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Description
Chapter 25

A bloody corpse lies on the floor. The neck was skilfully sliced through the bone. A man can be heard crying in the distance.

(It's cold here.)

(What is this place?)

I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining down on me. A shadow walked up, shading me from the light. "Wer bist du und was so möchten Sie*?" I snapped.

"So, you're finally awake?" A harsh voice snapped back at me.

"Fräulein, I'll have you know that I do not appreciate being tied up like this. You will let me go now or suffer the consequences."

"Yeah, whatever. That was what I was coming to do anyway," the girl said as she pressed a button, releasing my wrists and ankles.

"Danke. Now, why exactly did you keep me here?" I asked.

"I'm not the one who kept you here. Ivan's the one who did. He just needed to get you here to get your DNA-stuff and make that clone over there," the girl pointed with her thumb over to a set of tubes, flipping her pig-tail in the process. Turning my attention to the tubes I spotted four young girls and a boy inside. A two blondes, a brunette, a red-head, and one with jet-black hair. I slid of the dentist-like chair and slowly walked up to the tubes. By the teens were men that looked very similar to each of the teens. This time, three blonds, a darker brunette, and one with slightly lighter jet-black hair. I rested my hand on the young, short-blonde-haired girl's tube. I could see my reflection in the glass. Dirty-blonde hair tied back in a short pony-tail, magenta eyes that reflected no light, and a brown and black uniform from many years ago. To top it off, a Maltese Cross was hanging from a chain on my neck. I smirked at the sight. "Heh, nicht schelct."

"Hey, you're gonna have to speak American, bro. Nobody can understand you when you speak that kraut language," a new voice came into the room. It belonged to a man with maroon-coloured hair and sunglasses.

"Ja? Who's going to stop me?" I stood tall.

"Don't listen to him, mädchen." Another new voice. This one was deeper and had a thick accent.

"Ja, ja, was auch immer*," I growled.

"Was ist es, fäulein? Got a stick up your ass?" the same voice asked.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand your strange language. Sprechen sie Deutsch?" I refused to look at the man.

"Ich spreche."

"Dann sprechen Sie es*!" I snapped my head around, only to have my nose meet with his and our eyes make direct contact. Purple-pink eyes stared into mine. After a short time, he smirked. "Oh, hell no," I pushed him away.

"What?" he asked, still smirked.

"Don't smirk at me."

"What? This?" he smirked wider. "My name is Siegfried. Some people call me Lutz. You can call me Ziggy!"

"Ja, nein. I will call you what I want."

"As long as we're introducing ourselves, I'm Alex F. Jones, but lots people call me Allen," the man with the maroon hair said enthusiastically.

"I'm Roxy Musiker! Don't question my last name, 'kay?" the girl with pig-tails shouted from across the room. "There's a girl with white hair in a ponytail in another room with some guy with pink hair. The girl's Tilly Clark and the guy's Oliver Kirkland. Some people actually call him Arthur by accident, but he doesn't care."

"Viktor Braginski is the main guy around here. He's got a little girl named Viktoriya Sokolov that, like, does his bidding for him or something. That's pretty much everyone here," Allen pointed out.

"You forgot a few, dumb American."

"Okay, now who is that?" I asked under my breath.

"Hello. I am Honda Koro. You will call me Koro," a short man walked in bearing a long-dark coloured cape. He resembled the black-haired man in one of the tubes, but with slightly darker hair and a black uniform. His eyes glowed a menacing red.

"Oh, sorry, Koro. I keep forgetting you're here," Allen 'apologized.'

"Hai, hai. You also forgot about Misao and even your own apprentice, Daniel!" Koro whipped his hand behind him, making his cape fly in the process, revealing a girl with shoulder-length black hair with a red headband, black and red kimono-esk, samurai-like jacket that barely covered her shoulders, tight, black, skinny jeans, and in her hands was a copy of Gathering Promises by Delores Leggett Walker*. Next to her was a boy with reddish-blond, poorly cut hair. His eyes were closed, and he was covered head-to-toe in black, padded, clothing. He looked terrified.

"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" I asked quietly, walking up to him.

"He doesn't talk, Malin." Yet another voice.

I looked up to see a man in a red and black uniform, accented with gold and white. His hair was similar to mine, dirt blond and tied back in a ponytail. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and underneath his uniform, I could just barely make out what looked like bandages. He looked very familiar, like I've seen him before, but not in a long time. Several months. Maybe a year. "Ja? Who says?"

"Me. I know he doesn't. I've been here longer than any of you. I know he doesn't talk," this man said.

"Mattie! What are you doing back from Ontario?" Oliver ran into the room and jumped on the man.

"Dad! Get off!" 'Mattie's' glasses fell off, revealing his purple-magenta orbs. They looked stressed and you could see they were red.

"Not until I get my hug time!"

"Get. Off. Now. Dad."

"What's the magic word?" Oliver grinned.

"Fuck off!"

"No, no, no. That's not it! I'll give you a hint; it starts with the letter 'P'!"

"Piss off?"

"Pleeeeeee-"

"NO!"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaa"

"NON!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssss"

"FINE! Please! Get off!" the man shouted.

"Okay!" Oliver happily jumped off 'Mattie's' back, then looked my way. "Oh! 'Ello, love! I'm Oliver! That's Matthieu," he said, pointing the blond-haired man behind him. "I assume you know everyone else."

Ja, how wonderful to met all you strange people, I thought sarcastically. Oh, how fun this will be...

