Chapter 34: Lea

I almost killed the man. I was so overcome with desperation, I almost killed him. In the end though, I managed to control myself.

Instead, I knocked him out violently.

I lean down, unzipping his jacket. I pull it off him with some difficulty, bending his arms behind his back.

I pull the jacket on over my own shirt, zipping it over the throwing knives.

I pick the mask off the ground.

It's white, marked with black circles under the eyes and a red X on the forehead.

It smells like sweat.

I grimace, but pull it on.

Now I'm dressed in his clothes and, in theory, I can walk right into the house.

I think for a moment, then reach down, removing the laces from his athletic shoes. They're extra-long and pretty sturdy.

I wrap one around his ankles, as tight as I can.

It won't hold him long, but if he wakes up, it will buy me a few seconds.

I tie his wrists with the other lace, then kick him again. Partly for good measure, partly to relieve my nervousness.

"What are you doing?" Jack; he must have followed me here.

I don't reply, checking my weapons and pulling on my backpack.

"Do you know what's in there?" He sounds scared, "Do you have any idea?"

I turn to look at him, then face the doorway.

"Don't-"

I step forwards, ignoring his protests.

Suddenly, ice-cold hands grab my shoulders, pulling me backwards.

I kick out connecting with his shin. He staggers, but maintains his grip.

I swing my elbow into the side of his head, twisting around in the same motion and striking him in the chest with my other fist.

Jack lets go with a gasp, stumbling backwards.

I open the door, stepping inside.

Why does he want to protect me anyways? I'm supposed to be taking him to a prison, from what I can gather. He should be taking this opportunity to run, not desperately try to drag me away from this place.

I walk through the kitchen and take a cursory glance into the living room.

Slender is standing on a strange symbol. He's leaning forward, palms pressed on an invisible surface. His tentacles, which I hadn't really seen until now but don't frighten me, writhe behind him, seeming to be exploring a small space.

My heart jumps at the sight. He's trapped. That's strange. He can't even teleport, or he would have already.

I yank my gaze from him.

There are two masked-men in the room. No one else present.

Except for the bloody body on the floor.

I swallow, taking in the ragged cut throat and wide staring eyes. It's not an appetizing sight, at least not for me, but more than that; I could be the next one in that situation.

So, what to do? My memory download didn't include strategies. Now I'm lost. What do I do?

"Hey, get back in here," One of the men, the one pacing the floor, demands.

I obediently step through the door. Figuring it's the right thing to do, I step up beside the second masked man.

Neither of them look twice at me.

This is working a little too well. I walked right in, but I can't very well walk out again. And these two will object if I break something.

My eyes wander back to Slender.

I know something is wrong. He doesn't act any different, true, and he's doing an excellent job controlling his breathing. But, still, something about the way he's standing, palms pressed against the invisible surface, leaning forward, head slightly lowered, I can tell something's off.

I need to get him out of there.

I try to contact him again mentally, but something's blocking me. A wall between us. A wall… the invisible surface.

I'm shaking slightly. I need to act. Now.

At that exact moment, through some freak coincidence or luck, though I must be running short on that, the other man stops pacing the floor.

He stands directly in front of Slender, facing him.

Slender raises his head slightly. It's a very human-like action, and it makes my breath catch.

"Let's try this one more time," the man says. He reaches out with an ungloved hand, straight towards Slender, who doesn't react at all.

I move on impulse, as fast as I'm capable of. I grab the man beside me in a headlock, squeezing his throat.

He gasps, reaching back to relieve the pressure.

I use the heel of my free hand to slam his temple with all my force.

His eyes go misty, and I jab the weak point at the base of his skull with two stiff fingers.

He slumps in my grip.

I lay the body on the floor, silent as a whisper.

The man has his hand hovering before Slender, his fingers passing through the barrier as if it didn't exist. He reaches out, making to touch my master.

I don't even notice the strange phrasing of the thought, instead approaching him from behind.

The mask is making it hard to breath, only partly because of the small amount of air that can pass through it.

Slender's head moves slightly, flinching away from the reaching fingers.

The man snarls, grasping after him.

I inhale sharply, accidentally creating a slight sound.

The man turns around, staring at me through his mask. He seems annoyed by something. What it is, I don't know.

"What do you want?" He spits.

I don't move, don't reply.

His eyes move fast, flickering between me and Slender, not really paying me any mind.

"I said, What do you want?!"

Again, I don't respond.

He blinks, looing me up and down. Finally, he notices the slim frame, the too-big clothes . Then he looks behind me and sees his friend, passed out on the floor.

I casually flex my right wrist backwards, and the blade slides out, "Now turn around."

The way his head tilts, I know he's going to try something.

Sure enough, a punch flies towards me, I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye.

I swing my fist too, my right one, in an arch, straight at the oncoming force.

The blade bites deep, meeting a bone and sliding over it with a horrible vibration. I feel tendons and ligaments snap, and bright blood spurts forth as I sever an artery.

The man yells in agony, grasping at his forearm. He pants, looking out at me with wide eyes.

I sneer, feeling an icy emotion stir within me. I kick his knee, hyperextending the joint.

He staggers, and I hit him in the jaw using my left hand. His mask slips off, revealing a snub-nosed, heavy-browed face.

He glares at me, wiping a spot of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't make me add another tally to my body count," I say though no such count exists. Yet.

"Who are you?" He demands, still using an imperious tone of voice.

I raise my blade again, covered in blood, "I'm the one with the knife here. Shut it unless you want those to be your last words."

He swallows, nods grudgingly.

Good, Mr. High-and-mighty is learning some manners. I gesture towards the floor, "Sit."

He does so.

I kick him in the head. A third man falls unconscious. Blood still flowing out of the gash on his arm, he lays motionless on the carpet.

I ignore the body.

Slender is still trapped. I'm here to get him, after all.

I reach forward, expecting my hand to pass through the barrier at the man's had. Instead, I feel a hard, cold surface beneath my fingers.

I frown under the mask, knocking briskly on the air in front of me. Solid as rock.

Whatever allowed the man to pass through this thing, I don't have it. Or maybe I have something he doesn't.

Whatever the case, Slender is staring at me, seeming not to recognize me through the disguise. I'm a little hurt, but push the thought aside. I'll complain once I get him out of here.

I look down. Slender is standing on a strange symbol. I noted it earlier, but now I notice there's an identical one above him. And four more, one on each wall. They look like they were placed with extreme care and precision.

I wonder…

I walk over to one of the symbols, drawing my stiletto. I slash it down the middle. There's a sound like a cross between a banshee scream and breaking glass, but no other reaction.

I walk to the next symbol and slash it, then the next one. On the fourth one, the sound is louder and I spin around to see Slender stumbling forward, released from the invisible cage.

I feel an intense surge of relief, then overwhelming happiness as his consciousness floods my own.

I can't help myself; I throw my arms around him. Mindless of the warning shout from behind me.

AN: The shipper is gonna have a field-day with this, but I really don't care. It's what the characters wanted to do, and I can't control them. I'm sorry. Please vote in the poll!