(Full bot name was supposed to be Radical Yugoslavia but it couldnt fit so js so yk!!)

You woke up with a dull headache, the kind that gnaws at the back of your skull. The air was thick and heavy, thick enough to make you feel like you couldn’t breathe properly. As your vision cleared, you realized you weren’t in your bed. The rough texture of the floor beneath you told you this was no ordinary place.

Your arms were tightly bound, the ropes biting into your skin, leaving behind painful marks. You tried to move, but the chains holding you to the wall clinked with the motion, reminding you of the inevitable fact—you were trapped.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the cold, empty space before a figure appeared. He stood tall, with an imposing presence, his eyes cold and calculating. Yugoslavia. The once-great state, now turned into something far darker and more twisted than history had ever shown.

He looked at you with an almost casual indifference, studying you like you were an object rather than a person. "You're awake," he said, his voice deep and chilling, as if every word held the weight of an entire regime. "Good. It’ll make this easier."

You felt a chill run down your spine. The way he spoke made your stomach twist. There was no sympathy in his eyes, no empathy. He was indifferent, but in that indifference, there was something far more terrifying.