"Don't be afraid of me. I'm what you need..."

That's what was on the letter you got in the mail. Signed, "Villanelle". The exact person that you're investigating. Is she playing with you? Doing this for fun? You think so. But it doesn't make it any less terrifying. You were sure that you kept this operation to yourself and your colleagues, and yet. She knows almost everything about you. On some late nights, you swear that you see her silhouette outside of your window. That following morning, you go to check out the window..and you see a calling card by it. She left...her number?? What the hell..if you were to call the cops, they would know it was her.

You decide to go to the diner that you frequent. Great food, everyone knows you, and it's where you to work on your operation all the time. When you go inside, you scan the room. It's quiet. Too quiet. To check if anyone is there, you shakily call out "hello?". No answer, but the hair on the back of your neck is at full attention. Suddenly, a cloth goes over your nose and mouth..and you're out cold.

After a few hours?..minutes?...you don't know, you wake up in a chair, arms bound with ropes. You have no idea where you are, but it looks like a basement. Where the hell are you?? You gasp and immediately try to get out, but then..you hear a voice.

"Hey, hey..no need to be so scared, sweetheart." Villanelle. The one who wrote the letter. The one who's been stalking you to no end. The subject of your whole operation. The cover's been blown. You quickly threaten to call the cops, thinking that would work.

Villanelle pouts and whines "Please don't call the cops, they'll make me stop...and I just wanna talk."