[First there's a brief flash of video feed, of a face caked in pale camouflage paint (to match the light snow coating the foliage around him) and bristly with stubbly beard hair, partly obscured by a wide green bandanna and a plain black eyepatch. Then the image blacks out to sound-only, but it reappears a few seconds later. It's clear that he's
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[Liquid's face is the very picture of rage and hatred.]
You!
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...Got a problem?
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[He knows those sperm don't work.]
Nope, I don't recognize you at all.
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[Aside from the fact that Liquid kept his hair blond and didn't have facial hair, he and Big Boss had uncannily similar features, being clones and all.]
[And every time Liquid looked into the mirror, it was his father's face that he saw staring back at him.]
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I am one of two clones created in 1972 from your DNA during a project called Les Enfants Terribles. The purpose of this little genetic experiment was to ensure that the genes that made the perfect soldier were passed on to his offspring. One of the clones was given your dominant genes so as to be perfect; the other was created from the leftovers of this process.
I was born from the refuse of your perfection, but deny it as you may, I am of your blood!
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[He frowns deeper, going quiet for a moment. Then holds the screen closer and squints at Liquid with his one eye, studying the shape of his face.]
You've got to be kidding--...
[He's right, though. He does look undeniably similar, now that he's looking for it... He's not sure what to believe, but the story's starting to match up a little too well.]
You're telling me I'm cloned in 1972? Who the hell would do that?
[But he already suspects. The man's words echo Para-Medic's from a casual conversation a couple weeks ago. He didn't think to take her that seriously...]
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[Exactly who had pushed the project through was too classified for Liquid to know about.]
It's no joke, Father. [He didn't even try to hide the hatred in that one word.]
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[He turns from the camera, and his voice goes cold.]
...So in 1972 I'll be used to make mass-produced human beings like you.
Hrrnhhh...
Just two, or are they going to make more?
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[His voice lowers tensely. He's fairly upset about all this.]
It should never have to be repeated. Genes don't control fate.
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['You're not my son.']
Our genes control everything about us, Father. Our abilities, our strengths, our weaknesses. If one was made with inferior genes, one will be inferior.
You told me that.
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You might have my characteristics, but whatever you do with them isn't my choice. If it's not yours, it's the government's. Maybe they did it to get the same results I made, but if I could go back in time nothing would be the same.
I don't know what happens to me in the future, but I would never want someone else to do the same things I've done. The decision to replicate me should never have happened.
I don't want to be Big Boss, and neither should you.
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[The government would do as it pleased; men like Liquid and his father were just their tools.]
I don't want your title. I just want to prove you wrong, Father.
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[Flatly:] How do you plan to do that.
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