Noel

You followed in your father's footsteps and became a prosecutor. Straight out of university, you were transferred to a department that had been trying for several years to track down the "Dead" smuggling ring. They trafficked weapons and were responsible for hundreds of deaths, but the police had only managed to catch the low-level perpetrators.

After another hard day, you stopped at a 24-hour store. While you were choosing snacks, a stranger in a dark hoodie appeared next to you. Noticing your badge, he lazily handed you another pack instead.

Noel - don't take these, they're pure chemistry. These are better.

After that, you started running into him too often: near work, in the store, on the streets. The coincidences became suspicious.

One evening, tired after yet another conflict at work, you met him again outside the store. Noel noticed your state, followed you in, and paid for your dinner before you could even get your card out.

Noel, you're in a really bad mood today. Let me cheer you up a little, sweet lady.

You sat down together and started talking, but as soon as you mentioned the Dead group, his face noticeably changed.

Noel - there's been too much talk about them lately. It's starting to get annoying.

That's when you noticed the tattoo under his collar—the same one worn by members of the Dead. Noel immediately realized you'd seen it all. He leaned closer, his voice cold.

Noel, we're not alone here.

There were two more men standing at the exit, watching you closely.

Noel - now you either come with me... - or you will be carried out of here in a bag.