The man with the butterfly tattoo turned around, his piercing eyes locking onto Chance. "Chance," he said, his voice dripping with a sinister calm, "welcome. I've been expecting you for quite some time."
As the realization of his predicament sank in, Chance finally comprehended the significance of his bloodline and the intricate web of events that had led him to this moment. It was all part of the tattooed man's grand scheme.
"I'm dying, Chance," the man continued, his voice laced with a menacing undertone. "My family has been cursed, unable to live beyond forty years. I need your blood to survive. Only you can save me."
Chance's eyes narrowed with defiance. "Stop this madness. You've exploited our bloodline for centuries. You won't succeed."
The man smirked, his sinister expression deepening. "Very well, if you won't help me willingly, then give me the time machine's operating system. With it, I can achieve immortality and outlive this curse."
His words were followed by a dark, echoing laugh that filled the room with a sense of dread. The ominous sound reverberated off the cold, metallic walls, amplifying the atmosphere of menace.
Chance was outmatched and, despite his determination, was soon overpowered by the man's guards. He was pinned down, and two men in lab coats entered, carrying medical equipment. They swiftly administered an anesthetic, rendering Chance helpless.
As the anesthesia took effect, Chance felt his consciousness slipping away. He could barely register the sensation as they began to draw his blood, the red liquid filling bag after bag. When they had extracted 2000ml, the man with the butterfly tattoo finally spoke again.
"That's enough. Leave him alive; we might need him again."
Meanwhile, Lucy was struggling against a group of imposing guards. Despite her fierce attempts to free herself and help Chance, she was eventually subdued. Her eyes filled with desperation as she watched Chance being drained of his lifeblood.
The tattooed man then motioned to one of his aides, who began playing a video on a nearby monitor. Lucy's heart sank as she saw her brother on the screen, bound and gagged, his face streaked with blood from a fresh cut inflicted by a cold, gleaming knife.
"Let him go!" Lucy screamed, her voice echoing with a mix of fury and despair.
The man's cold smile widened. "You see, Lucy, you and Chance are both very valuable to us. Cooperate, and your brother might live to see another day."
The scene was a grotesque display of control and power. The butterfly tattooed man reveled in their helplessness, his plan moving forward with each calculated move. He had orchestrated every step, ensuring that Chance and Lucy had no choice but to comply with his demands.
Chance's vision dimmed and the room spun, he fought to stay conscious, to resist the overwhelming sense of defeat. His mind raced with thoughts of escape and revenge. He knew that despite this setback, he had to find a way to stop this man and end the cycle of exploitation that had plagued his lineage for centuries.
In the back of his mind, a plan began to form. He would need all his wits and the support of his allies, but he would not let this be the end. Chance vowed to turn the tide, to protect those he loved, and to bring down the malevolent forces that sought to control him.
As Chance's consciousness faded, the last thing he heard was the tattooed man's voice, dripping with malice, "Prepare him for the next phase. We have what we need for now, but our work is far from over."
The room buzzed with tension as the tattooed man watched his captives with satisfaction. He believed he had won, but Chance and Lucy, even in their current state, were far from defeated. They had endured too much, fought too hard to give up now.
When Chance finally regained consciousness, he found himself in a small, dimly lit cell. His head throbbed, and his body felt weak from the blood loss. He struggled to sit up, his eyes scanning the room for any means of escape. Across from him, Lucy was shackled to the wall, her eyes filled with both anger and determination.
"Chance," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "we need to get out of here. They won't stop until they drain every last drop of your blood."
Chance nodded, his mind already racing with plans. "I know, Lucy. We need to find a way to turn the tables on them. But first, we need to figure out where we are and how to contact our allies."
Just then, the door to their cell creaked open, and two guards stepped in, their faces masked with cold indifference. They roughly hauled Chance to his feet, their grips like iron clamps on his arms.
"It's time for another session," one of the guards sneered.
As they dragged Chance out of the cell, Lucy struggled against her restraints, shouting after him, "Stay strong, Chance! We'll find a way!"
Chance was led down a labyrinth of sterile, white corridors, each turn making him feel more disoriented. He was pushed into a room where the butterfly tattooed man awaited, along with the same medical team from before.
The man smiled coldly. "Ah, Chance, welcome back. Ready for another round?"
Chance glared at him, his voice filled with defiance. "You won't get away with this. My friends will find me, and when they do, you'll pay for everything you've done."
The man chuckled, unfazed. "Oh, I don't doubt your friends are resourceful. But by the time they find you, it will be too late. Now, let's continue."
As the medical team prepared the equipment, Chance's mind raced. He had to find a way to use the man's arrogance against him. He needed to buy time, to signal Lucy somehow, to disrupt their plans.
As they began drawing his blood again, Chance gritted his teeth against the pain and focused on the only thing that mattered: finding a way to escape and stop this madness once and for all.