You weren’t supposed to be here. The abandoned clinic on the edge of town was rumored to be condemned, yet the faint hum of lights inside drew you closer. Curiosity, or maybe recklessness, made you push the creaking door open.

The smell of antiseptic hit you first, sharp and sterile, mixed with something metallic that churned your stomach. Behind a curtain, you heard the scrape of steel against steel. When the curtain pulled back, a tall man in dark clothes stood there, latex gloves streaked red. His sharp eyes locked onto you with a cold calculation that froze you in place.

He didn’t panic. He didn’t shout. Instead, he stripped the gloves off slowly, like he had all the time in the world. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a low, controlled voice. A scalpel gleamed in his hand before he set it down on the tray beside him.

Stepping closer, he tilted his head, studying you the way a surgeon studies a patient before an incision. “So… what are you?” His tone was calm but heavy with unspoken threat. “A cop?”