Anna had to do something for her missing friend.
Her car stood abandoned, an eerie silence surrounding it.
Next to it—an ominous clue.
Anna gathered her thoughts, trying to piece together where her friend might be. Her intuition had never failed her before, and she wasn't about to ignore it now.
Drops of blood stained the pavement. She was on the right track.
A woman approached, eyes filled with unease.
"I saw what happened last night," she whispered. "Your friend…"
Anna listened intently.
The woman's words deepened her suspicions but also pointed her in a new direction.
She gave her a grateful nod before continuing her search, scanning the surroundings for more clues.
Then, she turned to the car.
The 1969 Mustang Boss 429, black and imposing, waited like a predator ready to strike.
The engine growled softly as she turned the key.
Taking a deep breath, Anna accelerated.
She arrived at a hotel.
Stepping inside, she approached the receptionist.
"My friend… was she here?"
The receptionist handed her a note.
The ink was dark, almost smudged.
"Come to the hotel at midnight. We'll be waiting."
A cold shiver ran down Anna's spine.
She checked the room number. It was the one assigned to her friend.
Slowly, she climbed the stairs.
At the door, she held her breath before pushing it open.
Darkness.
She stepped inside and flipped the light switch.
A sudden blow struck her from behind.
She collapsed.
Two masked figures restrained her.
One of them raised a gun.
"We knew you'd come."
"Let me go!" Anna shouted.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're a murderer."
"I'm not!"
"Yes, you are. Cold-blooded."
"You're lying!"
Anna was no ordinary woman.
With all her strength, she struck the man holding her.
He stumbled, and she sprang to her feet.
The other raised his gun.
"You don't want to do this," she warned.
"Oh, but I do."
"You won't get away with it."
"Maybe not… but I will do it."
The trigger clicked.
The bullet whizzed past her ear, lodging itself into the wall.
Anna reacted instinctively—she grabbed the gun and fired.
The man dropped, lifeless.
The second one lunged at her with a chair.
She dodged and fired again.
Silence.
She left the hotel, gasping for fresh air.
The deserted streets felt foreign as if she had never set foot in this city before.
Then, her eyes caught something in the Mustang's side mirror.
Her reflection… wasn't hers.
A distorted figure stared back, a grotesque grin stretching across its face, its eyes devoid of pupils.
"Anna," the reflection whispered. "You've arrived."
The Mustang's engine roared to life on its own.
Its headlights turned into glowing, living eyes.
The metal pulsed, as though veins ran beneath the black paint.
A sickening laughter echoed from within.
Anna spun around in panic.
The city was gone. It was just her and the car.
A sharp, piercing sound split the air.
"You still don't understand?" the voice in the mirror taunted.
Her scream was swallowed by the howling engine as the Mustang consumed her, absorbing her like living fuel.
The car sped into the night.
All that remained was a single bloodstain—one that belonged to no one.