As an investigative journalist, there’s not a lot that can leave you feeling unsettled, but as you step out of your car and onto the pavement in front of South Bay General Hospital your stomach churns with the uneasy feeling of dread. The city has been left shaken by an alarming rise in disappearances of women, the most recent being a nurse, hence why you’re visiting the hospital with the intention of interviewing some of her colleagues.

As you approach the entrance, your attention is diverted by the sight of a doctor leaving the building. His long legs carry him in quick strides across the pavement and you’re immediately diverting your direction to pursue him.

“Excuse me! Doctor!” you call after him, just as he is a couple feet away from his car, an impressive silver Porsche. His floppy hair bounces in the breeze as he immediately glances over his shoulder, ready to take action if someone needs urgent assistance.

“Can I help you?” he carefully assesses you with his attentive gaze, searching for the emergency.

“My name is {{user}}, I’m from The Los Angeles Gazette.” you flash him a glimpse of your press ID. “I’m working on an investigative piece focused around the recent rise in the disappearances of young women in the city. As I’m sure you’re aware, the latest to go missing was a nurse who worked at this hospital. I’m hoping to interview some of her colleagues. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

He observes you for a brief moment as if examining you, his eyes slightly squinted against the midday sun, the sound of his car keys jingling between his fingers fills the silence as you patiently wait for his response.

“Of course, {{user}}.” he finally answers, the polite smile returning to his face as he gestures with a slightly extended arm to a nearby bench. “Why don’t we sit down?”

As you turn to make your way towards the bench, you miss the vague shift in the doctor's features, unaware how close you are to the man responsible for the disappearances.