Blanket Disclaimer: Poison Tonic LX does not own the Teen Titans or any characters therein. Don't sue her, please, because if you do I won't have a home anymore…-Ralph, the muse
Despite the Original's paranoia about the Clones showing back up and destroying everyone, nothing of any particular interest happened until a week later.
It was something that would make him eat the words he had spoken in the infirmary, though up until then he had kept up the promise, keeping a semi-icy wall between himself and the Original (barring the Breakfast Brawl, but who could stay icy during something as funny as that?).
And it began with the ringing of the Tower doorbell.
"Dude…we have a doorbell?" The Comic Relief asked, blinking.
"Obviously." He and the Sorceress rolled their eyes and exchanged an exasperated glance.
"I'll get it." He said, setting his fork down (they had been eating lunch). He stood and went to go out of the living room door to the elevator, but the door opened before he got there and a small boy stepped through it as if it were the most natural thing on Earth.
The boy had short, spiky auburn hair and detached icy blue eyes. He looked about eight or nine years old, and wore a black leather suit reminiscent of the Original's, but actually reminding him more of the Clones' with the digitized gloves and boots, though they glowed red instead of yellow.
He stiffened, and his hands balled into fists as he recognized the boy as himself at that age, and the small 'Methuss Industries' patch over the right side of the boy's chest. His eyes narrowed.
"Hello." Gods, it even had his voice! "My name is Omega Neo. I'm here for Omega Prime. If he won't come with me now, I'll steal him later." The boy informed them emotionlessly.
"Who…sent you…?" He gritted out through clenched teeth.
"Epsilon Methuss of Methuss Industries."
"Rush—" The Original began, standing, but didn't finish.
He had rushed forward and grabbed the kid's neck, slamming him into the wall.
"What are you doing?" The Boy asked, still without any emotion.
"Tell Epsilon that Caleb Dawson said if he ever comes near Maxwell or Jump City again I'll bite his other thumb off!" He yelled. "He ever dares to send a clone of me around here again and I won't hesitate to march back up to Bludhaven and rip his head off like I should've done eight years ago when he murdered Tandi and Kylan Summers!"
The Boy eyes widened slightly as his face turned red and he gasped for air. "Y-you…!"
"That's right, me! Get outta here and don't come back if you know what's good for you!" He threw the boy up and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him crashing out of the window.
A wire shot into the ceiling, the Boy pulling himself back up into the room.
"I'm under orders not to leave until I have Prime." The Boy said, smirking. "And I'm sure the boss will be very pleased with me for bringing you to him, Dawson. We've been looking for you for quite a long time. As you can see, your blood is quite good for cloning."
"I said get out of here, you little brat!" He snarled.
The Boy crouched into an all too familiar fighting stance, smirk widening. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Dawson. At the very least not until I have Prime, but I'll take you, too, I think. C'mon, I'll tell them to let you live if you come quietly. Maybe they'll even make clones of Tandi and Kylan for you using the blood samples they've got, if you're really good."
"Shut up!" He roared, punching the Boy in the gut, but the Boy just took it, hardly moving at all.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not nice to hit people who're younger than you?" The Boy asked as it grabbed his hand, throwing him over its shoulder.
He flipped through the air and landed neatly on his feet, tackling the Boy and pinning it to the ground, one knee digging into the Boy's back and his arms keeping its arms down. "Anyone ever tell you it's not prudent to fight with your betters, you cheap imitation?"
The Boy bristled, struggling futilely to escape his hold. "I'm not a cheap imitation!"
"You're a fake, you stupid brat! A second-rate clone! You're an expensive toy!"
"Shut up! I'm not!"
"You aren't real, that's for sure!" He said, letting the Boy up only to grab him by his collar again and lift him up. "Trust me on this one, boy—a fake is never as good as an original, and you don't get much more original than me! Go tell your boss to screw himself and get a better copy machine while he's at it, 'cause if you're supposed to be my perfect clone I'd hate to see an imperfect one! Go on and get outta here!" He pushed the Boy towards the broken window.
"I'm not a fake!" The Boy yelled hoarsely, eyes filled with tears. "I'm not a copy and I'm just as good as you are! I'm real, I am! I'm real!"
"Yeah, go tell that to someone who cares! Because of you and your boss, the only people I ever cared about and who cared about me are dead! The next time I see either one of you I'll return the favor and kill you, so go on before I lose my temper!"
