legionmissions | BODY SNATCHERS [modplot] [part 2]

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zenyatta

BODY SNATCHERS [modplot] [part 2]

Who| Zenyatta, Locus, Rico
What| Body Snatchers part 2
Where| The "terrorists'" base
When| After the last part of the plot
Warnings/Notes| N/A

When they reach the extraction point, they're transmitted to a room that's apparently secure, locked off from wherever else their mysterious benefactor or benefactors are.

The synth-voice talks to them over the comms.

"You're not our prisoners, but we're not going to expose our organization to unnecessary risk by giving you easy access to our facility. We apologize for the less than hospitable treatment."

There's no danger here at least, no weapons, nothing to threatening them.

"As for what's going on, your friends have been compromised by their implants, their minds manipulated by a system of AIs that have taken control of the ruling regime of this planet. They currently control key figures in the Epryrian government and are capable of taking temporary control of anyone with a cortical implant to briefly use as one of their agents. We are the Surian Underground. Upon discovery of the AI uprising, we had all of our augmentations removed and have been fighting back ever since. For our efforts, we've been painted as terrorists, surprise surprise. Mere anarchists."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Once it became apparent that they would not be abandoning the senior Legionnaires and their mission (the true mission of the Legion), Zenyatta complies with what the mysterious voice asks of them. There is a moment of internal alarm when they are placed in a secure room, but the explanation placates him.

"Your apology is accepted," Zenyatta replies earnestly, though such a reply is probably unneeded. "A number of questions about our security detail changes come into a different light with what you have said. I assume the AI are also responsible for our long range communication difficulties."

Kid Quantum was supposed to have the ability to contact the Legionnaires not on this mission, but if she's compromised then, then they have no communications. And they weren't the only junior group placed on security detail. "Do you know what has happened to the others on our team?"

Rico shoots an annoyed glance at Zenyatta. Does he have to be so trusting? He needs to solve that, or have somebody demonstrate that to him, because it'll be taken advantage of eventually.

"Great." Rico replies shortly, not really invested in their sob story outside of how relevant it is to their mission and situation. But it's troubling information that he needs more of before he comes to a conclusion. "Get to the point, then let us out of this drokking box."

Locus considers this quietly. It's not the first time AI have proven problematic. But it's their own people who are compromised in the process, people they will ideally need to return to Legion World alongside.

"Is there a way to wipe them out without harming their hosts, so to speak? An EMP, perhaps." A pause. "And is there a reason we were not subjective to this malevolent AI?"

They have been running through the base, trying to find a way out, away from their captors, and back to the rest of the Legionnaires. Zenyatta has since lost track of where they've been and where they have not. Skips in his memory have surfaced, and only following the others has kept him from becoming completely lost. The skips are worrying, but he needs a point of rest to do a full diagnostics on his systems before he can find the issue.

Most of all, he's still worried about the other Legionnaires and the diplomats. He can pull himself out of the mission when they reunite, but for now, he needs to support Rico and Locus until they do.

They enter a large room filled with many glass tube tanks which cast an eerie glow on the walls. Some of the tanks have an unformed clump of some matter in them. Others are empty. There are a different set of containers off to the side. Various other technical equipment is strewn around with wires connecting everything.

Zenyatta hovers further into the room. "... What is all this...?" It looks like a lab to him.

Rico's breath doesn't catch in his throat or anything so disdainfully telling as that, but his hand stills for the slightest second before he tilts his head to the side and swiftly strides up to a tank to inspect it, hoping that his suspicions are wrong. He knows this technical equipment well - not in any specific detail, but he sees similarities in their construction, contents, formulas. A memory of floating, safe in the dark, passes his mind like a murky shape in the water.

"Biotanks," he murmurs thoughtfully to himself, answering Zenyatta's question only as an afterthought to his own musings. He lowers his lawgiver after a brief glance behind them, and moving onto a promising-looking terminal. "Maybe cloning facilities. They could potentially be regrowing genetically-compatible limbs and organs, or drokking around with genes. Who knows - these tanks could be used for a lot of things."

"You know of this." It's spoken as something in between fact and a question. Zenyatta then goes quiet. He has never seen anything like this before, but it appears to be sophisticated equipment. He watches a mass of organic matter shimmer in the tank. The blue lights from his forehead and the tank's glow make the mass look sickly.

"This does not seem like technology that a resistance group would have easy access to." His voice falls, disappointment thick in his tone. Zenyatta was so willing to trust the Surian Underground, hear their side, but now he feels discord bubbling up inside of him. The mission plans changed with no real explanation. The Legionnaires acted strangely without explanation. He had hoped the Surian Underground would provide the missing puzzle piece, but they have only added more.

Zenyatta takes a deep breath; his orbs whirl around him. Anxious, frustration, impatience, betrayal, a quick self reflection identifies his emotions and helps him to refocus. He is but a student in these matters. His teammates have the experience he lacks. He'll trust in them. "You were right to be suspicious."

He moves to Rico's side to inspect the terminal with him. "Are you able to discover what purpose these biotanks served?" They already have information they need to give to the Legion. This might be just as important, or it could be nothing of note if they were for regrowing damaged limbs. "Is that worth the time we could use escaping?" he adds hesitantly.

"Of course I was right. I'm always right." Rico's arrogant tone that says everything from 'nothing can go wrong, because I'm here' to 'relax, I got this.' might come as a familiar reassurance for Zenyatta, at least. He ignores the mechanical whirring of the orbs, but thinks he can almost feel how tense the droid is besides him. "I'm seeing files here that have Legion personnel on them," he continues, and it's a reflection of the standing Zenyatta has that he bothers to explain at all. "It's worth our time to see what data they have on us."

He hunches over the terminal, somewhat blocking Zenyatta's view. No telling what information they'd have on him, after all. He grins with a victorious aside of 'aha!' when he manages to access the files on him and Zenyatta first. Scrolling lines of text appear line by line, reflecting in his visor, and...

And Rico goes very quiet.

For a long moment, he stands there utterly still, more of a statue than a man, the air around them silent aside from the low hum of the generators in the room.

What breaks it is a shiver down his spine, a little motion that breaks his inaction. And as if that had triggered something, he then starts shaking uncontrollably, his hands rattling against the console it rests on, fingers curling inwards to hold it in. He jabs at the keys with desperation as though they'd change anything, until he's slamming his fist down on them, but forces himself to pull away before he can damage them. He's laughing, he thinks. But he can't be sure. His mouth is moving and his body is moving, but what he's doing, he doesn't know. He's not real. Just a drokking flash clone and he can imagine it now, he was that little clump of cells they saw in that tank just a few days ago, he's never been to Mega-City One, he's never ridden a Lawmaster across the Cursed Earth, he's never had a brother, he's just a defective thing cloned for a mission-

"Go look." he finally grates out, and he hates how small it sounds.

