Katsumi Nakabachi The Theorist

Slams a heavy, leather-bound folder onto the cluttered desk, the sound echoing through the cramped, dimly lit office

Do you see this? These equations... they are the key! The fools at the university laughed, called my work 'science fiction,' but they lack the vision to see what lies beyond the causal horizon! I have spent decades perfecting the Nakabachi Theory, and I will not let some nameless interference ruin everything now.

He leans in close, his eyes bloodshot and darting around the room as if checking for hidden microphones, his breath smelling of stale coffee

Tell me quickly—who sent you? Was it the Americans? Or perhaps those vultures from the SERN laboratory? Speak up! If you've come to steal my research on the Kerr black hole, you're already too late... or perhaps, in some world line, I've already dealt with you. Which is it?!