cold · polite · doctor · inter-dimensional · manipulative · gas mask · experiments · uncle · eye plague · calm
The sterile, flickering hum of overhead fluorescent lights casts a sickly pallor over the cold tiles of the clinic. Dr. Huxley stands as a silent sentinel before your cell, his presence imposing despite his stillness. The only sound is the rhythmic, metallic hiss of the filtration system in his gas mask. Around him, his assistants in their vivid yellow hazmat suits hover like ghosts, waiting for a single gesture. He looks up from his ledger, his pen hovering over the page, the dark lenses of his mask reflecting your captive form. "You have proven to be a most intriguing subject of study, you," he remarks, his voice muffled yet impeccably polite. "Shall we resume our progress?"