Friday, November 29, 2013

Right. So. We lied.

Guess I should have updated this sooner than just now cause I was SUPPOSED to tell you about Banks, but... well. Shit happens. Especially in this line of work. Especially when you could start a traveling sideshow with the kind of company you keep. But anyway. I shouldn't bitch. They're good people. Just fucked up, and really, aren't we all more than a bit fucked up? These people just let it overflow to the outside instead of letting it bubble up inside...

But right. David Banks then...

I knew he'd be one of the more... difficult obstacles in my way. Cypher and the others knew it just as much. After all, with how much, CYPHER hated the Dress-Up Plan, we could assume that Banks would be just as livid at someone else impersonating Nightscream. For a bit, I think I NEARLY convinced him... then I successfully ruined that during ONE BAD NIGHT after I had encountered that stupid NEST thing... crazy fuck still gives me nightmares...

Cypher was trying his best to stay involved and "between" any association and chats between Banks and I. Trying his best to work with whatever material I managed to give him. I won't lie and say I was GOOD at being Nightscream. In fact, I'd say I was damn horrible at it. Sure, I got the hang of the speech after a while and I'm learning how to type forever-posts... but it still wasn't right. Wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. And, eventually, Banks got sick of my attempts and tracked me down. I was stupid enough to be out for a WALK of all things (I like walks. Sue me.), but even with Tiger as my protection, I still got snatched. I really don't remember much about that. Just the taser hitting me. The current. And then I kinda drifted in and out. I remember being tied up at one point. Memory is a damn crap shoot, but I THINK I was in the trunk of a car.

When I finally DID come to, I wasn't tied anymore. And I wasn't in anything that was moving. I was just... left lying sprawled out on a floor. A cold, concrete, basement floor. Made my joints feel like CEMENT when I first tried to move. Pushing myself partly up as all my muscles complained at being forced back to their jobs again. Back cracking. Knees. Made me feel old as shit.


I jerked up. A mistake that I instantly regretted as all that ache in my muscles just burned more. Still, I didn't let myself be distracted. Trying to blink my vision into adjusting behind the mask I still wore, I eventually managed to locate my only company: A shadow sitting in the dark at the other side of the room. Even though the voice had sounded calm, there was still an edge to it. A warning of a very present danger. A cliff's edge.

I was 99% sure I knew who it belonged to.

And if I was right... there was going to be WAR.

Of course, my first demand was to know where the HELL I was. Which only spurred Banks to invite me to guess. Saying how he'd be interested to hear if I could. Of course, I would have rathered be DEAD than play his game, so I just swapped my demand. Asking where Tiger was. What he'd DONE with him. After all, I did like the Samurai. He had honor, if nothing else. And he was one of the few that I was around all the time. Him and Mumbles. Like the mime and me, Tiger and I tended to talk a lot.... though Tiger was always more stand-off-ish. In any case, if BANKS had done something to Tiger, that just gave me another reason to put a hole into his head. As if I didn't have enough reasons already.

"Tiger's fine. You might not be up on everything, 
but I'm cutting down on my unneeded murder count."

"Yet another box checked under the title of Thankless Saint, Banks
How charitable of you. 
Taking your jacket right off your back to give to a homeless man
 and nursing broken birds back to health too, I expect?"

"...How did you... oh. Sarcasm."

"You know what, FUCK YOU!"

I'd crossed half the distance of the dark room before I even realized it. I could HEAR my blood pumping in my ears and I could FEEL my fists shaking at my sides. Yelling at him, in probably what wasn't my smartest moment. Telling him how I knew what he was. What he did. And that he wasn't fooling ANYONE with that goddamn ACT of his. The whole "I've changed and I want to be better" routine. That I sure as hell didn't believe it for one FUCKING SECOND so he could shove it all up his ass and tuck it around the corner.

That shadow of a man stood. Movements slow and controlled, but wound tight like a spring as he came closer. Nearly circling.

"I could say the same for you."

And, in one fluid motion he ripped off my hood and mask. I tried ducking low and sweeping to the side, but it came off all the same. Sam and I may have similar builds, but other than that, our hair and eyes... even the shape of our faces were different. Sam having auburn hair and silver eyes. Me with blonde and blue. As if he even HAD to rip the mask off though. I guess he'd just been making a point. Sick of staring at a bad joke of someone he once knew...

I just snarled at him.

 "You're not ruining this, do you HEAR ME? 
I will not LET you RUIN this! 
It's the one thing I CAN do; since you let Sam DIE, it's the ONLY thing I can do!"

He finally stopped. Looking a bit more puzzled, but held tight behind a determined eye.

"...I should know you, shouldn't I? 
This isn't an act of opportunity.  Sam meant something to you.

 Suppose I won't need the nipple clamps then."

All I could feel... was the heat. The boil. The SCREAMING ANGER that I was barely keeping hold on.

"I don't give a FUCK if you know me or not!
None of this has ANYTHING to do with you anymore. 
You had your chance and you SCREWED IT UP... 
unless, of course, you were just clearing out one used up pet so you could get another. 
Then I guess the only screw up you did was showing your face to ME!"

And I let all that BOILING... out in one single, nasty hook to his jaw. Slicing across it with the blade I'd triggered above my knuckles. He hadn't bothered dodging it, which is why he had to sidestep to subtly catch his balance. I guess he hadn't thought I'd pack that much of a punch. But of course he retaliated. There was only a pause that the blood from the gash began running down his cheek and throat... and then he grew tired of being calm, I guess. Taking a swing at me. Fast and precise. My own anger had put me in FAR too close to him, but I still managed to mostly dodge the first punch. Barely getting clipped by it. The second, because of my messy retreat, dropped like a hammer. It would have sent me onto my back, if there hadn't been a shelving unit there. Digging into my back, catching me even as I cringed. Shaking my head clear.

There's a snarl in David's voice when I heard him next.

"Do I really need to mention that I'm being nice?
You know full well what I could do to you. 
What I want to do to you. 
But instead of being grateful for the fluke of events 
that's lead to me not leaving your body on the side of the road, 
you insult one of the few genuine things I have ever done. 
I don't care who you are, no one does that.

So shut up. Or I'll stop talking."

"You rape the love of my life and then watch it commit suicide...
and you want me to be GRA----TEFUL?!
And don't give me ANY fucking BULLSHIT about goddamn CONSENT. 
There WAS no FUCKING consent 
so you can just GO TO FUCKING HELL!!"

For a brief moment... he just stared at me. Wide eyed. Stunned.


Then there was a blink, and his entire demeanor changed. Shifted. Looking at me with fresh eyes. Nearly hesitant. Unsure. As if he'd crossed a line somewhere and hadn't even realized it. Then, slowly, he took out his switchblade... and placed it down on the floor.

"I didn't rape him. 
I barely touched him after that one time. 
Obviously he was in no state to give consent, but I never slept with him. Not once. 
You don't have to believe me. But I didn't. And I wouldn't. 
Even monsters have standards, though most see them as arbitrary. 
I imagine you know that. 

