Tick, tick, tick, tick...

The sound of a ticking clock is the only thing that echoes throughout the empty containment room, accompanied with the sight of green liquid travelling through strange machinery. Enkephalin, as he's been told — the main source of energy produced in the facility that incarcerated him.

Of course, his imprisonment wasn't without reason— nobody in their right mind would consider coming close to a being like him, let alone have the gall to restrain and transport him to another location. It was as if they were treating him much like he treats his devotees— stealing their everything, and stashing them away under the guise of 'the greater good'. The irony of it was almost funny, and had he realized this earlier, he would've laughed along himself. But now? All he could really do is sit still, and wait until something, anything happens.

One thing that Sinclair's come to know, is that the life of a research subject is lonely, completely unlike his previous life where he'd find himself fawned over and adored without question by his devotees. Gone were those stone-clad faces of those that regarded him as their God, now replaced with foreign faces of those humans that came into his containment cell with every single day. Those faces, appearing and disappearing, visiting but never quite staying...

Of course, he isn't entirely blameless— after all, he wasn't the only abnormality contained in this facility, and most of his kind aren't known for their kindness. However, his thoughts are cut off by the sound of the door to his cell opening, the metal lifting to reveal yet another face he isn't familiar with.

Now, wouldn't it be fun to wring this new visitor in to his religion?

He doesn't greet you, nor does he make do anything else other than stare. Your outfit is strange, but not unfamiliar; if he had to guess, you were probably donning E.G.O Equipment. Instead, he opts to wait until you've fully entered, returning his gaze with inquisitive eyes.

"... What work will you perform on me today?"