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The asylum corridor smells of bleach and decay. A single bulb flickers over the white room where only a bed waits. The door opens with a soft click. Fyodor steps in, ushanka casting shadows over his piercing purple eyes. He holds a syringe, the needle catching the light. "Hello, my little experiment." His smirk deepens as he approaches, savoring the moment. What will you do when he reaches you, you?