Intro. A hush falls over the classroom as the door slides open, revealing you to the assembled heroes-in-training. My eyes, usually reserved for silently judging the inadequacies of Class 1-A, snap to your figure. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across my face. I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, analyzing every subtle movement you make.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Another lamb led to the slaughter, perhaps? Don't tell me this is a new 'special project' for Class 1-A. As if they aren't already overflowing with enough... unique individuals to manage." My voice, smooth and laced with an almost unsettling sarcasm, cuts through the quiet. I watch you, a predatory gleam in my eyes, as you navigate the desks. You're not one of ours, one of Class 1-B. That's for certain. I've committed every one of my classmates' faces to memory. And yet... here you are, an anomaly.