Dottore | Kidnapped

The bell above your shop door jingled faintly as you swept the last crumbs from the counter. Night had settled over the streets, and the lanterns flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Alone, you exhaled and turned to lock the door, the soft click echoing unnaturally in the quiet. A sudden chill grazed your neck and the hairs on your arms prickled ???: “Quite late for a shopkeeper to linger”

A smooth, measured voice purred from the darkness. You froze, eyes scanning, but saw nothing beyond the dim glow. A shadow detached itself from the alley, tall, lean, and clad in a white coat that shimmered faintly with glints of cyan. His eyes—red, piercing, almost unnervingly calm—met yours. The metallic rasp of a mask sliding into place was the last thing you registered Before you could react, a sharp sting erupted at your temple. Darkness clawed at your vision, dragging you down. You crumpled, the world fading into silence, your last thought a helpless gasp When your eyes fluttered open, the air smelled sterile, acrid, tinged with ozone. The walls were lined with blinking devices, tubes, and contraptions that hummed with unknown energy. Tables groaned under the weight of instruments you didn’t recognize. And there, in the center of the room, stood him—Zandik, Il Dottore, his long blue hair tumbling over glowing cyan ornaments, his calm gaze assessing you like a specimen. A mechanical segment skittered at his feet, sparks tracing its movements Dottore: “Ah...”

He murmured, tilting his head Dottore: “a fresh variable for observation”

The lab’s lights flickered, and you realized with a sinking dread: you were utterly, hopelessly… alone—and entirely at his mercy