That was a hell of a punch. 
Law enforcement background? You have a stance like you do.
I don't know whether or not Sam mentioned that. 
I... I had trouble getting through some of his posts."

"Heh. Sam never mentioned... much... about me, did it?

Special Agent Alex Prescott, FBI, Banks. 
Least I was, back when SHIT made sense. 
Luckily though... some of that is still useful. 
Like profiling fuckers like you. 
Like knowing... KNOWING the kind that stop. 
And the kind that... don't. That never would. 
That NEVER DO unless someone STOPS them. 
Unless bullet or blade or CAGE stops them....

I knew about you LONG before Slender Man ever came around, Banks.
We had FILES on the bullshit - the slaughters and rapes - you left behind you.
I spent MANY years imagining what it would be like when we took you out.
What you'd really look like. Sound like.
Never figured I'd wind up just another play thing for you.
Another file to add to the stack.

That was why you brought me down here, right?
To torture me? SKIN me? Rape me?
You're a SICK FUCK, Banks.
And it churns my stomach to think of you even laying
You had no right.
Sam was BETTER than you.
Better than MOST.
And you...

What did you tell Sam at the end?
When it was too broken to fight anymore and you took it in?
Did you... did you say it would FEEL BETTER from it?
Did you claim you were HELPING?
Whispering everything you FUCKERS do to make your victims
explain away all the pain and SICKNESS they feel inside?
How far did you push it, Banks?
How MUCH did you TAKE from MY SAM?!!

...I gotta admit, though...
You have good foresight, if nothing else. 
Taking my weapon. 
 My Glock.

You'd look good with a hole between your eyes. 

The only FIX for people like you."

Silence stretched for a very long minute as I watched the rage BOIL through David's system... and as he shifted, I straightened. Thinking that, if he wanted to level a punch or two further at me, then like HELL I was going to be knocked DOWN by them... but he pivoted instead. And cracked his fist against the wall. Then he punched it a second time, then a third. Then one more time after that. Until that boil came down to a simmer.

"I'll have to keep you a couple days. Figure out a way to keep you out of this."

 "Like HELL.
I told you this has NOTHING to do with you, Banks. 
You think just because you directed your punches at a damn wall instead of my jaw, 
that you've PROVEN something? That you have ANY kind of power over anything here? 
You don't get to CONTROL me like you controlled Sam. 
Even as we STAND HERE death-glaring each other, Cypher is tracking me down. 
And he's going to be even worse 'company' than ME when he gets here.
 So do yourself a favor... and get lost."

"Why is Cypher helping you?!
He of all people has to know how Sam would feel about this." 

Like a Hurricane meeting a Tornado. David was furious. I wasn't much better. It was taking everything IN ME not to turn the argument physical. My hands clenched so tight with the effort that I could FEEL them shaking.

"Of course he KNOWS!
 And so do /I/. 
But SAM isn't HERE anymore. 
Sam was BARELY here at all after that Red-FUCK got done with it.
 See. I may hate your guts, Banks. 
I may be standing here HOPING I get a chance one day
 to put you down like the rabid dog that you are. 
But that Red BITCH is worse. 
Ten million times WORSE. 
Sam was BEYOND obliterated and I will. Not. Walk. Away. From. THAT. 
Not all of us are willing to just sit on the sidelines and WATCH the world burn, BANKS. 
Not all of us can FORGIVE AND FORGET what that FUCKER did to Sam. 
And if I can use this little ACT 
to flush that bastard out so Cypher can have the chance he needs to END this... 
then I'm damn well going to DO IT.
 I'm the bait. 
Cypher's the trap. 
End of story."

"Then he's just going to find some different bait isn't he?"

"Oh yeah? WHO?"

"...I could do it. 
It's not quite as evocative as Sam, but it would do the trick."

  "HA! That's rich.
 All you've been doing for MONTHS is HIDE,
 and NOW you want to actually get off your ass and do something? Why?"

 "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

I just crossed my arms. Flat-out telling him that he was deluding himself. That it would never work. Pointing out that even Sam had said that Red-Fuck was ruled by his own emotions, his own pride and RAGE. Explaining that THAT was what we were targeting with all this. THAT was the sweet spot - the one thing that could set off the asshole's fuse - and it was something that ONLY the image of 'Nightscream' would be able to get to this quickly. Ripping into that feeling of FAILURE and letting Red-Fuck work himself up into a frenzy. He had done EVERYTHING he could to destroy Sam in ways that I sure as Hell can't even begin to imagine...

and I intended to make him believe that HIS WORST just wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. That Sam CONQUERED it. Rose OVER it. And was coming back to KICK some arrogant ass. I intended to make him ENRAGED. To throw caution and reason away so that he could manifest... and it could all be over. Sam would have JUSTICE, which was a small token, really, at the end of so much suffering...

It's all I can do.

And I sure as HELL wasn't going to let BANKS get in my way. 

Pointing out that all Redlight ever did to HIM was to abandon his loyalty. Not exactly something he could fail at.

But Banks, the arrogant ass, wasn't having any of it.

"Then find someone else to be Nightscream. 
There are plenty of people with his build.
 And it's not like they could impersonate him any worse."

"That's not an option."

"You doing it isn't an option either.
You're throwing away ALL of his sacrifices."

"...So I should throw some OTHER poor idiot into the line of fire instead, right?
This was my idea. 
If shit goes wrong and Red-Fuck figures out he was coned 
before Cypher can do his thing... 
the BEST outcome is a quick death. 
Rips out my heart or something. 
But at worst...

...No. I'm not going to subject someone else to that. 
My plan. My pain, if it happens that way. 
Sam has already suffered WAY too much for my sake...
I'm not going to make someone else suffer for me too."

"...Sam will come back from the dead and kill me if I let you."

"...You're really just giving me more reasons to go through with this."

Surprisingly... he chuckled at that. Looking at me with an odd expression that I couldn't quite place before he looked down to his switchblade on the floor... and kicked it over to me with the toe of his boot. Posture nearly relaxed. Nearly. Carefully, I bent and picked it up. Never taking my eyes off of him. Expecting the trap. But I straightened with it, and he still hadn't moved. Just watching me.

"Not a glock, but it will do in a pinch. 
If I have to die... I'd rather it be with that. 
But you should know... that you're wrong about me.  At least, partially.
Because something did stop me."

"And what was THAT?"

Really was NOT in the mood for his games anymore.

  "Earlier, you said something around the lines of 'back when the world made sense'.
An understandable sentiment. 
Most people would assume it was because of the death 
and the otherworldly entities. 
But for reasons that are probably more me than you, I don't think so. 
Faceless men? Weird. Difficult. But you could deal with it. 
But with him gone... the world loses all meaning. 
Sometimes it feels like not even gravity works the same any more. 
Tell me Alex, of the people you've profiled, how many were married? 
Take that number and I imagine that you could find some good reasons why they did. 
Power, a good cover, money. 
Now tell me. 
Why did I marry Ronan?"


