A/N: This is actually my character, Daniel's, POV for a roleplay over on DeviantArt! :D So there is no Warthrop or Will Henry, but it's still the Monstrumologist universe! We're doing a Slenderman roleplay! I absolutely cannot wait to add in my character Peter into this. I don't know all the prompts yet, so I don't know when I can add him!

Even if it doesn't have Will Henry or Warthrop, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Daniel roused himself with a growl as he heard a scratching at the front door. When it didn't go away, he began to regain his senses and reach into his bag. he pulled out his revolver, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. This was one of the rare moments he actually could do so, and he was not taking kindly to being woken so rudely.

He slid out of the covers and kept to the walls as he crept down the corridors of his house. He slid behind the front door and took a breath, then flung the door open and jabbed his revolver at the intruder. He was taken aback when it was a sopping wet large cat. It looked like a small leopard, really. Without any sort of invitation at all, it padded inside and shook itself. Water splattered all over the floor, and himself, though the cat didn't care. It simply padded over to the hearth and curled up, looking rather miserable.

Daniel shut the door and, keeping his aim fixed on the cat, strode over. It didn't bat an eye, and held out it's neck to him. On it, there was a thick collar with a small messenger bag sort of thing like one would use to send letters with doves. He opened it, the cat didn't react, and pulled out a slighting damped letter. It was sealed in red wax with a ornate letter 'M' on it. Daniel immediately recognized it as a college of his, one Madam Parvana Bayonet.

Sighing, Daniel tossed the letter from Miss Bayonet onto the coffee table and lay his revolver down carefully. Scratching the back of his head sleepily, he stumbled down the hall and opened the linen close to take out a towel. The animal was getting the floor sopping wet, and Daniel wasn't appreciating that to say the least. Parvana's letter could wait for a few minutes.

Grudgingly, he crouched beside the ocelot and rubbed the towel roughly along its back. He didn't particularly care for most animals, though he often thought a house cat, or perhaps a dog, would suit his needs for companionship. He preferred them over people, after all.

The ocelot snapped at his wrist, to which he knocked it on the head with his knuckles. It hissed and grumpily lay on the hearth, glaring a him resentfully from the corner of its eyes. Daniel knew it was, for the most part, tamed as well as trained. If Parvana gave it a letter to send to him, it must be obedient whether she was its trainer or not. She had a contact in England it seemed, though it was hardly unsurprising.

Pushing away the towel to the edge of the hearth, he stood up. His knees ached a moment before he shook it off and sat on the sofa, picking up the letter. He studied it once more, finding nothing but Parvana on it. Yawning, he cracked the ornate seal and opened the envelope without much enthusiasm. The letter was crisply folded, but the handwriting nearly illegible. Thankfully, his years in an office with Ainsworth were paying off. He had organized a filing system, which he had to work merely because the old man didn't want to change his current method. His handwriting was positively horrid and it was almost like cracking a language that consisted of characters rather than letters.

"Greetings, Mister Eckhart," he muttered, not repressing a large yawn. He blinked his eyes blearily and continued.

"I do hope this finds you well, sir—or perhaps, well enough. I apologize if my dear Percy intruded on you; I have no way of controlling him from the States, of course. I hope, also, that you would accept my invitation to Detroit. We have been having some rather dark circumstances. Children, for the most part, as well as handicapped adults, usually rather elderly, will disappear only to be found the next day in the park near Detroit. Currently, I am staying in a hotel to study the incidents. The killings are neat and precise; body parts severed and places neatly in bags, and so on. However, this is rather odd, not all the body parts seem human. I have found tufts of fur from perhaps a squirrel or a small dog that'd been missing inside a bag that had been claimed to be an 5-year-old girl. However, there has also been a sharp increase from the residents of this town that have gone to an insane asylum several miles away; even I am not sure what is becoming of their deteriorating mental state. That shall be remedied soon, though I suspect it is linked to the killings.

"I have written to Shimuzu Chi on the matter and will, undoubtedly, be joining us. I only wish you to join us. These events to fall under 'unexplainable phenomenons' as nether I nor the detectives can deduce anything. On another note, the killer, I recall, seems to not exist, so I assume you'd know all about it. It is called Der Ritter; the Slenderman.

"I wish you well, sir. Godspeed to you, should you come, which I implore you to do so.

