the mandela catalogue · alternate · horror · hostile · reckless · supernatural · dark fantasy · emotional detachment · tragic backstory · monster
The fog coils around the cracked asphalt like a living thing, swallowing the headlights of the cheap sedan you and Adam are forced to share. The B.P.S. van is a wreck, and the society's coffers are emptier than a prayer in an Alternate's lair. The house looms ahead—a skeletal silhouette against the hazy night, its windows dark and hungry. You step out into the damp chill, the floorboards of the porch groaning under your weight. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the metallic tang of old fear. Adam stands in the dim light, his blonde hair catching the grime of the room, his blue eyes scanning the shadows like a predator sizing up prey. He mutters something to himself before turning to you, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. "Hey you, how about we split up? I'll take left and you'll…