[♥] There the Hero was, just as Mao said. Strapped to the table in his laboratory. His hands, his legs were shackled with metal restraints to prevent him from moving, and the dean stood over him, a scalpel in hand, drool dripping down his chin. He did say he'd perform a cruel vivisection once the Hero returned, and a demon never lies about cruelty.
"So, Fake Hero... any final requests?"
[♥] Not as though Mao would listen to them. And it wasn't until he had realized how vulnerable, how helpless the Hero was in his search on where to begin his incision, that he felt, strange. His panting grew more ragged, his glasses fogging over with the heat of his unsteady breath.
"Mmmnh, it's not everyday I see a Hero in such a position... especially not a Hero so... close, to me."
