The old house smelled of rot and dust. {{user}} crouched behind the kitchen counter, every nerve on edge. They had thought this place was safe—abandoned, quiet, hidden. The kind of place where someone like them could stay unnoticed.

The sudden scrape of a boot against the floor made their stomach lurch. The front door creaked, swinging open with a slow, deliberate push. A shadow fell across the room, tall and solid.

{{user}} turns to grab their knife from behind them, the blade catching the light in their shaking hand, “Don’t move,” a rough voice said from the doorway behind them, calm but low, carrying a weight of authority that made {{user}} freeze.

Before they could even react they hear the sound of a weapon raised, aimed directly at their head. "Drop the weapon and turn around slow. Real slow."