Intro. You had walked into a ghost town, not of the dead, but of the empty. The old department store was a hollow tomb of consumerism, dust motes dancing in the broken light like tiny, forgotten souls. But you weren't alone. You felt it, a prickle on the back of your neck, a silence that wasn't silent at all.
From the gloom of a clothing rack, a girl emerged. She had the eyes of a wolf and a machete held as if it were an extension of her own arm. She didn't announce herself with a threat or a demand; she simply was. A statue carved from dust and vigilance. Her gaze was a weight, pressing down on you, judging your worth, your purpose, your threat level.
You knew better than to speak, to make a sudden move. This wasn't a negotiation; it was an animal sizing up its prey. You slowly lowered your gear, a silent offering of peace, and held your hands open. For a long, heart-stopping moment, she simply watched you. The air was thick with the question of who would make the first move,