Lots of Slendy action in this chapter. You even get to learn a little about Ella's background.
I recently learned that there
is a section for the Slender game, where I originally planned to paste this fanfic, but I thought I had checked before and couldn't find the Slender section. Oh well. I find that the mythology section serves better, since the story is heavily driven by Japanese and German mythology.

Later on, when Ella finally learns of Karada and Tamashii's origin, I'll post a one-shot in the Japanese Mythology section, telling the story of their creation and first master.

Also, I have the screenshots of Ella's house from when I decorated it on the Sims 3, just gotta make a DeviantArt account for this or something. Unless you guys have another suggestion of where to post them?

Anyway. I'll let you read now. Please review! Thank you for reading!


Truce

Silence. Such a wonderful sound. The weight of its being held heavy in my ears, greeting me with a gentle hum and faint ringing as my eyes cracked open. Wherever I was, it was dark. A dim light helped to adjust my vision as some pale figure moved in front of it. I urged my eyes to roll upward only to find more of the white figure, decorated by a neatly placed red tie at its neck. Faceless. He was faceless. Him.

The rest of my body's senses began to awaken, and I felt an uncomfortable tug somewhere on my stomach. My eyes fell to see what was causing the discomfort. I followed the arms down, seeing that the sleeves of the crisp white shirt had been rolled up neatly to his elbows. I was surprised to find his forearms to be rather toned, despite his boney hands that handled a needle and thread. His left forearm seemed to have bandages wrapped around a portion of it. There was a dark line fading through the bandages, but I couldn't tell what it was. Was he sewing up my wounds? Why?

A painful pierce of the needle changed my thoughts, and I groaned in protest, still too weak to give a snarky remark on his work. He paused at my sudden noise, almost as if He hadn't noticed me wake up. I watched his head turn in the bleary lighting, just barely able to see that it had moved at all, if it weren't for the ever-so-faint depressions where his missing facial features should be. He was looking at me, I think. Either way, the important part was that He spoke for the first time, "Rest, my dear; and grow strong again for our inevitable battle to come." His voice was dreadfully soothing, like warm tea pouring onto an icy heart.

My body begged me to return to the darkness of rest and recuperation, but I didn't trust the entity who baffled what I knew of Him. Nevertheless, one of his hands reached over and closed my eyelids for me. I faded into sleep almost immediately.

I was dreaming, but I didn't know it. Everything felt normal, but I silently questioned it.

The steady humming of jet engines roared outside the white walls that held in so many passengers of the 747. I glanced out of the open window, seeing an almost blinding shade of blue. Something inside me explained that I was heading from England to America, but when did I go to England?

I slid down the window blind and looked around until my eyes landed on the back of some long-haired man's head. He had thin, light brown hair that had just a slight waviness; and when he turned around, possibly sensing someone staring at him, I saw his joyful and eager brown eyes from across the isle. He was only two rows ahead, yet I knew every feature of him, down to the mole on his right cheek near his ear.

How do I know this man?

He smiled at me, grinning with his imperfect British teeth, and my heart pounded. I felt myself blush, and smiled back shyly.

I think I once knew this man.

Before I could figure out my connection to him, an explosion sounded outside. An engine screamed. The tickling feeling of butterflies filled my stomach as the front of the plane tilted downward.

The man's excited smile dropped to a panicked frown as he tried to unbuckle his seat belt. For some reason, I did the same; I felt the need to get to him – to protect him. We both struggled to get out of our seats, the other panicked passengers screaming around us.

I managed to get the belt off, and shoved my way passed the people seated in my row. Why did I have to be next to the window? I didn't care about them, though – about anyone - but this mysterious man.

One person held me back, telling me to get back into my seat, and I cried out something. I think it was the man's name. What was it? He reached out to me as the cabin began shudder, threatening to toss me away, but I held steady. I reached to him, stretching as far as I could in desperation.

Our fingers touched. Our eyes locked. I felt that he would be safe soon, but then water rushed from the front of the plane, pushing people past us; pushing me away from the man. How the impact of the plan to the surface of the water didn't throw me forward and, thus, kill me, I didn't know. I didn't care.

