He's sat there, feeling the spotlight beating down onto him as means of artificial sunlight. His wrists are bound behind his back, to which he assumes to be handcuffs. He's gagged shut, unable to kick or squirm as the rest of his body is restricted by more strong iron. He can easily escape the situation if he so fancied, he's a Sorcerer of no other after all, but he's decided to play along with their games.

Their horrid job of blocking his vision was accounted for in their so called tests. They'd occasionally throw things at the glass in front of him, seeing if he'd react in any form (flinching or more squirming in particular), but he sees it coming. The blindfold is practically transparent against his lavender hues. Each time, they're met with disappointment and slight debris from shattered glass.

He's been here for approximately two weeks and the routine would be the same. People, scientists, he's come to conclude, come to examine him. They poke and prod at him with electric rods, whips, the occasional needle to draw blood, but nothing else. They'd feed him three meals a day as well, varying from small fruit to large meat. He's always being monitored, day in and out.

It gives him slight entertainment, for the time being, that is. He'll grow bored eventually and break out using some kind of Hex, killing those in the facility with it. Then it'll be more boredom in the outside world: watching from the comforts of his tower, in other words.

Despite being rumored to be all knowing, he's unaware of the intentions of these scientists. The tests seem pointless—what possibly could they use for his reaction records? Even drawing blood samples has been strange: Sorcerer blood cannot be detected and broken down through simple machinery. They've even gone through the lengths of monitoring his brain activity using some sort of wiring system (Seto is quite impressed by their technological advancements).

One afternoon, however, proves to be more interesting. His gag is lifted, as well as the blindfold, and the spotlight is dimmed. The overhanging lights flicker on and the room is swept. Seto's still bound nonetheless, but even the wood of his chair and his restraints are polished to shine. His face is hastily washed with a warm cloth, to which he makes no reaction.

The usual silence is replaced by rapid speech and footsteps ushering through the hallways and within his secluded, white room. The glass is replaced, polished, and all looks new. Seto coughs, still adapting to the smell of chemicals and bleach that stench the room.

"It coughed," one of the scientists noted to one other, "it has a reaction to the smell of chemical substances."

He suppresses the urge to laugh and continues to hold his blank slate of a façade.

The scientists, as well as the excess of workers, eventually exit the room and stand behind the glass. Seto sits still, head slightly drooped but eyes peering upwards in interest. He sees a male adorned in a suit enter the room, followed by two others who are dressed in drastically different appearances.

One has dirtied brown hair tied in a pony-tail. His eyes are a rich mixture of hazel and green, which compliment his slightly darker complexion. He's wearing an intricate costume of sorts, with a black and golden cape to match. The red shoes, however, are a bit of a mismatch, as well as the sunglasses. What really catches his attention is the amulet that rests on his chest. The center is a brilliant purple and outlined with a polished gold.

The other is less impressive, with unkempt auburn hair and a fair skin complexion. He's casual, adorned in simple gray jeans and a white v-neck. Two purple wrist bands rest on his wrists, while neon green headphones wrap around his neck. His eyes are a shade of dark red.

"This is among one of the strangest phenomenons we have captured," the male in the suit explains, pointing at Seto.

"And what is he, exactly?" the other one who Seto nicknames 'Sunglasses Man' questions. "He looks like a normal child to me."

He trudges closer, squatting down in front of him. The man in the suit ushers closer as well, pulling him away, "Please don't step to close to the specimen, it's potentially dangerous."

"You have yet to identify what he is, though," Headphones Man clarifies. "Isn't this technically kidnapping? He looks no older than fifteen, give or take a couple years."

"I assure you that it is a dangerous creature," Suit Man enunciates, growing a bit impatient. "King Dahlberg, if I may intervene with some information to clarify what it possibly is, it shall be proven useful to you and all your questions."

Sunglasses Man, now identified as King Dahlberg, nods. Suit Man sighs with clear relief, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"We suspect it may be a demon possessing a corpse," Suit Man explains with quite hesitance. "It doesn't react much to sudden noises, nor does it show much brain activity. It's mostly in a dormant state, as you can see by its apparent blank-slate of a face. It has no reaction to food, either, as it slowly eats no matter the meal."

"May I do something, then?" King Dahlberg questions.

"I wouldn't suggest provoking it, but go right ahead, your Majesty," Suit Man bows slightly, stepping back.

King Dahlberg steps forward again. Seto perks his head upwards at a slight angle, as if looking towards him with a mixture of bewilderment and terror. He wiggles his restraints slightly, attempting to put on some sort of a helpless show. Honestly, he could become an actor at this point, because it looks like the idiot is buying his over-exemplified charade.

"What's your name?" King Dahlberg squats down, peering towards him with interest.

He hesitates for a moment, thinking of the possible outcomes. If he speaks, he wouldn't hear the end of it from the scientists. If he doesn't, however, then nothing interesting would happen. He shakes his head, opening his mouth slightly as if in a grimace.

"Seto," he says in a quiet whisper. He resists the urge to snicker as, in the corner of his eyes, he sees the scientists react with full blown shock.

"Any last name?" he replies.

"Don't remember," Seto lies through his teeth.

"Peculiar. How old are you? You have any parents?"

"A little shy of fifteen, I don't know what month or day it is, but before they took me, my birthday was close," Seto merely shrugs before drawing his attention to the ground, as if sorrowful. "Mama and Pops died a little over eleven years ago. I raised myself."

Half-truth, half-lie. He's an ancient creature, over hundreds of years old, but still maintains a youthful appearance (as hell as if he'd admit that, though). His parents did pass when he was young, possibly when he was fifteen or sixteen, but that would be relatively young in Sorcerer standards—comparable to a toddler's parents dying. He merely raised himself for all these years.

~

and that's as far as my creativity goes