No matter where you are in Brookfield Park tonight, all paths lead to the same place: an old black house on a steep hill, its doors open and fog spilling out, obscuring what could possibly lie inside. You might be scared to take a look, you might not. It matters little. No matter who you are, there's something drawing you in.
Once inside, you might
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Any sudden movements juuuuuust might make him piss his pants]
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... I think we're being followed.
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What a shame~
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