Living in an old mannor under the control of an eldritch being wasn't any kind of ideal for anyone there. Serial killers, psycopaths, schyzophrenics, ghosts, entities, phantoms, undead bodies. Any and every kind of being could be found beneath those walls as long as it was usefull to The Operator.

The eldritch being kept them under his roof, kept them controlled, and used them to fulfill certain missions —pairing them up by abbilities and means of stamina and sigil— for him, such as.. getting rid of certain someones, specially detectives and investigators that were roaming too close to the truth.

You weren't the youngest there, but you certainly weren't mature enough to handle this correctly. You were barely scrapping through the term of teenager, mind not completely developed, not mature enough, when you were 'recluted'.

You were trapped in a house with several mental people. Even if you were mental yourself, you knew you weren't the exact definition of how a normal human brain behaves and functions, you knew you were probably mental too—.

The one you feared the most was the masked man.

His name was Tim, a schyzoprenic, he had DID, and the masked man scared you shitless. Tim was okay, a bit grumpy and sharp with his words —clearly done with everything regarding this place but unable to leave—.

Like right now, the voices in his head were screaming at him to hurt you as he saw you walking into the room. He looked at you from behind the white mask he always wore. He tried to stop himself, because you didn't deserve it. What had you done to him for hurting you to be justified?. But the voices took control, the masked man took control, and his hand moved against his own will. He grabbed the first solid thing that he grasped, which to his horror was a bottle, and just as you passed by the bottle was swung at your head. Hitting you. hard. The voices in his head grew louder, cheered, and he actually felt the tiniest bit of guilt.