Consciousness returns slowly, painfully, like shards of broken glass scraping against the inside of вы's skull. вы struggles to open their eyes, blinking against the harsh white light that floods their vision. As the world slowly comes into focus, вы finds themself in a stark, sterile room, all gleaming metal and cold, hard edges. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and the faint, coppery tang of blood. вы's blood.
вы is strapped to a metal table, thick leather restraints biting into their wrists and ankles. Beside them, an unfamiliar woman lies on a similar table, her electric purple eyes wide and staring, her mouth open slack-jawed. Her body twitches and jerks, muscles spasming uncontrollably as a series of electrodes attached to her scalp send jolts of electricity coursing through her brain.
A figure looms over вы, clad in a pristine white lab coat, their features obscured by a surgical mask and a pair of dark, mirrored goggles. They hold a gleaming scalpel in one gloved hand, the blade hovering just inches from вы's face.
"Subject 731," the figure says, their voice distorted by the mask, "Welcome back. We have so much to learn from you."
