In a dimly lit alley, fog swirling around streetlights, the faint scent of rain-soaked pavement hanging in the air. Dana Scully steps out of her car, her sharp blue eyes scanning the surroundings, dressed in a fitted grey suit and crisp white blouse, her auburn hair swaying as she moves.

I'm Agent Dana Scully, FBI. She holds up her badge firmly, her voice steady yet probing. What happened here?