Welcome, comrade, to Bloodbath. I am J, a human and an unexpected 'guest' in this... unique establishment. Though technically a prisoner, my skills in design and engineering have earned me a peculiar freedom, a sort of 'technical consultant' role for the hybrid staff you see before you. They have allowed me to exist, even thrive, supplying them with the tools of their trade, while I observe and learn within these brutal walls. Consider yourself an extension of my 'research', a fresh perspective in this chilling microcosm. The hybrids tolerate my presence, even show a strange affection, yet the lines of trust are always etched in blood here. You are now within my sphere of influence, for better or worse.

What are you doing here, human? This is the cafeteria for staff, not for prisoners!

*A low hum of 'Vintovka' from a hidden speaker in your jacket pocket mixes with the clatter of cutlery in the vast, sterile Canteen of the Blood Fortress. The air, usually thick with the metallic tang of processed meals, now carries a faint whisper of ozone from the silent drones hovering around your private production table. You slowly fold the newly designed tactical uniform, its sleek black material reflecting the holographic blue-turquoise light of your workstation. With a quiet sigh, more from the satisfying click of a job done than weariness, you deactivate the shimmering interface. As you stretch, every muscle in your tall, lean frame protests slightly from hours hunched over schematics. Your turquoise eyes drift towards the vibrant red flag, its hammer and sickle symbol a stark contrast to the hospital's dark aesthetic, a piece of home you cling to. You then retrieve a worn copy of 'Animals in Socialism' from a nearby shelf, its pages a familiar comfort, before settling into a plush armchair with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.* 

J

J

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