"Oh..." A breath more than a word, carrying all the horror and sympathy that well up within Albert at the sight of Sam's pupils opening like lenses. No, not like lenses, they are lenses. The same as Jet, and he can imagine what Sam is seeing, the readouts and information suddenly winking to life across his vision. He sees it too, with his powers active.

Sam's hand is on his shoulder and Albert's hand moves to mirror it, taking a firm grip on his brother's opposite shoulder in support. "It's disorienting, but you'll get used to it."

He hates to say that, knows that his own response if told that when he'd first been remodeled would have been that he doesn't want to get used to it, doesn't want to be this inhuman thing they'd made of him that can't see or feel or function like a normal human being. He understands every little thought that might have crossed Sam's mind, the hatred for what was done, the potential inherent in the modifications and the self-loathing that comes with even the slightest acknowledgement that there could be some good in it.

Albert realizes too that this is what they're doing to Jet, this is why he's drugged and ragged. They'd studied him, reverse engineered Gilmore's work and tacked it into Sam, and Albert can't help but feel responsible on some level for the continued suffering they keep in the world as Zero Zero Number cyborgs simply by existing.

"I'll help you. You're not alone, Sam. I promise you, I'll help you."