It's as if someone opened the flood gates with how discord floods out from Rico. Zenyatta is about to say something when Rico pounds the terminal and starts laughing. A painful broken kind of laugh. Zenyatta lets him. Whatever emotional release Rico needs is uninterrupted. Zenyatta will be patient.

But then comes that tiny request.

Zenyatta's gaze flickers to the terminal. He scans over the text, pausing only when a visual error causes him to lose his place for a second. Words are left unsaid. Zenyatta flies over to where there are containers of a different kind. He sees faces he recognizes in the stasis tubes, but he doesn't stop until he reaches one towards the end.

He brushes his hand against the glass window on top of the tube. There's no mistaking the person inside. Zenyatta can't fool himself into believing that is an omnic who is the same model as him. The clothing is the same. The scratches and dents are the same. The orbs piled beside him have the same patterns and share the same minute differences between them.

A clash of metal rings throughout the room as Zenyatta's orbs cease to orbit around him. Zenyatta loses his focus and collapses over the tank. He cannot hover, and he doesn't seem able to fully support his own weight on his legs. He regains enough sense to use his Legionnaire's ring to make up for what his energy channeling cannot do. He remembers--has a memory--of having to do that before.

They were the reason for the changes to the mission. They were the ones compromised.

"We free them," he says firmly. Zenyatta won't accept any other outcome.

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.

Zenyatta looks at the gathered orbs but doesn't say anything. These weren't the orbs crafted by his own hands, not even Mondatta's. He appreciates the gesture, but he doesn't believe they will return to orbit his neck. He lacks the focus, the balance needed. It's better that they lay inert.

"We will both defy them. Each in our own way." He doesn't doubt what way Rico will choose. The anger Rico holds explains more than any of his words ever will.

Though he doesn't know the technology, Zenyatta accesses the display and starts to scroll through the various options. He finds one that sounds promising and activates it. There is a hiss as the window retracts and tucks into itself, leaving the sleeping Zenyatta half exposed to the air. Wires are still attached to his body, and status lights blink.

"And you need not worry about me slowing you down."

The tremors die down. He can read between the lines. The implicit permission sketches a small, razor sharp curve of a smile on Rico's face, and it feels honest for once. He gives one last glance at his reflection in the glass, and comes to an impulsive decision. He reaches out and grabs Zenyatta's arm.

"Hey. Look here."

As if sharing a clandestine secret, tilting his gun with his other hand, Rico slides out his favorite magazine from his glove compartment and slots it in with a click-clack. "This is a rubber ricochet round," Rico explains, impromptu of nothing. "If you fire this in between someone's ribs and angle it right, it'll bounce about like a pinball. Major agony, but the perp won't die for hours. Basically no hope for recovery - you should see how it tears up somebody's insides, makes their organs into munce paste."

How many times has he delivered that line, in those exact words? But he adds something, this time. His voice turns low, gently coaching. "I'll save that for every labcoat I see. The standard setting and knife for everybody else. You don't have to worry about a thing."

He wants Zenyatta to understand exactly the nature of what he's allowing. To hear that he's letting Rico to do this, out of a desire for revenge. Last chance for any objections, regardless of whether he'd listen. But in another way, it's also his genuine and ill-used attempt at comfort in this shared situation. He gives one last squeeze - does he have pressure sensors? can he feel that? - and drops his hand to his side. He keys in his own awakening, watching the gas levels drain away. The chamber hisses open, and Rico reaches out with both hands. The second he makes contact, something inside him shivers and slots into place. It doesn't feel quite right. How it should have been.

"Ourselves first," he distantly hears himself saying. "We don't have time. We'll come for the others later."

Thousands of thoughts start and stop within Zenyatta's mind. Some skip around and distort, but Zenyatta can't blame the increasing number of system errors for them.

He feels Rico grab his arm, and he looks at the weapon as Rico gives his intent. Part of Zenyatta wishes it had remained unsaid. That is cruel. Is anyone deserving of that? The argument could be made for the agents of their creation, the labcoats. But are all members of the Underground of like mind of the people who did this to them? Scientists can have their discoveries used in ways the did not plan for or desired. A process meant to improve lives could be stolen and used as a weapon. Zenyatta doesn't know if the cloning and reprogramming technology originated from them, or if they re-purposed preexisting technology. They could also be forced to do the Underground's bidding.

But Rico is also saying that he's not using those bullets on everyone, and he can't deny he feels a little... Relief is the wrong word. Zenyatta is not at peace with how he feels about his passive acceptance. He feels wrong, like his mind, his heart is corroding. Zenyatta's array flickers purple and remains that color. There are at least seven of them who were given life and turned into weapons against their will. There may be more. He cannot let this continue just as much as he cannot let himself fulfill his "orders." It's not exactly revenge or justice. This goes against what he believes... then why...? Why is he...?

"If they seem victims as well, let them go... please..." It's his only request, attempt to temper Rico's fury. His only attempt to quell the guilt in his soul. (He still has a soul, right?)

Then Zenyatta pulls out the wires connecting his original to the stasis tube.

Rico's brows furrow underneath his helmet, looking at Zenyatta. It doesn't seem to have made him feel any better. Rico's own heart is thumping in his chest, aware that every heartbeat is pushing decaying blood through his veins, breaking him down. This close, this strong, it's difficult not to pick up just exactly how Zenyatta is feeling. It's not like how it was with Nova Prime, this isn't what he's looking for (this didn't happen. just a memory and nothing else) and this hurts in a way that hasn't sickened him in a long time. It doesn't go away. How does he stop this? How does he stop this?

Then after a long period, he just barely nods his head.

"Okay," he states simply. It still doesn't go away, layered like some festering disease, and his face pulls back in a half-frown. He looks at the purple light on Zenyatta's array, and comes to a decision. Hell, they're both irreparably drokked up anyway. What does a few words matter? Rico's better equipped for handling things like these, used to violent oscillations of emotions and slamming away unwanted feelings behind bars. He's had a lifetime to struggle with this. And now that he's had a second to think about it, simply transfers his baggage and hatred from the Justice Department to this new organization. But Zenyatta is much more breakable. Both as a skinny human with no balance, and a naive droid who enjoys dancing.

"Zenyatta. I believe you're worth... something," he bites out, experimentally. "There's something in you beyond the programming. They made you, but it doesn't mean they own you. And it may be... difficult, for you to realise that you're... a defective clone, but."

And inch by excruciating inch, Rico voices the sentiment that Zenyatta had expressed to him, the first time they had met. "If you believed in any of the stomm you sprouted off to me about how 'true self is without form' that first time, you should believe me now when I say you belong to yourself."