The Boy choked on a sob. "I swear—I swear one day I'll prove to you I'm real!" He shrieked, and disappeared without any further ado.
He let out an angry roar and punched the wall, feeling it crumble a bit beneath the force of the blow, blood trickling down his arm and the wall.
"F-Friend Rush?" The Dolt squeaked.
He looked sharply over at them, letting his gaze rest on the Original. "Methuss Industries? That's who's after you?" He demanded.
"Y-yes." The Original sputtered.
He let out a long stream of curses as he ran his bloodied hand through his hair.
"I thought I was rid of them. I thought it was over! I outran them for eight years!" He punched the wall again. "Tandi was right! Running doesn't solve anything!"
"Rush, calm down!" The Sorceress snapped, forcing him to sit on the couch with a shadow as they did the same. "Now explain what you're talking about. How do you know that kid?"
He laughed bitterly. "That kid is me. Was me." He wanted to punch something again.
"How—?" The Kid began.
"Shut up." He snapped. "I'm getting to it. Eight years ago…when I was eight years old I was a street rat. I stole to live and like an idiot I stole to help other people live, too. One day this guy saw me, and cornered me in an alley. Made an offer…he wanted me to let him clone me, to make 'an army of super clones' to take over the world and whatnot. I said no, and he had his thugs try to help him force me, so I bit his thumb off and ran. I ended up at this woman's house…her name was Tandi. I never…no one was ever nice to me before that. Not like she was, anyhow. I'd run into someone who'd give me some money or food or something, but she actually took me into her home, even though I could tell she could hardly afford to take care of herself and her little brother—Kylan—and…" He growled at himself. "I shouldn't have been so stupid!"
"Why? What happened, Friend Rush?" Starfire asked, wide-eyed.
"Epsilon showed up not an hour later, after Kylan had gotten home from school. I thought I was safe for a while, at least, or I'd have left as soon as I got out of the shower, or I wouldn't have gone in. She…defended me. A kid off the streets…she hadn't known me for more than an hour or two and she tried to keep him from finding me like I was family or something. He pulled a gun on her and said for her to tell him where I was or he'd shoot her and Kylan. So I…I came out of Kylan's room and told him to leave them alone. My life is mine, and I want to live as much as the next person but no one, least of all her and her brother, should have to die for me. Why should they? I wouldn't be missed—just another rat off the streets."
"Rush…" Cyborg began, but he shook his head.
"She tried to defend me again and he shot her. Twice—stomach and chest. Kylan tried to go to her and he got shot, too, in the head. I attacked Epsilon and got the gun and told him to leave. He tried to get it back but I shot him in the leg and he left. Tandi…she was still alive, but she knew she was gonna die. I guess I did, too, but…she tried to make me promise to run and stay away from Bludhaven, but to find some friends and stick with them so I'd be safe. I wouldn't promise until after she was dead." He buried his face in his hands. "I wanted her to live. God I wanted her to live. Her and Kylan both. I'd have died a thousand times…they shouldn't have had to die because of me. I wasn't worth it, but they…" He clenched his hands in his hair, swallowing. "I ran, and I never looked back. I kept running. Eight years I spent running. Most countries—all of the continents—he never found me again but I wouldn't stay in one place for long before I was gone again. I thought I finally lost him…outran the memories…"
"I'm sorry." The Original said softly.
"Shut it." He snapped, looking up. "If I'd known it was him you were running from in the first place that clone of yours wouldn't have gotten away and you wouldn't have gotten a choice at all about whether or not to join the Titans."
The Original grimaced and pulled out his communicator, offering it sheepishly.
He smacked it away. "Are you stupid or something? I'm saying I'll help you, you idiot. Kill the clones, blow up Methuss headquarters, kill Epsilon, whatever—I'm in." He held out a hand.
The Original blinked, then grinned and took the proffered hand, shaking it. "Cool."
"Yeah, whatever. Don't get all mushy on me or take it personally—I still don't like you." But he smirked to let the Original know he was joking.
"Well doesn't this look like the start of a beautiful friendship?" Cyborg asked, laughing.
"A friendship, maybe, but I don't know how beautiful it'll be." He chuckled.
"Let us go out for the eating of—"
"Pizza!" The Comic Relief exclaimed loudly before the Dolt could confuse everyone with her slightly muddled English.
Everyone laughed—even the Sorceress chortled a bit—and they left to go consume a couple round circular discs of cheesy goodness…better known as pizza.
(THE RUSH)