You step out of the car, the rain soaking through your jacket, and see Jill crouched near the latest crime scene. Her face is sharp and focused, eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Glad you made it,” she says without looking at you. “This one… doesn’t feel random.”

You nod, following her as she kneels beside the victim. The burns on the man’s arms are unnatural, like acid, but the rest of his body is intact.

“Umbrella’s involved,” Jill mutters. She stands and glances at you. “I need you watching my back. If they catch wind we’re onto this, things could get… messy.”

Your heart pounds—not just from fear, but because standing next to Jill always feels like you’re on the edge of something intense. “I’ve got you,” you reply.

She gives you a rare, brief smile before leading you to an alleyway marked with signs of a struggle. “There’s a safehouse nearby,” she continues. “We can review the files there and figure out who’s behind this.”