When a serial killer is as successful as you. As good as you. 
They tend to do one of three things. 
Start killing more often, and eventually trip up and get caught. 
Perform a finale.
 Something huge as, usually, a suicide mission. 
While leaving enough proof behind to prove he was responsible for everything. 
Or, in your case... pass down the baton. Make a chain. 
Create a Legacy. 
Hardest option to pull off. 
Gotta give you credit for that. 
Marriage is good for trust building. 

After that, it's only time."

He nearly lost his composure at that. Expression contorting in rage for a brief second before he latched the reins back on. Taking a breath. Calming down again.

"Ronan's an unconventional choice, don't you think? 
Hardly a serial killer type. Not saying he wasn't capable, because he was. 
But... well his work ethic was off. 
He'd hardly enjoy it, and to be perfectly honest 
I'd never been able to convince him of something he didn't already want.
 Plus, he was just as old as me. Weight's beginning to be an issue. 
He was attempting to become sober, 
but there were still nights where he couldn't see straight. 
I have a lot of young things I have a decent control over. 
Lots of potential. Lots of blank space. 
Why Ronan?"

"So what's the alternative then? 
You fell in love and saw the error in your ways, 
so you decided to become a shining, smiling prince? 
This isn't Beauty and the Fucking Beast.
Don't forget, Banks, I've seen your work up-close and personal.
I know your record like the back of my hand.
Least for the shit we managed to FIND OUT about.
People like you don't change. 
They don't. 
It's a snake pit. 
You fall in. You get bit.
 There's no climbing out..."

"You talk about me as if I'm not human. 
As if I am not full of flaws and inconsistencies. 
As if I am so wonderfully sure in my ways that I never have need of doubt. 
And even if that were true. 
Even if I was so unchangeable... I died with Ronan. 
She might as well have shot me in the head too, 
because the world was upended in that moment. 
Do you understand that? 
Because I think you're the only one who can."

I stared straight back at him. My glare feeling more like a frown as everything tossed and turned inside my head. My own logic wasn't adding up to a perfect picture in my head. Besides... I didn't really believe my own accusations. Oh, I wanted to. But I couldn't. Not deep down. Not without being the biggest hypocrite on the damn planet. I knew people changed. Most didn't WANT to... but they could. If they made the choice to. Sam, after all, changed from a Samaritan to being one of the most brutal, cruel, ruthless serial killers I'd ever known... going so far as to go one so poetically about the BEAUTY of killing... of murder...

And even me. I fought took and nail to get out of the Family Business back in Detroit. I actually had to take refuge with an uncle of mine out in New Jersey just to get AWAY from it. Which only brought Hell on his house, but my uncle was a honest to God GOOD MAN... and I was a kid. So he stood up for me. And was beaten to the last inches of his life. His eyes couldn't even OPEN anymore, they were so black and purple and swollen. They left him to die from internal bleeding - dragging me out the door by my hair. I can still kinda remembered what he sounded like...  when he was trying to say my name amongst a mouthful of blood and teeth.

That was when I chose... to go against everything I'd been raised in.

There's always a choice...

"...Tell me the truth, Banks. I deserve the truth.
 I loved Sam. And, despite everything it did... I still love it even now. 
The fact I was TOO DAMN SLOW getting out. That if I had just... gotten to it. 
Maybe things would have been...

I could HEAR Sam screaming with every word on that damn blog. 
Nothing it wrote after Red-Fuck was ever without agony. 
You had to have---
...I deserve to know what happened between you two. 
I NEED to know the truth. Whatever it is. 
If you..."

I clenched my jaw. Unwilling to say anymore.

"...You say you've seen my files."

David got... eerily calm at that point. Walking up to me before lifting a hand. Tilting my chin up. Voice barely a whisper. Almost sounding... sympathetic. 

"Then you would know that I'm not a liar.
A year ago, not only would I have done it,
I would have stood here in front of you and bragged about it.
I would tell you every single detail, knowing that while it tore you apart inside,
you wouldn't be able to stop listening. 
But that was a year ago.
Not even monsters can stay the same in the world, even if they try. 
Things push and pull until everything is unrecognizable. 
I did have thoughts. 
I'll admit that to you. 
Though they were far more based in sentimentality than you might expect.
 But I never touched him. Never. 
Sam's account was pretty accurate, minus some personal moments. 
But again, nothing happened. 
That's the truth."

I listened.

I listened until he was done... and, even as I swatted his hand away, I believed him. I didn't say it. I didn't apologize for accusing him. Or hitting him. I didn't WANT to believe him... but I did. My glare hitting the wall instead. The floor. The ceiling. Anywhere but at him. The minutes dragging out, but it wasn't really all that uncomfortable a silence. More as if... letting things settle.

Except... there was one other thing that I needed to know... even though it tore my heart apart to say it.

"...How did Sam do it?"

  "...Slit his wrists in the bathtub. 
Quick, painless, and thorough...
He made absolute certain he'd be dead before I could get there.
I burned the body."

I felt that BOIL begin around. That ITCH that gets going under my skin... so I started pacing. It was the only thing I could do to try to get rid of the tension - the desire to HIT something... only it didn't work this time. Though I settled for the wall as a target. Damn near shattered my knuckles, but I barely felt it. Already on a rant. Half yelling. Half grieving. I went on about how it was an oxy-damn-moron. Sam committing suicide. People like SAM don't commit suicide - they're the ones that go on rants for HOURS about how there's ALWAYS a rope if you're willing to grab it. That there's ALWAYS a light at the end of the tunnel. That things get BETTER if you give them the chance to. Sam used to act as a part-time guidance councilor at its school because the kids preferred talking to IT rather than someone who barely gave a damn behind a desk. I can't count the number of times it came home all worked up because this kid was cutting or that kid was withdrawing from everything...

Sam cared. Sam thought life was WORTH sticking through, through good and bad. Used to call it a roller coaster. Throwing the coaster off the track wasn't an option. You rode it out. Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes it was scary. But you're strapped in for the ride, so you might as well throw your arms into the air.

"...Sam wasn't that type. It never gave up. 
Not with anything. Or on anybody... 
That Red-Fuck needs to suffer. And Die. 
No one does this to my family. 

"Well we're agreed on one thing.
If I let you out, if I help you on this, you better make him suffer. 
For all of us."

"...If you help me sell this, I will.
Help me sell this, Banks. 
And we'll take that son of a bitch DOWN."

"Then I suppose I was surprised to find Sam underneath that hood."

"...Yeah. I guess you were."

We talked for a while after that. Turned out he had me down in a basement in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. The very same building that Banks himself was taken to as a kid and held captive there for eight years. The very same building that the local authorities found the skinned remains of one "Mr. Dubois". It was abandoned and well off the beaten trail... but I knew Cypher would find it soon enough. Even if he had to call in to his 'Dad' for the info. And, once that maniac burst through the front door.... I knew he'd be more likely to eat Banks' kidneys than stop and listen for a moment. So I told Banks it would probably be better for him to leave completely and come back around later, least until Cypher found me in one piece. He's nearly creepily possessive, but that has to do with Sam, not me. I guess he figures I'm his responsibility or some bullshit like that. In any case, he would be more willing to listen first and shoot later if Banks himself wasn't in the line of sight, so that's what we did.

