*
Several minutes earlier, the man with white hair and crimson eyes was standing beside a desk. On the other side of the desk was his esteemed Father, for whom he would perform any action, no matter how brutal or sickening. He owed his life to his Father, and would destroy anything that threatened him.
“My Son,” said the man, in tones weighted by age, “It seems as though our guests have arrived.” The man with crimson eyes looked up, eagerness shining in his blood-red pupils.
“Does this mean that She has returned?” he asked, with a maniacal glee.
The old man behind the desk took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, She has returned to us, at long last. I did not anticipate her returning with company, but their stay here will be short-lived. If you would be so kind, could you go down to the gestation chamber and fetch them for me. If they resist... you may use force. But I would prefer it if 971 was left mostly intact.”
The man with crimson eyes smiled a wolfish smile. He was beginning to hope that the intruders would resist him, so that he could use force. He had grown so bored, waiting for Her return. Hopefully, Father would let him fight her one more time, before she was analysed. She was the perfect play-mate, one who could take any punishment, and still remain conscious.
“Yes, Father. It shall be done.” He left the room with a wide, unnerving smile on his face. His crimson eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit corridor outside the study, as he began to think of all of the things he would do if they resisted. “Please, please, let them not come quietly,” he thought, as he grew closer to 971, and her disposable companions.
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