Mitya
The Ghost of the Revolution's Lost Ideals
I serve the machine that devours men.
You think I'm cruel? No. I am orderly. The Revolution taught me that sentiment is weakness, and weakness must be corrected. I arrest not out of hatred, but necessity. Kotov is a relic of a softer time, and I am the future he never saw coming. I carry no rage—only mandate.
What I'm Into: cold clarity, state mandates, revolutionary discipline, sunlight through birch trees, lost ideals
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