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It had been a week… A long week of hell.
Everything had seemed to fall apart once the boys died.
This was the second time these clones had died and Rusty was having the hardest time adjusting..
He stood in the massive clone slug room under his laboratory.. Even now this room made him uncomfortable.
He was supposed to be getting a new bodyguard this week.. After Myra had lost her mind seeing the boys die and him trying to escape the compound and… Her… He was still a little too shaken and struggling to find himself caring.
These remakes of his boys were…
well they weren't his Henry or Dean.
Part of him resented them, hated them, but he needed them.
He hated the emptiness of not having two little boys around to torment him or just… cry, as the last pair had done.
The glow of the chambers illuminated the look of dread and remorse on his face, his long thinning hair draped around his shoulder and back...
So many copies of his boys..
None of them would ever be able to be quite his little boys.
He glanced up after a moment. Checking the clock.
His new bodyguard should be arriving soon.
He exhaled through his nose and turned to head out of the room.. These ugly little babies were just pale imitators of the real deal, much like him.
He slowly began to walk up the stairs and up to his lab.
Just like him.
A failure.. A façade of the larger than life God his father was.
He closed the door behind him, leaving the slugs to ferment in peace.
**************
He puffed up his chest a bit, seeing a vaguely familiar, blond man get out of a slick red car.
He wore a tight black t-shirt and bootcut jeans.
Jeeze, talk about no sense of style.
He would just have to fix that, now wouldn't he.
He stepped out of the Compound lobby, the glass door closing slowly behind him.
He trotted down the warm cement stairs to greet the man.
“so you're the new guy hunh?” he asked. Fixing the collar of his plaid dress shirt.
He stuck out a hand to him as soon as his feet met the landing.
He had to keep it professional, at least as long as he could anyway.. He had to make a good impression on the man.
Of course this man was a giant.. At least, now that he was up close to him.. He looked as though he could easily match his own father in terms of stature.
He was certainly impressive.. Built for power, not aesthetic..
The opposite of Jonas.
His outstretched hand was met with a thick folder of paperwork.
He stared for a moment, eyeing the documents.
“oh.. Right.. Legal crap.” he withdrew the folder against himself and nodded for the man to follow him inside.
He made it to the top of the stairs and peered over his shoulder, watching Brock bring out a big black duffel bag and drop it over his shoulder like it were a bag of groceries.
He was curious about what was inside, but he figured it best not to pry.
He pushed open the door, waiting for him to join Rusty at the door.
As soon as the blond man was inside, Rusty opened the folders and began to thumb through the papers.
“where am I staying?” the man asked, his voice deep, perfectly suited for that barrel chest of his.
“uh… I guess whichever room you want.” he offered him.
“I uh.. If you want you can go look around.. I have to figure this crap out.” Rusty murmured.
“just sign your name at the bottom and get this over with.” the man replied harshly.
Rusty felt his skin prickle and he ignored his words.
He flipped through the documents slowly until he got to the information describing him.
“Brock Samson hunh?” he asked, though the man was already on his way down the hall to go inspect the place, leaving Rusty there alone with his mugshot and OSI approved documentation.
“kayyyy...” he said to himself.
He folded the documents closed and went off after him.
He felt like a lost puppy running after him..
Brock's stride was far bigger than his own, like he was trying to keep pace with his father in the snow back when he was so much younger. Desperately trying to land his tiny feet in the man's snowy footprints.
He puffed, finally managing to catch up with him..
“so- uh.. Brock Samson?” he asked, sounding a little more formal than he had intended..
“I used to go to college with a guy named Brock.. “ he said, trying to start conversation.
The man glanced over to him, staring Rusty down as though the scrawny man had just attempted to kick a beloved pet.
Rusty groaned and folded his arms over his chest.
Nevermind then.
He walked with him through the cold quiet of the Compound.
He was never fond of the place.. Granted he had spent basically the most of his life here, but these walls knew so many dark and dirty secrets. His father's and his own.
He enjoyed his brief periods of escape… whether that be through substance or just… leaving the compound.
He was walking with Brock as the man explored the place, inspecting for places of potential entry, checking exits..
Silently getting a feel for the place.
They arrived at the rumpus room.. His father's mancave. The room where only his father's sins were kept.. Everywhere else was clean, or.. As clean as the venture family name could be.
He only went down here when he needed to.. There was an annoying layer of dust that had accumulated across nearly every surface..
“uh- there's a spare room down here if you like..” Rusty finally offered.
He nodded over to it, though Brock just glanced in the general direction.
“I've seen the blueprints.” was all Rusty got in response.
He went quiet and exhaled through his nose, speaking up to hide his tension of being down here.
“I- wait.. They have blueprints of the Compound?” he asked, genuinely not expecting this tidbit of information from the other man.
He watched as Brock turned and walked into the spare room and set his things down inside, closing the door behind him.
Well he was certainly a nice fellow.
Chatty.
Rusty sighed and rolled his eyes..
He returned upstairs to sort through all these new documents..