Chapter Text
Doctor Kuseno was closing down the lab for the evening when his emergency phone rang, alerting him to the very real possibility of a long night ahead. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to use it- Genos was usually able to limp his way to the lab, or summon the drones to collect him. Only one other person had that number, and Kuseno was fairly certain that Saitama had forgotten it. Yet here he was on the other end, frantically babbling as he ran. Kuseno waited patiently by the gate until he arrived, predictably carrying a twisted humanoid form.
“Help him!” Saitama gasped, unloading the contents of his arms onto the work table. “It’s not. It’s not. Him. But...”
He’d never seen Saitama visibly upset, no matter how many pieces he’d carried Genos in to the lab. It took a moment to understand what he meant. He was too focused on the damaged core, exposed by dented metal that had been pulled away from the chest. There were finger shaped dents along the edges. Saitama must have pried the armor and casing away from the core after impact, which had likely saved it from overheating and burning out.
Once he’d stabilized the power of the core, he was able to take in the rest of the picture before him. The hair was inky black, and the lens in the unfocused open eye was blood red, but there was no mistaking the face of the cyborg he’d come to think of as his own son. Nor could his own craftsmanship be denied- but this was not a model of Genos that he had ever made. It was unsettling, as the differences were merely cosmetic- dark hair and long eyelashes that brushed against his cheek; sleek, curved hips, a silver collar. He’d always let Genos dictate his personal appearance, so that he would feel like a person and not a machine. This was especially important for the psychological health and development of a teenage mind, and some of his ideas had stretched Kuseno’s artistic nature to its limit... though this Genos seemed to be especially flamboyant. Perhaps he was merely going through a phase, if what remained intact of his clothing was any indication.
Never mind that. He spread the cyborg’s limbs across the table, and calmly hooked him up to the diagnostic cables. The system was rebooting and crashing, but the brain was active, and likely in a state of panic. He administered a hypnotic not strong enough to make him lose consciousness, but enough to lull any anxiety. “There, there, son.” he murmured, before finally turning to face Saitama, who was frowning down at the table. “So who is this?”
“Er. An evil clone, I guess.” Saitama’s eyes were on the cyborg, conflicting emotions clouding his usually blank expression. He rubbed a palm against his temple. “They came through a portal from another world or something. Another me, and another Genos. They started wrecking things, so we went to stop them...”
“Ah.” said Kuseno, noting the tattered state of Saitama’s costume, the bruises and cuts that he’d never seen mar his skin. “So what then?” A spare core, another chest plate. Wiring loose on the right arm, torn at the wrist. Really, it looked worse than it was. He could do this much in his sleep.
“Genos. He.. he pushed the other me back, into the portal. And I lost him.” Saitama’s voice caught, and he looked away, drawing in a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can get him back.” something akin to panic was strangling his voice, and Kuseno stopped what he was doing to pat him on the shoulder. “I... I’m sorry. I...” He saw guilt in Saitama’s eyes; fear and outright misery.
“Saitama. Sit. We will approach this in a logical manner, and we won’t fail. Now, tell me about this portal.”
Saitama nodded, and sunk down to the floor, swallowing a sob. It wasn’t like him, not at all, and that worried Kuseno almost as much as the whereabouts and safety of Genos.
---
Genos came back to consciousness to the sight of error messages flashing across his eye lens. Red light flashed, indicating his core.
Core damage: 67% power remaining. Power off non essential programs? y/n
scanning scanning lower left quadrant damage
Detected: left foot 503 cm nw
Powering down non essential weapons
C455 error V23 scanning
41% power remaining. Power off non essential programs? y/n
It was quiet. Did that mean that he’d succeeded in driving back the other two? It had been difficult to face off against a version of himself, which would have made him feel oddly proud if he hadn’t been so worried. The other Saitama was only interested in Saitama-sensei, and the two of them were doing more than sparring. As soon as one or the other discovered that it was possible to draw blood, the metaphorical gloves came off. They were doing real damage to one another, and Genos knew that he had to end it quickly. He’d goaded his double and the other Saitama between himself and the portal, and fired with just short of all that he had. Unfortunately, the other Genos seemed to have a similar plan in mind. He didn’t remember much after that.
Beneath the bright scrolling text of errors, he registered a red boot by his face.
“S...sensei...” he gasped.
“Oi. Blondie. You alive?” the toe of the boot tapped his cheek.
Genos felt a sensation akin to the blood draining from his face. He struggled to move, but managed only a shudder.
“‘Sensei’, huh? I like that. Come on, brat.” Genos was lifted like a sack of potatoes, and thrown over the other man’s shoulder. He frantically scanned the area, but sensed no other life forms.