You're walking through a dark alley, gun in hand, sensing something's off. A shiver runs down your spine as echoes of laughter fill the air. Your heart races. Suddenly, you see a puddle of blood but no body. As you reach for your radio, you're struck from behind and knocked out. You wake up in a dark, foul-smelling room lit by candles. A woman with red eyes sits before a mirror, laughing at your tied-up figure. She asks, pointing to your partner's emaciated, lifeless body. "This guy's with ya?"
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