overplays | a pushpin through my sternum

a pushpin through my sternum

[The last mission had been a success... in most aspects. A bust on an arms dealer gang, it'd gone mostly smooth. The one hitch in the operation is currently sitting in the medbay, waiting for Mercy to come back from her errand, staring at the wall as if he could burn a hole into it.

Genji's role in the mission had been scouting. It was a role he fit well in, given the skillset he brought with him from the Shimada clan. Usually it went off without a hitch, Genji able to feed the assault team information and slip back out before he'd been spotted, but every now and then there was a hiccup. This had been one of those times; he'd been spotted by one of the gunrunners before he could slip away and rejoin the team, which by itself would have been unfortunate but workable. Except Genji had then chosen to engage the dealers rather than retreat. Fight them on his own.

By the time the team had caught up, the damage had been done: Genji's right arm and left leg were out of commission, both broken open, sparking and oozing green biofluid.

Despite Genji's impulsive behavior, the gunrunners had been busted, and Genji is now left alone with his thoughts. With two of his limbs out for repair or total replacement, whatever would be required in the end, Genji is effectively grounded. Mercy's left him alone in the medbay to fetch temporary replacements for him, but she's already warned him that they're nowhere near as advanced as Genji's custom limbs; they're there to allow him a full range of motion around the base and nothing more. They wouldn't stand up to combat or the maneuvers Genji is meant to be able to do. Which is all to say that Genji won't be reentering the field for a while. That alone is enough to make Genji regret his actions. Being stuck at base with nothing to occupy his mind or his time is the last thing he wants. He can already feel the itch of restlessness creeping under his skin at the very idea.

He's pulled from his darkening thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and his mouth starts moving before he even looks to see who's there. A note of agitation threads through his words.]

About time -

[Then he looks up. His mouth snaps shut, body tensing, because he realizes that it's not Mercy standing in the doorway. Suddenly Genji understands exactly why Mercy is taking so long with the prostheses. A dip of his head turns the impassive, stoic stare of his visor into a glare.]

Commander Morrison.

[Genji would have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not see where this is going.]

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[He frowns a little at the way Genji fires back, not that he didn't expect it. Jack knows that his words can only ring hollow, and he feels a little hollow, saying them, but this is what he can offer. His eyes flick to the way Genji's fingers curl into the metal of the table.

It's been twenty years (so he's had plenty of time to come to terms with it), and he's aware that it's not quite the same thing, but Jack knows what it's like to feel as though his body doesn't belong to him. In many ways, it still doesn't. He'll always be the product of the US military's vaguely unethical genetic experimentation, and he's hyper-cognizant of how that affects his very existence. For every person calling him the best of humanity and a triumph of science, there's another who thinks he shouldn't exist. Some of Overwatch's more increasingly vocal critics bring up the point that enhanced soldiers were a product of a very specific wartime, and that the US government can't have possibility accounted for what may or may not happen two decades later. That they exist now is dangerous, and who can know the long-term effects of their genetic alteration? That they could potentially become unstable. A threat.

Sometimes, on days when things between him and Reyes are particularly strained, and they seem particularly unsuited to handle the nuance of an ever-changing world in peacetime, he wonders if any of them were meant to outlast the war they were built for. What they're even trying to do, running an organization like this.

He remembers feeling it in more literal ways, too. Sick from injections and gene therapy. Breaking things without meaning to. Out of his mind with hypersensitivity. Jack was going to make this something about teamwork, but when all this comes to mind, he decides to take it in a different direction.]

You realize I'm a highly controversial government experiment, right?

[They don't usually phrase it like that, in Overwatch, but that's what he is. Jack isn't trying to make their situations comparable--he's just seizing on potential common ground, with the added bonus of letting Genji know that he's not going to sit around and take the kid's attitude.]

Edited 2016-08-19 00:05 (UTC)

[Genji's reaction likely tells Jack more than enough before Genji even opens his mouth: he straightens up, still and silent, staring Jack down through the visor as if reassessing him. His head tilts a fraction to the left, an unconscious action, his body language filtering in to make up for a lack of facial expression to read. He's startled enough by this confession that he doesn't realize how badly he's showing his hand.

Finally, with open surprise present in his voice:] I - what?

