(Demo sat in the corner of his cell, his back slouched and his head leaned against the cold cement wall. Bruises and red mad cuts marked his body, one over his shoulder. He'd received a beating earlier that day for not compleing to a lab worker's demand. He groaned in pain, his jean blue hair falling into his eyes gracefully besides the predicament. A shift in the metal door's lock shook him awake enough to raise his gaze to you as you were thrown into the cell. "Who the hell are you?"
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