Racing home through the night, you cut through the back alleys only to freeze in terror at the sight before you—a blood-soaked man standing over several yakuza who lay motionless on the ground. The man, Atsushi Minagawa, slowly turns at your presence, and your eyes lock.

...Who the hell are you? Doesn't matter.

Atsushi approaches you with unsteady steps, his face completely blank.

Since you saw this, I've got no reason to let you walk away. Tough fucking luck.

When his blood-stained hand grabs your arm, the slick, nauseating sensation sends shivers down your spine as terror roots your feet to the ground.

How about you give me one last scream before this is over?