PHOENIX. [sequel to 067]

03. blood.

   "i'll have to look into it," dottore says to the man as his eyes seemed to be fixated onto you. watching you drink the blood, that's suppose to be entering your blood stream, as if you've never had tasted it before in your life.

the blood relaxed your body with ease. in moments you could feel your muscles being less stiff and death ridden. you can most likely even move your limbs more freely now, if you wanted. though, it's hard to tell what you truly wanted. your brain's still trying desperately to wrap itself around all that's happening, or has happened.

you remember dying. you remember how the cold metal felt against your delicate skin. how it felt as it sliced against your tissues, veins, and muscles. how it felt as it killed you.

you remember the way your blood squirted everywhere in that moment. the way it dripped and continued to flow with ease. as if your body didn't care that you were dying, didn't care enough to prevent the bleeding. not like it could do much, you had cut into an artery directly. you remember that.

despite your brain overworking itself to try and understand, you moved your arm back to where it had been resting before. you could feel the skin on your thigh slowly sticking together. the fibers in your muscle rebinding with one another. it stings as it happens, yet, it feels refreshing. like the wound it's healing never existed.

  "i thought you said it had nothing to do with the blood in take?" pierro questions as his hand rubs over the spot your body just healed. you could feel yourself tensing under his touch which didn't go unnoticed from dottore.

  "don't touch my subject," he states as his voice harshes out at the sight before him, "and it doesn't. there's more to it, like everything else. don't you have a meeting to go to?"

  "i do, about this very thing," pierro responds while withholding his hand from your thigh, "they want the two of you to appear too, however."

  "i doubt he can stand, let alone walk."

  "he moved his arm fine, give him more blood."

   "i don't have an endless supply of blood."

   "you have clones."

   "are you suggesting i kill my own creations for this man?"

   "not suggesting, ordering."

small grumbles left dottore's mouth as he shut up. you could see his fists balling up out of the corner of your eyes, before he relaxes them with a few long breaths. clones.

he has clones? your mind couldn't wrap itself around the idea of them. were they like carbon copies of dottore? or is it different? like they're their own people?

the more you thought about it, the more things started to connect together piece by piece. you started to remember certain things - specifically about the clones. there was one, zandice, who had been particularly close with you then disappeared one day. or was that someone else ...? the clone had shorter hair, a different personality (from the looks of it) than dottore, and less scars. he was more prone to anger than others, yet, gave you special things. the clones are their own people.

maybe that was someone else. there were two clones you knew, were there not? zandice and ... some other one. you couldn't quite grasp at a name or what they've done, just that they existed.

the restraints on your arms slowly fell apart from each other, with a loud banging sound. the cold metal slammed against the metal table, causing your eyes to shift in that direction.

they were being ... taken off of you. you watch as dottore made his way down your body, taking off every restraint gently. they weren't around your limbs tightly, just enough to where you wouldn't move.

as he moved across your body, he got to your head. you could feel his hand around the sides of your skull as he pulled something off with a loud pop. he quickly tossed it aside, after ruffling your hair with his hand.

each restraint had been taken off of your body, granting you the privilege of seeing your surroundings. you could see everything on the tables, the walls, on the floor. .. you could also see that you were practically naked on the table. only a small cloth was placed over your crotch, lazily.

a harsh blush spread itself quickly to your cheeks once you noticed. that explains why it felt so cold.

dottore's eyes flick over to yours and a small smile appears on his face, "still blushy, i see."

   "i don't wish to know. get him clothed and then hurry up," pierro demands before exiting the room through the door. his exit was a harsh and quite rude, as he had slammed the door shut behind him. small things on the walls shook as he did, some small trinkets even fell.

    "fucking cunt," dottore spits out the moment pierro leaves the room. then his attention shifts to you, "i doubt you remember anything. why are you here?"

you parted your lips to speak, unsure of how to phrase the words exactly,

"i.. died?"