AN: As promised. Please review, and if you need me; I'll be in the desert hiking around in the blistering heat and generally feeling bad for myself.

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Chapter 9: Lea

"So what are we looking at?"

The masked person twitches in surprise, turning their head to see me. It's absurd to use the masks now, in daylight, but it's a Proxy tradition of some sort so I abide by the unspoken rule.

It takes the man only a moment to register my height and mask design. I sense a slight change in his attitude, and more than a little disbelief in my actually showing up.

He swallows. "You see him," He points at the crowd of people three stories below at a man.

The person he points out is in a tight T-shirt, one that shows off his sculpted arms. His black hair is slicked back to expose a high forehead. My eyes track down his body, finding it not so much bulging with muscle but, rather, defined. He must have worked hard to look that good. He's achieved the kind of look any girl will melt for, and I'm no exception.

"Got him," I reply, allowing my eyes to take in the details. This guy could have made it as a male model if he wanted to. "What's the pattern?"

"There's a little club downtown. Every night, like clockwork, leaves at midnight on the dot." He nods, "Not a bad place."

I scowl beneath the mask. Had to be a club, didn't it? I hate the places, though I love music.

"Address?"

He wordlessly hands me a piece of folded paper. I don't even bother looking at it; I know every inch of the city.

I watch the man weave through the crowded street, people parting before him like the red sea. He really is, to use slang, hot. Attractive so I can't think straight. I close my eyes, trying to detach my brain from my body.

I focus on the slight but noticeable pain beginning to curl in my torso. How long before not taking the medicine catches up to me?

"What's it like?" The Proxy asks suddenly.

I turn to look at him, "What is what like?"

"Being a personal,"

I press my lips together, "In general or for me in particular?" In truth I'm a little shocked he asked at all. It's rare that any of the Proxies actually try to start a conversation or even talk past giving information.

"In general,"

I sigh, "For most it's lonely and demanding. Every order is to be obeyed without hesitation, whether it be to follow a victim or murder a friend. The masters are highly volatile and unpredictable, and they spend most of the time in fear. What rewards that come out of it must be great or the Proxy would soon give into the stress and either expire from exhaustion or take their own life." I look down, "You hear about it every couple of months. There's nothing worse for both the Proxy and the Slenderman."

He's just looking at me through black-circled eyes. The mask's expression is at odds with his wide gaze.

I take a breath, about to take pity on him, but I stop myself. He did ask in the first place, but I need to get moving if I'm going to shadow the target at all. He's moving slowly, but he's moving. I stand up.

"What about you?" The Proxy asks.

He must be an observer to be this curious.

I take another breath, feeling the repressed words rise up easily, "For me, personally, it's like having another half I never knew existed. It's demanding, but well worth the effort." I shake my head, searching for an accurate description, "It's like… seeing the stars for the first time; when it fills you with this great sense of a huge world just waiting for you. That feeling."

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. When I open them again the man is sitting, looking at me oddly.

I feel my face flush slightly, and am suddenly grateful for the mask. "It's hard to explain,"

He nods, looking back at the street, "You're not what I expected."

"You're not what I usually get."

"Is it really like that for personals?"

"There's a reason so many of us are found hung or shot through the head."

He nods.

I pick out the man again, now a good block farther down the street. Down the fire escape, I decide. I'll tail him today, and tomorrow I'll finish this quickly.

I head towards the metal structure, tugging the mask off my face and stuffing it into my backpack. I take a breath of cool air, ignoring the harsh flavor of pollution. I check the target's position again. He's moving pretty slowly, taking his time. If he can be on the kill list and still behave so calmly he must be special.

I'd better go to the Proxy house after this; give myself a base to work with. I hear a faint rustle behind me at the other Proxy follows. He's staying a few feet back, creating a rift between both physically and psychology.

I don't try to close the space until we're on the ground.

"Are you going to keep following me?"

"Should I?"

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

"Yes, I believe so."

I sigh, secretly grateful for the company. "Stay close,"

I step out of the alley, falling back next to him. For the next few minutes we have to act like we know each other. Hopefully he understands that.

We cross the street and turn onto the sidewalk, moving not fast and not slow. The groups of people shopping and chatting provide cover for shadowing the target.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning my head slightly towards him.

"Mitch," He turns his head towards me so that I'm looking into deep brown eyes framed by dark chestnut hair. He must be about 18, looking down at me slightly.

"I'm Lea," I say, breaking eye contact abruptly, before it lasts too long. Eye contact says a lot, and I've learned never to make it with Proxies.

Mitch makes a thoughtful sound, "I thought it was Lila."

"Not unless someone changed it while I wasn't looking."

