Two days of watching an educational video on Alpha Complex was more than enough.
Perhaps he is a clone. Perhaps he's nothing more than the chemically manufactured offspring of a boy who had too many bad memories to carry around with him, and if Isaac is honest with himself, it's easy to believe, more he thinks about it. Why would he want to convince himself that he spent his life abused and abandoned, alone and scared? It's easier to project that onto the carrier his genes were taken from. Maybe that's the denial talking, or maybe it was the non-stop droning of Teela that broke him down. Either way, he believes it, even though the memories - glitches - make his chest feel tight and his stomach twist. They said it would pass. So it would pass.
That doesn't fix his mood, though. Two days of being reminded of who he was left Isaac exhausted and starving, which raises another question. If they make clones, why make them exact copies instead of advanced beings who didn't need trivial things like food and water? He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his head; inappropriate. He can't think those things. Thinking those things is dangerous. He can't be dangerous. Clones aren't dangerous.
He's practically dragging his feet as he moves through the cafeteria, having just been released from his 'reeducation', and Isaac is barely aware of the world around him until someone - something - pelts him hard in the side of the head, almost knocking him on his feet.
"Fu- what the hell?" He snaps angrily before turning to see his attacker, the anger in his expression melting away into confusion when no one stood before the Bouncy Bubble Beverage machine. He almost turns to look around before he sees another bottle rocket out of it with speed that would almost be impressive if it wasn't absolutely ridiculous, and it happens so fast that he doesn't have time to dodge before it hits him squarely in the chest. "Fuck!" It slips this time in both shock and irritation, hand moving to his chest as he stares at the vending machine in disbelief. "Hey, is anybody going to fix this thing?" He sure as hell can't, so he yells it at the cafeteria as a whole, turning around to move away before- another bottle hits him in the back of the head. His jaw tightens with indignation. Clones aren't dangerous.
Clones aren't dangerous. But vending machines are assholes.
With a mixture of his already short temper and the exhaustion set in him within the past two days, Isaac spins and bends down to scoop up a discarded bottle on the ground and, without thought or reason, throws it as hard as he can back at the vending machine. It spits out another, as if mocking his effort, and Isaac dodges before picking up another and throwing that one too. If his first fight in the 'free world' is with a vending machine, then he supposes he's already doing better than his predecessor was. Besides. The machine started it.
Isaac Lahey | Teen Wolf
Perhaps he is a clone. Perhaps he's nothing more than the chemically manufactured offspring of a boy who had too many bad memories to carry around with him, and if Isaac is honest with himself, it's easy to believe, more he thinks about it. Why would he want to convince himself that he spent his life abused and abandoned, alone and scared? It's easier to project that onto the carrier his genes were taken from. Maybe that's the denial talking, or maybe it was the non-stop droning of Teela that broke him down. Either way, he believes it, even though the memories - glitches - make his chest feel tight and his stomach twist. They said it would pass. So it would pass.
That doesn't fix his mood, though. Two days of being reminded of who he was left Isaac exhausted and starving, which raises another question. If they make clones, why make them exact copies instead of advanced beings who didn't need trivial things like food and water? He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his head; inappropriate. He can't think those things. Thinking those things is dangerous. He can't be dangerous. Clones aren't dangerous.
He's practically dragging his feet as he moves through the cafeteria, having just been released from his 'reeducation', and Isaac is barely aware of the world around him until someone - something - pelts him hard in the side of the head, almost knocking him on his feet.
"Fu- what the hell?" He snaps angrily before turning to see his attacker, the anger in his expression melting away into confusion when no one stood before the Bouncy Bubble Beverage machine. He almost turns to look around before he sees another bottle rocket out of it with speed that would almost be impressive if it wasn't absolutely ridiculous, and it happens so fast that he doesn't have time to dodge before it hits him squarely in the chest. "Fuck!" It slips this time in both shock and irritation, hand moving to his chest as he stares at the vending machine in disbelief. "Hey, is anybody going to fix this thing?" He sure as hell can't, so he yells it at the cafeteria as a whole, turning around to move away before- another bottle hits him in the back of the head. His jaw tightens with indignation. Clones aren't dangerous.
Clones aren't dangerous. But vending machines are assholes.
With a mixture of his already short temper and the exhaustion set in him within the past two days, Isaac spins and bends down to scoop up a discarded bottle on the ground and, without thought or reason, throws it as hard as he can back at the vending machine. It spits out another, as if mocking his effort, and Isaac dodges before picking up another and throwing that one too. If his first fight in the 'free world' is with a vending machine, then he supposes he's already doing better than his predecessor was. Besides. The machine started it.