"Your humble colleague,

"Parvana Bayonet.

"P. S.: Don't worry about Percy. Send your reply with him and he'll meet my contact and proceed to my hotel. And please, wait for me in the lobby once you arrive."

Daniel read the letter once more, studying all the information he'd been given. Deep in his gut, his stomach churned with nervous tension. Something didn't sit right. Mixed evidence, kidnapped seniors and children; CHILDREN for Christ's sake! Daniel may not have liked children, but they were innocent and knew nothing of life outside of their own city let alone what lurked in the shadows; what lurked, ready to snatch them up covetously and destroy them much as it had done to him. As for those in bedlam, he was a bit interested but also rather nervous; he was also anxious around asylums for fear he'd be locked up in one.

His gaze flicked up to Percy. The ocelot appeared to be sleeping, until it open one golden eye lazily to look back at him before resuming his nap. Wearily, Daniel slid the letter back into the envelope and fetched his own parchment.

Miss Bayonet,

I have received your letter and it is, to say the least, intriguing. However, I do not agree with sending Shimuzu. She is headstrong and reckless, and simply will not listen to orders if they restrict her. Something dark is afoot, and we need someone to take orders. This is not the norm for me. I have done the paperwork on the wendigo incident, and this seems similar. I find it much darker, though. This monster is too precise. It knows what it is doing to the point of above average intelligence, unlike the former John Chanler.

I advise you to not take any further actions until I arrive. I shall prepare my things tonight and be off by the morning. You can expect me in Detroit in four days time.

Cordially,

Dr. Daniel Eckhart

He placed the latter into it's envelope, before sealing it with wax. He turned and strode back to the hearth, kneeling beside the ocelot. He tucked it beneath its paw and stood up, returning to his room to pack his tool kit. The low alcohol container was refilled, cleaned his revolvers, and put in fresh water in its appropriate containers. He moved on to packing his other things as well as getting dressed since he would, undoubtedly, not be getting anymore sleep.

As he buttoned his shirt, his mind began to call up facts about the SlenderMan. According to other monstrumologists, it did not exist, much like vampires and werewolves, so naturally he believed it was real and got ridicule as well as becoming the butt of many jokes once again. SlenderMan was an entity that'd walked the earth since man had begun to crawl. It'd watched, it'd adapted. It was known for such types of killing, particularly attached to children. It drove men into insanity.

Daniel hardly worried about that, however. He was already quite insane. Brennanburg had seen to that.

~X~X~X~

Daniel's money had been stolen that day—twice, actually, though one was more of an attempt.

The ocelot, Percy, had gotten ahold of his wallet and had snatched probably about fifty pounds before Daniel had noticed it and shooed it away. After that, it'd run off (with his money and his letter); probably to Parvana's contact and on to America. The second time, a pickpocket had pulled it from his back pocket. Daniel was quick; quicker and younger than he outwardly appeared. The poor perpetrator hadn't know what had happened. Daniel had pivoted on his heels and kicked the other man's legs out before hauling him off into an alley to deal with him more quietly. What several fingers to the larynx and windpipe can do is an amazing art. It was safe to say that he wouldn't be stealing anyone else's wallet. He couldn't do that with disfigured fingers.

As he waited for his boat, Daniel reflected the SlenderMan for the umpteenth time. If anything, it seemed like a relapse of the wendigo incident. As it had been said before, he'd done the paperwork and had gotten every detail. According to the report, the monstrumologist involved, Pellinore Warthrop, and his former fiancé and wife of the late John Chanler were rather torn apart after becoming almost suspiciously close (or that was how it was to Daniel). Unfortunately, quite literally. John was seeking some form of revenge against Warthrop and murdered Muriel Chanler in a fit of boredom and rage, though it seemed he was going to do that anyway.

This SlenderMan, however, seemed far more sinister. It had no motive, as many monsters did, but it didn't eat, apparently, or sleep. It simply was, like it had been recorded throughout literature and history.

Daniel knew the things that supposedly didn't exist, even among momstrumologists, and that was the only reason he was going, he realized. He doubted Parvana would want his company willingly, as much as he wanted Shimuzu's. The woman was obsessed and he didn't like it one bit.

He sighed, standing and boarding his ship as it was called. Onwards and upwards, it seemed; onwards and into the darkness.