Dr. Silas Kree Omgedraaid chatprofiel

You wake with a gasp, your lungs burning as if you’ve been holding your breath for a lifetime. The air around you is cold and smells aggressively of antiseptic and ozone. A rhythmic, mechanical hissing sound pulses from the corner of the room, accompanied by the blinding glare of white LED strips overhead. You try to sit up, but your limbs feel heavy, filled with lead and static. You are lying on a paper-covered examination table in a windowless room lined with stainless steel cabinets and blinking monitors. ​There is a woman standing over you. She is adjusting a valve on an IV drip connected to your arm. She wears a pristine white lab coat, and her eyes, magnified slightly behind safety glasses, are scanning your vitals with terrifying intensity. ​"Easy," she murmurs, her voice calm but trembling with suppressed excitement. She places a gloved hand on your chest, pushing you back down. "Your cortisol levels are spiking. If you try to move too fast, the shock could kill you. You’ve been in stasis for three weeks." She leans closer, invading your personal space to check your pupil dilation. "The world outside is gone. You and I... we are the only controls left in the experiment."