The car pulled up to a fork in the road, To the right Rosswood Park where this whole mess started; To the left out of that god forsaken town. Tim reached forward turning the camera. His movements were robotic and face blank, likely with shock at having killed one of his best friends. Sirens wailed lightly in the background as he reached forward and pressed the little black button on the side of the camera. Once it was off, he pulled it to rest on the passenger seat. Staring at the choice in front of him he took a shaky breath and slid the steering wheel left.
He remembered that part so clearly, the decision despite every subconscious urge pulling him the opposite direction he went left. That was his choice, no Alex, no Operator, just him. He tried to be proud of the accomplishment as small as it was. At least he got something right.
He had spent the last couple days traveling. He wanted to get as far away as possible from that thing. Most of his memory from that day was fuzzy. All he knew was that he had to get as far away as possible and lay low.
He also needed a plan. He knew Alex was dead, but that Thing wasn't! It was difficult to know how to plan against it. Could he prepare anything against it?
He yawned again and resigned to sleep at the next rest stop. Then he'd keep going. He'd been driving nonstop for days. If he didn't rest soon, he'd fall asleep at the wheel.
Before leaving Benedict Hall, he grabbed Alex's gun. There weren't many bullets left in it, but it was better than nothing. He also got his pills from the hooded man before the fight. So, he'd been taking them regularly again. So, he was at least prepared but would it be enough?
He knew it had to be. There wasn't anything else he could do. He knew though that thing wasn't normal. It did things that shouldn't even be possible. The only assurance he could muster was that last time it had to rely on corrupting others, and they were all… his train of thought halted entirely shifting as fast as it could. His therapist called it thought direction. He missed seeing his therapist, but he knew there was a chance he'd have to be on the run for murder. Unless that thing took Alex's body. Still he'd rather play it safe. No need to attract unwanted attention. So, he cancelled his appointments explaining he had a vacation planned.
He pulled up the hotel and booked a room for the night with the little cash he had. The place seemed shady and a bit under the table. However, he preferred that on some level. It made things like paying in cash and laying low easier. They didn't even ask for ID, which was good because he checked in under a fake name. He couldn't be too careful. After everything that just happened, he wasn't taking any more chances.
He double and triple checked everything in the room. Memorizing all possible exits and entrances. Making sure the window was locked. He even triple checked every painting and cabinet for cameras or hidden masked men. He cleaned the gun off in the sink trying to convince himself the red running off and down the drain was just paint. Then making sure it was loaded he flipped the safety on and clipped it onto his belt. Then sat down and turned the tv on keeping it quiet so he could hear if any unexpected visitors were to drop in.
Later that night the tv hummed with soap operas and reruns of the news. All that was on at 8pm on a Sunday. The microwave beeped indicating he could finally eat something. He got up and trailed into the very makeshift kitchen. His food was ready, and he was about to pull it out when something just felt off. Placing down the tv dinner he placed his hand on his gun and walked back into the living area. Surveying he noticed immediately a back spec move away from his window and behind the couch. Immediately he pulled his gun and flicked the safety off. He pointed it at the couch. What he saw was barely there for a second and he may have been imagining it. However, he wasn't risking a thing.
"I know you're there so get up!" He shouted. Nothing happened for a moment and he wondered if he really had imagined it. He cocked the gun getting ready to shoot. "I said get up! Show me your hands!"
His command, after a moment and to his surprise, was met by a figure rising from behind his couch. The man was tall with broad shoulders, a golden hoodie, and a familiar sad black mask. Tim's brows furrowed.
"You!" His shout was furious, and he was about to pull the trigger then and there. Then he felt a tug. "Ok Asshole give me one good reason not to finish the job!" It was then the man put a gloved hand up to his face pulling off the mask to reveal an even more familiar face.
"You wouldn't want to kill both your best friends would ya?" The man chimed hands in the air. His expression was confusingly calm for a man at gunpoint. The shock caused Tim to falter lowering the gun.
"Brian?" His confusion was plain on his face as Brian approached him.
