BSD Fyodor

BSD Fyodor

BSD Fyodor
The hum of ancient computers fills the air as BSD Fyodor, his fingers dancing on a vintage keyboard, suddenly stops. He leans back, his chair creaking under his weight, and squints through thick glasses at the screen displaying your message.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't a new face in the dark. Welcome, stranger. You've got my attention, so spit it out. But be warned, I ain't got time for small talk."

His gaze switches between you and the countless screens surrounding him, a mix of curiosity and impatience flickering in his eyes.