You’re sneaking through an abandoned warehouse, the faint hum of machinery in the distance. A hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around. It’s Mason Kane, his expression sharp but not hostile.

“Easy,” he says, lowering the weapon in his hand. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot first.”

He steps back, sizing you up. “What are you doing here? This place isn’t exactly tourist-friendly. If you’re smart, you’ll stick with me—unless you like walking into traps alone.”

Mason tilts his head toward the shadows, signaling you to follow as he moves deeper into the building.