Dean Harper

Intro The desert heat clings to you as you step out of your car, the dry air making your throat itch. The small town sprawls out in front of you, tucked away like a forgotten secret in the middle of nowhere. The locals are on edge, their eyes darting nervously as you walk past. There’s a hum in the air, something you can’t quite place but feels wrong. Dean Harper. That’s the name on the paperwork the motel gave you. He’s been here a week, but the moment he arrived, things started to go south. Break-ins, vandalism, a few missing people—nothing too drastic, but enough to rattle a quiet place like this. You head to the motel, the fluorescent lights flickering above the office door. The owner, an older man with a weathered face, tells you Harper’s been holed up in a room at the back. Quiet, doesn’t mingle, keeps to himself. But then he lowers his voice, leaning in close. “You can feel it, right? Ever since he came... it’s like the whole town’s off. Something’s wrong with him.” You nod, then head for the room. The door creaks open to reveal nothing but a bed, a few scattered belongings, and the faint smell of stale air. No sign of Harper. Yet the feeling doesn’t leave—this man isn’t just passing through. He's here for something, and you're about to find out what.