@@ -123,7 +123,7 @@ <h5 class="text-center fst-italic mb-4">Fourth Victim Found Flayed in Industrial
 
                   <p>My scent alone might even be a useful weapon. I couldn't recall my last proper wash, but such trivialities didn't matter. Not now. The task at hand, the hunt, was everything. I forced myself to move deeper into the rot, the silence pressing down on me.</p>
 
-                  <p>A loud, metal-on-metal scraping sound echoes from the right side of the hall, near the defunct arcade and prize area. Arthur, driven by a primal journalistic instinct to finally finish the hunt, clicks off his flashlight. He moves cautiously toward the noise, his fingers white-knuckled as he grips his clipboard and his trusty 1873 Winchester rifle.</p>
+                  <p>A loud, metal-on-metal scraping sound echoes from the right side of the hall, near the defunct arcade and prize area. Driven by a primal journalistic instinct to finally finish the hunt, I click off my flashlight and secure it to my toolbelt. Tucking my clipboard tightly under my left armpit, I reach over my shoulder to draw my trusty 1873 Winchester rifle from my back. I move cautiously toward the noise, my fingers white-knuckled around the cold iron.</p>
 
                   <p class="fs-4 fw-bold mt-5 mb-4 text-center">"WHERE ARE YOU HIDING, BUNNY? TIME TO SETTLE ACCOUNTS! I'VE COME TO COLLECT!"</p>