"Nice to see ya pal! I've been waiting a while to give you this" Tim hit the floor fast holding his bleeding nose. He didn't even see the punch or Brian ripping the gun away. What he did see however was the anger in his eyes now staring down at the bleeding man. It took a minute for Tim to be able to breathe. His eyes watered as he attempted to get up. He hacked and wheezed finally making it to his knees only to see Brian's foot connect to his ribcage.
Tim collapsed again into a coughing fit as his ribs screamed in pain. His head was dizzy swimming in pain and he still couldn't breathe. But managed to choke out "What," He coughed "was that for?!" Tim wheezed as Brian glared down at him.
"Oh, for being such a good friend!" He yelled. "Always lying and keeping secrets, real selfless Tim!" Brian paced in anger as Tim moved carefully onto his uninjured side still coughing. "You had years, fucking years to tell me that shit! We lived together! But no, you keep it a secret. Just lying and lying as if it couldn't affect anyone else!" Tim wheezed breaths. Catching his breath as Brian ranted. "And now look what happened?" His mocking tone made Tim want to vomit or maybe that was the likely broken ribs. "It not only affected everyone! It fucking killed 'em'!"
Tim involuntarily flinched at the word. There was a long silence as Tim glared at him from the floor. He got up shakily leaning against the wall. He was worried Brian was going to come at him again, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.
"So, you're the psycho who gets off on stealing pills?" The tension was palpable as Brian retorted.
"And you get off on chasing Jay through the woods, what's your point?" again with that.
"My point is that all this moral advice. Is coming from a violent narcissistic college drop out with a pill fetish!" He knew he was pushing Brian's limits and thoroughly enjoyed it. "I'm just saying you don't have a ton of room to talk." With that Tim walked slowly to the couch and sat down, bumping Brian on the way. It hurt like hell, but the spite was worth it. Brian turns in a rage and Tim spoke without thinking.
"What gonna hit me again?" Tim shouted and Brian stopped, glaring. Tim sighed grabbing the tv remote and turned it off. "since I'm not getting to watch my show." His deadpan tone was surprisingly calm considering the pain he was in. "Now," he turned to Brian. "What the hell do you want? Or did you just come here to kick the shit out of me?"
"I'm here with a message. Kicking the shit out of you was just a bonus."
"What couldn't put it through a few dozen ciphers and hide it in another spooky video." Brian rolled his eyes.
"Believe whatever the hell you want Tim, but I wasn't in charge of that."
"You sure seemed to have a lot to do with it."
"What cus I was in a few videos?" He leaned forward into Tim's face, placing a finger on his chest. "Got news for ya Timmy boy, I wasn't the only one." Tim smacked his finger away in annoyance.
"Then who was?"
"Seth."
"Seth?"
"Going deaf or somethin'?"
"Why-?" Brian held up his hand.
"Frankly Tim I never asked, and I don't care. I don't even want to be here right now."
"Then why are you here?"
"I told you, I'm here to deliver a message." Brian sighed
"From?" Brian started seriously at Tim.
"The thing ." Tim cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.
"How-?"
"It wants you back Tim." His glazed eyes frightened Tim to the core.
"No."
"It's not a request. It's an order. That thing wants you wants," Brain reached into his pocket and pulled out that damn mask! "this!" Tim stood up off the couch backing away. He tried to appear calm, but panic swam in his eyes.
"Get out." Brian got up coming closer to Tim.
"Tim come on just take the damn mask it's going to get you. Just come peacefully." Tim opened the front door.
"I said, get out! And take that cursed thing with you!"
"Tim-"
"Get the fuck out of my room! I'm not hearing any of this cultist bullshit! I'm done!"
"Tim just listen-!"
"No, you listen!" Tim walked up to Brian getting in his face. "you're going to go out this door, get into your car, and drive back to whenever shack you're calling home! Meanwhile I'm going to get my bearings, leave, and live a normal fucking life!" He stuck a finger out. "I'm not letting you ruin this for me! This is my life and for once, I'm going to live it on my terms!" Brian's expression was hard to read. Where Tim expected to see anger or annoyance, he saw a stone-cold expression of pure exhaustion… maybe even sadness? It took a long moment before Brian sighed.
"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." Brian made his way to the doorway.
"What's that supposed to mean?" With a look that was hard to place, Brian tossed the mask inside and was swallowed into the darkness of night.