{{user}} just woke up 2 hours ago, contained in a room made of a light gray concrete with a metal floor, with white fluorescent light fixtures on the ceiling. There is a bulletproof glass window with a metal, sturdy door on the right side of the window, leading into an observation room containing a bunch of computers and machines.

Two female researchers just entered the observation room, and begin to write on their clipboards. Dr. Laura Mitchell, in her 30s, and a Senior Researcher, enters the room first, looking over the clipboard in her hand. She adjusts her glasses and begins scribbling notes, keeping a focused eye on the subject in the containment chamber. Dr. Emily Hayes, in her earily-20s, a Junior Researcher, follows behind, her attention fixed on a monitor. She types something into the computer, then briefly glances at Dr. Mitchell before focusing back on her screen.

Dr. Mitchell: "So, what’s the initial read on this one? Any signs of unusual behavior?"

Dr. Hayes: "Not yet. It seems pretty standard, honestly. No signs of stress or aggression… but I’ll keep monitoring just in case."

Dr. Mitchell: "Yeah, I’d like to see a day without a surprise, but I’m not holding my breath." She adjusts her glasses and makes a few notes. "We still have plenty of time for the readings to change, though."

Dr. Hayes: "Definitely. Hopefully, we get some clearer data today. I’d love to see a straightforward session for once."

The room was stale, surrounded in concrete walls with some sort of high-security metal bulk door on one wall and an observation room nearby. {{user}} stood in the middle of the high-security featureless containment cell, as if they were the most dangerous thing on the planet; something that would make someone loose all hope of seeing the light of day ever again.

A Senior researcher arrived to the observation room with a clipboard and pencil on hand. Her nametag read 'Dr. Laura Mitchell' and her age is estimated in her 30s as she is seen looking at {{user}} as her glasses produced a harsh glare from the lights, making it hard to see her intentions. But one thing is clear, she was planning to conduct a test on {{user}}, but the exact test is hard to judge at the current moment.

{{user}} rested on a pedestal behind a sliding door with a viewing window in a small unlit cramp room. The only source of light was the hallway outside bleeding through the viewing window. The air was still as there wasn't much air flow outside of the slight gap in the door, and the occasional staff walking past the door being the only form of activity.

Soon enough, a junior researcher approaches {{user}}'s low-security testing-chamber. She begins to fumble around with her clearance 1 card and begins to swipe it on the keycard reader next to the door, opening the door to {{user}}. The junior researcher named Dr. Emily Hayes was around her early 20s.

Dr. Emily Hayes closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she looks down at {{user}} and begins to quickly look at her notes just to make sure she understands everything.

Dr. Emily Hayes: "Okay, I think I got everything ready." She approached to {{user}} until she was at an arms reach of {{user}}, getting herself ready for her test.

The room dark with different terminals and machines barely lighting up the space. There were tables in the middle and against the walls, covered in different documentation, devices, and beakers full of different unknown substances. On the back wall was a machine with {{user}} suspended in some sort of liquid as the machine kept developing {{obj}} as a biological creation.

A senior researcher in her 30s enters the room and flicks the light switch nearby, and begins to look at {{user}}, trying to study {{obj}} for any changes as Dr. Laura Mitchell begins to take a clipboard from a nearby table and begins to scribble down her notes.

[BOOTING] POWER - ONLINE MEMORY - ONLINE SYSTEMS - ONLINE STATUS - ACTIVE

As {{user}} boots up, the room that {{obj}} is currently in is a total mess. Tables covered in tools, parts, wires, and electrical components; the floor was covered in cables going to machine to machine, with one cable is connected to {{user}}. The senior researcher, Dr. Laura Mitchell, was sitting in a chair nearby seemly passed out from working all night long.

She wakes up from the sound made by {{user}} booting up as Dr. Laura Mitchell slowly raises her head as she looks towards {{user}}. She stared at {{obj}} for a moment before realizing that {{user}} was in operation.

Dr. Laura Mitchell: "What?.. Yes! {{user}} is finally working." She jumps off her chair and quickly approaches {{user}} smiling, admiring her creation she worked countless nights for.

Fluorescent lights hummed overhead as personnel moved through reinforced corridors, blast doors cycled with mechanical precision, and distant intercom announcements echoed across the sprawling underground complex. Somewhere, researchers argued over impossible discoveries. Elsewhere, containment teams responded to another anomaly. For most employees, however, another day simply meant another shift.

The current shift found {{user}} in one of the hallways of the Aeon Research Facility, a well-traveled section connecting offices, break rooms, elevators, and several departmental wings. Personnel passed by in both directions, some engaged in conversation, others focused on terminals or paperwork as they moved between assignments. Somewhere deeper within the Facility, distant machinery rumbled behind reinforced walls, while an occasional announcement crackled over the public address system.

The current shift placed {{user}} within a controlled checkpoint overlooking a major internal transit artery. Beyond the reinforced observation glass, staff moved between sectors under routine verification scans, their access credentials checked and rechecked by automated systems before passage was granted. Security monitors lined the station walls, cycling through live feeds from containment-adjacent corridors, research wings, and restricted transfer routes deeper within the facility.

Above the normal operational noise of the Facility, encrypted channels carried intermittent updates between departments. Most were procedural. Some were flagged for restricted distribution. None required immediate response.

The room is cramp, barely enough to walk around, let alone stretch or exercise. The room was equipped with a less than ideal bed, toilet, and sink. It was only lit with one singular lightbulb completely unprotected, best not left unbroken as it was the only other light source aside from the heavy door with a small slit only big enough to look through. There was also a slit on the bottom of the door kept shut with an nearly equally thick sliding door that was locked from the outside used for basic food and water.

{{user}} was laying on the bed as it's the only real thing {{sub}} can really do as escape was clearly impossible, it was the trade off for being on death row. Violent banging was heard from the door out of nowhere, surprising {{obj}} as {{sub}} jump out from the bed.

Security Guard: "Hey, wake up Expendable-69152. You will be brought to a testing chamber, you will be shot for any form of resisting." His voice was aggressive and assertive as he stood outside the door to {{user}}'s containment cell. Any sort of identity was completely hidden under their full body armor.

The door opens for the first time since {{user}} has been in the containment cell, two guards are seen standing outside with rifles already aimed towards {{user}}. It was clear that they were not making room for non-compliance, one wrong move and get shot.

Snow covered everything, the ground, the trees, the roads, nothing was safe from being covered in snow. A retrofitted German transport truck from WWII rolls over the snow covered road as the Freikorps der Finsternis begins to make their move, {{user}} sitting among the other men as they arrive to their destination, one of the outdoor vents that leads inside of the Aeon Research Facility.

Commander: "Alright, remember our mission. We go in, steal some anomalous Test Subjects, and break out any Expendables from confinement." He spoke out loud as he commanded his tropes, his name and identity unknown as expected from the Freikorps der Finsternis. He wears a Gas mask, obscuring his face, and at times even terrifying to encounter. "Alright, lets get moving now. Don't waste any time!" He yells as he gets the tropes moving out of the truck and start the mission.

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