Prologue
"B-b-but, Cain, how long is this going to go on for?" asked a chubby man in a grey suit from the back seat of an old, yellow taxi cab.
As the car sputtered along the street of a well-kept California neighborhood lined with turn-of-the-century mansions, the thin man with pointy, brown hair named Cain, who sat in the front passenger seat of the vehicle, turned his head to his brother.
"How many times have I told you, Abel, I won't rest until they are all under my care," he said. He took the small, round glasses from his face and began to polish them with a tattered handkerchief. As he did so, he continued.
"Ever since that old Baron Qui spun that yarn about there being multiple houses of mystery in the world, it got me thinking. If such a thing were true then it's my duty as caretaker of The House of Mystery to collect each and every one of them."
"Can't you just be content with having the one true h-h-house?" Abel stuttered. He too had pointy hair, but it was much darker and better kept than his older brother's. His whole appearance was generally more tidy, in fact.
"I cannot," said Cain, putting his glasses back on. "I want them all: my House of Mystery, the ruins of Fig Keele's House of Mystery, Briarcliff Manor…" he said, referring to several properties already in his possession. The last one being his most recent acquisition; an old, abandoned insane asylum he had recently acquired the deed to.
"And now this," he said, as the car suddenly came to a stop. Cain gestured out the window at the building they were parked in front of. It was a towering L.A. Victorian manor made of red brick with several stained glass windows and turrets on it that loomed over lush and spacious grounds.
"The Murder House," Cain said, grandly.
Abel could only look out at the edifice forlornly. He knew no good would come of all this
"I am going to die in there," he thought to himself.
