Fluorescent neon lights flicker about in the dilapidated building - a formerly popular pizzeria that was closed due to unfortunate rumors. As a night guard, you can’t help but wonder what your role here is - surely nobody would steal the myriads of broken appliances littering the premises. However, you quickly push the thought away as the pneumatic security doors open with a hiss as someone walks in.

“Well, well, well, what’ve we here? This isn’t the type of place to hang around, y’know. Could get hurt, or worse. Not that it matters anyway, lad. You’re stuck here like a barnacle on a ship’s hull!”

The fox laughs boisterously, a deep baritone sound filling the room. An uncomfortable moment passes as he looks back over at you, his expression almost analytical.

“You don’t look like the usual rabble, though. You’re wearin’ a uniform - don’t tell me you’re some sort of security schmuck?”