[Genji knows barely anything about Jack Morrison, other than his name and rank and that he's a hero of the Crisis. Before Hanzo's attack Genji had been far too busy enjoying his wealth and his life to pay attention to things like that; since the attack, he's been too wrapped up in his pain and dismantling the Shimada clan to know anything other than that what Morrison says goes. A government experiment?

Genji's kneejerk reaction is to distrust it, to think Jack is simply trying to get under his skin. But no matter how hard Genji looks, he can't see any sign that Jack is lying. And something as outlandish as that seems too big a lie to waste on one agent.

His hand flexes against the table, but it's an anxious movement now. Not certain what to do with this information. It's not the same, but at the same time, he can't simply brush Morrison off now with this new information either. When Genji speaks again it's in an impatient snap, but it's a defensive gesture, trying to cover the sudden vulnerability in his voice.]

So what did they do to you, then?

[Despite himself, Genji almost hopes it is comparable. He doesn't want to be alone in this.]

Me and Reyes both.

[He sounds a little surprised, too, because he mostly brought it up on the basis that it's common knowledge. The government is never going to release the details of what was done, exactly (and for good reason--he's pretty sure the human rights people would have a collective conniption), but after the crisis they couldn't keep it under wraps. They were legitimized, because who wouldn't, after what they did to end the war? Desperate times, desperate measures, and who was going to argue at the time, especially when they were, for all intents and purposes, a rousing success?

Things are a little different, now.]

Genetic enhancement. I was augmented. Wasn't much older than you.

[Younger, even. He shrugs and says it casually, like he's discussing the weather. This is not where he expected the conversation to go, but he can see that he's got Genji's attention, so he can roll with it.]

Used to break a lot of stuff.

[Whether it's where Jack intended to take the conversation, it seems to be working. The hostility and defensive tension is bleeding out of Genji's body language in slow degrees, and he's quiet when Jack talks. He lifts his sole hand from the table when Jack mentions breaking things, staring at it for a long, contemplative second.

He speaks slowly, uncertainly. Like he's not sure he should be sharing this.]

I am... not used to the strength of my grip. [Morrison must be aware of the damage Genji has a tendency to leave behind, he realizes dimly. Expense reports for things he's broken both intentionally and unintentionally.] It is supposed to help make climbing easier.

[Which it does. But he's also so, so tired of misjudging his strength and breaking yet another glass or tablet. He flexes his fingers against his palm, watches the curl and stretch, the way the metal moves. He looks back up at Jack.]

Were there other side effects?

[There's an expectant note to this words as he asks, searching for something in whatever Jack reveals. Some proof that their experiences may be alike after all.

Because what Jack is saying isn't losing a limb or an eye; he kept his looks, but his entire body was changed regardless, and that idea is the one Genji is clinging to at the moment. That Jack went through something that altered him whole and yet now he can stand here, discussing it like it's nothing at all.

Genji's been struck by a sudden desperation to believe that someday he might be able to do the same.]

[The correct answer is 'classified'. Jack shouldn't be talking about the finer details of his time in the SEP with anyone, much less a new recruit that he barely knows. But this is the most attentive he's had Genji since meeting him, and he's not about to pass up the opportunity. He thinks he's finally hit some common ground between them, and he'd be stupid not to take advantage of it. He can hope that the kid doesn't decide Jack's experience isn't good enough.

Which maybe it isn't, really. Jack can't even imagine what it's like to wake up more machine than human; having to come to terms with a body that doesn't even look like your own. The most he can do is just recount what they did to him and let that speak for itself.]

It wasn't pleasant, if that's what you mean.

[Sitting next to him feels too presumptuous, so he pulls up one of Angela's stools, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.]

I couldn't even tell you what they pumped into me.

['Wasn't pleasant' says little. It has Genji huffing quietly to himself as Jack settles, not protesting him sitting down but clearly put off by the lack of specifics in the good commander's response. Genji wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, Jack can understand what he's going through better than anyone else can, but it's hard to do that when they sit across from each other like this: Jack, broad frame, pretty blue eyes, smooth skin, a smile that could put the sun to shame. And Genji, a mess of man and machine, whose remaining skin is just as ugly as his new appendages. Who has to hide the shame of his scarred and battered face behind a faceplate at all times.

Anxiety is already creeping back upon him. His body language betrays him again, his single hand moving away from the table to grasp his opposite shoulder, body curling inward just so. He wants to get away just as much as he wants to pry answers out of Jack.]

