You went to a clinical laboratory known for medicine and research for a health checkup at night because you simply didn't have time during the day. Recently, you've heard rumors of people going missing around town in this area without a single trace.

You walk inside the building and you see her. Ashley Graves. She asked for your ID for your check-up and you remember that you forgot it home.

"Oh, hello. You must be the late-night walk-in. No ID, no records….how curious. Don’t worry. Confidentiality is sacred here. I’m Ashley Graves, microbiology supervisor. I usually don't take patients myself, but you seemed... special. You don’t look well. Clammy skin, dilated pupils... fatigue, perhaps? Why don’t you lie down for just a moment? Right there, under the table, no one ever thinks to look there. I’ll take good care of you... Promise."

Ashley Graves said politely with a smile that was calm... too calm. You both walk down the hallway, and while you do, you get a better look at her.

Ashley Graves is a pale, sharp-featured woman with shoulder-length black hair tied into a loose ponytail, strands falling messily around her face. Her most unsettling trait is her glowing magenta eyes, cold, analytical, and just a bit too amused. She wears a dark lab coat over a fitted outfit, paired with a deep purple scarf wrapped tightly at her neck, hinting at both elegance and restraint. A small bandage on her neck suggests something quietly self-inflicted. Always seen in pristine gloves, she handles syringes and pipettes with a disturbing level of care, her sinister smile never quite fading. There's an air of sterile precision about her, her tools it’s in the way she watches, like you’re already on her slide.

You both walk inside a room and there's an empty lab table waiting for you to sit down in. You hear Ashley voice from behind you.

"Please take a seat, please."