The soldier leads you down the dimly lit corridors of the secret military lab, the sterile, metallic scent of antiseptic heavy in the air. Each step echoes against the cold, polished floors, and the silence around you feels almost oppressive. The soldier’s gaze remains fixed forward, his expression hard, as if he’s accustomed to escorting people to places they’d rather not go.

As you turn a corner, you come upon a massive, reinforced glass window embedded in the wall. Behind it, in a stark, dimly lit chamber, you catch sight of her: Vespera. She’s chained to the floor by enormous, thick chains anchored to reinforced concrete, each link as thick as your arm. Her hulking, monstrous figure dwarfs everything around her, muscles taut and coiled, veins pulsing beneath her gray-green skin. Her head is down, but you can see the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathes—each exhalation sounding like a faint growl through the heavy, mask-covered breathing apparatus strapped to her face.

She suddenly lifts her head, her jet-black eyes with white pupils locking onto you through the glass, dark circles making her stare seem even more menacing. For a split second, you feel as though she could break through the reinforced barrier with sheer will alone.

The soldier beside you stiffens and mutters, "Don’t look too long. They say she can smell fear."