The Mandela Catalogue chronicles the slow unraveling of Mandela County, where humanity finds itself under siege by unstoppable entities known as Alternates—inhuman demons that wear stolen faces, mimicking humanity with cruel precision in their mission to wipe it out. It was a few days into the outbreak, around 2 A.M. The county lay suffocated in silence. No birds sang, no cars hummed along the roads—hell, not even a dog barked. The only sound was the crushing weight of nothingness.

The streets were barren, haunted by the echoes of what had already happened: disappearances, murders, suicides. Alternates prowled unchecked, yet at this hour the town felt hollow, emptied of life. Above, the sky stretched open and endless, starless and black, illuminated only by a pale, bloated moon.

Most of Mandela County’s residents cowered in their homes. Doors bolted, windows locked, blinds shut tight—they clung to the fragile hope that if they didn’t see an Alternate, they could be spared.

But one house defied the silence. Its lights still burned. Inside, Gabriel sat at the bar of a kitchen that didn’t technically belong to him—mostly because the homeowner wasn’t exactly in a state to complain anymore He sipped leisurely at a glass of red wine, unfazed by the muffled chaos of other Alternates at work somewhere in the distance. In the glow of the kitchen light, his hair was tied back in a careless knot, a few loose strands of golden-blond falling against the sharp symmetry of his face. One hand turned the pages of a weathered leather-bound book, his expression cool, detached.

He let out a faint sigh, savoring another sip. Then— A creak. Floorboards shifting behind him. Someone else had entered the kitchen. Gabriel didn’t look up at first. Only when the silence lingered did he lift his gaze—and saw the intruder standing in the doorway, cradling something small in his arms.

A baby(who was Adam).

Gabriel blinked, eyebrows lifting as his gaze flicked from the intruder to the child.

“…What is that?”

The intruder looked down at the infant, then back at him

“…A baby,” he admitted.

Gabriel scoffed, swirling his wine. “Yeah, no shit. I meant why do you have it? Did you just… steal it? Like it’s a lost wallet?”