Description
Chapter 25

A bloody corpse lies on the floor. The neck was skilfully sliced through the bone. A man can be heard crying in the distance.

(It's cold here.)

(What is this place?)

I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining down on me. A shadow walked up, shading me from the light. "Wer bist du und was so möchten Sie*?" I snapped.

"So, you're finally awake?" A harsh voice snapped back at me.

"Fräulein, I'll have you know that I do not appreciate being tied up like this. You will let me go now or suffer the consequences."

"Yeah, whatever. That was what I was coming to do anyway," the girl said as she pressed a button, releasing my wrists and ankles.

"Danke. Now, why exactly did you keep me here?" I asked.

"I'm not the one who kept you here. Ivan's the one who did. He just needed to get you here to get your DNA-stuff and make that clone over there," the girl pointed with her thumb over to a set of tubes, flipping her pig-tail in the process. Turning my attention to the tubes I spotted four young girls and a boy inside. A two blondes, a brunette, a red-head, and one with jet-black hair. I slid of the dentist-like chair and slowly walked up to the tubes. By the teens were men that looked very similar to each of the teens. This time, three blonds, a darker brunette, and one with slightly lighter jet-black hair. I rested my hand on the young, short-blonde-haired girl's tube. I could see my reflection in the glass. Dirty-blonde hair tied back in a short pony-tail, magenta eyes that reflected no light, and a brown and black uniform from many years ago. To top it off, a Maltese Cross was hanging from a chain on my neck. I smirked at the sight. "Heh, nicht schelct."

"Hey, you're gonna have to speak American, bro. Nobody can understand you when you speak that kraut language," a new voice came into the room. It belonged to a man with maroon-coloured hair and sunglasses.

"Ja? Who's going to stop me?" I stood tall.

"Don't listen to him, mädchen." Another new voice. This one was deeper and had a thick accent.

"Ja, ja, was auch immer*," I growled.

"Was ist es, fäulein? Got a stick up your ass?" the same voice asked.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand your strange language. Sprechen sie Deutsch?" I refused to look at the man.

"Ich spreche."

"Dann sprechen Sie es*!" I snapped my head around, only to have my nose meet with his and our eyes make direct contact. Purple-pink eyes stared into mine. After a short time, he smirked. "Oh, hell no," I pushed him away.

"What?" he asked, still smirked.

"Don't smirk at me."

"What? This?" he smirked wider. "My name is Siegfried. Some people call me Lutz. You can call me Ziggy!"

"Ja, nein. I will call you what I want."

"As long as we're introducing ourselves, I'm Alex F. Jones, but lots people call me Allen," the man with the maroon hair said enthusiastically.

"I'm Roxy Musiker! Don't question my last name, 'kay?" the girl with pig-tails shouted from across the room. "There's a girl with white hair in a ponytail in another room with some guy with pink hair. The girl's Tilly Clark and the guy's Oliver Kirkland. Some people actually call him Arthur by accident, but he doesn't care."

"Viktor Braginski is the main guy around here. He's got a little girl named Viktoriya Sokolov that, like, does his bidding for him or something. That's pretty much everyone here," Allen pointed out.

"You forgot a few, dumb American."

"Okay, now who is that?" I asked under my breath.

"Hello. I am Honda Koro. You will call me Koro," a short man walked in bearing a long-dark coloured cape. He resembled the black-haired man in one of the tubes, but with slightly darker hair and a black uniform. His eyes glowed a menacing red.

"Oh, sorry, Koro. I keep forgetting you're here," Allen 'apologized.'

"Hai, hai. You also forgot about Misao and even your own apprentice, Daniel!" Koro whipped his hand behind him, making his cape fly in the process, revealing a girl with shoulder-length black hair with a red headband, black and red kimono-esk, samurai-like jacket that barely covered her shoulders, tight, black, skinny jeans, and in her hands was a copy of Gathering Promises by Delores Leggett Walker*. Next to her was a boy with reddish-blond, poorly cut hair. His eyes were closed, and he was covered head-to-toe in black, padded, clothing. He looked terrified.

"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" I asked quietly, walking up to him.

"He doesn't talk, Malin." Yet another voice.

I looked up to see a man in a red and black uniform, accented with gold and white. His hair was similar to mine, dirt blond and tied back in a ponytail. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and underneath his uniform, I could just barely make out what looked like bandages. He looked very familiar, like I've seen him before, but not in a long time. Several months. Maybe a year. "Ja? Who says?"

"Me. I know he doesn't. I've been here longer than any of you. I know he doesn't talk," this man said.

"Mattie! What are you doing back from Ontario?" Oliver ran into the room and jumped on the man.

"Dad! Get off!" 'Mattie's' glasses fell off, revealing his purple-magenta orbs. They looked stressed and you could see they were red.

"Not until I get my hug time!"

"Get. Off. Now. Dad."

"What's the magic word?" Oliver grinned.

"Fuck off!"

"No, no, no. That's not it! I'll give you a hint; it starts with the letter 'P'!"

"Piss off?"

"Pleeeeeee-"

"NO!"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaa"

"NON!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssss"

"FINE! Please! Get off!" the man shouted.

"Okay!" Oliver happily jumped off 'Mattie's' back, then looked my way. "Oh! 'Ello, love! I'm Oliver! That's Matthieu," he said, pointing the blond-haired man behind him. "I assume you know everyone else."

Ja, how wonderful to met all you strange people, I thought sarcastically. Oh, how fun this will be...