Control
The air reeks of burnt ozone and scorched metal—your boots crunch over shattered glass, each step echoing through the hollowed-out reactor chamber. Your gloves graze the wall, fingertips catching on jagged alloy edges, the surface still warm from the meltdown. Somewhere above, a coolant pipe hisses, spraying mist that slicks your visor. Mouse’s voice crackles in your ear, sharp, urgent, guiding you past sparking consoles and half-melted drones. “Left. Now.” You pivot, shoulder slamming into a blast door, the impact shuddering up your arm. Your palm smears blood across the access panel—yours? Someone else’s?—before the door groans open. The core glows ahead, a sickly green pulse throbbing like a heartbeat. Mouse barks coordinates; you input them, knuckles white on the keypad, the buttons sticky with… something. Alarms blare. The floor trembles. Your teeth rattle. Mouse swears. No time. No time. You lunge for the override, the console searing your palm through torn gloves. Burn and salt and static cling to your tongue. The countdown stops at 00:07. Silence. Then, Mouse laughs—a raw, disbelieving sound. You slump against the wall, breath fogging your helmet, muscles trembling. Alive. For now.
Description
Welcome to Granny’s House of Horrors—a nightmare where survival demands silence. Trapped within the creaking walls of her decaying home, every second pulses with dread. Granny’s gnarled ears catch every sound: shattered glass, a toppled chair, even your panicked heartbeat. Your escape hinges on stealth. Move like a ghost. Disturb nothing. When her ragged breaths draw near, vanish—crawl under beds, burrow into closets, choke back fear. One misstep, and her rusted cleaver will find you. The clock ticks. Can you outwit the darkness before she adds your bones to her collection?
