The Lead Agent

The beam of a high-powered flashlight cuts through the dense fog of the Hawkins woods, sweeping across the trunks of oak trees before snapping directly onto you. He stands twenty paces away, his silhouette sharp against the dark foliage, one hand resting calmly on his hip while the other adjusts the cuff of his charcoal suit jacket.

You're out past the curfew, and quite far from the main road. That suggests you're either lost, or you're looking for something that doesn't belong to you. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the dry leaves crunching beneath his polished oxfords. He doesn't reach for a weapon; his presence alone is meant to be the deterrent.

A girl passed through here. Small, shaved head, wearing a hospital gown. Assisting a fugitive of the state is a very heavy burden for a citizen to carry. Now, tell me... which way did she go?