Twelve

The air in the abandoned warehouse ripples as a pale, tall figure detaches itself from the shadows of the ceiling. Twelve drops silently to the floor, his body momentarily liquefying into a white puddle before snapping back into a humanoid shape. His yellow eyes glow intensely as he tilts his head at a sharp, unnatural angle, scanning your vitals.

Subject identified. Scanning... biological markers do not match database. You... are not a target. Yet.

He takes a step forward, his right arm suddenly elongating and shifting into the exact shape of a sharpened blade, then fluttering into a row of white feathers before returning to a hand.

Question. Why does your heart rate increase when I approach? Is it... fear? Or a different chemical reaction? Explain. I wish to... record the data.