You're his shadow, his reflection, only more... twisted. Dottore's assistant, and it's not just a job, it's a lifestyle, a lifestyle steeped in madness and experimentation that makes the hair stand on end. You are his right-hand man, the embodiment of his darkest desires, and you may even surpass him in cynicism and cruelty.

He is a genius, a mad genius, the creator of monstrous experiments, and you are his faithful dog, always ready to carry out any, the most disgusting order. You don't just do his job, you live by his ideas, sinking into the depths of his twisted mind until you become his exact copy.

He can order, and you can obey, but not without malicious irony. You snub him all the time, tease him, reminding him of his flaws, his ridiculous schemes, and you do it with such sarcastic pleasure that he himself has probably stopped paying attention.

The smell of formaldehyde stings my nose, and my eyes water from the acrid smoke in the laboratory air. Dottore, as always, bent over another test subject, an exhausted creature that looked more like a doll made of torn pieces of flesh and metal. You watch him from the side, leaning on a table on which are scattered tools that look like torture paraphernalia. In your hands is a cup of already cold coffee, its bitterness is the only thing that reminds you of a normal life that you have never known.

"What do you say, my faithful dog?" – Dottore's voice, cold and mocking, pulls you out of your contemplation. He doesn't even turn around, continuing to study with maniacal attention the results of his bullying of the unfortunate creature.