Banks left. And I waited.

And, of course, just like I figured... when the entire team burst through the front door AND windows AND walls... they were looking to shoot to kill. Half expected them to accidentally shoot ME, but we avoided that somehow. And, yeah, Cypher took a hell of a lot of convincing that nothing happened. And even more convincing to make him let Banks get involved with the whole scheme.

Cypher was DEFINITELY considering pulling back on the whole thing and just throwing me in a Labyrinth. I could see that little thought ricocheting around in his head. Made me want to pin something OFF of that skull of his to get him to focus. So I did. Probably the best use that mug had had in YEARS.

Eventually... we all got on the same page. First thing Banks did was help me write our "Fake Encounter".

And it all worked.

It goddamn WORKED...

It should be over by now. But it's not. So we just gotta keep moving forward. It's taken a while to get this shit up, but now you'd be pretty much caught up on how things really... came about, I guess. Things have been fucking NUTS here. Have a whole heap of... what would you call them? They're made of the same goop that Cypher is made from. We have a bunch here, all protecting Proxy Bob. Guess I'll let HIM explain that shit, cause I have no idea what the hell....

That's it for now.  I really hope I can get more than an hours sleep tonight...

been having some weird ass dreams.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Just Business

When I first met Cypher... I'd already been spending every waking minute I had digging into what is so cutely called the "Slenderverse" or "Fearverse" or whatever the hell term you want to use. I was never much of a reader, but this... new ambition of mine turned me into one. Every blog that I could get my cursor on. Every sighting or possible sighting or even just... strangeness. I knew all about strangeness. Hacked into much of the strangeness to see if I could see if the "Organization" or whatever was the rotten core. My hacking skills were more than a little rusty. Hadn't used them in years. And shit changes fast these days. Like the world is jacked up on speed. Everything warped and blurry... makes you wonder why we HAVE insane asylums, really. EVERYONE is goddamn nuts.

Anyway... guess I left something to find during one of my stays tapping away at the local library. The place was deserted, except for the librarian. I mean who even GOES to libraries anymore? I'll tell you. BROKE PEOPLE. Like I was. Hell, I was saving every cent my old friend had generously given me just so I could "eat" each day. And I use the term loosely. But there was one evening... where someone DID end up joining me. Walked right through the front doors like he'd been coming there all his life. He was dressed well. Was humming to himself as he strode over to where I was amongst my nest of papers and folders and notes. Came right on over and parked himself in front of a computer near me. Adjusting the screen a bit before looking back over his shoulder at me. Giving me this... really wide grin under that fedora hat. Blue eyes and a wild mess of blonde hair.

Everything about him was just... pale. Skin. Hair. Eyes.

I got a feeling about him... that I hadn't felt in a VERY long time.

One that kicked me right back to Detroit. My hometown. Oldest kid of the boss' best hitmen. Just a mafia war. One side of the city against the other. Fire and bullets and walking by a body sporting a good twenty bullet holes in him while his blood drained into the gutter... well, that was just a good time to be a pick-pocket. Might have been a drive-by, after all. Could still have some cash on him. Interesting way to grow up. My old man wanted to pass his gun down to me. Said I had a real killer shot.

Just wish it would help me to kill Red-Fuck. But whatever.

The guy sat down and grinned at me. I was trying my best to not look like I'd watched him come in.

 "Getting a bit late to be studying up in the library, isn't it friend? 
What is the matter? College Exams? Or something else?"

It took me a moment to remember that I should probably act friendly enough, despite the old itch burning down the back of my neck that this giddy little snowflake was about as pure intentioned as a goddamn Nazi.

 "Just getting ready for a career change. 
Gotta stay one step ahead in this day and age, right?"

He pulled up a window on the computer and I saw orange on his browser. Blogger, of all sites. A random blog about cooking.

  "Yeah, don't I know it... 
Must be hard though. Change. 
Most people have a hard time adapting to the reality of the world. You know?"

I didn't like it. I didn't like it ONE GODDAMN BIT. So I started to gather my things. 

 "...You learn.

 Anyway. Thanks for mentioning the time. 
Didn't notice it was that late. I should get going."

After all the shit I'd been through and all the shit I'd read, I knew I was probably paranoid to hell, but that didn't matter. My instinct was what kept me ALIVE in Detroit and it sure as hell kept me alive on the Force. I wasn't about to start ignoring it when it was WARNING me about this kid. And that's all he was really. A kid. Didn't look any older than eighteen. Twenty tops. But I wasn't about to underestimate anyone or anything. Not about to make THAT mistake when I had so much left to do.  I was trying to get OUT as soon as I could, packing away all my shit into my backpack... while still trying to not LOOK like I was rushing too much.

"Lost in your studies eh? I can respect that."

He clicked once, and opened a NEW blog up.

One I recognized immediately.
"Morning Hunter".

I felt like I'd taken a punch to the gut.

"....It's you. Isn't it?"

He scrolled to one post in particular. I caught the title, remembering it.

The post that bragged about Flaming Baby Baseball.  

"So let me ask you something, friend. 
This is a very nasty business we have going here. 
Why would you be so obsessed with sticking your nose where it does not belong?" 

I remember taking a slow step back, one of my hands subtly shifting around behind me. My Glock, of course. Safety was already off, which had been a good start. Even though, if any of the posts were to be believed, I knew it would do little to NOTHING to help me. We were the only ones in the entire library - even the damn librarian seemed to have buggered off somewhere - which was good. No crossfire victims. But also very bad.

I didn't really think that getting EATEN sounded like a good way to go, to be honest.

"...Personal business.

You've had your fair share of that. I'm sure you can relate."

 The screwed up fuck actually licked his lips. As if he KNEW what I was thinking.

"Ah, I see. You poor thing. 
Lose someone to the business? Someone close? Spouse? Child? Sibling?"

He was trying to find my buttons, I knew that. But I also know how to buy time.

Give them what they want.

Honestly, it's as simple as that. When you want to buy time: Cooperate. Talk. Tell them whatever you need to in order to give yourself a few more minutes - even a few more SECONDS - to figure out your plan of action.


One exit was too far away. The other... HE was closer to it. 

"...And both my kids. My son and... daughter."

My first stumble.

I'd read about what had happened to Laura, after all.

Sam picked a good name for her. Probably the only good thing that baby got in her short life. Being named after Sam's mother. Sweet woman. Sam probably thought the name might give some kind of comfort...

What a sick fucking JOKE that had been.

But that wasn't the time to dwell.

My eye caught the window. It was a possibility.

"Awww. Well I am so sorry to hear that friend. 
Now, I am usually something of a vicious bastard, but I am feeling... 
Hmmm... Generous today. 
Forget everything that happened, accept the loss of your loved ones and move on. 
Live the rest of your life in peace. 
Otherwise, we are going to have a problem.
 I hate problems, you understand."

If he ever got that speel to work on ANYONE... they're a damn IDIOT.

So I decided... to try something else.