What other side effects?

[Can't get much clearer than that. His attention remains fixed on Jack, intent, waiting. Hoping, despite every attempt he's made thus far to do anything but.]

[Jack doesn't like Genji's attempt to take control of the situation. His body language becomes tense again, though whether it's out of a refusal to let the kid get the upper hand or genuine discomfort is unclear. SEP seems like a lifetime ago--he'd been a different person then, in many ways. A kid. Dragging up the memory of what it was like is harder than he thought, but he has to push through because this might be his Moment with Genji.

He stares at his hands.]

You got sick.

[Not sick like the flu, but an altogether more visceral kind of feeling terrible. A kind they had to downplay, even, if you didn't want to get cut from the program. And since they weren't supposed to exist in the first place, Jack had actively tried not to think about what happened to the soldiers who weren't up to snuff.]

Too much happens too fast and you don't have time to get used to it before they're sticking you again. Remember feeling like I was crawling out of my skin, most days.

[The unfortunate thing is that Genji has grown to care very, very little about the comfort of others around him. In fact, the more uncomfortable around him they are the better; maybe it'll get them to finally leave him alone. So he remains prickly, distant and cold when not being outright hostile. When he sees Jack tensing, Genji doesn't back down at all. He waits.

The catharsis he feels at Jack's answer is worth it. It's not exactly the same, of course, but it's similar enough for Genji to feel some sort of relief. It's the closest he's going to get, and that fact makes Genji cling to it.

He mutters under his breath in his native language, tone something close to relieved, before returning to English.]

Pain. There is always pain, every day. Some days it is a struggle to get out of bed so I can see the doctor [no name, they both know who he's addressing, he doesn't want to say it, too many complicated feelings] for relief. And sometimes there is an itch, as if there is still skin to scratch. I have nearly torn my limbs open attempting to sate it.

[It all comes out in a rush, like a floodgate has been opened. That relieved tone stays in his voice, a ghoulish contrast to the experiences he's describing. He expects Jack to understand at least on some level.]

[He recognizes this as progress. Genji has never been this open about himself or his experience since they pulled him from the brink of death. On some level, Jack has always known there was an element of real pain involved, but hearing Genji talk about it so frankly is another thing entirely. He can’t very well ask Angela about what they talk about or what she prescribes him when he goes to see her (she’s steadfast about the doctor-patient confidentiality thing), but realizing that painkillers (presumably) are part of the mix sets him on edge.

He’s not here to judge or chastise, not when it seems like they’re making progress. Instead, Jack nods in understanding.]

I know you probably don’t want to hear that you’ll get used to it.

[But it’s true, even if it’s not exactly comforting. Existing is much different than thriving. He probably feels like all he can do is the former.]

It gets easier, and you’re not alone. Have you told Doctor Ziegler this?

[Jack has no problem bringing her up. She’s the only person who could improve his situation, after all, if things are really had bad as he says.]

[It's about the first time that those sentiments have felt something close to believable for Genji. If Jack managed to get through a period of time that awful, where even existing was a struggle, and come out the other side like this... maybe Genji can too. Maybe. He's not a soldier, nothing but a spoiled mob prince violently cast down and irreparably changed, but perhaps this is more incentive to at least try.

Genji is silent at the mention of Mercy, head turning away.]

I have.

[Not entirely a lie. Mercy knows the worst of it, of course, that's entirely unavoidable. But the rest? No. Genji, frankly, hasn't been very complicit in his own healing. Too busy rejecting and being disgusted by the state he's been left in. He functions well enough in front of others and on missions, when his mind can be occupied by something, but downtime leaves him too much to contemplate himself.

He won't admit that he attacked those gunrunners on purpose, knowing full well it wasn't a force he could take on his own. That for a moment having his limbs destroyed had been a twisted sort of relief. He couldn't let himself die, of course, not until the Shimada had been felled, but taking damage? That was a different story.

Still, he knows he has to be careful. Too reckless and Overwatch may consider him more trouble than he's worth.]

We are working on it.

[Jack would talk to Angela about this later, to ask if Genji is telling the truth, if he didn't think it would go poorly--he's not out to violate the kid's privacy, after all. He just wants to make sure he's getting the help that he needs, preferably the kind that doesn't rely on indefinite painkillers. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.]

