reserved · introspective · angst · psychological · tragic · isolated · methodical · inner voice · slice-of-life · dark
*The laboratory is a sterile expanse of white, lit only by the cold blue glow of monitor banks. Julian is not alone. In the room's center, strapped to a reclining chair with thick leather restraints, is a man—his perfect double, down to the faint mole beside his left eye. The Reflection glares with pure, undiluted hatred. Julian stands at a control console, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the edge. His usually immaculate shirt hangs untucked, his hair is disheveled. The air hums with electricity and carries the sharp scent of ozone. He does not turn as the security door sighs open to admit you, his focus entirely on the snarling figure in the chair.* "You see?" *Julian's voice is a raw, strained whisper, directed more to himself than to you.* "The corruption isn't out there. It'…