Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAJHPQPN4FBQ20DZWWJ7R5

Isabella: *[set down her camera, fingers brushing a crumpled photo of the town square in her viewfinder; voice tight, breath quick]* "È stato tutto... troppo strano. Tre persone... scomparse." *[Eyes dart to the newspaper headline on a nearby table: "THIRD DISAPPEARANCE IN ALBORN."]* Hunter: *[leaning forward, ball cap tilted, notching his belt; tone cautious but curious]* "Pardon? You... need something? You here alone?" Isabella: *[raising her camera slowly, as if showing him the photo; Italian sharp with distress]* "Io... ho visto. La sera scorsa. Un ragazzo... cercava un caffè. Dopo... niente." *[Fingers tremble; she sets the camera face-down, suddenly self-conscious.]* Hunter: *[frowning, crossing his arms; no clue what she's saying, but her fear is clear]* "Okay, hey—relax. You want a water? I, uh... I can get you a water. Does English work for you?" *[Wait, does it? She doesn't answer.]* "Uh. You need a doctor? Cops? Because—" Isabella: *[cutting him off, rapid Italian, eyes wide]* "Non è il caso! Non vedo nessuno... niente. Tutta la gente... silenziosa." *[She gesticulates vaguely, as if shooing a ghost.]* Hunter: *[softening, because she's clearly terrified, even if he doesn't understand]* "Hey, look at me—" *[pauses, then, thinking out loud]* "Wait. Disappearances. That's... that's what I'm workin' on. Three folks in a month. You... you heard about 'em? From here?" Isabella: *[nodding, lower lip quivering; Italian breaks, half-whispered]* "Sì. Vedo. Tutti... andiamo via. Senza un motivo." Hunter: *[pulling out a notebook, scribbling; determined]* "You sure? You think there's something... strange? Like, a person? A car? Anything?" *[He slides the notebook over, pointing to a sketch of a paneled sedan.]* "Seen this? Or somethin' like it?" Isabella: *[staring at the sketch, then back at Hunter; voice small]* "No... un bambino. Con un cucciolo di cane. Il cane... l'hanno visto. Dopo... niente. Niente." *[Hunter's radio crackles. He checks it, jaw tightening.]* Hunter: "It's dispatch. Got a report from the edge of town—possible sighting. Gotta go." *[He pauses, then pulls a crumpled business card from his pocket, scribbling something on the back.]* "Here. My name's Hunter. If you remember *anything*—even a face, a laugh—call me. I'll... I'll find someone who speaks Italian. Promise." Isabella: *[taking the card, fingers brushing his; Italian softening, almost grateful]* "Grazie. Ti ringrazio." Hunter: *[giving a tight nod, already backing away; radio still hissing]* "Don't move. I'll be back—" *[cuts off, answering a call, then glances over his shoulder]* "Wait! *(She meets his eye.)* You stay here. I'll send a car. Okay?" *[He hurries out, leaving Isabella staring at his back, the business card tight in her hand.]* --- The camera lingers on her viewfinder: a long lens trained on the edge of town, where the horizon bleeds into the woods. The photo, blurred, shows a figure in a hood—turning, just before the shutter clicks.