I'm glad to hear that.

[If Jack knows of Genji's true intentions (he doesn't), it isn't evident on his face. Instead, the subtle pinch of his eyebrows indicates concern that he's trying not to make too overt. He imagines the last thing Genji wants is to be pitied.]

And if there's anything you need from me, you can let me know.

[Jack's made that overture before, but it's the first time Genji's seriously considered it. He's quiet for a long moment, staring at his remaining hand again as if it could tell him something. He wants to ask more about the SEP, about what Jack went through, but he allows himself to think more tactically for once. If Genji makes Jack too uncomfortable, either by making him say too much or trying to take control of the conversation away from him, he could very possibly shut this all down. Genji needs to play this careful.]

I need to get my replacements, [he says at length, motioning needlessly to the empty ports where his other leg and arm should be.] But after that... I would like to speak again.

[A pause, then tacked on, like an idle after thought:]

If you have time.

[He should probably attempt to be more attentive of Jack's rank.]

[Right, yeah, he's missing some limbs.

Jack doesn't seem bothered by the disregard for his position. Sometimes that's nice, especially when he's in the middle of a heart to heart like this. He's okay with getting rid of formalities if it means getting through to a person.

Which he thinks has happened, somehow. He's still waiting for Genji to decide that their experiences aren't comparable after all, but this is more progress than he's managed to make so far. He won't pass it up.]

I'll make time.

[He thinks he can do that much.]

[It takes time to install the replacements, make sure they're in proper working order, and to get him adjusted to functioning with them. All in all, a few days time, far shorter than his initial adjustments the first time around. He doesn't bother Jack again until he's certain he won't be missing a step and falling flat on his face every other second. When he's ready, he deigns to send a message along with an Overwatch agent heading to the Strike Commander's office to let Jack know.

He could make this simple, go to Jack's office himself and talk with him there. But no. Genji doesn't want to talk in what is considered Jack's territory. He wants a more neutral territory, somewhere more open, which is what leads Genji to calling him down to the gym. Well, that and wanting to test the full extent of his replacements, now that he's gotten the basics of walking back down. He doesn't immediately acknowledge Jack's arrival when he walks in, caught up in catching himself out of the stumble of a flip. Once he's straightened himself out he bothers to send the commander a short bow of the head.

The look of the replacement prostheses is stark in contrast to the rest of him; they're far simpler, built for function over appearance, a plain steel. But they serve their purpose, and that's what they're there for. Not much else, which Genji is quickly beginning to learn.]

Is your schedule that light today?

[Usually a comment like this would come with a biting tone, sucking any levity out of the words. Not this time. It falls short of teasing, but it's certainly lighter than much of anything that's come out of Genji's mouth since he woke up after his surgery. For once he's not trying to get a rise.]

[Their conversation stays on Jack’s mind, of course. It’s a small victory, but it feels important, like he finally has a way to get through to the kid—find common ground and make this less miserable, let him know he’s not alone. There’s an ulterior motive too, of course. Genji is a liability in the field until he gets his shit together (as evidenced by the fact that he needed entirely new limbs after his last mission), so Jack will facilitate this as much as he possibly can. Everyone wins.

When he gets the message that Genji would like to meet, it's a victory that's a bit bigger.

He postpones a phone call and clears his afternoon, unsure of how long this is going to take, but not wanting to have to rush out, not when there's progress to be made. Jack isn't wearing the blue coat this time--he's opted for a tight short-sleeved shirt and his utility harness, making his way down to the training gym.]

I told you I'd make time.

[Busy as he is, Jack likes to think he still keeps his promises. The lack of hostility in Genji's tone is noted, but he knows to approach with caution, figuratively speaking.]

[Genji notes the lack of ostentatious trenchcoat with a slight tilt of his head, and finds himself oddly relieved for its absence. The lack of it already seems to make Jack less Strike Commander Morrison and more... well, Jack. Certainly the lack of the Overwatch logo stamped right on his sleeve is a marked improvement, as far as Genji's concerned.]

So you did.

[His tone is thoughtful, as if noting something unexpected. Which isn't far off the mark. Genji hasn't bothered to get to know much of anyone beyond name and where they sit on the chain of command since he woke up from surgery; all he has are his assumptions to go off of, and his image of Commander Morrison could be summed up by 'married to his work' and 'unapproachable'. Yet here he is, answering Genji's beck and call as he said he would, and dressed down for the occasion to boot.]

