The Final Experiment

Chapter Twelve

         "Hey, Daddy, what does 'bitch' mean?"

         With a jolt, Dottore narrowly avoided dropping his experiment on the floor. Attempting to regain his composure, he cleared his throat and smoothed some hair out of his face. "Ryszard, where did you hear that?"

         "Mr. Pierro said you were one." Eight-year-old Ryszard stared up at him innocently. "And then he said I was the son of one. What does that word mean, Daddy?"

         "Okay, Ryszard, listen." Dottore led his son over to a nearby seat. "Don't repeat that word, okay? It's not nice. It means...uhh...doggie. But in a bad way."

         Ryszard looked more confused, not less, but nodded slowly. "But...doggies are nice..."

         "Not this time, that's not what he means," insisted Dottore. "You...stay here. I'm going to go talk to our 'Mr. Pierro.' Good manners, though, Ryszard, and let's keep it that way."

         In a few long strides, Dottore was at the door of the current Tsar, as Pierro had been named after the Tsaritsa's death. He knocked on it firmly and was greeted by a scowl. Ignoring it, he pushed his way inside as Pierro continued to eye him.

         "How about we have a little civil discussion?" commented Dottore. "I'd rather my son not have to overhear any other unsavory language."

         Pierro snorted. "Nothing I said was untrue. But since you insist on sugarcoating my language, I'll just have to tell him that he's the son of a disgusting reprobate and is a child born out of wedlock with no true father. Happy?"

         "Look," growled Dottore, "I'm okay with you insulting me. But leave the kid out of this. He didn't do anything to deserve it."

         The former First Harbinger sniffed. "Well, guess he's just the unlucky child with no mother, and the son of an abomination. I'd teach him how to wear a mask over those eyes of his. They look better out of sight."

         "Stop blaming him for things that aren't his fault!" Dottore glared at Pierro, who stared back with his arms folded over his chest. "Have you forgotten this is the child of your dearly beloved Tsaritsa?"

         And that he'll be over you someday?

         Pierro winced, and Dottore mentally wondered if he had struck a nerve a bit too hard.

         "At the cost of her own life. For what? For something that should never have existed, without your meddling," Pierro retorted.

         "Don't touch my child." Dottore stared him in the eyes, knowing he was arguing with the Tsar of the country but not caring. "Insult me all you want, but keep your hands off him. This is our business, not his."

         Pierro looked at him for another moment and scoffed. "No promises. I don't respect those of your cursed bloodline."

         "I think I'll be taking my leave," purred Dottore, his blood boiling.

         His true emotions were only betrayed as he slammed the door and stalked back to his lab.

         Maybe an experiment or two will help me cool off.

         "Dad? Are you okay?" Ryszard stared up at him in worry. "You look angry...what happened?"

         With a sigh, Dottore knelt next to Ryszard. "Listen, little Ry. Try to stay away from Mr. Pierro, okay? He...doesn't like kids."

         "But I don't understand." Ryszard's innocent red eyes swam with confusion. "Did I do something to him to make him mad? Why does he just not like people?"

         "Ryszard..." Dottore searched for an answer, but couldn't find anything to say. He knelt down and hugged the boy. "Some people are hard to understand. They can be angry for reasons that aren't your fault."

         If anything, they're mine.

         "Mr. Pierro just isn't going to be your friend, all right? He's mean, and I don't want him to hurt you."

"I still don't understand..." Ryszard murmured.

         "Trust me for now, okay, Ryszard? When you get older, I'll tell you the truth and explain it to you in full." Dottore half-regretted this promise as soon as he made it, but Ryszard nodded gratefully.

         "Thank you, Daddy."