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
And now we will switch over to the other Dawson's point of view…his clone, that is…
He cursed himself vehemently in his mind as he slipped into the apartment the Boss had supplied for him while he and the clones were in Jump City on 'business'.
How could he have let that weak fool get to him? He had nearly cried, for God's sake!
Everyone at Methuss Industries knew he was by far the best in the business.
Even the other clones, those 'super clones' of Omega Prime, couldn't compare to him, and he made sure they were well aware of that fact.
"So where's Prime, Neo?"
'Speak of the devils…' He looked up into the sneering face of one of the aforementioned super clones, the one he knew to be Omega Three, the most temperamental of the clones.
"Shut it, Three. We have a problem." He snapped as he logged onto his laptop.
"Don't tell me that second-rate human boy got to you, too?" Four asked with a roll of his eyes.
"What second-rate human boy?" He asked, giving them a long, hard glare. "Did you four neglect to mention something when you came back from your disastrous mission last week?"
The first three clones gave Four, the more scatterbrained of the clones, a hard glare.
"Boss told us about those five freaks that protect this city, but there was a sixth one." One said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The orange chick called him 'New Friend Rush'. We didn't think he was important enough to mention."
He grabbed One's collar and twisted his arm so that One was sent tumbling to the ground in front of him, his hand still fisted in the material as he thrust his knee into the clone's stomach.
"You aren't here to think, you're here to do! Anything on a mission that is unexpected, no matter how unimportant you deem it, is to be reported to me! You bumbling idiot!" He easily tossed the super clone into the wall. "Your idiocy cost me my mission! This will be reported!"
"You little upstart!" Three snarled. "If you were worth your salt one unknown variable wouldn't have effected your oh-so-precious mission!"
"That unknown variable was Caleb Dawson, you imbecile!"
The super clones stopped short and gaped at him as he sat down, beginning to type up his report.
"That's right! Caleb Dawson! The man I'm cloned after! Still think he's not important enough to mention?" He didn't wait for them to reply, turning on Three. "And don't you ever talk back to me again, Three! In case you'd forgotten, I'm the oldest clone here, no matter what age I look! I hold seniority over all of you, and you know very well I can easily take you down!"
"Not so easy to take down the person you're cloned after, though, is it?" Two finally spoke up, smirking. "All this time you've been hounding us about it—it's about time you got a taste of what it's like. Still think we're weaklings?"
"Yes." He said. "Remember, you four are supposed to be super clones. You ought to be able to kill your original without blinking an eye. You ought to be able to beat me without blinking an eye, but you're all too weak to do any of that! The four of you can hardly hold your own against your original fighting together, and I did the same alone. Some perfect super clones you are." His top lip curled into a sneer. "So don't try my patience, Two."
"Ah, shut up, Neo." Three said, though all four of them had sobered considerably.
"In any case, it doesn't matter." One said. "What're we going to do about Dawson?"
He looked at the reply he'd received. "Boss wants him alive." He said, shutting his laptop.
"What? Why?" Four asked, frowning deeply. "He's gonna have Prime back before too long, what does he need that idiot for? Doesn't he want him dead for biting off his thumb eight years ago? He doesn't need anyone else to clone, does he?"
He rolled his eyes. "Why? Why do you think, Four? I'm not even a super clone of him and I'm already at least as strong as he is. Think of what a super clone would be like! He wouldn't even have to wait for them to grow up like he's having to with me, since his scientists have made so many advances since I was cloned. Dawson is a perfect specimen for cloning. If only I'd been able to fight him eight years ago, then we'd know how much he's improved! Based on what I know of him and my own development, he's made spectacular progress in just eight short years! Think how powerful a super clone would be with the ability to improve that much in so short a time! The Boss would have no problems whatsoever taking over with an army like that."
"What about us?" Two asked.
He shrugged. "We would all be obsolete. We might be allowed to train them until they surpass us, along with training the next batch of super clones he makes from Prime, but after that we'll probably be disposed of since we'll have outlived our usefulness."
"And you don't have a problem with that? Don't you think—" Three began.
"I wasn't made to think of anything beyond my orders, and neither were you." He cut him off sharply. "We do what we're told—nothing more, nothing less! If the boss wants to get rid of us, that's his decision, not ours!"
"How can you be satisfied with that?" Three asked.
He punched the clone hard in the stomach, sending him crashing to the floor. "Shut up! We've all known this was a possibility, so don't act so surprised! We weren't created to be satisfied, we were created to fulfill our purpose, then die! You all know this! It's the way it is!"
"I can't accept that!" Three wheezed. "I don't want to die!"
"It doesn't matter what we want, Three, don't you get it yet? We're made, we train, we fight, and once that's done we die. That's the entirety of our existence, no matter what we want, think, hope, or dream!" He said, hands on his hips. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, boys, but that's the way it always has been and always will be!"
They were staring at him with some new understanding in their eyes.
"You don't want this any more than we do, do you?" One asked.
He snorted. "Of course I don't, you dolt. Didn't you hear me? It doesn't matter what we want."
"Why not? Methuss couldn't stop us if we decided not to do what he says anymore!" Two said.
"You really are stupid, aren't you? Have you forgotten about the failsafe? We put one toe out of line and we speed up our own deaths! The Boss can easily replace us! If you want to live as long as you can, you'll stop thinking and do what you're told, no questions asked!"
"But are we really living?" Four asked quietly, looking from one face to another for the answer.
No one spoke for a moment.
"Of course not." He said finally, his voice grim as he spoke. "Even if we didn't follow the Boss's orders we're still no more than clones. We don't have lives—we've copied someone else's. This is as much of a life as we can ever have, whether we're following the Boss's orders, someone else's, or our own." He started towards his room. "Now all of you go get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."
The super clones exchanged an almost melancholy glance, but headed towards their respective rooms without another word.
He waited until the monitor at his bedside informed him they were all asleep, then pulled out a large metal box from beneath his bed. He opened it and removed four syringes of a special serum he'd been given at the start of his mission.
'If they start rebelling, stick them with this.' The Boss had ordered as he was given the box.
He sighed as he made sure there was no air in the syringes, traveling to each super clone's room and injecting them with it.
He watched impassively as their faces screwed up into deep grimaces, though whether it was from pain or something else he didn't know, but their expressions soon softened again as they settled back into their sleep.
He carefully disposed of the syringes and went back into his room, removing a fifth syringe from the box and rubbing alcohol on the inside of his elbow.
'I cannot be allowed to have these thoughts.' He told himself coldly. 'I was created for one purpose and I will fulfill it!'
"Anyone ever tell you it's not prudent to fight with your betters, you cheap imitation? You're a fake, you stupid brat! A second-rate clone! You're an expensive toy!"
His hand shook and his eyes stung with tears against his will as he thought of what Dawson had said to him. He shook his head to clear it and pressed the needle against his arm.
"And you don't have a problem with that? How can you be satisfied with that? You don't want this any more than we do, do you?"
His hand shook again and the syringe fell to the floor, breaking and causing its contents to spill.
He didn't bother to clean up the mess, crawling into his bed and curling up into a ball. His body shook once and he began to sob brokenly, keeping his cries as quiet as possible.
'I don't want to die.'
(THE RUSH)