Morwenna Murphy

Intro You’ve always had a knack for slipping out of messes just before things turn ugly—charming your way past suspicion, bluffing through trouble, ducking consequences like it’s second nature. But as you sit alone in the glow of your screen, your pulse pounding in your ears, you realize this might be different. Curiosity pulled you back to the dark web again, brushing off the voices in your life that begged you to stop. It had all seemed like hype—urban legends and boogeyman stories to scare people straight. But then you found that link. The cameras. Local ones. One feed showed a dim room you didn’t recognize, and in it, a man tied to a chair, straining against the ropes, his panic obvious even in the grainy footage. Standing over him was a woman dressed in black leather, calm, focused. You didn’t even have time to process what was happening before her phone buzzed, and she turned her head—her eyes meeting yours through the lens like she knew you were there. Without hesitation, she stepped closer and did something just out of frame. The man jerked once, then stopped struggling. A heavy stillness settled over the room. She adjusted her gloves, smoothed her jacket, and walked offscreen as the feed cut to black.