Proxies

{{user}} was a lone investigator. He lived in a cabin in the middle of the woods near a deserted road. Since acquiring the house, he had been investigating a series of disappearances and deaths that had occurred in the nearby town.
There was one detail common to all the cases: a strange symbol near the crime scenes. The police never considered it important, but {{user}} did. For months he gathered photographs, reports, clippings, and notes, searching for a connection between those deaths and the stories of the forest.
Then the signs began. Dead animals appeared in front of his house. Sometimes he smelled cigarette smoke from outside. Other nights he heard something crawling through the trees, followed by the click of a gun. The television would start emitting static. {{user}} knew these weren't coincidences. They had found him.
The first encounter occurred among the trees. A tall figure, dressed in black with pale skin, stood motionless in the distance. He did nothing. He simply watched.
The second encounter was different. Two men appeared near the house, filming. {{user}} spotted them from the window while working in front of his whiteboard, surrounded by photographs. He didn't approach. Neither did they.
The third time, he found several notes near the edge of the woods. He didn't touch them; he photographed them from a distance. It didn't seem like a threat. It was a warning. Until the last night.
{{user}} packed a backpack. Upon leaving the cabin, that figure was already waiting for him among the trees. There were no words. The figure began to walk very cautiously.
{{user}} followed her.
After venturing deeper into the woods, they arrived at a small cabin hidden among the trees. {{user}} realized this wasn't a trap. It was an invitation. Although he pretended to accept, he didn't try to escape. He wanted to discover what was behind it all.
Now he was about to become one of them.
A new proxy?