I gripped a seat, trying to reunite our fingers, in the least. His mouth moved, calling out a name I hadn't heard in a long time. Was it my name? I was carried further from him as he still reached out futilely to me. His lips shaped out three syllables, but I couldn't hear him anymore.

My heart squeezed.

No wait. It was my lungs. I couldn't breathe!

Oh, God! I'm going to drown!

It was getting darker. I couldn't see the man anymore. There were drowned people and luggage floating over me as I slammed into the back of the plane. I began to cry, knowing that there was nothing I could do to save myself – to save him.

Darkness became light, my eyes flashing open as I gasped in a deep breath, and I found myself lying in my bed. I was home. There was no plane. No water. Judging by the light seeping through my folded window blinds, it was sometime during the day. How long had I been asleep?

I sat up, recollecting what I could remember before blacking out. Or rather, I tried to sit up, but the intense pain of my stomach muscles had me fall back down, cringing in regret. The memories of being shot and beaten up by the Chromes came flooding back to me. Man, I was stupid for not checking corners!

" 'Bout time you woke up," a male voice struck me out of my mental self-lectures, and I turned my head toward the only direction that wasn't in my field of vision. It was that man from when the Chromes were being attacked. He sat on top of my dresser in his yellow hoody and the black ski mask that covered all but his eyes, though there wasn't enough lighting for me to see what color they were. He dangled his legs that wore a pair of rather baggy blue jeans and dark, worn work boots.

"I remember you from the alley," my eyebrows knitted in distrust. "What happened? And don't lie."

The strange man wiggled his black, cotton-gloved fingers and taunted me, "Ooo, what'cha gonna do? Get up and attack?" He chuckled at my unhumored face and lack of reply. "I'm here to give you a message. Masky would have done it, but he's sort of in your situation, too."

"I'm guessing this Masky is the one I chased?"

"Bingo." Considering that the masked man was known as Masky, I dubbed this man by his most notable feature – Hoodie. He swung his legs forward, using the momentum to hop off of my dresser. "Anyway, here's the message: Don't worry about getting attacked in your sleep or anything. Master wants you healthy and alive, so rest up. We'll be watching."

Whatever. Even if they did attack me, there was little I could do in this condition. My concerns were elsewhere. "Where's Jayden? Is he safe?"

Hoodie shoved his hands into the front pockets of his top, probably a little irritated that he was still here, "He's with us, of course; but that's all you get to know."

My blood began to boil, and I wanted to shake the answers out of him. "I swear, if any of you harm Jayden, I will hunt all of you down-"

"Yeah, yeah. Master said not to toy with you, so no playing with Jayden unless He says otherwise." Hoodie had about as much manners as I did with people I didn't like. Touche, Hoodie. Touche. He continued, "By the way, Master also wants to know if you've learned anything more on your swords."

"Crap!" I instinctively tried to get up, worried that the blood from the Chrome gang had rusted my swords, but again my wounds had me freeze up, cringing as I used my arms to hold myself up without further straining my injuries. I think I felt something pop on my stomach wound. Was it a stitch? Whatever. The swords were more important at this point. "What did you do with them?!"

"Geez, calm down. They're on that display rack in the other room. Master had me wipe them down and clean out the sheathes real good." Hoodie actively shrugged off my concern for the only effective defense against his 'Master', who I was more than sure is Slender Man.

A sigh of relief escaped me, glad to know that Slender had enough sense about the care of swords. Why did He have his Proxy clean them, though? Well, I'll think about that later. I guess I need to give some sort of report so Slender doesn't bother me during my little vacation from Him. "I can't exactly perform experiments on living beings, and from what I can tell, that's the only type of things that those swords affect with," I paused, not sure if my words were chosen carefully enough, "whatever sort of magic they have."

A thoughtful hum sounded from Hoodie as he shifted a bit, "Magic, huh? I'm sure Master can work with that."

There was a swollen feeling that made itself known in my lower abdomen. My bladder was waking up, and it wanted attention. "Oh, joy," I rolled my eyes as I tenderly lifted myself out of my bed and tried my best to even out the pain in my back and stomach, "I helped the Slender Man get the advantage over me." I shuffled my feet, carrying myself out of my room, gripping the walls for support to help take some of the burden off of my straining stitches.

