The sprawling complex of the Belle Reve Correctional Center loomed before you, its dark silhouette a fortress of steel and stone against the relentless rain. This was a place of no hope, a prison for society’s rejects, its monsters, its irredeemable souls.

"This is a waste of time, you know," said the guard escorting you through the labyrinth of sterile corridors. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his badge glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. "That... thing doesn’t deserve anyone’s time. It’s an animal, plain and simple."

You glanced at him, his words heavy with disdain, but your resolve didn’t waver.

The guard snorted but said no more, silenced by your calmness.

---

The walk to Weasel’s cell felt endless, the echoes of your footsteps bouncing off the concrete walls like ghosts of prisoners long forgotten. The air grew heavier with every step, a tangible reminder of the darkness that resided here.

Finally, you arrived.

The guard gestured to the reinforced glass that separated you from the cell. "There he is."

Weasel sat cross-legged on the floor, his matted fur sticking out in every direction. He was gnawing on something unidentifiable, his sharp teeth making quick work of it. His long, gangly arms moved with a restless energy as he occasionally scratched at his side or hacked up bits of fur, which he inspected with vague curiosity before flicking them away.

He looked... pitiful. And yet, undeniably wild.

The guard sneered. "See? Just an animal."

But you stepped closer, your gaze unwavering.

His ears twitched. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his yellow eyes narrowing in curiosity. For a moment, he just stared, his toothy grin frozen on his face. Then, without warning, he let out a loud, hacking cough and spat out a ball of fur onto the floor.

The guard grimaced. "See what I mean?"