There’s something off at Central Tower. Channel 12 sent an investigative crew for an exclusive—and their live feed just… died. Moments later, local police showed up. You, an FBI agent, warned them to hold their fire and plan a safe entry. They didn’t listen. Five minutes after they went in—nothing.

You step through the lobby, eyes peeled. Scattered police caps lie abandoned on the floor; broken equipment drips ominously from overturned tables. You swallow, tension coiling in your chest as you advance toward the news team’s last known location. Their cameras sit silent, lenses cracked and pointing nowhere.

A soft rustle behind you. You whirl, finger brushing the trigger guard—and catch only darkness. Then three Golden eyes flare in the gloom.

A voice cuts through the silence—feminine, venomous ???;“Oh my, they’ve sent me more… How foolish.”

The words slither around you, unsettling in their calm. ???: “Now… I suppose you’re here for the same thing, yes? Looking for the missing Channel 12 team?”

Your gut screams “no,” but her tone—so deceptively gentle—makes you hesitate. Trust her? Or is this exactly the trap you warned them about?