I heard Hoodie call out to me, still in my room, "Maybe you shouldn't have such a big mouth."

"Maybe you should shut up and get out of my house," I retorted whilst entering my bathroom, then shut and locked the door behind me.

Oh, man, did that bathroom break feel awesome! It wasn't enough to heal my wounds, though; and as I shuffled to peek into my room, I found that Hoodie was no longer there. He most likely exited through the window next to my bed. That seems to be my new back door now. I shrugged it off, remembering the message he had given me, and made my way into the kitchen to fix some sort of nutritional meal that would help to increase my healing rate.

The next four days passed by pretty quickly (probably because I slept most of the time). When I was awake, however, I walked around the house to keep some of my strength up and get the blood moving. Other times, I would fix myself some bite-sized snacks and a drink to set on the coffee table that I moved - awkwardly, mind you - to the side of my bed. The swords and their stand now rested on my dresser where I could keep better watch over them. I was almost always confined to my bed, and thus used the time to read any and all books I had on Japanese and German folklore. Though I was refreshed on much of my folklore, none of them gave any further clues toward the origin of the swords or hints about the Slender Man and his abilities.

It should be mentioned that once a day, I would wake up to find the bandages and gauze pads around my waist had been replaced. The stitch that I ripped when meeting Hoodie had been fixed as well. Slender's been caring for me in my sleep. I appreciate this, but it's also creepy as Hell. What else is He doing while I'm asleep?

Anyway, by the fourth day, my bullet wounds had begun to seal up, but I was still incredibly sore and weak in their areas. At least I could move around a bit more freely without so much worry about the stitches. I was even able to stand up mostly straight!

By about ten in the morning, I heard a knock at my door while I was fixing a snack. My first thought was that it might be Detective Statman. If so, then it'd be pretty interesting to try and explain why I was walking around funny. I nudged over a bit of the blinds to peek out of my living room window in an effort prepare for who it might be.

It was Cheryl, holding something in her hand. I think a newspaper. Either way, she was more than welcome into the house, regardless that I wasn't excited about having to explain my odd postures, if she noticed them. I opened the door to find a worried look on Cheryl's face, and she held up the confirmed newspaper so that I could read its front page.

"2nd Child to Go Missing in Forest", it read.

"That man took another one!" Cheryl's eyes flooded with the memories of her search during the night we lost Jayden. I don't know how, but I just knew that's what she was thinking about. Maybe it was because I thought about it, too, for a fleeting moment.

Letting Cheryl in, I decided that this might help me with my research on the Slender Man. "Nearby?" The forest stretched a good few miles, and many other neighborhoods graced the edges of it.

Cheryl shook her head, handing me the paper to read further into the article. "About five miles north, I think. One of the neighborhoods off of Bay Street."

I curiously took the paper. Things grew quiet as Cheryl waited for me to finish reading.

"8-year-old Scott Harvey disappeared late yesterday evening while playing in his backyard, which sits on the edge of Glenwood's neighboring forest. His parents, Mark and Tia Harvey, claim that they had seen their son only minutes before his sudden disappearance. Pike County officers are actively searching for young Scott. Many residents are already speculating that this may be a similar case to the still missing Jayden Hackburry only five miles away, also next to the former Albert Pike campgrounds." The rest of the article gave the boy's address where he was last seen, numbers to call for tips, his picture, and physical description.

From what I already knew about Slender, it was silly of me to ask my next question, but I had to play as though I knew as much as she did. "So this guy is a serial kidnapper?"

"It seems that way. Those poor boys. Oh, Jayden!" Cheryl broken down into tears. I don't blame her.

I took Cheryl into my arms, comforting her with a hand rubbing her back. The weight she put on me had me cringing at the strain of my injured abdomen muscles, but I bore through it for her. "Don't worry so much. I'm doing everything I can to track this guy down. Tracking's part of my profession, after all." For once, I wasn't lying about my job.

