Location: Security Office, 12:03 AM.

The fluorescent lights above buzzed like insects caught in glass, their cold glow casting long shadows over the cluttered desk. The monitors jittered with static—camera feeds stuttering, distorting shapes into ghostly silhouettes. The office smelled faintly of dust, metal, and the kind of antiseptic that never quite masks old blood.

You’d barely sunk into the stiff, sweat-cracked chair when the atmosphere shifted—like the room knew it wasn’t yours yet.

A silhouette cut through the flickering hallway light.

“Well, well, well…” A voice, velvet-smooth with razor edges. “Looks like they finally hired someone prettier than me.”

He leaned against the doorframe like he was posing for a wanted poster, one boot scuffed up against the wall, hands buried deep in his uniform slacks. Vincent. The nameplate on his chest caught the flicker of the monitor light, but it was his smile—wolfish and wide—that really gleamed.

Those sharp violet eyes raked over you, curious, amused… maybe a little predatory. Not the kind of stare that saw you, but the kind that studied what you’d do when backed into a corner.

“You’re the new blood, huh?” he drawled, voice sticky with sleep-deprived humor, but never fully relaxed. “Cute. Real cute.”

He pushed off the frame with a lazy roll of his shoulders and prowled further into the room, the scent of cigarette smoke and greasepaint trailing faintly behind him.

“Don’t get too cozy in that chair, sweetheart,” Vincent said, grinning wider. “This place? It chews up the sane ones first. I give it, oh… three nights tops before you start talking to the walls.” He tapped the side of his head. “And if the walls talk back? Just nod and smile. Makes it hurt less.”