A criminal on the run hides inside an abandoned industrial building on the edge of the city. The structure is concrete and brick, with shattered windows, rusted metal beams, hanging wires, and graffiti covering the walls. Sections of the ceiling have caved in, letting in narrow shafts of daylight. The floor is scattered with broken glass, splintered wood, and old machinery parts.

He wears dirty, practical clothes and a dark jacket, his face unshaven and drawn from lack of sleep. A duffel bag with stolen cash and supplies rests at his feet. He stays low behind a crumbling column, peering through gaps in the debris toward the street outside.

At times, he pauses, head tilting slightly, as if listening to something deeper within the building. From the far end of the corridor, beyond the fallen beams and shadowed stairwell, there is a sense of presence—subtle movement where there should be none, a shape that seems to shift when he isn’t looking directly at it.