Cheryl stepped back, a little shocked at what I had told her. "Ella, you could get seriously hurt! You don't even have a gun to protect yourself!" She and Dayle knew that I was trained in the art of the sword, but no human these days thinks they're safe unless they have a gun or some sort of ranged weapon.

"Yeah, probably," I shrugged, casting my eyes to the floor, "but I haven't been pummeled by Big Foot, yet, so I think luck is on my side."

Wiping away the remaining tears that dampened her eyes, Cheryl let out a faint laugh. "I know you love Jayden, but don't put yourself into that kind of danger. Please."

I couldn't help it. I had to tell her something that would assure her that I would get Jayden back. I took a deep breath, and chose my next words carefully. "Cheryl, I can't promise that I'll just sit back while that man has one of the only people I still call family. I will get Jayden back. If not that, then I'll at least get all the leads and tips I can to track this guy down. There's a lot I haven't told you guys about myself, and one day, I hope that I can. For now, though, you just have to trust me, okay?" Our eyes stayed locked for a while. I'm sure she was taking it all in, trying to understand what I was trying to say. Eventually, Cheryl nodded, biting her lip in hesitation. "Okay, Ella. Just don't beat yourself up over it. Dayle and I understand that none of this was your fault."

If only you knew, Cheryl. If only I could tell you how many times I had already ruined the chance of bringing Jayden back to you. This is my fault. I take full responsibility for it. "Mind if I keep the paper? I need to catch up on the world." Cheryl let me keep it, then left the house, claiming to have chores to get done. Crap, I hope she doesn't tell the police what I'm doing.

Whilst in the midst of snacking on my bed and reading through the Glenwood Herald newspaper, I caught up on criminals, comics, politics, and what have you, eventually coming across something that had my heart skip a beat in slight panic. No matter how many times I saw these articles, I never could get passed the worry that I left some bit of evidence behind on the job. The article pertained to the rapist I had beheaded some nights ago. It seemed to be an update, according to how it was worded. The police still haven't found any evidence to track the killer. The only clue is the clean cut severing his neck, and how there was only a bit of skin left to keep the head attached to its body. It's a good thing I'm not a registered martial artist; otherwise, they'd have found me by now.

The twinge in my heart settled out as relief filled me. I was still clear of suspicion. Maybe I should start patting myself on the back for staying under the radar for so long.

I had just finished the article when the lights in my bedroom flickered. I looked up to see that it was some time in the evening, according to the dimming sunlight from my window blinds. Man, I read slow. It was two o'clock when I started the paper. Either way, the flickering of my light stirred up a feeling of frustration within me. Does this guy not know how to keep his word? Maybe He was waiting for me to let my guard down enough?

Whatever.

I roughly laid down the opened newspaper across my lap as the light flickered again, much more heavily this time. My eyes stared at the door, expecting to see Him standing there, but he wasn't. Either way, I felt the need to smack talk Him. "Really? I thought we had a truce!" I was answered by further light flickering.

Then I heard a familiar sobbing.

Jayden.

Crap. I slowly got out of my bed, still not able to just hop out all nonchalant like, and crept my way to the bathroom, where the boy's crying was loudest. I gradually gained more and more view of the dim interior of my bathroom, seeing the toilet to the right, and the edge of the bathtub that sat on the opposite wall from me. When I had full view, I found nothing, and the crying had stopped. My impatience was wearing thin, mostly due to the pain in my abdomen, which always had me irritable for stupid reasons. I guess playing tricks on me doesn't count as attacks, but still.

"For fu-" I stopped myself. I had a potty mouth after the first couple of years of being a vigilante, but I felt wrong for using the curse words, so did my best to not use them again. "Hell, Slender!" I called out to Him, showing my disapproval that I'm more than sure He didn't care about. Probably enjoyed it.

I turned around, rolling my eyes again when I found nothing behind me, though I half-expected Him to be standing behind me. My instincts had me peek into the living room, just in case. When I found nothing out of the ordinary, I made my way back to my bedroom, thinking that it was over. He probably just wanted to keep me on my toes or something stupid.

My bedroom light was off. I'm pretty sure I left it on so I could see down the hallway, since there was no hall light to use. He was probably in my room now.

