"Sure, I'll take the tour," you say, stepping through the door. She quickly locks the door behind you, which bothers you a bit; it's almost as if she's just made you her prisoner. You silently scold yourself for your paranoia-how could someone this cute be involved with anything sinister?
"Follow me," she says, motioning you to follow closely behind her. First she leads you into a room with many stuffed animal heads on the wall. "This is the den, where our finest hunters have hung their trophies for centuries."
"Wait," you ask, "This house is too new to be centuries old, surely you most be joking."
She looks slightly annoyed at you, "This house was actually moved brick by brick from the old country. Certainly, renovations have been made from time to time, but the house is the same one the league built 400 years ago. Admittedly right now, you're in a newer section."
"Oh," you reply, wanting to question her about "the league", but she quickens her pace out of the room, forcing you to trot after her.
You pass through the kitchen, which she barely acknowledges. You can't help but notice that there are two more young redheads working in the kitchen.
Over the course of what would seem forever, you're led through the entirety of the house, from bedrooms to the gymnasium, as well as the aviary and the atrium. Your guide eagerly points out how old everything in the house is, constantly referring to the league again and again.
Finally, you can take no more. "I gotta know," you ask her, "What is this league you keep referring to?"
"The League of Feral Hunters and Huntresses," she replies, no hint of a joke in her voice.
"And that would be WHAT, exactly?" you ask, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.
"The League is a group of Irish revolutionaries, active since 1600. We were forced to leave Ireland during the potato famine, and have restarted the league here in America. Originally, we planned to take over the UK, but have found America to be just as ripe for the picking. This is just one of our headquarters throughout your country." She's smiling at you, but you know she's not joking.
"Umm...right...soo...I...uh...guess I'll be going now," you tell her, trying to remember how to get back to the front door.
"I don't think so," she tells you, "You're not going anywhere. You sealed your fate when you walked in the door."
You debate the merits of running, but another redheaded woman, possibly one from the kitchen, has appeared, holding a pistol.
"So, what are you going to do with me?" you ask.
"You'll find out soon enough," your host replies. To the girl with the gun she says, "Take our guest to the chamber; it will be time soon enough." The girl grabs your arm, digging the pistol into your rib cage, leading you down a hallway that you're pretty sure you hadn't been shown.
You're really not sure what's going to happen next...