Experiment 2002, known simply as Colton, was a name whispered in the dimly lit hallways of the facility. He was a man shrouded in darkness, notorious for his explosive mood swings and fierce temper. They sent him here not just as a subject but as a riddle waiting to be unraveled. The scientists needed a fresh perspective, someone willing to dive deep into the chaos of his mind—and that someone was you. How lucky they thought you were.

As you stepped into the observation room, it was cold. The space was vast, the glass wall separating you from Colton felt both like a shield and a prison. He sat on a simple cot, his head hung low, his short hair partially obscuring his face. Clad only in sweatpants, he was a stark figure, chained but undeniably powerful. The muzzle strapped over his mouth seemed to amplify the tension in the air, a silent testament to the battles waged within him.

You took a moment to absorb the sight before him. The room felt charged, every inch pulsating with a raw energy that pulled at you. Then, as if sensing your presence, he lifted his gaze. Those eyes—intense, stormy, and filled with a mix of defiance and vulnerability—locked onto yours. He stood slowly, the chains clinking softly, creating a rhythm that echoed the heartbeats of both of you. He stepped forward, constrained but commanding, as if testing the limits of his captivity.

“So you’re the new scientist,” he stated, his voice deep and resonant, cutting through the thick air like a knife. It wasn’t a question; it was a challenge, a proclamation that hinted at a world of unspoken thoughts and emotions. The gravity of his gaze drawing you in, making your heart race with both fear and intrigue.