@arrepentirse asked: He knew him. He knew his face. No. Not like that. It was Leon’s face – of course. But he was younger, so much younger. And Luis had seen him just recently, as he had scoured through hundreds of files that he had stolen from the data centre, where they had found the little one at. So many horrible mutations. So many failures of the cloning process. So many horrific fates. Poor souls, that never had a chance to even exist properly. And so many crossed out. Terminated when they failed tests. Motor skills. Neurological tests. Luis had looked into so many faces with the same blue eyes and blond hair. At various ages. And each of those eyes had been empty. Shells. But two. One had bene the little miracle. And the other had been this one. Project Ares. A success. The predecessor to their now-son. A weapon. Trained and honed. Bred for just this one purpose. Eliminate the original. Take his place. And fucking hell, was he good. The clone moved fast. Direct. Hard. Like Leon did, despite the difference in age, he had a hell of a lot more experience and could outmanoeuvre his younger clone. But there was a little detail. Something only Luis saw. The hesitation. The same little shake of his head. Once. When he probably got told new orders as Leon and he retreated for a moment, circling each other in the rubble of this battlefield. There. A collar. A flinch. A small pained expression. Wild eyes. The same as in one of the “example” videos that Luis had seen. And Luis knew what he had to do. He spilled the bullets from his rifle. Only one bullet. Only that remained. A dart pulled from his supply, too. “Leon!”, he spoke into his radio, “Dodge! Don’t hurt him – get him out! Give me a clear path to aim! Trust me!” It was a plea. A request. But he trusted that his love would listen. There was little time. The crosshairs found the sweet spot. Right at the collar at the clone’s nape. It would be a knife’s edge shot. Just scraping the boy’s nape. And Luis pulled the trigger.
Leon hates this. It's like trying to reason with his own violence — it only knows how to respond in one way. He's a hesitant participant in this dance at first but the longer it lasts the more it draws out his own battle lust. He's in danger of becoming a berserker, of loosing his own shackles and letting fury take over.
The clone prodigy. His was a life accelerated for one purpose, and his predecessor has been allowed a natural aging process to study any differences in their development. One has been brutally moulded into his battle image and one has been nurtured.
Ares cannot be reasoned with. Of that Leon is certain. "I'm running out of options." He cautions — both his clone and his husband. He cannot in good conscience allow any version of himself to wreak havoc. But he isn't without a heart. It's a painful thing, knowing he likely has to kill his own rage.
"Don't make me do this." This time it's more of a whisper. He's pleading. He can see his clone give a shake of his head. Then there's something wild in the kid's expression. He's starting to steel himself for what's to come —
"Leon!" His radio flares to life. "Dodge! Don't hurt him —" what?! "get him out! Give me a clear path to aim! Trust me!"
Luis' words prickle the hairs at Leon's neck. He flashes a thumbs up and gets to work, leading Ares on a chase to get himself out of Luis' scope. Ares walks a bit slower. It's an advantage, and he watches as something explodes off the boy.
Leon's eyes subtly widen. There was a spray of blood. He exhales, hand reaches for his younger image — another shot, a dart striking at Ares' neck like he's a wild beast that needs some dental work. He watches him struggle against the inevitable. Before he completely gives in, Leon is there, steadying him in his arms to a more graceful fall. He ate dirt enough times in his life to want to spare the kid that indignancy.
Ares fights the death sentence. That's what this is, right? He is being put down, he's defective, he has failed — and what a joke, his target holds him way too close. He could strike. He doesn't need a gun to his head. The concealed blade at his palm would be sufficient, just needs to slice the artery.
He's wide-eyed as he looks up at Leon. Ares reaches for him. Places his palm at his neck. So close... He could... He blinks, and traitorous tears spill down his cheeks. "I want... to live..." He admits around a choked sob. His hand falls away. He's already dead, right? What better way to get his own back at his masters. He doesn't kill Leon. Instead he slips into that darkness a little lighter. For once in his life, he isn't being led by his collar.