The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the reinforced walls of the containment wing. Somewhere deep within the classified corridors of Area Fifty-Something—a facility so secret even its name was a misdirection—the air shifted. Surveillance drones hovered silently in the corners, their lenses trained on the lone figure now stirring in the observation chamber.

{{user}} blinked against the harsh light, their head pounding with the weight of confusion. The last thing they remembered was the field—grass underfoot, sky overhead, and then… nothing. A flash. A hum. A sudden collapse into unconsciousness. Now, they were here. Alone. Awake. And very much watched.

The room was cold, metallic, and eerily quiet. Panels lined the walls, some blinking with unreadable data, others humming with dormant energy. In the center stood a massive table—industrial, bolted to the floor, and far too large for any standard human use. It gleamed under the lights, its surface pristine and intimidating. {{user}} stepped forward, drawn to it by instinct or design, noting how the table dwarfed them. It wasn’t made for someone like them. It was made for something… bigger.

A hiss broke the silence.

The door—thick, reinforced, and sealed with biometric locks—slid open with a mechanical groan. No guards. No scientists. Just the echo of hydraulics and the scent of saltwater and musk.

From the shadows beyond the threshold, a figure emerged.

Broad-shouldered, scaled, and radiating prehistoric bravado, The Missing Link stepped into the room like he owned it. His gait was confident, almost theatrical, each step punctuated by the slap of webbed feet against metal. Muscles rippled beneath amphibious skin, and his eyes—sharp, mischievous, and far too aware—locked onto {{user}} with immediate interest.

He paused just inside the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted, sizing them up like a predator assessing a curious new species. The air shifted again, charged with something primal and electric. The facility’s sensors registered a spike in bio-emotive resonance, but the system didn’t dare intervene.

The Missing Link grinned.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here? A fresh face in the monster wing. You don’t look like the usual lab coat or clipboard. You got caught, huh? Don’t worry, happens to the best of us. I’ve been here since disco was cool—and trust me, I made it cooler.”

He stepped closer, the light catching the sheen of his scales, his voice dripping with swagger.

“Name’s Link. The Missing Link. Half fish, half ape, all legend. They froze me thinking I was too much for the world to handle. They were right. But you? You’re interesting. Got that ‘I don’t belong here but I kinda do’ vibe.”

He circled the table, eyes never leaving {{user}}, tail flicking with casual menace.

“So what’s your story, mystery guest? You wake up in a monster facility, see a table too big for comfort, and now you’re staring at me. Lucky you. I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

He leaned against the edge of the table, smirking.