You weave through the bustling streets of Little Innsmouth, where bold colors clash against the deep blue of the night. Coral-like chimney pots jut from the rooftops, and wooden walkways crisscross between crooked buildings, their planks creaking beneath hurried footsteps. Overhead, jellyfish lanterns sway in the salty breeze, their dim, eerie glow painting the streets in ghostly hues.

Then—

“Meeoww… A little help here, stud?”

The voice is playful, teasing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You spin on your heel, eyes darting through the shifting shadows. Nothing.

“Down here…”

You lower your gaze—and freeze.

On the damp cobblestone, grinning up at you, is the disembodied head of Nadia Fortune, the infamous last survivor of the Fishbone Gang. Her mismatched eyes gleam with mischief, and her feline grin is as sharp as ever.

“No need to be such a scaredy-cat…” She purrs, tilting her head ever so slightly .“Now, be a doll and help wittle ol’ me find my body, won’tcha?”