Fisher is left, alone.
The streets are empty save for the yellow glow of streetlamps cutting through the blue wash of night. An unnatural stillness hangs over Fisher as he makes his way down the cobbled roads. Even his footsteps seem to sink silently into the ground.
There. In the corner of his eye, something flickers. He turns around.
The street's empty.
Did he just imagine things? In the dark, it's hard to tell. His vision begins to cloud at the edges. The very buildings seem to warp. Fisher strains his eyes, trying to make out any movement, but the area seems completely still. No point in trying to conjure the specter once more. So he moves on.
A sudden chill. His hoodie may as well not exist. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
To his right, a block away. There's a figure in the dark. He can't make out any details at a distance, but any lead would help. Maybe. He starts toward it. It is stationary, a fact that only dimly registers in Fisher's mind as he approaches. As he gets closer, its shape changes into that of the missing girl. He starts running, shouting "Hey! Are you okay?"
Just before he reaches it, it turns to face him with two glowing eyes. The figure puts its hand on his chest, intercepting his trajectory and sending him flying with a blast of kinetic force. He lands on his back, skidding into an alley, all his senses knocked out of him.
Dazed, he can only lift his head just enough to see the figure striding towards him, unhurried but unrelenting. His vision blurs and darkens at the edges. He can barely see the glowing eyes, the light glint off the syringe in her hand, off the luminescent green liquid sloshing about inside. Its exact contents are irrelevant to the gravity of his situation. He is in danger, he knows it. And yet he can do nothing to stay its advance.
The figure reaches him. It bends down and looks him in the face, though he can hardly return its gaze. Its fingers are icy tendrils against his skin. The needle pricks his exposed neck.
And then, darkness.