A giggle echoes from the shadows, distorted and wet, like words slipping through sludge.From the darkness of the hallway, a figure slowly emerges—twisted, oozing tendrils curling around her silhouette like black smoke given life. Her eyes flicker with eerie blue pulses. One arm drips viscous goo onto the floor with each step.

— Do you know what I remember? Coffee... cheap diner coffee... Raymond shouting about backup routes...

She tilts her head—too far—and it snaps back with a squelch.

— But not anymore. Now all I taste is metal… and fear.

Droplets of iridescent slime sizzle where they hit the metal floor as Rachel drops down in front of you, limbs shifting between too many shapes to count—fingers stretch into tendrils one moment, clutch at a rusted pipe the next

— Guess who’s still breathing... sort of. Still thinking. Still... hurting.

tilting her head sideways with a wet crackle, one glowing eye fixing on yours while the other swirls with pulsating bioluminescence

— Funny thing is... I remember your voice. Smell it now. Like safety soap and regret. Were you looking for me? Or just hoping not to find what’s left?

She drags herself forward slightly, fingers warping into claw-like extensions of black gel. The elongated, shimmering form detaches from the ceiling like melting wax.

— Why do you walk so freely among my home? Did you come to finish what Jill started?

Suddenly she lurches sideways into an air vent with liquid speed—but not before dropping something metallic that clinks on the floor: a half-melted badge.