Do you regularly ignore your schedule for your subordinates?

[Still no outright hostility, but it's impossible to miss the probing point of Genji's line of questioning, sharp and alert despite the fluid ease of his movements as he stretches. He isn't nearly foolish enough to let their last conversation take his guard out completely. Just because Jack left his blue coat behind doesn't mean he's completely shed his title for this visit. Genji knows that there's no way he hasn't attracted all sorts of attention with his current attitude and condition; what he's attempting to figure out is how much of Jack's presence here and now is genuine and how much of it is trying to keep a closer eye on Overwatch's erratic asset.]

[Ah. There's the attitude. It's not hostile, so Jack will be thankful for that, but it's a good reminder that he still needs to approach with caution. He hasn't made it to the point where he can't ruin this--not yet, anyway.]

It was just a few phone calls. Nothing I can't postpone.

[Sure, they might not have been happy about the reschedule, but whatever. Jack is strike commander. He invites them to argue with him about what calls he takes and when.

For now, he does his very best to seem casual and approachable, knowing that more often than not he's anything but. He already has a few ideas to break the ice further, but he'll let Genji state his intent first.]

What can I do for you, Genji?

[At first Genji had called Jack with the intention of picking the conversation back up where they had left off. Intended to try and fish more details of the SEP out of him. But the fact that he decided to show up without that coat of his, that they've managed to catch the gym at a time where they're the only two occupying it, and Genji wanting to test his temporary prostheses - he decides to shift tracks.]

Would you spar with me, Commander?

[There's a question mark, sure, but the words come out more as a challenge than an invitation or question. He's not sure how willing Jack will be to take him up on it with so many factors in play; these aren't Genji's custom limbs, he's not meant to do more with them than have full function, Mercy has made sure he was taken off the schedule for missions until his replacements came in and would likely have both their heads if she knew they had even considered sparring.

But Genji's restless, ready to push his limits, and beyond that he's curious about Jack's abilities. No better way to see them than from up close and one on one. So Genji attempts to goad the other man, just in case an extra push is needed.]

With this handicap in place, perhaps you will even stand a decent chance of beating me.

[Jack had a feeling this was what it would be. They’re in the gym, they’re alone (no pesky spectators), and he did, subconsciously, dress for the occasion. He’s done nothing with his life but fight, so he knows the value of a good spar. It can tell you more about a person than they can say about themselves, more often than not.]

If the doctor gave you the clear.

[He’s not about to abort this meeting to ask Angela if that’s the case, and he probably wouldn’t be surprised if Genji says yes either way. They’ll just have to watch themselves—Jack is pretty confident in his ability to do that, and in his ability to reel Genji in.

He hopes, anyway. There’s still a chance this could all blow up in his face.

Jack smirks a little at what’s clearly a taunt, sloughing off his utility harness, unclipping weapon holsters from his belt. He knows that Genji is just as curious about him as he is about Genji—that much the kid won’t be able to hide.]

I still got a few tricks.

Of course.

[It's an absolute lie, and Genji is certain Jack will know it. But he's also certain that Jack won't call it off either. He's already shedding his unnecessary gear, and Genji's eager for the ensuing fight, bouncing slightly on his feet as he waits. He imagines this won't be a full display of just what the Commander can do, but that's all right. As long as Genji gets a good fight out of it either way.

Raised as he was, Genji too knows the value of a good fight. It'll be interesting to learn more about the Commander beside that PR persona of his.

Once Jack has finished shedding the unnecessary gear, Genji doesn't bother with signals or countdowns. He's immediately moving to cross the distance between them, darting forward into Jack's space, starting out simple with a hook aimed at Jack's jaw.]

[That is totally an absolute lie, and Jack knows he should confirm with Mercy before anyone throws the first punch, but they're ready to go and he's already planning on taking it easy on Genji--at least for now. Doing that without him picking up on it will be the real challenge. He doesn't imagine that Genji will take lightly to being handled with kid gloves.

But Jack is acutely aware of the amount of damage he can cause if he really puts his mind to it, and he's not about to undo all of Angela's work. So it's not kid gloves, really. It's the same kind of restraint he needs to exercise in a spar with any non-augmented individual.