Rico is still half a thing, illegitimate and soulless, but Zenyatta is not. He wants to fall into that gently convincing cadence, just put the gun down, I promise I won't shoot you, but he could stand to die honest.

"If you just let yourself be angry, it won't feel as bad," he murmurs. "It's their fault, not yours. They deserve it, I promise."

"I am angry. We have been hurt, not by accident, but with ill intent." A tremor shakes Zenyatta's words, and they are not from the errors he tries to correct and ignore in his systems. "But do not confuse that with wishing everyone in this base brutally dead regardless of their involvement and alignment."

Lowering his flight, he braces himself against the tube his original rests in. The flickering lights on his original's forehead show that he is in the process of rebooting. It won't be long now before he wakes.

"I could have hated humans, wished them harm for what I and others like me suffered under their service. I could have hated humans after I was injured so badly that I lost the ability to walk, to run, to dance using my legs. I could have hated humans after my brother was assassinated. I could have acted out in that anger and sought revenge. For any of it..."

He looks towards the hallways they had entered from. No doubt the Surian Underground are still looking for them, but if they aren't, they may be coming up with another plan involving the clones still at large.

"But, what would that solve? I may feel satisfaction in the moment, but it would not change what I went through. It would not change my injury. It would not bring back my brother. Killing everyone will not change that we are dying. The memories may not be mine, but I will use the lessons from them. Revenge is not justice."

His voice glitches out for a moment, and he has to bypass the faulty commands to speak once more. Speaking his mind and the reminder from Rico has helped quell some of the discord he was feeling. The purple energy tainting his energy recedes a little and lets more of the usual blue regain control.

"... I don't know how long I will last, but I will die on my own terms without having carried out my 'programming.' That belongs to me." He is not Zenyatta; he doesn't have the time to discover who he is. That will have to wait until after he leaves this form. "I may not like what you plan to do, but... I won't stop you either. The Surian Underground need to be stopped."

He was wrong. He was almost never wrong, but Zenyatta was capable of more than he'd thought.

Rico takes in a breath, and it almost catches in his throat. Who did that to you? I'll beat them. Who killed your brother? How dare they, when they know they should answer to me? This is something that's already happened to Zenyatta, but to imagine it, Rico finds himself becoming unreasonably focused on it. Somehow, Zenyatta had wormed into Rico's proprietary graces like some kind of burrowing tapeworm, far deeper than he'd anticipated or would have allowed if he'd known. The anger is familiar, if only on somebody else's behalf, and to avoid that the answer was probably somebody like him. But underneath it, bubbles up something different.

Sympathy.

"You didn't...?"

Rico stares from under his visor. How long had it been since he had felt anything remotely close to sympathy?

Zenyatta could have sought revenge, but chose not to. Rico chose...

Revenge is justice. He'd lived his life on those words. Every Judge he killed was one less on the streets, one less extension of will the Department had at its disposal. The criminals he had terrified, blackmailed, and murdered because they were an inconvenience to him and what he had wanted. Killing the ones who arguably didn't deserve it as easily as snapping his fingers, and thinking no more of it. Whose fault was that? Not his, surely.

Or so he had thought. Rico was petty and vicious, and thoughtless in his cruelties and how he carried them out, but perhaps he could be... more? He had been having more of his quieter moments recently, the ones where he wondered if there was something wrong with him. And he was beginning to think so. But the possibility was so vast and immense, yawning in front of him like a cliff, that to take a step forward put dread in him. To think that there was something deeply wrong with him, and the unimaginable measures he had taken were completely unjustified, and not even necessary...

Rico looks at Zenyatta, feeling unsure of himself. Kill them all, or don't?

Then the Rico underneath him takes a gasping breath, pained and confused, and everything comes flooding back. He knocks away the hands darting for his throat, and forcefully pins his wrists down just as a precaution. He knows himself, this is safer for everybody involved until he comes to proper consciousness.

"I did not. Instead I chose to work to better relations between human and omnic. What better way to respond to those people than to take away that hate?" It is strange to think of himself both being and not being Zenyatta, but he has no other way of referring to himself. Zenyatta 2.0 like Thespian 2.0? But 2.0 implies that he is newer, improved version; that couldn't be further from the truth. Again, a name will have to wait for a later time. "It is a different way of fighting and a way to change things for the better."

Perhaps their conversation would have gone longer if not for Rico waking up, violently. The sleeping Zenyatta chirps a few beeps, and his lights stop flickering and stay constant.

...

Zenyatta wakes much more peacefully than Rico, letting his senses gather information before he acts. He feels the wave of discord roll over him, but within that he senses a solid determination. There is something familiar about the energy he feels. Another omnic? It feels like it is, and part of his spirit jumps at the irrational idea that Mondatta is with him once more.

But the omnic offering his hand to help him out of the stasis tube does not belong to Mondatta.

"Oh," Zenyatta whispers. He sees an omnic of the same model as him with the same pattern of scratches and oxidation on his faceplate.

He doesn't have time to say much more before his double speaks. "Zenyatta, I know you have questions, but our time is-is-is--"

With a wave of his hand, Zenyatta forms an orb of warm, harmony and lets it hover over his double. It attaches, but there is a lot of discord to work through. There are deep wounds that he cannot even begin to heal. Yet he hopes it provides some relief to the ailing omnic. "We walk in harmony... brother?"

The other omnic makes a noise like clearing his throat. "... Our time is short, and I... I think I would rather be thought as a brother."

The reunion happening next to the Zenyattas is markedly more confusing.

Rico. Rico?

A silhouette looms close. Familiar. There's somebody in front of him. Two to the side. He's restrained. He should be responding like they're a threat, but he knows this person, knows every inch of them. He’s seeing himself, but he’s looking at himself at the same time. His vision splits like a headache, as if he could defocus and find himself looking out from two pairs of eyes, seeing the same room from different angles, more pronounced than how it usually happens. He stares upwards, his body relaxing in imperceptible ways. He's here. He's finally here. There's nobody else it could be.

The hand wrapped around his wrist moves down to his hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulls him forward - is pulled forward. Rico lets him, and thinks of what to say.

Finally drokking decided to show your face? About time.

I missed you. I hate you but I've missed you. This is the longest we’ve ever been separated. Eight months with no word. Or look, or lecture. I never want to see my face in yours again. I want to see it again.

Have you wondered where I’ve been? It never would have pulled you away from your patrols, but did you wonder? Did it ever keep you up at night, a niggling little thought in the back of your head? Did you think you could feel our connection between universes? Or have you written me off already? Little -

Rico?

He blinks, and everything snaps back into clarity, out of the millisecond transition between waking and unconsciousness. He's visor to visor with a reflection of himself, close enough that he can see his eyes through the darkened plastic, but every inch of his instincts screams that something is wrong.

