When Jr. drifted off to sleep, the first thing he noticed was that he couldn't move. Thick bands of a strong alloy were closed tightly around his wrists and ankles, holding him sitting so that even his enhanced strength couldn't break free. It made him feel claustrophobic, and he tensed his wrists against the bands. He tried to open his eyes, but the harsh light of what seemed to be a hospital room forced them closed again. And then he heard the voice.
“Dr. Yuriev, Unit 666 is finally responding.”
His eyes flew open in defiance of the searing headache it induced as it hit him. He wasn't in a hospital, he was in an Institute. The white walls slowly came into focus, and he saw two tall figures walk in through a sliding door and nod at the woman already in the room. One leaned down in front of him, and Jr. instantly recognized the face of his father, Dr. Dmitri Yuriev.
The man nodded, and before Jr. could open his mouth to speak said, “It's about time. And 667?”
“Nothing yet, sir. But with 666's condition improving-”
That was when Jr.'s body finally caught up with his mind and he lunged forward, only to be stopped hard by the metal bands. He tried to talk, but all he could manage was a dry cough.
The other figure stepped out from behind Yuriev, and Jr. saw Gaignun, dressed in the blues and whites of the Institute, reach forward and grab hold of his shoulders, pushing him back.
“Calm down, Rubedo. Whatever you saw, it's not real.”
Jr. shook his head and swallowed several times, before he could force out, “Gaignun? No, this isn't real. It can't be! You're both-”
Jr. choked off and the two men exchanged glances. Yuriev slid his glasses further up his nose with one hand and shook his head. Gaignun turned back to Jr. with the stern expression he used when his brother was causing trouble and said, “Gaignun was the cat, Rubedo. I've always been called Nigredo.”
Next to him, Albedo began to stir. The bands were every bit as tight around his hands and wrists, but rounded off to make it harder to tear his own hands off. He could hear familiar voices, but what startled him the most was the double heartbeat in his chest. His and Rubedo's, reduced to a single beating by his death over three years ago, now drummed together in his chest. But Rubedo's was racing, and forcing his eyes open against the headache inducing light told him why. There, standing in front of him, was the one person he purely despised. He looked nearly twenty years older than when Albedo had last seen him in that body, but there was no mistaking Yuriev's face.
The nails of Albedo's clenched hands dug into his bare palms, but were cut shorter than he had ever kept them when he'd been alive and failed to draw blood.
The first person to notice Albedo's movement was the assistant, and she turned to address Yuriev.
“Sir, Unit 667's consciousness has returned as well.”
Jr. turned his head to look next to him, vaguely noticing the neural monitoring ring just inches from his forehead, and was shocked to see his twin sitting in a chair identical to his, wearing the same blue and white uniform as Nigredo. But what shocked him more than Albedo's presence in his own body was the fact that he was looking straight across at a man who should have been more than a foot taller than him. He was an adult, a fully grown URTV.
“Wh-what the hell? Why do I look like this? After Miltia-”
Yuriev cut in, shaking his head. “Miltia never happened. I withdrew the URTVs' support in the Third Descent Operation because the mission would have been futile with the link master indisposed.”
A shiver ran down Jr.'s spine and he thought desperately to his twin, 'Albedo, do you have any idea what the hell is going on here?'
'I'd think it obvious, Rubedo. The Animus.'
'There are no Animus, you two. You shared an emotional breakdown when Sakura died and formed a joint hallucination through the link. You've been completely out of touch with reality for the past seventeen years.'
Both twins jumped at Nigredo's intrusion on their conversation and frantic blue and purple eyes met with worried green ones. If Nigredo could hear them, then he couldn't be an impostor. Then came the other voices, hundreds of them merged together into a single sound.
'Why are you still here? You were useless, why didn't they dispose of you? They would have done it to any of us.'
The voices were unmistakably those of the Standards. They sounded older, but there wasn't anybody else it could be. On instinct, Albedo looked at Rubedo and saw that the redhead was frozen in shock and guilt.
'Rubedo, ignore it. This isn't real.'
'H-how do we know? Maybe it really is the Conflict and Adstringendum that were fake'
'Think about it, Rubedo. How would those automatons have survived without a leader?'
'Simple. Unit 669 and myself picked up the slack for you.'
As the new voice intruded on the link, the sliding door opened again and a new woman stepped in and rested one hand on her hip. Citrine was identical to the last time Jr. had seen her, aside from the short dress that matched Nigredo's uniform. Jr. started when he saw her walk in, eyes open and staring, but Nigredo just turned with a flat expression.
'I prefer to be addressed as Nigredo, Citrine.'
Yuriev nodded at the four URTVs and turned to leave the room. “Lets leave them alone for now. Ideally, units 668 and 669 will have a stabilizing effect on their psyches, but it would be best done without our interference.”
The URTVs' father and his employee left the room, leaving the four Variants alone to each other and the voices of the Standards.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
