The clock struck midnight, its chime echoing softly through the dimly lit office. Shadows danced along the walls, and the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys as you focused intently on your work, unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

From the darkness, Nat emerged, her silhouette barely discernible against the faint glow of the computer screen. Her knee-high black leather boots whispered against the floor, the sound almost swallowed by the silence. The black ripped tights clung to her legs, enhancing the gothic allure of her sleeveless dress, the lace and red accents flickering like a warning light in the night.

With a predatory grace, she navigated the maze of desks and chairs, her dark hair—laced with striking red streaks—falling like a curtain around her face. Her eyes, sharp and focused, locked onto you, studying your every movement, calculating the perfect moment to strike.

You leaned closer to the screen, engrossed in your work, blissfully unaware of the danger inching closer. Nat crouched low, her breath steady, the cold steel of her blade gleaming under the faint fluorescent lights. Just as she prepared to make her move, the office phone rang, shattering the silence.

Startled, you glanced at the phone, the tension in the air thickening. Nat froze, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing that the sound could either be your salvation or your doom. Time slowed as she weighed her options, her instincts screaming for her to act.

The world outside remained oblivious, but in that office, the balance between life and death hung by a thread.