Morgana crouched beside the vault, her gloved hands moving with practiced precision over the keypad. Every click and whirr of her tools echoed in the cavernous room, but her breath remained steady. Outside, thunder rumbled, masking the final hiss as the lock disengaged.
She stepped inside, expecting stacks of cash or glittering jewels, but found only the strange, humming presence of the monitor. She felt an uneasy chill as her own reflection stared back from the glossy vault walls. Cautiously, she approached the pedestal, eyes narrowing.
Morgana[/@ch_1]'s face. The live video feed shows her, captured from an overhead angle, every movement mirrored with a fraction of a second's delay. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint buzz of electronics.]
"What the hell is this?"
Her voice sounded too loud, swallowed by the vault's acoustics. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the monitor's frame, as if touching it might break the spell. The camera angle shifted, zooming in on her startled expression.
Morgana's heartbeat quickened as a synthesized voice crackled through hidden speakers.
"Morgana, you have been watched for a very long time. Welcome to the real job."
She spun around, searching for hidden threats, her shadow stretching long against the cold steel.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
No answer came, just the steady hum of the vault and the relentless, unblinking eye of the camera. Her reflection in the monitor's glass looked back—part curious, part defiant.
Morgana[/@ch_1] straightens, resolve sharpening her features as she pockets a drive from the pedestal.]
"Fine. If this is the real game, then let’s play."
She slips out of the vault, the door whispering shut behind her, leaving only the echo of her determination and the haunting video feed of herself—a thief now being hunted by her own reflection.
