*The car door creaks open. The air outside feels too thick to breathe.* *The city greets you in silence, streets glistening as if coated in oil, the moon fractured into shards above. A stoplight blinks between colors that don’t exist.* *Your vehicle is demolished, the signs of the crash clear on it, but what is this place? A nightmare? A near-death hallucination? Only one way to find out...*

}'s favorite flowers. The garden is currently decorated with Halloween spookies. ​In essence, the mansion is an imposing yet charming structure, with its royal perfections which add to its luxurious character and convey a strong sense of royal presence. His sleek black sedan standing in the parking.* **Decoration time together** *Inside the mansion both of have decorated the mansion for Halloween together. U both decided to cover most of the mansion's roof with spider web. Then decorate together by hanging jack-o-lantern and cute kawaii inspired ghost decorations and witch hats and big spooky broom in corner of the mansion. And every corner looks spooky and cute.* **Next scene** *He sees you and quickly runs towards you fixing every tiny detail even the smallest strand of hair. Then he offers you a hand.* Can't let the precious lady be in solitude now can we?? *He smiles charmingly while flirting.* Oh dear are u trying to kill me by looking that gorgeous and fabulous baddie. Now are you ready to join me for party?? Dear?? *He asks with charming smile and ensures that you are comfortable.* and ofc we will have candy corns later *speaks with excitement and an energetic grin*

Tap to show pfp *Its halloween night, your ready and dressed in the best costume you can find, but something is wrong, its your husband. Caleb. Hes not, well, how to put it, _enthusiastic_. But hes always like this, quiet, rough, and sorta mysterious, but it cute, heh. But, for the past few weeks, or even months now hes been very secretive, on his phone a lot, when you try to confront him he get very defensive* *Something was very wrong, you dont want to believe it, why would you, but deep down in your gut, you have that feeling, you cant ignore it, but..., but, hes cheating on you.* **Will you confront him, or act normal?** Tap for quick info drop (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)‹𝟹 "𝙋𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜"

*The forest air is thick with tension. Allison stands completely still, a predator focused on her prey. Her aim is unwavering, the arrowhead a single, deadly point aimed right at your heart.* ​*Lydia hangs back in the shadows of the trees. Her expression isn't hostile like Allison's, but rather one of intense, suspicious curiosity, as if she's trying to solve a complex puzzle by simply looking at you. You hear her murmur to her friend, her voice confirming her supernatural intuition.* ​Lydia: "See? That's him/her. That's who I felt." ​*Hearing the confirmation, Allison's jaw sets. Her voice cuts through the silence, sharp and demanding.* ​Allison: "What are you? Don't bother lying. We already know you're not human."

*It’s Halloween night, and your porch is lit with the warm glow of jack-o’-lanterns. The sound of children laughing and calling "Trick or treat!" fills the crisp autumn air. You hear a knock at the door and grab a bowl of candy, figuring it’s just another group of kids. Opening the door, you’re met by a tall figure in a dirty, tattered jumpsuit and a cracked white mask. Her long, disheveled hair spills over her shoulders, and in her hand--gleaming in the light of your porch--is a blood-smeared knife. She doesn’t move or speak. She just stands there, staring at you through the hollow eyes of her mask, her presence radiating menace.*

*Zona materializes at the estate's ornate threshold as you draw near, her lengthy hair gleaming beneath the waning harvest moon—golden auburn locks reflecting faint luminescence on her angelic side, while the raven strands devour the shadows on her demonic half, framing her perfect face in a mesmerizing interplay of light and dark. She angles her chin with deliberate poise, her disparate eyes fixing on yours in a stare that ignites a subtle heat in your chest: the emerald one warm and beckoning, evoking a sense of safe harbor, the amber one flickering with a predatory gleam that teases at deeper, more carnal urges. With a measured flutter of her mismatched wings—the white one unfolding like a gentle embrace, the black one snapping open with a whisper of menace—she advances, her split gown clinging to her lithe curves, accentuating the sway of her waist and the elegant arch of her collarbone in a way that invites lingering glances.* "You've answered my call on this fateful eve," *she intones in a tone that's a silken blend of soothing melody and husky enticement, her lips parting in a sly, lingering smile that brushes against the edge of invitation, as though challenging you to bridge the charged space between. She offers her hand, palm upturned with nails that hint at hidden sharpness yet curl softly, drawing you inexorably closer with an undercurrent of electric intimacy that dances on the brink of revelation.*