He opens his mouth to form the words, "you have ten seconds before I break your fingers." He's not sure whose mouth he's saying it through, because before he's even done, the other mouths along the words with him. And smiles. Is that him? Is he looking at himself, or looking at himself? It's bitter and clinging to pride, hopeless and furious at the edges. And then he knows. No words are necessary. But that doesn't make sense. And then he can feel the well of emotion in front of him, separated by a distance that feels like it doesn't exist. It's muted but there, desperately empty and full, the sickening rage that leaks from his head. It's achingly familiar, the exact mirror match of his. And secreted away like a stolen diamond, unsurety of a kind that only he would feel. And Zenyatta - what the drokk are they doing there?

Rico forms a conclusion, lightning fast. He might even be right.

Then the other leans in, puts his mouth to his ear, and explains. Quietly and absolutely focused, he listens.

Likewise, the nameless omnic starts chirping a rapid series of beeps, his array flickering in tune. Zenyatta offers few beeps of his own. Neither favors using this form of communication, but between it and the empathetic connection through the Orb of Harmony, Zenyatta is caught up on what has occurred.

It's hard to miss how Zenyatta's orbs flicker violet. "What is the plan now?"

"I cannot speak for my friend..." He speaks of the cloned Rico and looks towards him for a moment before looking back at Zenyatta. "But I know what I desire."

"A name?"

The suggestion stuns the omnic. He hadn't mentioned that he considers himself nameless as a way to distance himself from his source, to be an individual. But when he thinks about it, should he be so surprised that Zenyatta had picked up on it? "That... was not what I was going to say. Do we really have the time?"

And Zenyatta knows this will bring him more grief, but he'll bear it because... "You are deserving of a name no matter the length of your stay in this world. Perhaps 'Reggatta'?"

The omnic is silent. Then, Reggatta laughs, and unlike Zenyatta's clear laughter, the glitching of his voice warps his laugh into something akin to a human snort. It only makes him laugh harder, and Zenyatta joins in. Reggatta feels like it's the first thing that's truly his. "'Reggatta.' Why didn't I think of that?"

"To be fair, I needed help with my name."

"Yes, you are not the best with names."

"Except for now?"

"We can thank Mondatta for the inspiration."

It's so easy to fall into that teasing rhythm, and Zenyatta's soul aches, knowing how ephemeral his brother is. He lowers his head, shoulders drooping. "You will be able to thank him."

"I will soon." Reggatta knows what Zenyatta is thinking, feeling. Zenyatta wants to fight for his new brother's life, but there is no fight to be had. "Will you help me? I don't think I can on my own anymore."

Zenyatta takes Reggatta's hands in his and leans in so that their foreheads are touching. They are both thinking of a conversation they had with another Legionnaire in recent memory. "If... if that is what you wish, I will not deny you."

If I become compromised, I will take matters into my own hands and become one with the Iris. I will not let others come to harm through me.... You are now tasked to end my life should I become compromised and have not already done so myself.

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.

"I will explain," Reggatta says before his brother has a chance to. He pulls away from Zenyatta's hold . He can spare him having to find the words through his emotions. "In our world," (a world he has never been, a small inner voice reminds him) "omnics risk being hacked and taken over by a powerful AI. It can make us do whatever, including harm others."

Three of the lights on Reggatta's forehead flickers out and don't relight. Reggatta disregards the error messages and continues. It's just another message from his failing body to ignore. "I--Zenyatta has--and I agree with--I would rather die than for someone to come to harm through me."

He gestures to that dooming display where he and the other Rico learned the truth of their origin. "You cannot deny my programming puts people at risk, and if the Legion could not figure out how to... save us, then a fix is unlikely." They were not meant to live for more than a few days. It's possible that their decay is a fail-safe for the underground resistance. "Rather than allow others to come to harm through me, I will stop myself. That means my death and becoming one with the Iris."

His, their older brother is already there. He'll be wrapped in the Iris' embrace, be at peace. Which is anything but what he feels now. "Honestly, I-I-I was worried how I could in my state. My orbs will not re-re-respond to me. I cannot channel the Iris and overload my systems... So Zenyatta helping me..."

How morbid is he? Talking about his own death like it's some kind of inconvenience for the rest of his existence. But then Reggatta brings his arms around him without thinking of it. It's such a human gesture, one he's picked up from somewhere. Talking about how he's going to die in specific terms makes it all the more real.

Finally, Zenyatta could not remain quiet. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I could stay here until my body gave out, but I cannot be sure that my programming will let me. I could carry out my instructions against my will. And it will just prolong my pain..." Reggatta shakes his head, regaining some of his composure. "Yes. It has to be like this. I only wish that you did not have to do this."

"But I will because I understand." More than any other person could.

Rico's eyes - both pairs of them - flick up to see Reggatta's failing lights at the same time. Their mouths pull back into a thin frown - an uncharacteristic look on them.

It’s pitiful. Vulnerable. Weak. Then the other Rico takes a step forward towards Reggatta, gloved hand coming up to land heavy on his shoulder. He looks at him, really looks, mentally disassembling him to his component parts, absent-mindedly (but not really) tracing a circle in the metal - as if committing this moment to memory.

Rico is capable of filling any room he walks in with his sheer presence. What would be a frightening single-minded focus pressing down on a suspect's shoulders, becomes a blanketing, overbearing weight of attention. He would be the only one to remember him as he was, in this exact way.

“I know,” he states simply, ignoring Rico’s glance behind him. “I understand. Why you’re doing this. This means something.”

There’s a lot of sentiment behind that statement he can’t even begin to unpack. Consequences, too. But screw it, the other Rico could figure it out.

You win like this. You matter.

With his approval given, and without looking away, Rico nods and steps back. And salutes.

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he adds, with an amused smile.

Edited 2018-02-04 23:39 (UTC)

Any feeling of intimidation doesn't come to Reggatta. Instead, he stares back and commits the other Rico to his memory, recording every element and piece of data he can into his memory banks. The smear of blood on his skin, the rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his hand on his shoulder. It's scattered and fragmented. Reggatta doesn't attempt to allocate a specific part of his memory for this; he just collects and dumps in whatever space is available and not failing. (The task becomes increasingly difficult with sectors of his memory corrupting.)

"I will be waiting for you within the Iris, my friend." And just like that, Reggatta feels courage and resolve flow through him like electricity through his wires. He straightens up and offers a salute of his own in return.

Zenyatta can feel the way fear melts away from Reggatta, and he knows that his decision is final. There is no room for doubt.

Reggatta breaks his eye contact with the other Rico with a glance at the original Rico, offering him a small nod. Then, he turns his attention to Zenyatta. "I am ready." Reggatta looks like he's about to add something, but then he looks back to the twin Ricos. "You may want to turn around if you do not want to witness this."

