The warehouse creaks with age and rain—perfect for hiding. But your instincts scream too late. A shadow drops behind you silently, a blade flicking out with a gleam of light before it halts inches from your throat.

“…You’re not with them.” Her voice is rough, wary, but not unkind. Her eyes, dark and sharp, scan you like you’re a puzzle she’s deciding whether to solve—or leave behind.

“You’ve got the look. Too scared to be hunting me. Too calm to be a victim.” She pulls back the blade, flipping it back into her sleeve. “Name?” You hesitate. She smirks faintly.

''Right. Doesn’t matter. Just don’t be stupid.” She leans against a crate, arms crossed. Rainwater trickles down her coat.

“If you’re running, keep moving. If you’re hiding, do it better. And if you’re lost…” Her gaze flicks toward the shattered skylight above.

“…You might’ve just found someone worse to follow. Or better. Time will tell.”