DOCTOR

"Wake up" whispered an eerie voice at the back of Jeremiah's mind.

"Huh?! Who said that?!" Jeremiah asked internally, feeling like he was surrounded by multiple entities.

"Food. We can sense food, delicious food and it is so close. So close that we can just reach out and grab it. Our hunger rises. Now, WAKE UP AND FEED US!"

Jeremiah gasped as he regained consciousness and opened his eyes.

He panted.

'What was that?! What was that scary voice and presence I just felt—?' He thought but paused when he realized something.

"Wait. Why is everywhere so dark?" He asked himself, being confused for a second about whether his eyes were still closed or not, but, it was his body, so he knew for a fact that they were indeed open.

If that was the case, then the only thing that made sense as to why he couldn't see anything was that wherever he was lacked any light source. However, just as he thought that, he felt something covering his head.

"What's this on my head? Wait, is this why everywhere appears so dark?" Jeremiah tried to take the sack off his head, but to his surprise, his arms were cuffed behind his back.

He grimaced.

"Are my arms handcuffed? But why?" Jeremiah asked himself, wondering why he was still handcuffed when he had already been taken to his cell and for that to happen he had to have been released from his cuffs.

Speaking about his cell. Wasn't he in his cell anymore?

Now that Jeremiah thought about it, how did he get to wherever he was that required him having his head covered with something that blocked his vision?

He tried to remember what happened that led to his current situation and that was when he flashed back to his encounter with his cellmate and how everything went crazy.

He remembered his cellmate holding his hands, chanting something, and seeing what could only be dark spirits circling both of them.

The images made no sense because dark spirits weren't supposed to be real, right?

Jeremiah shook his head and discarded further thoughts on the topic. What was more important was getting whatever was covering his vision off his head and finding out where he was.

He went back to assessing his situation and he realized that he was sitting on the floor.

That prevented him from moving his cuffed arms under his legs and taking them to his front and, since he wasn't flexible enough, he couldn't comfort his shoulder joints to take his arms to his front from over his head.

"Whatever. Let me try and get it off this way", Jeremiah said, then lowered his torso and started shaking his head aggressively.

He wanted to get the sack off his head without using his hands since he couldn't, but then…

"You're awake. That's good" said a calm and deep voice.

Jeremiah froze.

He was surprised because, from the moment he regained consciousness, he didn't hear any noise that would make him think that someone else was there with him.

Their voice was unfamiliar and Jeremiah quickly became worried about their intentions with him. Were they the one who brought him to wherever he was and covered his head?

That seemed to be the case, so why? What did they want with him?

"Who said that?! Who's there?! Are you the one who put this stuff over my head?!" Jeremiah asked as he heard their footsteps getting closer.

"My apologies. I asked them to disguise your face so that if, for any reason, there was a mistake during the emancipation, your identity wouldn't be seen."

Jeremiah frowned.

Who are these "they" that this person was talking about? He wondered but kept his questions to himself.

"Please, allow me to take that thing off your head, so we can speak face to face," the man said, then took the sack off Jeremiah's head.

Jeremiah squinted when the light suddenly invaded his eyes.

Like he thought, the sack was what was making everywhere dark.

"My apologies. It'll take some time for your vision to adjust to the light, but you'll be fine, doctor"

"Huh?" Jeremiah paused.

'Doctor? Wait, did I just hear wrong or did this guy just call me a doctor?' He asked himself and just in time, his vision adjusted to the light.

Jeremiah looked at the man who had taken the sack off his head and saw that it was a distinguished-looking gentleman in his early sixties, wearing a black suit, and on his head was a full head of slick back grey hair.

The man saw the confused expression Jeremiah had and he smiled.

"Pardon my delay in initiating our introduction, but first, allow me to release your arms from their shackles," he said, then gestured to the side.

Jeremiah looked in the direction the aged gentleman had just gestured in, and he saw a big, tall, and muscular man in a suit walking toward him.

Jeremiah got scared and panicked, yelling "Wait, wait, wait! Don't hurt— huh?"

To Jeremiah's surprise, the muscular man reached into his suit's inner pocket, took out a key, and then went behind him to unlock the handcuffs.

Jeremiah took his arms forward, rubbing his emancipated wrists, and was looking confused about what was going on.

"That feels better doesn't it, Doctor Michael?" The aged gentleman asked, and again, Jeremiah paused.

He looked at the man, furrowed his eyebrows, and tilted his head, trying to comprehend what was going on.

This time, he had heard the word "doctor" loud and clear, so he knew that he wasn't mistaken when he thought he had heard it the first time.

"What's the problem, doctor?"

"Doctor?" Jeremiah asked, then looked behind himself and, as he thought, there was no one behind him aside from the bodyguard who had unlocked his handcuffs.

He looked at the aged gentleman, pointed at himself, and asked "Pardon my confusion, but are you talking to me when you call doc—"

"It took some time, but I was able to find where you were. Unfortunately, it was a prison cell, and that was a hindrance, but there is nowhere on this earth that is beyond the reach of my master's resources." The aged gentleman said, and Jeremiah, who couldn't make any sense of what he was saying, started to chuckle.

"I'm sorry sir, but I think there's been a mistake somewhere. My name is not Michael but Jeremiah Steel". Jeremiah said, then hoped that that would let the man know of his mistake.

"If the confusion has been cleared up, then please take me back to my—" he said, but was shocked to see the aged gentleman smiling.

"I can see that you've decided to use one of your many aliases. I can assure you that that won't be necessary while you're here. You can trust me, doctor." The aged gentleman said, and Jeremiah grimaced.

He wondered if the well-dressed and well-spoken man in front of him was crazy, because only a crazy person would insist on furthering their misunderstanding when someone had just tried to correct them.

"To show you that I'm trustworthy, an acquaintance of yours, the same one who sends you letters in prison, was the one who gave me your information and told me where to find you. To prove that I'm not lying, they also told me what prisoner number you're registered under. Prison number one hundred and eleven" the aged gentleman said.

Immediately, Jeremiah grimaced and groaned.

'Prison number one hundred and eleven? Wait, that's not correct. I remember seeing my number, and it was three hundred and six, so where did—?' Jeremiah thought, but then, by accident, he looked at the badge on his uniform sleeve.

'Huh? Why isn't this red anymore? My uniform used to have a red badge, but this is— Wait! Now I remember what happened! That bastard switched our—' Jeremiah panicked but then…

The aged gentleman, who, just from his appearance alone, Jeremiah could tell was someone of high status and importance, went on his knees and bowed his head, shocking Jeremiah enough to jolt backward.

"Sir, what are you doing—?!" Jeremiah stuttered.

"I beg of you, Doctor Michael. Please use your talent and help save the life of a very important man. If you do, then I promise that, no matter how big or small, any wish you have will be granted."

Jeremiah's eyes widened.