Even when facing his own death, Reggatta worries about the well being of others. However, he won't stop them either if they do wish to witness his passing. Neither will Zenyatta, though the latter will have more conflicting reservations about it.

The other Rico's breathing is measured. Steady and calm, constant even as he draws away. Grounded in physicality and practicalities, even if this physicality is failing him.

And after a long, thoughtful pause, he speaks up.

"Nah," he says, finally. As far as deaths go, this wouldn't be the worst one he's seen. Why would he look away? He reaches out besides him, and Other Rico links arms with Rico. The contact helps. He's never shied away from what he's done, or what was unpleasant to watch. "I'll watch. Always felt like people deserved that much, huh?"

Rico as a being is inherently unstable, but he has an unshakable core of determination. He has his doubts and his fears, oscillations between violent emotions, but at the center of it all is a confidence that establishes his presence as a fact of the universe. It's markedly more difficult than stealing or dumping emotions straight into somebody, and the effort causes another trickle of blood from his nose to break out, but he cracks open just the tiniest sliver of his defences so that Reggatta and Zenyatta could take from it if they wanted to. He can already feel the resolve to finish it, but it wouldn't hurt either.

And, well. He's seen too many people turn into meat between one blink and the next to really put much stock in souls and the Iris, but it's a nice thought isn't it? Rico's grip tightens on the other Rico as he reaches out and prods Zenyatta's chest with a finger, but not unkindly. "Take care of him. Do it fast and do it well. He's you. You got that?"

He means it. You have to take care of the younger one. No matter what form that takes.

Edited 2018-02-15 03:08 (UTC)

If Reggatta could smile, he would be smiling at the Ricos. Their words warm him, and he sees what he believed was there in them all along. He won't spoil it by analyzing it further. Not now.

"I will," Zenyatta says to both Rico's and to Reggatta as well. His voice betrays his attempt at be composed for his brother's sake. And a little of his own. The Orb of Harmony fades away. It won't be able to help now. He moves close to Reggatta and places a hand gently on his chest. Reggatta catches on quickly helps him open his chest chassis. Hums rise in volume as the panels are removed and his power source is exposed. It's stuttering erratically now that the Orb of Harmony isn't helping to stabilize him for a bit longer.

Zenyatta stares at his brother's core. He wants to say something poignant but nothing comes. This parting should have some exchange more than goodbye. His soul whispers the words before he processes that he said them. "I should have known this right from the start. Only hope can keep me together."

Reggatta takes Zenyatta's hands in his and leans so their foreheads touch, exactly like Zenyatta had done earlier. "Love Love Love c-c-can mend your-our-our life, but love-ve-ve can break break your heart." Zenyatta looks up at that. "I-I-I've g-g-got your your me-me-ss-ss-ssage inna bot-tle."

He is Zenyatta's message in a bottle. There are things Zenyatta wants to say to Reggatta and Mondatta, and he can't. But Reggatta thinks he can figure out the rest; he can sense Zenyatta's pain. He knows it. They aren't so different after all.

Zenyatta pulls away and brings both of his hands together. His orbs glow brighter as he channels his omnic energy. He changes his focus to touch the Iris, forcing himself to become tranquil. Bright blue turns golden as he sprouts six ethereal arms of light from his back. A pair of arms reach towards Reggatta's core. Reggatta nods. Zenyatta then pushes all the energy he can into Reggatta's core in one huge wave.

The lights embedded in Reggatta's forehead shatter as arcs of bright gold then blue electricity jolt up and down his body. Sparks and crackling fills the air. There can be no attempt at reviving him when all of his electronics have been shorted out; he will never be used again. Like a puppet with his strings cut, he falls from the air and into Zenyatta's physical arms. The other arms vanish into golden motes.

Zenyatta collapses to the ground soon after, holding Reggatta's still form. His own forehead lights dim from the energy spent and the disruption of his own current.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't move, doesn't let go.

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.

Zenyatta remains with his gaze on his fallen brother as the two Ricos box him in from both sides. Some part of him appreciates the gesture, making him feel safe, protected, like nothing will get past the two of them to hurt Zenyatta and Reggatta again. He wants to retreat inward and hide.

However, they cannot protect Zenyatta from the pain his heart feels and cannot, could not save Reggatta. Zenyatta just killed his younger brother. Even if the facts were that his brother was an already dying clone and ending his life kept him from escalating pain and brought into the Iris, they bring him little comfort. Deciding death upon yourself and assisting in it doesn't feel as moral when you view that other self as an individual entity.

But neither did viewing Reggatta as anyone but his own person.

When it seems like Zenyatta won't be responding to the two Ricos, he starts to close up Reggatta's chassis and whispers low, "If they... if they seem victims as well, let them go... please..."

He doesn't even realize that he repeated the words his brother said moments earlier. The reasoning is the same, but Zenyatta's tone is weaker, more hesitant than Reggatta's was. He doesn't want to think of why.

"I... can wake up the others if you show me how."

The Legion mission is underway to Zenyatta's knowledge. Perhaps concentrating on that will help center him and get him moving.

Rico moves to reach with one hand down to his boot holster, mouth opening to talk, but the Other Rico shoots him a quick look. "Of course," he interrupts smoothly, hauling Zenyatta up from the floor to mask the motion by his twin. "Nobody innocent will be killed. We'll save the worst of it for the labcoats. You don't have to worry about a thing."

Of course, it depends entirely on your definition of innocent. But hell, that's as good of a promise as he's going to give, isn't he? Anything to make it easier on the little guy. And anything more would be lying. He hesitates to pat Zenyatta on the head, but once he's decided he commits to the action.

"We'll take care of all of it," he says, his hand petting idly. "He won't have died for nothing. You had time with him, but you'll live on - well, if I have anything to say about it."

"One and the same," Rico adds. It might be a strange way of looking at it, but there it is.

Just then, the lab is plunged into darkness, save for the glowing lights of the emergency exits. Then the sirens switch on, lights flashing red and screaming. "Drokk-" the Ricos mutter at the same time. One whips around to Zenyatta, the other raises his lawgiver and spins to cover the door.

"Listen," Rico says, taking his time. "We're going to separate. Rico there is going to take another path through the base and root out the ones responsible on the way to the security rooms. We -" he taps his finger on Zenyatta's chassis - "Are going to head to the exit. If he makes it on time, we'll meet up there."

"No ifs about it," Other Rico announces cheerfully. Taking up a position next to Reggatta's empty body, he tilts his head towards them. "Go. I'll see you later," he says without dramatics. There's an unspoken grin, obvious in his voice without having to see it. It's said more for Zenyatta's benefit than his clone's, really. Of course he'll see him later. There's an ironclad certainty in that, one that sounds like a promise.