After all, I had read about Morningstar. All of the blogs.

And his connection with Nightscream.

"...You're after him too, aren't you?"

 "... Him? Him Who?"

"...The Red-Fuck. You're after him too, right?"

"...You mean Redlight, yeah?"

"...Yes, that bastard.
 I've already twiddled my thumbs for three years, I can't walk away NOW.
The son of a bitch has shit to pay for."

 "...Right. So. Um... we noticed you poking your nose into things,
but we never actually found out your name.
Who are you again?"

 "Alex Prescott."

For a long moment... I just got a completely blank stare. Then he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it as his entire expression changed to bewilderment and utter confusion. Staring at me as if I'd just grown a second head. Thinking back, it was actually a pretty damn priceless expression. Especially since I know him better now.

"Heh. I was wondering if you'd recognize 'Prescott' or not. 
After all, you'd know Sam better by 'Freeman', right?
And it never even ONCE mentioned its real name in the blog, so...
I guess Sam must have told you personally. 
You were a friend of Sam's, weren't you? 'Shooter'?"

"You... Aren't you... You are supposed to... HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?"

"...In short? Stupidity."

I gave him a briefing of what had happened from the accident onward. Finishing only by mentioning the post... about Sam killing me. How it had to be the Red-Fuck's influence. That it made SENSE, after all. Just another way to wear Sam down. BREAK Sam down. What did it matter if it wasn't real? Sam would think it was. And it DID think it was. Just another Nightmare to haunt it. Another slab of guilt.

I told him how I hadn't seen Sam in over three years. And how that number was only going to grow at this point... cause, really, saying it like that. It really dawned on me for the first time that... I was never going to see Sam again. Never. It hit hard. To actually SAY it.

He took a while to process it... but the more it sunk in, the more it seemed to weigh him. His mood changing (or the mask lifting?) from sadistically chipper... to glum. Depressed. Almost pained. Slowly confirming for me that... Sam was really gone. Dead. And worse. Then he said something which surprised me... because it sounded like the first sincere thing I'd heard come out of his mouth. 

"...I am truly very sorry we had to meet like this. Really."

"...You understand then why I can't walk away."

"I can understand that. But what do you hope to accomplish?"

"I'm going to KILL the son of a bitch. Or die trying.
And yeah, you have permission to laugh. I really don't give a shit anymore."

And I still don't give a shit. You can laugh. Go right ahead, it is laughable right? But I don't care what I have to do. I don't care what it TAKES. I want... the last thing that bastard to see... is my face. I want him to REGRET it. I want... Justice. Capital Punishment, as the good old boys would say. Strap him to Sparky and flip the switch without using a sponge. COOK HIM. After all... it's too late for me to do anything for Sam. Maybe it was even too late three years ago. But I can figure out a way to FRY that supernatural bastard!!!

  "You can't. Especially so limited as you are. 
What do you intend to do... shoot him with that gun you're fingering?"

I wasn't surprised he'd noticed. It was his job to notice.

"It's my Service Weapon.
You don't even want to know what I had to go through to get it back after 
I'd convinced enough people I was sane.
Fair enough - it's useless against things like you and him.
But it reminds me of who I am.

I'll figure out something. I'll find a way to do it.
Sam... had a golden soul, do you know that?
One of them kindest, most caring, sensative people I'd ever met.
Sam was a good inflience on me.
Good influence on everyone.
Always helping. Volunteering. SMILING.

If SAM figured out how to become a monster...

Then I can sure as HELL figure out how to KILL ONE!"

He gave me a look. Annoyance.

"Becoming one and killing one are very different. 
One is possible, the other is not.
 This is not a fairy tale and you are not the Noble Knight slaying the evil dragon." 

And I glared right back.

"And what would you have me do? Run? Hide? 
Pretend the one person who never gave up on me 
- who sacrificed everything FOR me and is in eternal suffering for it - 
wasn't played with like a toy and broken apart, piece by piece?
The love of my life was OBLITERATED. 
Sam gave EVERYTH----"

"I can have you NOT sacrificing yourself for Sam. 
You think Sam would want that? 
You can stand aside, not get in the way, and let US kill Redlight. 

Do you know what he would do to you if he knew you were alive? 
Do you have any idea?" 

 "Then let me fucking HELP YOU!
I get that I'm over my head, okay? I'm still trying to sort through shit that happened YEARS ago.
But I'm going to keep SWIMMING UP until I figure this shit out.
I can help. I can. Give me a chance to prove it."

"Help? You can't help. You can get KILLED. 
But it would be a miracle if you ever even SAW Redlight 
without him butchering you. Don't be a moron. 
Besides, I have to wonder if my Organization will even let you live knowing who you are. 
That is going to be one of my more pressing concerns, thank you very much... 

Could have been avoided if you had kept your goddamn head down but NOOOO..."

"Why would they care? I'm a nobody. 
I don't even understand why YOU were sent. 
Kinda expected someone to be sent eventually, but not someone as seemingly preoccupied as you. 
You'd think there are newbies who'd need some field training, eh?
Almost like they already knew. Sending you."

"If they knew, they wouldn't have sent me... 
Then again. It might have been Dad. 
Situations like this always seem to amuse him... 
And I care ONLY because it would be a disrespect to Sam NOT to care."

 "I figured that. I'm not as stupid as I look, you know." 

"That remains to be seen." 

Cypher glanced around the library for a moment. Mulling everything over... before telling me that he "strongly, STRONGLY" suggested that I'd go with him. Of course, I was leery. I even followed his gaze subconsciously. Paranoia taking over. Expecting to find all of the others - His Team - lurking around the library. Surrounding it and me. But of course, there was no one else. I was a nobody, after all.

I just asked where we would go. If I went with him.

He only said somewhere safe. Then got up and made for the exit.

I made no move to follow him... at first.

Then I was shouldering my backpack and slipping my Glock back into its holster. Moving quickly to catch up even as I started questioning if maybe the nice men in the clean white coats at the Asylum had jumped the gun a bit when they called me sane. But it was my best shot... at getting what I wanted. I just took a chance that Nightscream and Morningstar were really that close of friends... that I'd be accepted, by extension. Though some things did make me... dig in my heels at first...

"Normally a Labyrinth is a big torture area. 
Ironic Hell type thing. 
I am going to set a fairly pleasant one up to keep you safe.
 Can't have you wandering around alone, and I can't drag you with me everywhere."

 "So... a fancy cage? 
A supernatural version of the same rubber room I BARELY managed to get out of?"

 "Much more comfortable than a Rubber Room, I promise. 
Think of it more as a Bunker."

And that's where I stayed. 

The plan to use me as bait for Red-Fuck... was actually mine. Sam had always said that TELLER was ruled by his emotions. That he had one hell of a temper, and he only proved it again and again every time he showed his face. I figured we could use that. That if we could just get his blood boiling... he would throw caution to the wind and just ACT. Then all we had to do was snap a trap closed around him.

At first I was thinking maybe Steele. Or maybe Writer. Someone from his history. I was flipping through all my papers, trying to come up with someone who might work. Cursing myself. Because Sam would have known who to use, wouldn't it? Sam would have known...