"Well… gossip changes the story more the farther is gets,"

Oh well isn't that brilliant; I am being gossiped about. Not only that, but it seems every last Proxy on the planet has heard about me. "I suppose I've also killed a hundred men, taken out the leader of The Organization, and tames a scab-dog." I'm only half-joking.

"Actually," He trails off, embarrassed slightly.

A giggle escapes me, "Wow. They give me too much credit. I haven't done any of that stuff."

The target makes a turn a quarter of a block ahead of us. I quicken my pace to the corner, leaving Mitch behind slightly. I wait for him to catch up before turning after the man.

I watch carefully as he strides along yet another street, going who-knows where.

"None of it?" Mitch asks after a moment.

"Nope. It's completely myth," I grin, "First time I've seen anything get this blown out of proportion."

The man stops to peer into a window. He combs his fingers through his hair, making my stomach tighten. I hold my breath for a few seconds before letting it out. He straightens up after a moment and keeps moving.

"And you're fine with that?"

"Everyone was either going to hate me or keep their distance anyway," That's how it normally is. "Now be quiet unless it's for cover. This is going to be tricky."

"That's too bad," I hear Mitch mutter, barely audible above the crowd. I ignore it.

The target is moving towards a less crowded area, which means he'll have a better chance of spotting us behind him. If we stay far enough back we should avoid notice, but then he might slip away. I suppose it doesn't really matter whether or not he sees us now, as they've had people following him for days now, but it's part of the ritual. I usually do the reconnaissance by myself, so having the information delivered to me is a treat.

Come to think of it; why a club every night?

"Hey, Mitch,"

"What?" He sounds slightly annoyed.

"What does he do for a living?" I ask.

The man frowns, "Nothing as far as I can tell. He just wanders around all day and goes to the club at night."

I stop dead, causing several people behind me to swerve around me. He just wanders around all day? What got this guy on the list anyway? It had to be more than a simple witness case with all the surveillance and the strange behavior.

Staying away from work after a life-altering experience isn't uncommon, but wandering city streets is.

I slowly start walking again, staring at the windows of shops as we pass them. Fancy goods, clothing, appliances, and the latest technology stare back. I watch as a smooth blue prom dress slides past.

My eyes flick back to the target, pinpointing his location. He's certainly abnormal, to say the least. If he's established a pattern since whatever incident got him on the list I doubt he'll break it.

"Is it high-end?"

"The club? Ya, a little."

I turn away from the target, frowning. Really, there are only three choices; kill him before, during, or after he goes to the club. After would be my first choice, but in my experience it's difficult to get someone alone and vulnerable after something like that, especially when they're as together as this guy is. He won't be one to drink himself into a stupor.

To catch him before he can arrive at the club will mean tailing him until he enters a secluded area in broad daylight. Generally the Proxies try not to get caught.

If I can kill him while he's actually inside the club there will be a lot of eyes but few witnesses, and lots of chaos. I could be out in a matter of seconds, and nay fingerprints, DNA, or other evidence would be eradicated by the sheer number of people in the area.

It's probably my best option. I have a couple contacts I could ask. They could provide what I need, and I will need some stuff.

I glance sideways at Mitch, thinking I might as well try, "I don't suppose they'll give me anymore if I skip this one?"

He's apparently been briefed on this because he looks confused only a moment. "No," He replies, looking down.

I sigh, "Tell them I'll do it, but I need a refill first. They'll understand what I mean."

He nods, pulling out a mobile phone.

I cast one last glance at the target and turn around, going into autopilot as I weave through the crowd. Speed is imperative; I can already feel the white-hot reaction in the core of my being. I can't follow this guy all day unless I want to collapse and, probably, be put in a hospital for a few days.

I hear rapid footsteps approaching and sense Mitch's already distinctive presence. "Should I have them send it to one of the houses?" He asks quickly, using the hushed tone of people when they're on the phone.

"Why not," I say, giving him the street address for the house I use in the area.

He turns away, finishing the call. I hear him fall into step beside me.

"Are you going to stop following me?"

He doesn't reply immediately, presumably thinking it over, "No."

I don't want to have to worry about yet another person. Between Slender, Jeff, EJ, BEN, not to mention Clockwork (Who seems to have it in for me) occasionally, my parents, old school friends who won't leave me alone, and Raun, wherever she is. I hope Mitch knows I have a lot of people to look out for, and he's nowhere near the top of the list.

Still; I only shake my head helplessly and follow my internal compass to the Proxy house.


AN: A little about Mitch: I don't know where this guy came from. I don't know why he's here. He was useful for about three seconds, and he refuses to leave me alone. (The characters are doing their own thing and I'm basically just writing it all down). He's kind of annoying me.

I'll see you all in a week, please review (Even if it's not within 48 hours of me posting because I love reading reviews and they make my day everytime).