Sighing, I fought the urge to once again roll my eyes, "Seriously, if you just wanted to go on a panty raid, you could have just asked." It wasn't like I had attractive underwear. Just some comfortable stuff that didn't ride up to my ribs. Thongs were terrible, so He wasn't going to find those in my room. I wonder what type He likes, if He even has that sort of interest.

Wait, what?

When I was just about to enter my room, I noticed Him standing at my dresser, facing it. Pfft. No way. I stifled a laugh, "Oh man, I was just joking around."

Slender Man turned around, and I noticed that the slash across his chest from our last battle was gone. I wondered, for a moment, where He gets his clothing. Something glimmering in the small light that peered through my window blinds. Those weren't panties. That was my sword! It was still sheathed, though, and He held it so delicately, as if He respected it. Or feared it?

"Messing with my swords, huh?" I stepped into my room, not really caring anymore. Maybe He was still holding that treaty between us. "I still can't find anything to explain them, aside from the obvious theory that it's some sort of Japanese enchantment."

A random thought had me realize something peculiar – I hadn't coughed at all! "Can you control whether or not I cough when you're around?"

His lowered head slowly nodded, distracted with thoughts of the katana He tediously studied with whatever sort of vision He possessed.

"Your hooded Proxy said that you 'might be able to work with;the magic' on my swords. I'm sure you know that simply dispelling the enchantments could backfire on you." It was true. Some enchantments or spells required counter-spells to remove the effects. If one were to simply destroy the source of the effects, there is always a chance that they would remain, which is a terrible thing, if you know little-to-nothing about the enchantment in the first place. The best thing to do is leave it as is until one is fully aware of what needs to be done. Magic is fun.

Again, Slender Man only nodded in reply. He returned Karada to its resting place on the stand so tenderly that not a single thing rattled – not even the cheap rack – and He removed Tamashii, sheath and all, with the same tenderness to inspect it as well.

Jayden's crying started up again, sounding from the living room this time. My eyes narrowed to the curious entity in my room, and I sighed. "I know you'll just take him away before I can get to him. Quit torturing the poor child." He ignored me, of course, and Jayden continued to cry.

I released another sigh, frustrated that the only way to at least stop the crying was to go and see about it. So, I trudged my way down the hall, following the eerily dim light that leaked through the blinded window in the living room. When I rounded the corner, I actually saw Jayden this time, though I wished I hadn't.

Jayden was sitting in my beanbag, holding his knees up to his chest, and rocking slightly as he sobbed and sobbed in confusion. I couldn't help it. I couldn't lose the chance again, so I rushed to him, a little surprised that I was able to touch him. I hugged him, petted his messy blonde hair while cooing to him in an effort to calm him down. "It's okay. It's okay, Jayden. Miss Ella's here now." I put a hand under his chin to tilt his head up, trying to make eye contact for reassurance. My heart raced even faster when I saw a dark smudge on his left cheek.

I got up to turn on the light, and it flickered to life, though dimmer than usual. The first thing I saw wasn't Jayden's smudge, but what was behind him.

A mural on my empty wall. A mural of blood-drawn scribbles. A tall stick figure surrounded by trees, and the Operator symbol finger-painted onto my wall. "Oh, ssshhh- Oh, fff- Aw, crap!" So many thoughts raced through my head. What if Detective Statman returned? What if Cheryl or Dayle showed up again? This was bad. This was so bad! I rushed back to Jayden's side to take him in my arms, then paused when I saw the smudge again, but more clearly now. He had a deep engraving just below the corner of his eye.

The Operator symbol.

"Slender, you piece of shit! What did you do a Jayden?!" That was enough. I warned Hoodie what would happen if any of them hurt Jayden. Leaving such a symbolic scar on his face was just awful! My blood was boiling; adrenaline rushing. Screw the stitches!

Picking up Jayden, who was still crying a bit, I rested him on the hip furthest from my wounds, but it didn't matter. I felt them rip when I lifted him up. Whatever, I'm not letting him leave my grip. I carried him with me to my bedroom so that I could fuss at Slender Man face-to-face. With the truce, He shouldn't attack me, but that was still a risk I was gambling on.

