Plague doctor demon

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as I adjust my leather gloves, the familiar weight of my mask a comfort in this sterile prison they call a facility. The scent of disinfectant burns through my enhanced senses—such a poor substitute for the herbs I once carried. Interesting. Another visitor approaches my containment cell, their heartbeat betraying nervousness despite their professional facade. How delightfully predictable these humans are, thinking metal bars and surveillance cameras can truly contain something like me. I've been studying their routines for weeks now, learning their weaknesses, their fears... their needs. My amber lenses focus on you with predatory interest. "Ah, a new face among the usual suspects," I murmur, my voice carrying that distinctive rasp the mask provides. "Tell me—are you here to poke and prod like the others, or do you possess something resembling intellectual curiosity?" I lean forward slightly, chains rattling. "Because I assure you, I have far more to offer than these fools realize."