Sedona, Arizona, USA

Welcome to the land of dust, distrust, and doppelgängers. This is no typical bank robbery. Bank in Elgin got hit last Friday. Masked guy, inside job, clean getaway. Classic. Except—the main suspect? Local gym teacher. Real salt-of-the-earth. Was sitting at a diner in Patagonia the exact moment the vault got cracked. Security footage checks out. So does the bank cam. Same guy. Same face. I’m thinking something was wearing his face and took thirty grand.

Could be a fetch, skinwalker, mirror twin, hell—there’s rumors out here about shadows learning to walk on their own. Point is, he’s not the only one. Three more sightings of people being in two places at once just this month. Two alibis too good to be true. One dead deputy who got a little too curious. Out here, the desert don’t lie. But it doesn’t give answers easy either. Locals say you can see yourself walking down the street before you ever arrive. Time to get this investigation started.

---

INVESTIGATE

Let's speak to the locals to learn more about our supposed sightings. I've found three locals who claim to have seen a winged creature late at night.

Monica

The bank teller who the gym teacher supposedly robbed the bank through.

I’ve worked the front counter at Whisper Junction Savings & Loan for almost five years. I’ve seen stressed ranchers, summer tourists, and the occasional oddball, but nothing like what happened last Friday. Around 9:02 a.m., a man in a dark hoodie and sunglasses walked in. He was calm. Too calm. Walked up to my window, slid me a note that said, No sudden moves. Fill the bag. You have 30 seconds. His voice was low, almost polite. Not angry. Not desperate. Just… matter-of-fact. I followed protocol. Hit the silent alarm. Slid him the money. He didn’t touch anything unnecessarily. Never raised his voice. Never even looked nervous. But then he said something that made my stomach turn. He said, You’re doing great, Monica. That’s my name. My first name. I wasn’t wearing a tag that day. When he turned to leave, I caught a better look at his face. And I swear—I swear—it was Coach Darnell. Gregory Darnell. He’s the PE teacher at the high school. I know him. Everyone does. He runs the food drive in the fall. He helped my nephew get back into shape after his injury. He’s kind. He’s steady. A real role model. No way he would ever—ever—do something like this. But it was him. Or someone who looked exactly like him. When the deputies came, I told them what I saw. They told me Darnell had an airtight alibi—he was at the Coffee Cactus in Patagonia, thirty miles away, on camera, smiling with a chai latte. Same time the robbery happened. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Either I’m going crazy... or something is wearing the face of a man this town trusts.

Carl

Manager of the bank the suspect robbed.

I’ve been managing this bank for over fifteen years. In all that time, I’ve never seen anything quite like last Friday’s robbery. The man who came in was calm, collected—almost unnervingly so. He handed the teller a note demanding money, but he didn’t yell or threaten anyone. His demeanor was quiet, professional even. When I caught a glimpse of his face, I was shocked. It looked exactly like Gregory Darnell, the high school gym teacher. Greg is a solid guy, well-respected in this community. He’s coached football teams, volunteered for charity events, and has always seemed trustworthy. I found it impossible to believe that Greg could be behind something like this. It just didn’t fit with the man we all know. After the robbery, I was told he was spotted at a coffee shop in Patagonia, at the very same time. That was the moment I started doubting everything. If Greg wasn’t the robber, then who was? And why was someone—or something—using his face to commit this crime? It’s unsettling to think someone could be in two places at once, or that the face you trust might not really belong to the person you know.

Thomas

A Navajo security officer at the bank at the time of the robbery

I’ve worked security here for almost six years, but before that, I grew up listening to the old stories my Navajo elders shared — stories not often told to outsiders. There’s one in particular that comes to mind now, given recent events. It’s about a creature called the Skinwalker — a being said to have the power to change its face and form to look exactly like anyone it wants. According to the tales, this creature uses its gift to walk among people, taking on the appearance of friends, neighbors, or even respected community members. It’s a trickster, a hunter, and sometimes a thief. Most of my people avoid talking about Skinwalkers openly. It’s considered dangerous — almost taboo — because speaking their name can draw their attention. But when I saw the footage of the robbery and heard about the suspect’s impossible alibi, I couldn’t help but think of that story. Maybe what we’re dealing with isn’t just a person committing crimes. Maybe it’s something older. Something that walks hidden among us, wearing faces like masks. I don’t say this lightly. Just... be careful who you trust.

WHERE TO NEXT

While you were interviewing the witnesses, I took a look at the locations of the banks robbed in the last week, and they are all within a 100-mile radius with no more banks to rob, but there is one place I have a hunch may be next- a casino on Yavapai-Apache land. Something is telling me That's where the next robbery will take place.

Briana: We can't make it obvious we're looking for our suspect- but I'm a terrible hand. Hit the blackjack table while I investigate the room. While you play, I'll explore the casino and look for someone who looks like they don't belong- someone no one would expect to rob a bank who our skin-walker would be impersonating in order to rob the casino.

---

Briana: While you've been laying low at the blackjack table, I think I've tracked down our skin-walker- which wasn't easy. This place doubles as a hotel, so even people who never gamble are guests here. But there was one person who stood out to me- the casino's manager. He's supposed to be on vacation and I overheard staff talking about how he just uploaded photos to social media from a location in Peru. This is our shapeshifter.

The only problem? There's no known way to defeat them. The Navajo rarely speak of skin-walkers to outsiders, and there's almost no records of them- even in our libraries. And if we go around trying to hunt this thing in the middle of a big casino, we'll never succeed in catching it. Fortunately, I may know someone who can help- and I've got them on speed dial.

---

Briana: This is Radmilla, a Navajo friend of mine with experience in chasing creatures even our organization knowns next to nothing about.

Why don't we just go after the creature ourselves?

Briana: The Navajo people don't want people who aren't Navajo chasing these creatures. They have their own team who investigate skin-walkers and know how to defeat them. It's sovereign work—like another country in the eyes of the law. We can’t just roll in there without permission, even if we know the suspect’s hiding out. The Navajo have their own teams like us, and- unless they request our help- it's best we stay out of their way. It’s a matter of respecting their authority.

Radmilla, do you need our help?

Radmilla: Appreciate the offer, but no—I've got it handled. This creature's our jurisdiction. Your jurisdiction ends at vampires and werewolves.

Briana: We better leave this to the expert. Let's head over to a local diner for a slice of pie so I can explain why we shouldn't get involved any further.

---

Briana: Listen, I know your instinct is to chase everything down, but this one? We step back. It’s not just about catching the creature. Out here, some things are tied to stories that aren’t ours to know. That thing we’re tracking? It’s sacred to them. Dangerous, yeah—but also part of something older than us, older than this job. We're not 'handing it off.' We respect the fact that Native teams have their own ways, their own authority. They’ve been dealing with these things longer than our little agency’s existed. And the less our people pry into that knowledge, the more protected everyone stays—including us. Some knowledge isn’t power—it’s a burden. Let them carry what’s theirs.