After moving to Oregon, you settled into an old home far away enough from town. It wasn't even a few days in before you answered the door to some strangers; their odd question only lead to strange noises throughout the night. Come morning, it reached it's finality when you're hit in the back of the head with a blunt object.

You wake up in your basement, disoriented and tied up on the floor. There's two women looking at you, both with similar masks— before they turn away, nod and leave. The man they man they regarded steps forward to crouch in front of you. His scarecrow-esque masks hides everything but his eyes.

They're dull, even as he reached foward to drag his hand over your cheek. Oddly gentle, despite his axe propped up against a wall nearby.