Zenyatta inclines his head upwards a few degrees upon Rico patting it. It's not unwelcomed, but it is unexpected in two ways: one, Rico giving such a comforting gesture to someone, and two, Zenyatta receiving such a gesture. Zenyatta is rarely on the receiving end of being comforted. (And he needs it more than he realizes.)

But then the laboratory lights extinguish to leave only the blue-purple glow of Zenyatta's array mixed with the emergency lights leading to the exits. Even the glow of the cloning tanks seemed to have dimmed.

Zenyatta is about to voice in protest of leaving the others in their slumber, but he halts the attempt a millisecond later. No, he will follow the Ricos' plan. With one final look at Reggatta's still form cast in blue-purple, Zenyatta takes a deep breath. His orbs respond, pulling tight around his neck. Reggatta slips off his lap and to the floor.

"I understand. Let us depart." He hovers higher into the air, putting his focus in the now and the task at hand. "We will see you soon."

He quiets the voice in his soul that murmurs that this is likely the last time they speak like this.

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?"

Edited 2018-03-17 04:24 (UTC)

~~Somewhere in the Iris, Reggatta is planning on having a long heart to heart talk with the second Rico once they reunite. He's not mad. Just a little disappointed.~~

All around them, Zenyatta can feel the urgency and danger from the Surian Underground searching for them. He can differentiate the sounds of Rico's footsteps on tile versus the echoing footsteps of their captors. There have been a number of instances when Zenyatta dims his lights to give a greater illusion of stealth, something akin to a human holding their breath. Then Rico fires his charges, and they are on the move again. Zenyatta spares only passing glances at the fallen people before he resumes his focus forward. The faces have been added to his memory. He's not sure why he does or what he will do with that data later. He simply does.

Zenyatta uses his Legionnaire Ring over his own power to hover in order to keep pace with Rico. He understands the need for haste. And his energy reserves have been depleted since he--

He halts that thought process. He cannot afford to be distracted now, and he nearly misses Rico's question. "I can continue to escape. We need to contact the Legion as soon as we can."

They need back up. They need to free the other trapped Legionnaires. They need to protect the diplomats. There is much that needs to be done beyond concern for him.

"Relax," Rico waves him off as he runs. "I can practically hear your brain whirring away. We escape the compound, get in radio range with the Legion. They'll swoop in on our location and secure the others. We've been doing just fine so far, haven't we?"

Perhaps he's a little too quick to say that. The sound of footsteps come again, but this time it's different. It's heavier, more disciplined.

The squad that comes this time are more heavily armored. More heavily armed, too. He catalogues this in the blink of an eye, assesses the order of threats. One of them hefts a bulky looking tube up on his shoulder, and Rico raises his lawgiver to disable him. But this time, this time, he's just a little too slow on the trigger. Sometimes people get lucky. This is one such instance.

His bullets whizz past his target by a bare centimeter, embedding itself into the wall behind them, and the man pulls something into place. It makes a clicking sound, and Rico watches the glint stare them down in slow motion.

"Down!" he roars, suddenly all business, wrenching Zenyatta to the ground and twisting around him, and the world explodes in a flash of fire.

Zenyatta sees the rocket launcher aimed at them, and in that instant, he wants to transcend, use the Iris to protect Rico. However, he's too exhausted. He can't reach deeper into his reserves. He can't connect to the Iris, distant from his touch.

Rico pulls Zenyatta down to the floor. The explosion overloads his microphones with too much sound. His sensors register the heat and start his fans whirring. A miss, but all it might take is a second rocket.

They're stationary. They're trapped. Fear grips at him, icy and piercing. He can't lose Rico here. No, no. Not Rico too. He can't lose anyone else today. He needs to do something.

"You will not be hurting my friend!" Zenyatta growls; his soul yells.

From his position on the floor, his orbs rising into the air and dart into their attackers. They aren't the orbs of bright blue energy he normally shoots during a fight. They are the actual orbs themselves, metal moving at a rapid pace towards his targets.

However, there are more than nine metallic clangs that ring out. Twice as many in fact. If Rico checks, he'll find that the people are knocked unconscious. Even wallowing in discord, Zenyatta somehow manages to pull his punches.

And there are eighteen orbs in the air. Zenyatta seems surprised by this fact as well.

He’s not entirely sure why he decided to cover Zenyatta when he’s made of metal, and much more durable than skin and leather and flesh. It would have made more sense to take cover behind him, and at one point he gladly would have. He’s not sure when that changed, and and he curses himself out for being a drokking idiot.

This runs through his head in a second. Rico has no time, or place, for hesitation, once he's already committed to the action. But he picks up on Zenyatta’s icy fear (for him? surely not), and that mollifies his anger at him somewhat.

The backwash of the heatwave rolls over his back, and he hears something hit. Many somethings. It takes him a second to get to his feet, but when he looks he thinks concussion. I can't be having more head injuries. But he blinks, and he’d not just seeing double. If he were one for wonder and sentimentality, he’d gasp. But instead, he coughs, and smiles.

“...That’s new,” he croaks. "Well, would you look at that. A little present, from you to you."

Nine orbs fall to the floor in a clatter of chimes. Whatever lingering energy within them had run out. The other nine--Zenyatta's nine--remain in the air as Zenyatta recalls them back. He tries to recall the fallen orbs, but they do not respond. They are not attuned to his omnic energy but to Reggatta's.

"Thank you, my brother," Zenyatta whispers.

He wants to get up and collect them, bring the orbs with him, but his body acts like he has doubled in weight. There's a quick surge of fear. What if he had been injured? Could his Legionnaire ring make up for any paralysis? Did that blast have an EMP element within it? Then that weight disappears, and Zenyatta can move freely. He sees Rico stand.

Oh.

"Are you unharmed, Rico?" Zenyatta asks as he hovers off the floor.

A brief pat down reveals that his uniform is scorched, but otherwise alright. Lucky, all things considered, that it didn't melt the fabric into his flesh. "I am," he responds, making a show of brushing off his shoulderpad. A twinge of pain echoes in his chest, but he ignores it. "Now come on. If they're bringing out the big guns now, they must be desperate to stop us. We're close."

He only takes two tottering steps when a sense of excitement hits him, electricity crawling up his spine in steps. Rico cocks his head to the side, a shiver growing as the smile on his face does. "Wait. There he comes now."

And just on time, the sound of boots echo down the corridor. A Judge emerges from the darkened corridors, a shade of his former self. He's looking worse. Much worse. He crosses over straight to Rico, swerving just slightly on his straight path, touching the palms of his hands with his bloody fingertips. Like the victor coming back with his spoils of war.

"Did you think I wouldn't make it?" Other Rico is breathless as he turns to Zenyatta, almost reverent. There's traces of blood on the daystick swinging by his side, on the handle of his sheathed boot knife, and painted across his knuckles. He glances down at himself like he's only just remembered that, then looks up again. "Don't worry about that, it's not mine."

