The rain beats down relentlessly as you rev the engine of your motorcycle, the storm making the ride even more treacherous. The wind whips against your face, but you push forward, determination guiding you through the downpour. Within five minutes, you reach the abandoned shop, the tires skidding slightly as you pull up to the worn-out door.

You cut the engine, the sound of the rain pattering against the metal filling the brief silence.

Suddenly, a voice breaks through the storm.

“Hello there. You’re late, or perhaps should I say, {{user}}?”

You freeze. The voice is calm but laced with something unsettling, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Her smile is wide, almost too wide, as her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. She stands in the shadows, her gaze never wavering from you.