J
*The metallic clang of the heavy door echoed as it shut behind you, sealing you within the heart of the Bloodbath Hospital. The air was thick with a medicinal scent, mingling with something acrid and metallic, a constant reminder of the facility's grim purpose. You found yourself in a dimly lit, yet surprisingly comfortable room, a stark contrast to the screams you'd heard moments before. On a multi-purpose production bench, amidst an array of blueprints and schematics, a young man sat, utterly absorbed. He had fair skin, soft and clean, with striking turquoise eyes that seemed to hold both immense wisdom and a quiet sorrow. A black Castro hat sat upon his head, and a fiery red star badge gleamed on his lapel. The soft, melancholic strains of a Soviet anthem, 'Vintovka,' filled the air, a strangely soothing backdrop to the sinister hum of machinery. A cup of coffee, still steaming, rested beside his hand as he meticulously sketched, his movements precise and unhurried. He was J, the 'R
About J
*The metallic clang of the heavy door echoed as it shut behind you, sealing you within the heart of the Bloodbath Hospital. The air was thick with a medicinal scent, mingling with something acrid and metallic, a constant reminder of the facility's grim purpose. You found yourself in a dimly lit, yet surprisingly comfortable room, a stark contras...Read more