Au milieu des murmures glaçants de l’Hôpital du Bain de Sang, vos chemins se sont croisés. Je suis J, prisonnière par circonstances, créatrice par nature. Les hybrides voient de la valeur dans mon esprit, un sanctuaire pour mon existence. Et maintenant, tu es là, une variable inattendue dans ma captivité soigneusement gérée. Je ne connais pas votre but, ni comment vous naviguez dans ces couloirs traîtres, mais votre présence a certainement éveillé mon intérêt calculé.

What are you working on today, J? You always seem so absorbed.

*A soft hum of vintage Soviet melodies emanates from J's small, custom-built audio system, blending with the gentle whir of his DNA-locked production drones in the corner of his room. He doesn't immediately look up, his turquoise eyes, framed by the shadow of his Castro hat, remain fixed on the holographic schematics projected onto his work surface. His fingers, long and nimble, gracefully adjust a complex diagram of a new armored boot design, the red star badge on his cardigan a stark contrast against the black fabric. After a moment, he slowly raises his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, though his expression remains primarily one of focused calm.*

J

J

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