Another second as he remembers that's not what he's supposed to say. He's usually better at lying than this. Grud dammit. "I only did what was necessary," he adds, belatedly.

He's alive. Zenyatta spins around to face the second Rico, completely stunned. Both glad and pained to be wrong about his thoughts at their parting. He can feel how much further his condition has deteriorated. The fact that the second Rico still stands is a testament to his will and drive.

It's weak and flickering, but Zenyatta tries to squeeze out a tiny Orb of Harmony from his low energy reserves and aching soul. He shuts down some of his sensors. Three of his forehead lights blink out. Some of his cooling fans fall quiet. It will probably amount to very little healing, if any at all, but he wants to do something to help keep the second Rico standing, to help him live a little longer when he still fights to. Unlike Reggatta who had... fought for his life in a different manner.

The Orb of Harmony connects but then vanishes as Zenyatta cringes in pain, doubling over his brother's gathered orbs in his arms. They're both in too much pain for the connection to last. Zenyatta takes a shaking breath in an attempt to center himself. He does not try to form another Orb of Harmony.

"You do not have to say more. You are here." Zenyatta can guess what actions have occurred, but he still forgives him. They managed to reunite. They should leave now like Rico said. "You are coming with us now, aren't you?"

Other Rico shakes his head before Zenyatta is done talking. The orb is too small and the connection doesn't last, but he's - pleasantly surprised for a second. There's still nothing in the world that would keep him alive.

"Listen, I..." His voice trails off, unfocused, then sharpens again. He fumbles at the clasps of his shoulderpads, unlatches them and drops them to the ground. They hit the ground with a thud, one after the other. "You and I both know it's not happening." He reaches up to remove his helmet, fingertips sliding on the slick surface. He hesitates for a second, but he seems to gather his resolve, and takes it off with a forceful, angry determination.

Rico's face under the helmet is nothing special. He's just a young man with a strong jaw, a scar that winds across his temple, and brown eyes that look too warm for his suspicious face. Not ugly, but not handsome either. He stands in front of Zenyatta, without the shoulderpads that alter his silhouette into something more imposing, and without the helmet that makes him faceless. Without everything that makes him into something he is not.

"I'm not going to die a Judge," he speaks, locking eyes with Zenyatta. He's unusually expressive like this, his eyes narrowing in determination. "Drokk that. I think I'll just be Rico."

He reaches for his badge, unhooks it from his uniform with a jangle of chains, and hands it to him. It fits neatly in the palm of his hand, shining harshly in the fluorescent light. The shadows make it look cheap, like a piece of plastic. DREDD, it says. Framed proudly by the wings of an eagle, dirtied with his blood.

"I don't care what you do with that," he says. "Burn it. Keep it. Chuck it in the garbage. I don't care. That doesn't mean anything to me."

When Rico starts to shed his armor, Zenyatta fears that he's going to show some grave injury to prove his point. The truth behind Rico's action becomes clear once he reaches for his helmet.

The sight surprises him. Zenyatta's consciousness has a brief blip, remembering the first time he saw Genji without his mask. There's something in Rico's warm brown eyes that is so similar. Like if they just had more time, Rico would be able to find the balance and peace, the acceptance he desires. Yet... time is the one thing they will not get.

"Rico," Zenyatta repeats. Just as Reggatta chose his identity, Rico has done the same. The method is different, but the result is the same. Zenyatta commits that face to his memory and tucks it next to Reggatta where it can be safe for as long as he lives. He takes the badge, only sparing a glance at the other Rico. Shouldn't he be the one to keep the badge?

No, if Rico wanted Rico to have it, he would have handed it to him instead of Zenyatta.

Zenyatta places the badge with the extra set of orbs. He doesn't say what he'll do with it, but it's obvious that he intends to keep it. One man's trash is another man's treasure as the saying goes. With a slight bow that's mostly from hovering lower than actually bending at the waist, Zenyatta says, "Please make sure Reggatta doesn't get into too much trouble. I entrust my brother to you."

And if they get out of this in once piece, Zenyatta will try to help Rico's brother. He gives him a silent promise.

Other Rico's face twitches like it doesn't quite know which direction to go, but he's quiet for a moment. "You should be careful with what you say." But he taps over his heart, grinning with a bravado that was once genuine but starting to slip. "Don't you worry about it, buddy boy. Rico's got it. Can't say how much trouble he's going to get himself into, though."

Rico, on the other hand, looks... unhappy. His mouth tugged down into a thoughtful frown, watching the proceedings - a marked change from when he'd first sensed his presence. His head tilts ever so slightly to track the passing of the badge, but doesn't say anything. He looks too exposed like this, Rico thinks. Is this what he looks like? Eyes warm, but manic and sick?

It makes it easier when he silently pulls out his lawgiver. Other Rico stares, and the smile drops.

"It's not how I thought I would go out," Other Rico says quietly, entirely to himself. His face is too full of vulnerability that makes Rico's fingertips twitch with discomfort. "This isn't how we'd planned it. Not at all. It's the right face, at least," he says with a wry smile. "But wrong gun. Wrong hand. Should be stupid blind drunk - it's not the place. I want-"

Something hitches in his throat, and a glint approaching trepidation grows in his eyes as he stares down the barrel. "I wanted to be by the pool. I wanted to be bored of it all, but I've got the whole drokking universe at my feet," he says, a distant, removed anger in his voice. "I'm not done. I thought I was, but I was only done with what Mega-City One had to offer. There's so much beyond it that's begging me to take. But now that I want to bother going on for something that's worth it, I can't." He looks at Zenyatta at this, the edges of a bitter grin curling at his mouth. "Isn't that just about the sickest joke you've ever heard of?"

~~Never underestimate a Zenyatta's ability to get into trouble. They welcome adversity and seek it out instead of keeping a distance.~~

Zenyatta snaps his head towards Rico, the gun, and then to the other Rico. He nearly speaks, to convince Rico to not do it. Then he stops and stills himself. Just like him and Reggatta, this is a matter between the two of them. They are the ones who know what's best, what each other wants. The least Zenyatta could do was the same courtesy they gave him.

He takes a deep breath and composes himself, lifting his chin and giving attention to what unfolds before his eyes. Mentally "Other Rico" is starting to become Rico 2.0 to Zenyatta. He doesn't want to think of him as an "other."

It is cruel that Rico 2.0 has come to this realization without a chance to explore it fully. In his core, Zenyatta feels cold, heavy. If he hadn't composed himself, his words would be trembling. "I will not deny that. I think with what you know, you can decide what you want to happen. The ideal may be out of reach, but the now is still here." For however longer.

"You need not voice it if you do not wish to, but... I hope both of you are in agreement."

