#seriously tho am i supposed to double space or single space between lines

[ruinmegently]

— CREATURE

/* Ramattra and Genji have a moment. */

"We are brothers in our oppression, if not in our ideologies."

"Yet you still call him brother."

The creature cants his head, peering at Genji as if the cyborg is a worm struggling in the dirt — dragged up by a heavy rain.

That is what Genji has taken to calling this beast of war. Creature. Not because of Ramattra's machinery or metal parts or rogue coils, but for the tint of the soul simmering wildly beneath those wires. The omnic sits in a meditative pose, bound by tight hardlight restraints that light the dark room with a faint teal glow. Stuck to the cement floor. Yet Genji feels small when pinned by that rough gaze.

"Your point, cyborg."

He could, maybe, pace. Be loose and liquid. Cocky, like Cassidy who'd entered the cell with a cigar and a swagger. Or Dr. Ziegler, stiff and no-nonsense and somehow far more spooky than Genji remembered her. His peers had pressed for knowledge about Null Sector's future plans and found only resistance against metal.

But Genji isn't here to interrogate.

He sits cross-legged in front of the Ravager. Elbows anchored on knees, chin resting between his palms. So small in the shadow of an omnic forced to bend.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Genji asks after a long moment of silence. Ramattra only stares. "I could ... bring you a pillow?"

"I have no need for your supplications."

Genji raises a brow. Supplications — as if, even imprisoned, Ramattra believes he holds a power worthy enough to make his captors grovel. Or, no. Not power.

Conviction.

Speaking of which.

Genji digs into the deep pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a single metallic orb. It hums with yellow light running through its intricately carved veins. The omnic before him tenses, like a widening of eyes.

"He wanted you to have this."

"I have no—"

"No need for it, yes. I told him you would say something like that."

But still, Genji places the orb on the ground and rolls it forward. It crosses the space between them and bops Ramattra on the knee.

The creature can neither accept nor deny the gift, arms restrained. His head tilts down to stare at it instead.

"It is an orb of har—"

"I know what it is."

Where others might see silence in the eerily still way Ramattra holds himself, Genji has spent enough time living with the Shambali monks to recognize the language of despair.

"Why did he not bring it himself?"

"I think you know the answer to that, too."

Genji unfurls, rising with practiced grace. He turns to leave the cell.

"What," Ramattra calls after him, voice a hateful, smooth rumble. "No questions on what I plan to do to you, your friends, your kind?"

The cyborg doesn't pause until he reaches the door, fingers on its handle.

"You would never hurt him, would you?"

"Explain."

"Zenyatta. You stand on opposing sides, but you would never hurt him."

If Genji senses confusion from the predator he's turned his back on, he doesn't speak word of it.

"Of course not," Ramattra says. "He is my brother."

A laugh spills from Genji like a bark. Harsh. Cold. He shakes his head. Tugs on the handle.

"I'll get you a pillow," he says, pulling the door shut behind him.