Hieronymus was woken by ice-cold water being thrown in his face. “You!” he growled with venom. “Oh come on,” said his clone, “I woke you up for breakfast. I can’t have you starve. It will be less fun. Incidentally, I thought that you’d like to know that your wife is still a lot of fun.”
“I’m going to kill you, make you part of a flesh golem and then kill you again!” yelled Hieronymus. “Well if you’re not hungry,” said the clone, “I suppose that we can get straight to work.” He flashed a deadly grin at those words.
Hieronymus had the limits of his body thoroughly tested that day. He was stretched on the rack, spun in the centrifuge, held under cold water and subjected to many more procedures. “Come on,” said his clone as he bent his joints in directions that they were never meant to go, “it’s not so bad. I’ve still got plenty of healing potions for if things go a little too far.” Hieronymus hated this creation of his, but he couldn’t help feeling proud of it. He had created such a magnificent being. He was highly creative and these experiments were ingenious. He even found himself admiring his audaciousness and tenacity. If he was a fellow scientist, he would have considered him a worthy rival, even a potential partner. This was someone whom he’d be glad to ask for ideas. However, for now, Hieronymus had to concentrate on survival and escape, no matter how much he found himself enjoying his imprisonment.