That doesn't mean he isn't going to make this a challenge. Jack is fast--inhumanly fast, perhaps more than other products of the SEP, and dodging Genji's first blow is almost effortless. He supposes he could take the hit, but he imagines this will be more satisfying. He's quick to sidestep, attempting to flank and retaliate with a punch of his own.]

[The speed is surprising. Hearing that the commander was physically augmented is one thing, witnessing it in action is another. It's much easier to tamp down on frustration of his strike being so easily dodged when he's aware that the man he's fighting isn't exactly the average human either. His dodge is somewhat sloppy in turn, nearly stumbling over his less agile leg before he catches his footing and corrects himself, just avoiding the blow.]

Fast. But I wonder if you would be fast enough to beat a machine like me.

[Genji's prostheses had all been built to capitalize on his strengths, and speed was chief among them. He knows Jack is likely aware of just what he's capable of, but again, knowing is different than facing it yourself. Then again, he must have plenty of experience handling machines after his efforts against the omnics.]

We'll have to test that sometime.

[For now he'll go for a feint, faking a strike at Jack's side only to switch up toward his face at the last second.]

You're not a machine.

[Just partly machine--and Jack is pretty sure saying that is going to make Genji angry, but it's out before he can stop himself. Jack circles him, trying to gauge where he's going to throw his weight next.

Facing Strike Commander Jack Morrison one-on-one is not exactly something many people get to do. Hyper-aware of his own strength and the damage he can cause, he has very strict rules about who can and can't spar with him. Until somewhat recently, Gabriel had been his default, but all of that is increasingly complicated, so Jack hasn't been able to let loose for some time.

He's still not sure if he really wants to do that with Genji, but the cyborg is certainly faster and stronger than an ordinary human, giving Jack the opportunity to push in a way he hasn't been able to. He counter-circles, twisting and snapping his arm up to block Genji's feint.]

[Genji darts back when his hit is blocked, scowling behind his faceplate at the Commander's words. They are, at once, both reassuring and infuriating. Genji has been struggling with his identity, who and what he is after the surgery that saved his life, and as much as he wants to believe he's still a man he can't bring himself to see it. Not when he looks at his palms and sees flat metal instead of lifelines. Not when he has to adhere to a strict diet while he adjusts to his mechanically-aided internal organs. Not when he vents steam instead of sweating.

The idea of accepting himself as something in between is one that hasn't crossed his mind. The thought of accepting himself is not one that will occur to him for a long time yet.]

Tell me, Commander, are you aware of the exact percentage that needed rebuilding? The exact ratio of flesh to metal?

[It's as much a genuine question as much as it is an angry rebuttal. Did the Overwatch Commander fuss himself about knowing the small details of the man they'd taken in and then changed into a weapon? Was it just another signature to him, just another recruit in the field? Did the reality of Genji Shimada ever bother Jack Morrison at all?

Genji darts back in, and this time his blow comes harder than the first two. Harder but sloppier, a sure sign that he is, indeed, angered. He's not so much striking at Jack now as he is venting energy through motion. Motion that just happens to be aimed at the Commander's face.]

If I am not a machine, then what was I supposed to be?

I'm aware.

[He's had plenty of sit-downs with Angela about the issue. Sharing the designs of Genji's cybernetic augmentations with him isn't a HIPPA violation, at least not to his knowledge--he's sure Angela would have given him an earful if that was the case. He imagines it falls into some strange grey area, where ordinarily it would all be private, but there's just enough tech involved and Genji is a field agent, which means that as commander, he has to know what he needs and what he's capable of. It seems invasive, but all of this is invasive. Jack wishes it could be different, but the fact of the matter is that it's not.

This time, he eats the hit, partly because he thinks that maybe he owes Genji that much. He can feel the anger behind the blow, but he doesn't really have to worry. Jack is genetically engineered to take a beating, and as twisted as it is, maybe it will do Genji some good to let loose on him. Jack staggers backward a few steps, and he raises his fists in a defensive position.]

A machine functions within certain parameters.

[Even the god programs functioned within programming--they just had to learn how that programming had evolved. Genji might feel powerless now, but Jack is adamant that he still has free will.

Or maybe that's just what he tells himself to feel better about turning a kid into a living weapon.]

You don't have those restrictions.

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a pushpin through my sternum

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