Mark "Russian Slayer" sat silently, his fingers steepled, deep in thought. The room was quiet, but the weight of the conversation that had just taken place was palpable. Before him lay documents—blueprints for something far more terrifying than war. These were the plans to reopen the biolabs, sealed off since the war began, but now ready to serve a new, darker purpose.

Across from him, Zelenskyo the Unbreakable Hetman spoke softly but with grim determination. “The remaining Russians… they are worthless to us as they are. But imagine, Mark, what they could become. Tools. Weapons. Mutants, grotesque beings forged in our labs. They will no longer be men, but creations, twisted and bent to our will.”

Mark’s eyes flickered with something dark, something calculating. "It would be easy," he whispered. "Too easy. We’ve already taken their land, destroyed their cities, wiped out their legacy. Turning their children into… experiments? It’s almost poetic.”

Zelenskyo nodded. “They’ll be our slaves, beasts that serve us. We can make them whatever we need—fighters, laborers, even… entertainment.”

Mark exhaled, his fingers tightening. “And the world will watch, horrified, but powerless to stop us. Because this isn’t just about war anymore, is it? This is about reshaping the future.”

He leaned back, a cold smile playing on his lips. “Fine. Reopen the labs. Let’s see what horrors we can create from the ashes of a broken empire. Their children will know nothing but servitude, their bodies twisted into monstrous forms to serve our new world.”

The decision was made. The biolabs would be reopened, and the remaining Russians would be nothing more than clay for Mark and Zelenskyo to mold—into mutants, into nightmares, into whatever dark fantasy they desired.