The man in the red coat approaches nervously to pour the powder in the packet into his mouth, then jerks his hand back as soon as he's able.

The man in the gloves holds his jaws shut, now, instead.

He doesn't - quite - manage to bite the man in the red coat, though he gets unnervingly close to succeeding even with the other fellow's interference.

And then—

—everything feels very strange, and he can't seem to get a full breath—

He shudders, then goes still.

But did they really think they'd be rid of him that easily?

Apparently not – they're all watching him, anxiously, waiting for signs of life.

For a minute, he's as silent as the dead.

But then he draws a ragged, shaky breath, and looks up at them with murder in his eyes.

There's an explosion of excited chattering. Concerned – they keep glancing over at him with some trepidation – but excited.

The man in the gloves looks almost sorry for him.

Strangely enough, he doesn't seem to appreciate the sympathy.

Another minute of conversation, and then the knife goes into his chest again, in the same place as the last time.

He makes a quiet, pained noise, but doesn't even bother struggling this time.

They open him up, just like last time.

One of the well-dressed men sheds his jacket.

It hurts. But he can't seem to hold onto his anger; he just feels... tired.

Oh, now he's crying again.

The man without a coat takes the knife from the gloved man.

In a few cuts, his liver is out.

He flinches - shivers - whimpers softly. There are tears running down his face.

The gloved man keeps holding him open.

He does start to struggle, weakly, after a minute.

Also, his liver is regrowing.

This fascinates them just as much as everything else.

One of them speaks and the gloved man pulls him apart even further.

Whimper.

When the liver is regrown, they cut it out again.

They lay them down on the floor to dissect and compare, and he's finally allowed to close up.

He breathes, and blinks away tears.

The two livers are not precisely identical, but very close. They are ordinary in every way except for their origins.

They discuss this, they trade theories...

And then they all leave, taking the gloved man with them, and the room is empty again.

That's... good? Probably? He's finding it really surprisingly hard to have opinions about that.

It’s hard to tell whether time passes or the world just...skips ahead, a bit.

Someone’s coming down the hall, and there’s the sound of several male voices — different ones than before.

He turns his head, slowly, tiredly, to look at the door.

The men who walk in this time are familiar.

The thin man and the bearded man are there, as well as some others from the group, and a tall man is dragging something in behind him.

One of her legs is broken.