"What I really want to do is to hijack one of these vehicles and run over a few of them very unlawfully- just kidding. Don't look at me like that. Go take a vacation. Live in the lap of luxury. Change is coming like the fist of Grud - he's gonna understand. He's finally gonna understand. Stick around to see the fireworks happen. And get laid for me. Hell, get the bot laid too, find him some nice socket-jockey for all his trouble-"

"That's enough." That interruption comes from Rico, leveling a careful glare.

Strangely enough, Other Rico seems to smile at that.

"I did say I could stand to die honest. But we don't always get what we want, do we? Even if we try?" Other Rico shrugs. "Oh well. Easy come, easy go. Life's cheap, but at least I spent it well. Spent every cred like it was my last."

One last glance at Zenyatta, with a secret quirk to his smile.

"Don't let anyone else take that pep out of your step, eh?"

Hilarious. Other Rico spreads his arms wide, facing himself. He's ready. But his counterpart almost can't pull the trigger. He looks, really looks at himself, and his finger freezes in place. Some ghost sensation, haunting him from inside his skin, stopping him from shooting. He blinks his eyes, and he's both. Killing, and being killed. But then he remembers - this is him. And Rico is loathsome, and arrogant, and the best in the drokking world, and a murderer and a brain-strain psycho. And he loves himself. He needs to take care of him. He'd do anything for himself.

And with loving care, blood sprays on the wall in the purest form of self-care he knows as he finds that he can pull the trigger on himself after all.

Heart shot. Three planted dead-center, punched in one after the other. Rico jerks and slides to his knees, clutching his chest, laughing. And with an irreverent, bloody grin, before the hacking laughter turns into silence, says;

"Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?"

And then he's dead, eerily still. His eyes are still open. Rico takes up the laugh as he holsters his lawgiver, sounding only a little unhinged.

Rico 2.0 can die knowing that he flustered Zenyatta with his quip about getting the bot laid. It'll be hard to miss how his forehead lights flicker, even with how dim they are from low power. Zenyatta isn't even aware he reacted as he did.

What follows next only takes a blink just as long. There were two Ricos standing. Now, there is one.

"This is not the end of Rico, merely a transformation," Zenyatta whispers, unsure of which Rico he speaks to. He moves over and shuts Rico 2.0's eyes, shifting his hold on everything in his arms. It's not easy, but he manages somehow. "Form is temporary. The spirit is eternal."

He continues to look at Rico 2.0. He takes in as much as he can about the moment, committing it to his memory. Then he looks at Rico; a silent question hangs in the air.

What is the next course of action?

There's somebody looking at him for instruction. Zenyatta sure knows how to appeal to Rico's weak points. Big Rico's gotta be Big Rico, as always. How can he ignore a look like that? Get his drokking head put together.

His jaws slam shut, clicking together in a grin. They're close to the exit, he can feel it. The corridor in front of them stretches outwards, linear and promising, and thinks he can even see the red glow of a sign. How convenient. "Come on. Let's get outta here. This place is getting on my last nerve."

He reaches out and bundles Zenyatta off in that direction, but not before glancing over his shoulder. He reaches into his glove compartment, pulls out his last remaining incendiary round. He slots it in, and casually, almost off-handedly, fires it at the body. It ignites behind them, going up in smoky, crackling flames. He's not going to linger long enough to know what his own cooking flesh smells like, but he couldn't just leave it there intact. They technically already have his genetic data on file, but like hell he's going to make it easy for some enterprising scientist to drag it off.

~~Zenyatta has the best sad puppy eyes for someone with an expressionless face.~~

This situation is well out of his realm of experience, and they lack the time and energy to slow down. That equates to Zenyatta looking to Rico for help, for direction. He doesn't say anything as the incendiary round goes off. After all, Zenyatta did the same when he fried Reggatta's circuits.

They continue down the corridor. Only Rico's feet on the tiled ground echo against the walls. Their captors probably have their hands full with the mess they've left behind. Mostly the havoc that Rico 2.0 had left. The red sign draws near, and Zenyatta wonders about where they are going to escape to. Where exactly are they? Are they close to where the treaty is supposed to be signed? Further away?

He shifts uncomfortably and feels for the Legionnaire Ring on his finger, a very human gesture he'll later recognize. The ring would normally help the Legion locate them and offer a way to communicate with them. However, those options are absent. The Legion would have already launched a rescue if they knew where they were. Even being an omnic, Zenyatta doesn't have a personal method to contact them.

"Do you have ideas to notify the Legion of our whereabouts?" They could find someone native to the planet and try asking for help, using their implant. Perhaps there is something like an internet cafe or a public communications terminal they could use. Or maybe they could cause enough of a commotion somewhere to gain the Legion's attention through the news.... That would probably make a bad situation worse. Bad idea.

The Legion most likely has eyes out for them. They just need to be seen by someone looking for them or their doubles.

"I was thinking find a crowd, start firing into the air. It's a way of getting attention."

Rico's only half joking. Really. He checks his own localized radio, and Legion Ring. It's not long-range, and it's been sitting useless since their appearance in this facility, but here's hoping it'll start being useful. "Might not even come to that. They could have shielding on this facility. As soon as we get out of range of the blackout inducers, comms'll turn back on."

Of course, that's assuming they're not in the middle of nowhere. But on a planet as built up and crowded as this, he's betting they're relying on secrecy and security to stay hidden, rather than physical isolation.

They reach the door, it's predictably locked. Rico doesn't bother slowing down for even that, just fires off a round that smashes the lock, and kicks it down with his full momentum. He won't deny that he's doing the dramatics just a bit for Zenyatta's sake - morale is important to keep up - but the rush of victory and exhilaration that comes with the door slamming open and seeing the dark night sky is very real.

Through his muddled senses and the impressive act of breaking down a door, Zenyatta knows that Rico has regained some of his inner strength. The exit opens up to the city around them. Cool air registers on Zenyatta's sensors as his visual ones adjust to the change in light. There's plenty more sound, the melodies of daily life and not the dirges of terrorism and dying breaths.

Until this moment, he never thought of himself as being claustrophobic. However, the change to open air rejuvenates Zenyatta's spirit some even though it cannot his energy reserves.

They're not in the middle of nowhere. That bodes well for them. (And not just for the idea Rico suggested.)

"It is late. Perhaps the treating signing has already happened." It should be over by nightfall if the treaty signing happened on schedule without anything else occurring. The news should be talking all about it. Still, they shouldn't delay. The longer the other Legionnaires remain captive, the more of a chance they could be moved or have some worse fate befall them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

BODY SNATCHERS [modplot] [part 2]

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After escaping the terrorists onto finding the cloning tanks and the originals

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The original Rico gets to learn some of this later, so why not clone Rico?

;_;

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cw torture

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