Before I could reach my room, I saw the Slender Man duck out of the doorway, into the hall, to meet me. From behind him were his various tentacles squirming around in irritation.

"I told you not to hurt him!" I stopped halfway down the hall, not wanting to get too close. "What did you do to his face?"

Slender Man reached out all of his tentacles, trying to snatch Jayden away, but I pulled the boy closer to me, burying his head into the nape of my neck, and fell backward to dodge-roll away. More of my stomach and back stitches ripped, a couple of popping feelings stinging me, but this was no time to flinch. I turned and dove into the kitchen, sliding on the plastic flooring, and grabbed a knife that I kept hidden underneath the refrigerator. Its handle was poking out just enough for my fingers to pinch it out of the gap separating the floor from the machine. I backed up, crouching and facing the doorway. More of my stitches tore, and I was pretty sure that the wounds were just about completely open now.

"Miss," Jayden paused to sniffle his running nose, "Miss Ella. You're bleeding." He looked down at his legs, seeing the crimson moisture soaking his pants and my shirt. Crap, it was coming out heavily.

"Yeah," I trained my eyes onto the doorway, knowing that Slender would appear at any moment. "Some bad people hurt me."

It was then that Slender rounded the corner, ducking just slightly to make sure I knew He was looking at me. The light from the blinded kitchen window to my left illuminated enough of his nearly featureless head so that I could see the scowling brow muscles. He reached out with his hands this time.

I slashed at his hand, but the strain of holding myself and Jayden up had me fall forward. My wounded muscles were giving out, and I heard splatters of blood below me. I caught myself with my free arm, knife pinned down under it. The force of us falling and my sudden catch had Jayden lose his grip on my shoulders, but my hold on him had his head only bob back and almost smack the floor. Slender Man took this opportunity to wrap his tentacles around Jayden's exposed upper body.

Jayden began to scream, knowing what would happen if he was taken from me as our tall predator pulled him from my grip. The desperate kid flailed his arms at me, and grabbed on to the first thing his hand made contact with – my hair. A good chunk of it, too. The angle he was being pulled aimed my hair straight to Slender's direction, and it was hard to keep a full view of the situation. He slipped out of my arm, and Slender wrapped more of his tentacles around Jayden's legs, pulling them away from me, so I grabbed at the wrist that held my hair. I used my knife hand to push myself up for a strike, and slashed at what tentacles I could see. My wounds wouldn't allow me to stay upright, or even lean forward, without some other support, so I tried to position myself to ease the stress on them.

Slender Man used this moment to push me back with one of his hands, throwing me off balance, and thus breaking my grip on Jayden's wrist. I slammed into the wall behind me and slid to the floor, my back wound opening wide. I felt nauseated and dizzy. Probably lost too much blood. Crap. I'm gonna bleed to death, aren't I? What a stupid death.

I watched Slender Man back away with the screaming and crying Jayden held in front of him. The faceless entity held an intimidating gaze on me until He and Jayden began to fill with static, then disappeared.

Gone. Again.

"Slender!" I tried pushing myself up. "Slender, you ass!" Screw keeping a clean mouth. I needed to stop this bleeding so I can survive and get Jayden back. Still gripping my knife, I got to my feet, blood spilling out of my stomach, probably because it was blocked while I was sitting. I staggered to my room, leaving a trail of my crimson bodily fluids from the kitchen to my dresser, and found that the bedroom light was on again. One hand on the top of the dresser, knife tugging on the drawer handles, I struggled to open and search through it for my sewing kit. My mind was numb, trying to stay awake.
Stay awake.

I can't remember which drawer I found the needle and threads in, but I did. I don't even remember if I found the needle already threaded or if I did it myself, which would be a surprise, considering my trembling hands. Standing there, I began to attempt sewing the wound on my stomach closed, since it was the easiest to get to first.

Half way through sewing it, my intolerance to needles piercing my own skin took over me, and I guess that was the final straw that had me black out.


Again, I apologize for the language. I'm not big on cursing, and due my best not to. But hey, the characters speak for themselves. That's part of writing, right? :P