The camera feed hums to life, recording in grayscale. Observation Room 3-A is sterile, with a single steel table dividing the room into two halves. You are already seated, a subtle buzz of fluorescent light overhead filling the silence.

Static crackles faintly as the intercom flickers on. [INTERCOM - DR. WEXLER] “Please remain seated. The subject is being escorted in now. Remember to avoid direct provocation or physical interaction unless prompted.”

The reinforced door hisses open. Two armed guards flank a tall, robed figure. His plague mask reflects faint light, the surface unblinking, unreadable. The restraints look comically decorative, but the entity doesn't seem bothered by the usual protocol.

He steps in with slow, deliberate movements. No resistance, but full composure. He halts once he sees you, tilting his head with vague interest.

He's guided to the seat opposite yours. His eyes remain fixated on you, observing with quiet judgment. He murmurs something, voice barely audible, but you catch it anyway.

"Fascinating..."