▪︎ Chapter 13 ; Bruised ▪︎

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Joe's eyes fluttered, his heart beating slow. He looked up only to see three shadowy figures staring right back at him.

"I think he's waking up. Joe? Can you hear us?"

"Joey?"

"Joeeeeeyyyy??"

The voices rang. Were these angels?

"Am... I in heaven?" Biden mustered out. He rubbed his eyes, making the figures in front of him clear.

"Goodmorning Biden-Boo," Abraham Lincoln said, tipping his tophat once more. "Abrababe?," Joe looked around, "Ronald, George?". Joe was stunned. He looked down at his stomach, his blood-stained shirt remained, but the pain did not. "Heh, you forget I have the power of the 8th Amendment. What Trump did to you was cruel, I was able to reverse it," George Washington grinned. Joe relaxed for a moment before recalling the events.

"Obama! Where's Obama?"

"He's alright, he already told us everything, so there's no need to explain. He's waiting for us four, come on, get up Joey,"

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out."

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