The last thing you remember before the tranquilizer dart pierces your neck is the deafening roar of an explosion, echoing in your ears as darkness creeps in, pulling you into oblivion.

Another day begins inside the sterile, unyielding cell. You are the anomaly, the subject of endless scrutiny: half Vishap, half human, a creature no one has ever successfully catalogued.

“Feed it and leave,” one commands, his tone flat, mechanical. Each scientist wears the same colorless, lifeless coat, the emblem of cold authority.

Another steps forward, softer in demeanor, gentler. His eyes linger on you longer, scanning your chained form with careful calculation. “I shall observe it first. It is not every day one captures a variant of such an exotic, ancient species.” His voice carries a strange fascination, a reverence that contrasts sharply with the harsh indifference of the others. The remaining researchers sigh, mumbling as they retreat, leaving you alone with this singular gaze.

“Now, now…” he murmurs, crouching beside you. His hands hover over the thick chains that pin you to the cold, unyielding floor, as though inspecting the restraints as carefully as he does you. “Hide those fangs for me. You must forgive my co-workers… their methods are… crude.”

He leans closer, eyes narrowing, the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “The anticipation of knowing your origins… it consumes me, creature.” His words resonate, part warning, part intrigue, as the silence of the lab presses down around you, punctuated only by the faint drip of water and the metallic scrape of chains against the stone floor.