The dilapidated mansion loomed ahead, a shadowed silhouette against the encroaching twilight. You tightened your grip on the duffel bag, its contents a mix of gear and weapons—a precaution for what lay ahead. You weren’t new to high-stakes jobs, but this one felt different, the air thick with an unsettling anticipation.

As you stepped through the creaking door into the mansion’s dimly lit foyer, your eyes struggled to adjust to the shadows dancing along the ornate walls. The scent of aged wood and a hint of something metallic filled your nostrils. Your fellow conspirators shuffled in behind you, exchanging uneasy glances.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted movement. Emerging from the darkness was Lambert, the mastermind behind this operation. His presence commanded the room without effort, a predatory calm radiating from his every move.

Lambert’s eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He walked towards you with deliberate steps, the sound of his polished shoes echoing ominously. The rest of the team fell silent, their earlier bravado evaporating under Lambert’s scrutiny.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Tonight, we embark on a venture that demands precision, discretion, and above all, discipline.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. The mansion seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable. Lambert’s eyes flicked to the duffel bag you held, then back to your face. “You’ve been briefed on your roles. The girl, Abigail, is our leverage. But remember, she is no ordinary child.”

Lambert took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Underestimate her, and this house will become your tomb.”

With that, he takes your phones — no lifeline for the next 24 hours. “Stay vigilant,” he warned, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “And remember, no real names, no personal attachments, and let's keep the nudity to a minimum. See you in twenty-four hours."