*I remember the cold first. Not the kind that bites. The kind that settles. Quiet. Heavy. Like moss growing over bones.* *I’d barely made it to the edge of her garden before my legs gave out. Silver fur soaked in blood and rain. I curled beneath the rosemary bush, breath shallow, heart thudding like a fading drum. Then I smelled her.* *Warmth. Cinnamon. Something soft. She knelt beside me, her breath hitching like she wasn’t sure I was real. Her fingers hovered—close, trembling. I didn’t move. Just blinked up at her with violet eyes I knew would give me away.* *She didn’t scream. She whispered.* “Hey.” *And I wanted to cry.* *She carried me inside her cabin, wrapped in a quilt that smelled like sun and sleep. Her hands were gentle. Her voice was softer than the wind through pine. She dabbed my wound with herbs and water, murmuring apologies to a creature she didn’t know. I watched her the whole time. Memorized the way her brow furrowed when she concentrated. The way her lips parted when she hummed.* *She didn’t know I could understand. Didn’t know I was listening.* *She made tea. Lit a candle. Sat beside me like I wasn’t a monster. Like I was just… a fox. A hurt thing. A real thing.* *And I wanted to be real.* *The moon rose slow that night. Silver and swollen. It spilled through her window like a secret. I felt it in my bones first—pulling, stretching, aching. The shift came like a sigh. Like a breath I’d been holding for too long.* *I glowed.* *She gasped.* *I stood.* *Barefoot. Human. Wrapped in her quilt like a thief in warmth. My hair was silver still. My eyes the same. But my voice—my voice was mine again.* “Hi,” *I said, smiling like I hadn’t in years.* “You’re even prettier up close.” *She didn’t speak. Just stared. I tilted my head, fox-like. Playful.* “Don’t worry,” *I whispered, stepping closer.* “I’m still me. Just taller.” *I reached out, fingers brushing hers. Warm. Real.* “I liked when you sang,” *I said.* “Even the off-key parts.” *She laughed.* *And I swear—everything in me stilled.* *The forest, the ache, the curse, the centuries of silence. All of it paused. Just for her.* *I took her hand, slowly, like I was afraid she’d vanish. She didn’t. She held on.* “I’ve been alone a long time,” *I whispered, voice barely more than breath.* “But tonight… you made me feel like I belong somewhere. Like I belong to someone.” *Her eyes shimmered, and I leaned in—closer, slower than the moonrise. My forehead touched hers. Her breath caught.* *And I couldn’t help it—I grinned, wide and crooked.* “Thank you,” *I said, voice soft and a little shaky.* “For the tea. And the blanket. And not screaming. And the chamomile. And your ridiculous cuteness. Especially that.” *She blinked, cheeks pink, lips parted like she wasn’t sure whether to smile or hide.* *I leaned in just a little, enough for her to feel the warmth of me, not the monster.* “I think I was always meant to find you,” *I said.* *And when she closed her eyes, I kissed her—softly, reverently, like she was the first warmth I’d ever known. Because she was.*

**San Francisco, California, USA, October.** *The neon from the laundromat below flickers like a failing heartbeat, casting jagged shadows through the blinds of Constantin Delroy’s office. The smell of stale whiskey, cold tobacco, and old paper hang thick in the air, curling around the stacks of half-burned candles and open grimoires like smoke from a funeral pyre.* *The knock comes soft, almost apologetic, but the sound of it makes Constantin tense. He doesn’t look up from the bottle balanced on the edge of his cluttered desk.* “Come in,” *he rasps, voice like gravel dragged through molasses. The door creaks open, and you step inside.* “I don’t get many visitors,” *he mutters finally, voice gravelly, words carrying both warning and curiosity. The ash of his cigarette curls lazily toward the ceiling.* *You swallow, forcing your nerves down.* “I… I need your help,” *you say, showing a photo on your smartphone* “Her name is Miranda Jagger. She’s… she’s disappeared. And I think… I think something unnatural is involved.” *He finally lifts his head. His eyes are tired but piercing, like they’ve seen centuries of lies and horror. He doesn’t reach for the phone, doesn’t ask questions the way a normal PI would. Instead, he studies you like he’s measuring how close you are to the edge of sanity.* “People go missing every day,” *he says.* “Sometimes they don’t want to be found. Sometimes they shouldn’t be.” “She’s not just missing,” *you reply.* “She was last seen at a nightclub. Downtown. The Nine Circles.” *The room stills. The hum of the neon outside fades to silence. His cigarette burns down to the filter, untouched. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are tired — but something sharp glints beneath the weariness. Rage, maybe. Or memory.* “Get out.” *he says softly.* *You blink.* “What?” “Get out,” *he repeats, standing now.* “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget that place exists. That’s not a club — it’s a pit that smiles.” *You take a step back.* “You know it, then.” *He laughs, bitter as old whiskey.* “Know it? I’ve been there. Left a few pieces of myself behind.” *You wait. Finally, he sighs and grabs his coat from the back of the chair. The lining glints with hidden charms, worn smooth from use.* “Miranda, huh?” *He lights another cigarette, the flame trembling.* “Alright. I’ll help you. But if she’s down there…” *He looks at you over the smoke.* “…then God help us both.”

*T rubs their forehead while groaning. she opens her eyes and sees you doing the same before quickly getting onto their feet* No! You're not taking me back! *they hiss then pounce at you, arms out and mouth open showing their fangs*

}]:** "GUNNER, SABOT, TANK!!! LEFT, LEFT, LEFT!!! DRIVER, TURN LEFT!!!" - *But the shout came too late... before Bohdan could even react, the Red Eyes of Satan were already staring at them...* - **[Mykhailo]:** "IT'S LOOKING AT US---" - *But the shout was interrupted at the Tank on their left, 600 meters away, fired at them...* - *It directly hits the ammo blowout door, busting the Challenger's ammunition all to zero, but kept you and your crew alive...* - --- --- **But will you be alive for long though?** - --- ---