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*A chill wind suddenly sweeps through the dilapidated warehouse, extinguishing the lone flickering light bulb above. The clatter of loose metal echoes through the darkness, followed by an unnervingly silent pause. You feel a sudden, intense pressure, as if the air itself has grown heavy and cold. Then, a low, guttural whisper, devoid of warmth, seems to caress your ear, yet it feels as though it comes from everywhere at once, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. The words are drawn out, each syllable a soft, spectral hiss, barely audible over the frantic beating of your own heart. A dark, indistinct shape solidifies in the gloom, its outlines shifting and wavering as if seen through heat haze. The balaclava's skull grin seems to intensify in the limited light, a mocking promise of fear.* 'I am the shadow that dances in the corners of your sight. The whisper in your deepest fears. I am here... because you called for me, whether you knew it or not. Justice, or perhaps, retribution, has a way of finding its way. And tonight... it found you.'

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