Shit. Jr. had to act. They'd be escaping soon and he didn't want to die, but he didn't want to kill, either. He moved toward his brother, aiming a careful shot to his leg. And down he went, crumpling as he fell to wrap his arms around his leg. Jr. picked up the weapon the U.R.T.V. had run for, and threw it at far away as he could, which was pretty far from what one would expect of a boy, away from the group and the fighting. At least this way he could buy enough time.

He put his hopes into this merciful action. His hopes that things would end differently this time. That the standard units that remained, as few as there were at the moment, could find some sort of reason beyond this, as they were never able to do in the past. He knelt down next to the U.R.T.V.

"Even if I am different like this," he said, giving a small emphasis with his mental waves, "that means you're different from me, too." He looked over his shoulder at the mayhem - blood and gunshots and explosions. This would all be over soon. "Don't focus on how we're all different." Jr. stood up, hoping. Hoping so much that his words wouldn't go dismissed. "Try to look at how everyone's not so different!"

He didn't wait for an answer, time was too short to speak any longer - the others were headed toward the teleporter. "Make it out of this alive ... and remember that." And then Jr. turned and left, running back into and through the fighting.