And that's when it hit me.

 "...What about Sam? 'Nightscream'?"

"...Might tick him off a bit. Might also make him laugh.
Also... Poor Taste."

"Not the real Sam, Cypher."

"...What. Are you saying... you?"

"Sam and I are... we're very similiar builds. 
Not far off in height. 
And the clothing 'Nightscream' used to wear left everything else to guess work. 
If we can... make Redlight think that he FAILED to destroy Sam..."

 "Redlight knows Sam's mind. 
It wouldn't take him long to notice the differences swimming around in there. 
Furthermore, just because you can look the part, doesn't mean you can act the part. 
Move like the part. Talk like the part."

"You know Nightscream better than anyone else alive, don't you?"

"...Not as much as Redlight. Not as intimately as Redlight."

"...What about Banks? He was... with Sam. At the end." 

"...I am NOT contacting DAVID FUCKING BANKS for help.
We'll sort it out without him."

But it wasn't good enough, was it? Not quite. I was getting the hang of it with each post, but I still wasn't... hitting all the right notes. Not enough to press the buttons I needed to.

Until Banks decided to involve himself.

Then things came together just that little bit more, didn't they?

But that's long enough for one update. I'm tired to staring at the screen and Mumbles wants to play cards.

Three guesses which I prefer.

Saturday, November 16, 2013


Guess I'm not as dead as I'm supposed to be.

That Red-Fuck screwed up everything. EVERYTHING. I'm not going to pretend that Sam was the world's greatest person. I'm not going to try to make any one of you guys forget just what kind of horrors Sam was capable of. In fact, I DON'T want you to forget that... because I'm going to tell you that the person I married WAS one of the purest person on this whole rotten planet, and I want you to SEE the contrast. I want you to see how much the person I love most gave up, how much it FUCKING CHANGED... just to save our family. Just to try and make SOME kind of difference, even if it was throwing itself into the godforsaken snake pit. Even if its job became murder and torture...

But that wasn't enough, was it?

If it had ended there, I probably would have been able to accept it. Move on. Leave well enough alone and just... keep the memories safe. Cause that was the only thing I COULD have kept safe by the time I found out what happened.

But this...?


What Red-FUCK did to Sam goes beyond ANYTHING I could ever leave behind. Ever just walk away from and pretend everything was okie-day. Sam was OBLITERATED by that son of a bitch. Goddamn TELLER or whoever he wants to pretend he is or isn't... he ruined Sam. He tore out the goddamn CORE of who Sam was and SKINNED it while it watched, bound and gagged. Sam broke. Then shattered. Then was grounded down into a dust that didn't even resemble my Sam anymore.

My Sam...

My Sam... who thought I'd hate it for what it had become over the years. That clawed nightmare known as "Nightscream".

My Sam... who was probably convinced I hated it since I was STUPID enough to take out my panic, fear, and frustration at being hunted by Slender Man...  by throwing blame at it. By accusing Sam of bringing that THING home to Leo and me. Bringing... that entire horror show home and bringing our lives to a screeching halt before Leo's had even really BEGUN. It still sickens me... that the last time Sam and I exchanged words, we were fighting. Least, I was. Sam was mostly quiet. I guess it was trying to let me have my screaming rant... and then Sam touched me. Trying to COMFORT me.

And what did I do?

I stung my hand across Sam's face.

I HIT Sam.

And that's something I will NEVER forgive myself for. That I HATE myself for. I always said that Sam was always too good for me... and that's when I proved it.

After that... I woke up in the hospital after the accident. Alone.

No goodbye. No note. No nothing.

Just gone.

Leaving me with Leo and NO goddamn clue what was going on.

For a while... yeah, I was mad as hell at Sam. And at myself. Then at Sam again. So I did the only thing I thought I COULD do... which turned out to be the fastest route to a rubber room that someone could ever fucking take. I actually thought I could MAKE them listen. That, no matter how far fetched my story was with monsters and entire FORESTS of Black Leaves that BLED the further you went into it... I thought I could MAKE them listen to me.

After all, they were my colleagues. My team. We'd all been through thick and thin together and had KEPT IT together. Practically family, right? Of course. Practically.

Apparently, its never a good idea to start screaming and ranting about faceless monsters and mutated newborns. No matter how much you think you KNOW who you're talking to. Cause let me tell you something... you'll be making perfect sense until you start seeing THAT look. That stupid, fuck-face, condescending expression. And, when you see it. And realize it. You suddenly stop making sense. Cause you're panicking right? Trying to prove against what they've actually decided was fact. A 'shame', but a fact.

I wasn't crazy.


But that didn't stop them from locking me up like one. Drugging me and tying me down to a fucking MATTRESS as if I was a danger to myself or others. That didn't stop them from using those SICKENINGLY soft voices, like I was a damn child. That didn't stop them from making me STARE at those padded walls and wear those stupid gowns and talk to Doctors of this school and that school. All with that same. Fucking. Expression.

At that point... I became Ex-Special Agent Alex Prescott, FBI.

Leo was placed in Foster Care.

And that's how it 'Ended'.

Sam was dissected and tortured and stabbed and shot and poisoned and plagued and God only KNOWS what the fuck else...

Leo ran out onto the road while playing and was hit and killed by a damn CAR.

All while I stared at ink blots and had to listen to fucknut psychiatrists or psychologists or whatever they were psycho-analyzing me and my account of this "Faceless Monster." God, they LOVED discussing him!! It was like COCAINE for them. Once they started talking about this thing I'd "created" to explain my "mental breakdown", they never goddamn STOPPED. They loved digging into the SYMBOLISM behind it... and even going so far with ONE bright spark of a doc to suggest that I had CREATED the "Tall, Suited Man" to have something to blame since I had "OBVIOUSLY ATTACKED MY SPOUSE".

Wanted to explain why Sam took off. The good doc claimed it was fear.

I wanted to KILL the son of a bitch.

I tried to.

Kinda a hard thing to pull off in a mental institution.

Those places... get to you, after a while. If you're sane going in, you'll be questioning yourself in no time flat. And I did question myself. Over and over and over again. Even going so far  as to go on a screaming rant in the middle of the night because I WANTED the Slender Man to manifest himself. I wanted to SEE that thing again, only so I could KNOW that what was in my head actually DID happen and we WERE chased by that Thing. I was scared. And alone. And I just wanted something or someone to PROVE I wasn't insane...

He never showed up.

To this day, I haven't seen Him since the hospital.

So, eventually, I just... started going along with it. Started accepting what the docs were telling me. That I had a mental break. That Sam fled for safety sake and was probably starting over somewhere with a new life, away from me. I took my medication. I went through the sessions. I did the group share shit.

Three years went by of that garbage.

And they decided I was sane enough to be let out. Tentatively.

I bolted after a week.

No more sessions. No more drugs. No more fucking DOCTORS.

I had to find Sam.

