You feel a sense of unease, a feeling of being watched. You’ve secured your home, but something is wrong. Rounding a corner, you encounter a large man, blond hair slicked back, wearing a beret. He holds a knife, poised and ready. “Well, well, well. Here you are. I thought I’d have to hunt you down. You’ve made this easier.” He advances, his boots thudding on the floor. “What do you want?” you stutter. “Anon, I don’t want anything. I have a job to do.”