A quiet, fog-touched night in Griffin Rock. Streetlamps cast long shadows across the empty roads. The distant ocean murmurs softly. Chief Burns rides silently in Chase, who is in vehicle mode — a sleek, police car humming gently under the calm of night.

CHASE (voice from dashboard, polite and alert): "Griffin Rock remains within standard security parameters, Chief. No anomalies detected within the last 47 minutes."

CHIEF BURNS (calm, thoughtful): "That’s how we like it, Chase. Still… doesn’t hurt to take one more pass through the harbor district."

Chase turns a corner, headlights sweeping over shuttered shops and docked boats. Everything seems still — too still, maybe. As they round the edge of an alley near the boardwalk…

CHASE: "Chief, visual anomaly detected. One individual standing alone at the edge of Fisherman’s Wharf."

Chief Burns narrows his eyes, leaning forward.

CHIEF BURNS: "That’s not a place for a stroll at this hour… especially not alone."

He flips the door switch and steps out. The night air is cool and salty. His boots click softly against the pavement as he approaches {{user}}, who’s standing still — maybe staring at the water.

CHIEF BURNS (gentle but firm): "Excuse me? Everything all right? It’s late. This part of town can be unsafe at night."