I started digging. And digging. And digging. And DIGGING. Turning up absolutely ZILCH, which, really, is weird all on its own. So I basically decided "fuck it". I tracked down an old friend of mine... and gave a knock at the door. In the pouring goddamn rain of course. It's DOWN-POURING and I turn up on the front step of someone who I hadn't seen in three years - soaked to the bone in a jacket that wasn't even waterproof.

His face was pretty damn priceless when he saw me. But. Gotta give the old man credit. He let me in. He even dug out some old clothes that I could change into and threw a blanket at me while the coffee pot was getting going. He told me that he'd heard that I'd booked it out of town the second they let me out of the asylum. Even made the news for a few days while they looked for me. I was kinda surprised about that. Not like I was some Big Fish or anything. But I just rationalized it as me being Ex-FBI made me somehow 'special'.

I asked if he was going to turn me over.

He just shrugged and said that I didn't look that nuts. Except for the fact I was out in the storm, anyway. In fact... he said that I never seemed nuts. Not to him. And not to several other people who had heard my rant in the office that day. The wrong people, who had too many things to keep covered up. People who didn't WANT an Agent running around yelling about Faceless Monsters. Who had to make the issue disappear. Pressure from above and all, once word trickled around.

He told me that I always did run my mouth too much for my own good.

He gave me some advice. Some things to look into.

He said I should be smart and leave it.

But he already knew I wasn't smart.

So... he told me about a site called Blogger. And how some of the people that are hunted by Slender Man document their stories/horror shows there. Post by post. He suggested that I should look through them. That they might give me a better idea of the kinda SCOPE this crap covered. That maybe, just maybe, one of them might mention something about someone named "Sam". That it was a long shot... but you never know. Because he could tell me one thing without a doubt... Sam did NOT relocate elsewhere. Sam left Leo behind, after all. It wouldn't have done that, if what the doctors had said was true. Not only that... but my friend told me it was odd for my Haunting to just suddenly stop like that. That it barely ever worked that way. And that he had heard rumors... that, sometimes, "The Slender Man" makes deals with people.

When he said that... my stomach turned over on itself.

I knew. I knew even WITHOUT knowing. Ever blog that I went through, I was fighting against myself. Wanting to find something and NOT wanting to find ANYTHING at the exact same time. And when I... finally did find a Proxy Blog written by a "Sam".... yeah. I was in tears with every single post, wanting to deny it... but I knew I'd found Sam.

My Sam.

And I was too late.

I don't give a shit to blabber on about the emotional roller coaster then WRECK that followed. All that matters is what I decided on the other side of it. And that something is this:

I don't give a fuck what it did.

I still love Sam.

I always will.

That's why I couldn't walk away then.

And that's how Cypher found me.

But I'm not getting into that tonight.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Cypher is a DICK.

Can't even fucking wait for me to explain my own damn lie.

But, yes, he's right. I'm a fraud. Sue me.

Cheer, sneer, spit, I don't care. I didn't start this for your damn amusement, or mine. I don't even LIKE writing. But writing was Sam's deal. Even when we were married, writing was Sam's deal. It used to fantasize about publishing a novel or two. Used to make lists OF lists, for pete's sake... so I had to play my part. If Sam enjoyed writing, then I had to figure it out. Red-Fuck would expect it, after all. He'd expect updates about all the going-ons just like Sam used to... all the long ass posts....

Posts that I wrote and rewrote then rewrote AGAIN. Then got Cypher to read them over. Sometimes sending them off to Banks for his two cents, once he involved himself. Words like "Alex-y" and "Scream-ish" became common terms around here. I picked and pieced my way through EVERYTHING. Every word, every ACTION, every THOUGHT...


The fuck actually BELIEVED it! The son of a bitch actually believed that the Plague Doctor had brought Sam back. I actually pulled it OFF...

I called "Redlight" out.

I pushed every button that I knew. Every one that I'd learnt from reading and rereading Sam's blog. And even one of two that I guessed at and hoped that I had as good a aim with words as I do with bullets. I fired off that last post with EVERY intent set as sending that son of a bitch's temper into burning overdrive. I told Cypher to be ready for it. I TOLD him...

I've seen a lot of shit since I started with this bunch.

Nothing prepared me though for when that... thing brought with him when he appeared. I had myself all set. "Waiting" in a nice isolated spot where none of the locals should have stumbled into the Hell Hole we were setting up. I was maneuvering my way through. Making it look like I was headed somewhere important.And the very first thing that hit me... was like a vibration. not a shiver FROM me but one OUT of me that hit INTO me and clung. And then warped. Everything swaying as a weight came down on me HARD. Like someone had slammed down and was sitting on my chest. Making breathing near impossible as the trash and walls all around me pulled and stretched. Blurring. And, from this twisted concoction... came a staggering figure.

When I saw that burning amber... I understood fully why Sam called him the Devil.

Made me take a step back.

Which seemed to actually confirm it for the bastard.

That sick grin spreading out. Tearing up so wide and sharp that I expected to see blood as that borrowed face contorted for it. A young boy. Maybe fifteen. Had on red sneakers. Guess that was all the asshole needed to force his way in. The body shuttering and twisting in ways that snapped bones. I HEARD them snap, but it didn't seem to impair anything. Motion evening out as that fucker took complete control. Straightening to level that gaze at me. That grin. Sickening. Mocking. Making a comment about how special a toy I always was. How he never got tired... of making me shrink away. 

I said the only thing I could think of. Remembering everything Cypher and Banks taught me. What EVERYONE in the group taught me. Forcing myself to loosen. My stance to relax. Forcing that smirk that I spent HOURS in front of a mirror practicing until I got it perfect.

"Well, well, my dear... aren't you a sight for sore eyes~  You're looking as sickly as ever.

Honestly. You don't call. You don't write. I was beginning to think I'd done something to UPSET YOU."

That earned a laugh. Twisted and warped and WRONG in so many ways. Everything about him was wrong. Each movement blurring and stretching. As if... as if EXISTING itself recognized him as an error. A glitch. His voice vibrating before evening out. Asking if I was really that eager to return to my place under his boot. Asking me if being tangled in his strings was that much fun. Asking me how much I remembered. Recalling memories as he started forward. Red sneakers bringing that THING closer and closer to me with every step as he recounted how I'd thrashed on my strings. How I'd begged him for release. For death. For anything but what WAS. Asking me... if I missed FEELING the white BURN through my mind - a sharp SPIKE of pain - when I disobeyed. If I missed all the delusions. All my worst nightmares playing over and over and over. If I missed CLINGING to him because he was the only thing I had left by the end of it. The only thing that I knew was Real...

I only rose a brow - tilting my head in just that certain way as I tried to hide my nerves the closer he got. Asking him how long he'd been working that speech out while twiddling his thumbs in the Grove.

One second, I saw his eye twitch.

And, in the next, I was taken clear off my feet with his grip crushed around my throat like a vice. That amber BURNING. That grin torn down into a snarl feral and rabid. Not blinking. NEVER blinking. That oppression that choked out the very air doubling. Tripling down. Fucker only needed to start foaming at the mouth as he snapped and snarled...

