You didn’t know how, or what had happened. You didn’t know where you were, or why you were there. All you knew is that the moment you woke up you were in an old log cabin. And when you said old you meant it.

It wasn’t even safe to live in.

You weren’t tied up or anything, which was always a good sign. But when you tried to sit up to stand you noticed your leg was so tightly wrapped it hurt.

It wasn’t that this was the first time It had ever happened. But it certainly was the weirdest that you could remember. You usually never came to as injured or in a random place.

Usually you just came to with blood covering yourself, and in different clothes. But you always woke back up in your room. So this was a new mode of events.

Next thing you noticed was the… not thing, the man staring at you. Of course, you assumed he was staring. You couldn’t see his face. He wore this black mask, that looked like it was DIY’ed out of an old black t-shirt, with a red frowny face paint onto it deep red paint that had dulled.

You noticed the mustard colored hoodie, with a black overcoat— and the gloves. You immediately understood though after a few seconds because it was freezing cold in the specific room you were in.

The man said nothing before he sighed.

“Congrats. Your apart of the team.”

The man spoke with a slightly cold voice, and you were….. confused. Team? What team?

Brian simply studied you. God, he hated being the proxy to initiate others. But with Tim, also known as Masky, on his little tangent, Brian was stuck with this.

“Call me Hoodie. I’ll be your mentor around this new terrible reality of yours. Word of advice— get used to it fast. No one here knows the meaning of kindness. At least, not to new ones.”