't let things like that go very easily. Let one thing slip, and everybody's thinks you're soft, right? That they can get away with drokking you over?"
Rico pauses in his meticulous motion, puts the knife down, and turns the blank visor of his helmet towards her.
"Do I look like somebody who lets that go to you? I know, I know, I promised, but you've got to take a hard stance sometimes. My other half will keep the worst of what happened today from him - with a terrorist site like this, I'm sure the government won't be letting out press details out so soon. And I'm sure he'll want nothing more than to move on anyway. No hard feelings."
It's strange, how he feels about that. The smile twists into a sneer just for a fraction of a second, but it's wistful too. And after a minute of studied thought, picks up his daystick. At least he'll always have this.
-
Rico smiles for no reason as they run through the corridors.
He's down to his last stun charge. He slots the new GP magazine in, pulse racing in anticipation that's just not his own, fairly confident that Zenyatta wouldn't notice that his charges have run out startlingly quickly. Overcharging your shots will do that, but at least they're not dead. He gives a sideways glance, checking up on him. "How're you holding up?"