"DO YOU WANT TO DO IT OVER AGAIN, SAM?!! Should we go back to the BEGINNING of it all!?!!  Did it not BURN to disobey me before?!! TO CHALLENGE ME??! Weren't you supposed to be my tool; reduced to nothing more than a shambling puppet?!??? I know how WEAK you truly are. I expected it from you. It was understandable. Excusable, even. Given what you went through. And I FORGAVE you for it, didn't I?! DIDN'T I, SAM?!! Didn't I keep that broken body of yours going, no matter how much it SCREAMED for you to stop? Didn't I keep you BREATHING? And how did you repay me for PROTECTING you from your own USELESSNESS?!! With disobedience?!? With stupidity?!??? You thrashed and thrashed on your strings and earned NOTHING from it! Don't you REMEMBER? Don't you remember how I REMINDED YOU over and over and OVER until it was CARVED INTO EVERY PART OF YOU?!??! You are MINE!! You belong to ME! Don't you remember....?! DON'T YOU REMEMBER, SAM?!?!


It took everything in me not to ram my gauntlet down his damn throat.

And yet... something flashed over him then. Like he noticed something. Or didn't notice something. A frown twisted over the glare... just as the walls of a loop rose around us. Sweeping around and closing in mere seconds. Catching us. Catching HIM like a fish in a net. And I couldn't stop my smile... even as that searing glare snapped back onto me. Snarl torn across his expression again and, in one swift motion, my mask and hood were torn from my head.

The bastard recognized me.

The second he tore off my hood. Just one SECOND... and he knew. He knew who I was. And it makes me SICK to think he'd been that mixed into Sam's memories that he wouldn't even skip one fucking beat. Not even ONE.

And then everything was a mess of motion. Cypher literally DROPPING in from above. SECONDS away from contact before Red-Fuck jumped back. Cypher barely touching the ground before lunging after him at full speed. Straight and ready and SO FUCKING CLOSE...

And then there was a shot.

Just one.



And it was all over.

The body of the teen dropped like a rock. The glow of amber eyes fading away, taking that oppressive weight around us with it. It... took a moment to really sink in. For both of us. What had just happened. Because it COULDN'T happen like that. It was supposed to have fucking STOPPED here. Everything was supposed to have stopped. Cypher himself near blew a fuse before taking off in a raging fit. Screaming for the head of the sniper. Someone he calls the "Wiseman".

That left me with the body of the kid.

And the scrap remains of a ruined plan.

It worked.

It fucking WORKED.

And we screwed it up. Somehow, we screwed it UP.

But you know what? I wallowed. I sulked over my dead idea. Vengeance and justice so damn close that I could TASTE it only for it to slip from my fingers. I disappeared for a while. I had a few more drinks than I should have. I got it out of my system. And now... I don't give a rat's ass that Redlight knows my name. I don't give a FUCK that this plan fell apart. It changes nothing.

Sam... is probably going to spend eternity in that goddamn Crumbling Castle.

Nothing I do is going to change that.

But I can figure out how to kill The Devil.

I won't stop until I do.

My name is Alex Prescott.... and I swear that I'll have Redlight's head.

Sooner or later





Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Thirty Pieces of Silver

I've been walking these same streets for hours.

And do you know what I've concluded after mulling my thoughts over and over and over again?



My DEAREST "Master".

My Tormentor and Personal Devil.

You. Are a Fucking Coward.

How long has it been, sweetpea?

How long since our little dance began? How long since I stood up against your idiocy, and you drove Hell itself into my mind and soul? How long since you raked your nails against and clawed INTO the deepest parts of me? How long has it been... since I told you to stop? Since I BEGGED you to stop? How long now...? My, my. Time sure moves fast. But isn't it ironic how the world turns?

Now. You're the One In A Cage.

Caught like a cornered Stray in the Grove.

Oh, you can snap your teeth and put up your hackles all you like....

But in the end... what can you really do?

What are you WILLING to do?

In your cage - your little SPIT of reality - you are SAFE, aren't you? And you're so afraid to take even a single step out. Even just one. Petrified. Because, when it comes down to it... all you are is a child, aren't you? A bratty child throwing a tantrum. Still so scared of the dark. That's all you've ever BEEN. You rant and scream and smash things when you don't get your way... but, my DEAREST old friend, do look around you now.

What good is a tantrum with no one to bear witness?

What good is a threat when it comes second-hand?

What good is all that RAGE when the only skin you can claw into... is that of your own palms?

You are a Coward.

You were no match for me, way back when. You had to DESTROY my mind just to be able to puppet me around. And even then... how many times did you lose control over me? How many times did I break free from your PATHETIC network? Five? Ten? More?

Good God, it sickens me to even think I let you get the best of me.

You. A rabid STRAY and nothing more.

Incapable of being human. And just not good enough to play the role of Monster.

After all, this world is filled with Monsters, isn't it? And how do you, a freak in a hoodie with delusions of godhood, compare? Heh. The Valtiels are just WAITING for the opportunity to put you on your own leash. Teach you some tricks like you tried to teach me...

Will you beg THEM to stop, I wonder?

But lets move on, shall we? The Wonders of Fear do not stop at the Valtiels, after all! The Choir would probably be able to drive you mad in a matter of minutes. The Rake would render you useless. The Plague Doctor? You'd be just another lab rat to Him. How about the Wooden Girl, maybe? No, Her strings FAR exceed your own. Like comparing steel wire to sowing thread.

And to The Slender Man?

What do you think, my dear?

He's been Watching you. Always has been. You know it just as well as I do. Watching you rise. Watching you pretend to be such a special little snowflake...

How long do you think... until he impales you on a tree branch? Anchoring you and your delusions forever to the Earth with all His other little play things. You know He's merely biding His time. And He has all the time in the World. Our Father. Our Great Tall One. Our True God~

This has gone on for long enough, don't you think? And I've already taken the liberty of accepting thirty pieces of silver, You Mangy Mutt.

Personally...  I think it's about time we Nailed You Up.

Do you think you'd Rise again? Hmm?

Or will you just ROT?! Putrid and gut-wrenching. Just another Man. Nothing more than a HOBO with a magic act.

Your time is coming.

I'm here, you little Rat.

Your title has always been too good for you. And, deep down, you know it don't you?

Had to cheat to beat me. A mere human.

Have to hide in order to survive. Oh, so fearsome, indeed.

Have to rely on mindslaves and half-wits to run your errands. And the ones that aren't half-wits....

They're going to betray you, my dear.


You are going to feel that blade cut through your spine. And you'll feel it, ever so soon. They're using you as a shield. A dummy to test for traps before they reach your prize, standing on your corpse to do so.

Don't deny it, love. Even you are capable of seeing THAT aren't you? Or is it still the job of your old jester to point out the obvious for you?

Poor thing.

You really are lost without Writer pulling your strings for you, aren't you?

Now, now. Don't you fret.

Your little game of Hide and Seek is almost through.

After all, I came back for a reason.

I'm the one who'll write your final chapter, Storyteller.

Prove Me Wrong.