ALERT!
This chapter contains some sensitive topics. Please read the following AN:
ALERT!
AN: This chapter is a chapter to help transition Harry into the Creepypasta lifestyle. However the sensitive topics of murder and kidnapping will be the focal points of this chapter… well, more the "murder" aspect. As a trigger warning, there will be kidnapping and implications of child slavery/abduction. However, I thought that the way I mapped out was a good way to go about introducing this transition.
I suppose you expect murders and such (after all, it is Creepypasta), but I want you to know that I think viewer discretion is advised at a certain point.
Remember; don't trust strangers, don't eat candy/food lying around, stay in well-lit, public areas, don't throw rocks at people's heads, and don't eat the yellow snow.
And finally, "Creativity, not reality". This is a work of fiction and should not be replicated under any circumstances.
This message brought to you by:
-Crow
P.S. I don't own anything. Least of all the Pastas and Harry Potter.
P.P.S. This is especially a toeing-the-line Teen rated chapter because of some references to recreational drugs (no usage or explanations about usage, though), alcohol consumption by adults, somewhat graphic violence/gore, and copious amounts of swearing.
Children's laughter rang out in the park. Kids as young as 3 were playing in the sandbox or on the swings and kids as old as 14 were playing fort with the play set. Parents watched dutifully on the park benches; bandages, sanitizer, juice packs, and anti-pedophile-pepper-spray in hand.
No one noticed as the shy 7-year-old with glasses and shaggy, black hair cautiously approached from the treeline. His piercing, green eyes kept darting around fearfully and unsure of what to do.
He eventually made it to the more secluded swing set and began moving back and forth, not going more than a few inches in either direction. Unfortunately, his timid behavior and seclusion made him prime targets for a gang of 11-year-olds.
"Hey, weirdo!"
The black-haired boy looked up and found himself face-to-face with about 5 older boys leering down at him. A shiver ran through him as the image of the freckle-faced leader was replaced with a blonde-headed pig-boy hybrid.
"Wat'cha doing, freak? Too much of a pussy to actually have friends?" His gang chortled with somewhat forced laughter with their leader's jibe. "So, where're your parents, dork?"
The boy mumbled something fearfully, but the leader picked up a sixth sense from the kid that the parents were either not here or wouldn't give a rat's ass either way. He gave a head nod to his gang who circled the kid still on the swing.
"Well, I guess nobody'll notice a few scrapes, now would they, freak?" He grinned, stalking closer.
His ominous approach was cut short by a small rock thrown straight at his head. He glared in the direction it came from and saw three kids standing on a rock. The leader was a girl around 8 or 9 with overall jeans and a slingshot in her hand. The other boys to her side had a baseball bat and the other had a couple of rocks he was tossing experimentally in the air to catch.
"Hey, Toejam! Pick on someone your own size!" She shouted, prepping another rock. She took aim and managed to nail one of the leader's goons in the forehead. He ran away, clutching his slightly bleeding forehead and wailing for his mother.
The leader growled in annoyance before barking at his other gang members. "Well, what are you idiots waiting for?! Get 'er!"
The remaining three goons started running towards the three, but one was knocked back by a girl dropping from the tree branches above and another was nailed by a rock in a… sensitive place for a male. The final goon looked at his fallen comrades rapidly running away before making the wise decision to bail himself.
"Cowards!" The leader shouted after them. He rounded on the girl, but evaluated his options and decided to aim for his first target; the kid with black hair. He grabbed the smaller boy by the shirt collar and ignored the struggling. "Get outta here, Pansy! No one asked for you!"
"Well, I didn't expect as much, Toejam!" She retorted. The leader, apparently "Toejam", narrowed his eyes at the girl and raised a fist at the kid. Before it gained enough momentum, it was smacked by a rather large rock. There was a distinct *crack* sound from the collision.
"Toejam" wailed in agony, clutching his hand, which had a finger slightly crooked in the wrong place. He glared weakly at the girl before running off to find someone to get medical attention for him.
The four kids made their way to the seven-year-old, who was on the ground after being dropped. He looked up gratefully at his saviors before looking ashamed and mumbling. The girl, "Pansy", picked up on that.
"Hey, what's the matter? Did he get you or something?"
He managed to raise his voice to barely audible levels. "I'm sorry you had to go out of your way for me."
The boys shared a glance of confusion while the girls' eyes softened significantly. "It was nothing, we had fun. What's your name?"
"Harry." She managed to make out.
"Well, I'm Pansy." She introduced herself and glanced at the others to follow suit.
"I'm Mike." Said the boy with the bat. He had a New York Mets baseball cap with a red sports jersy.
"My name's Tom." Introduced the boy who had tossed stones. He had sandy blonde hair with some glasses and a blue polo.
"And I'm Sam." Said the girl who dropped from the tree. She had a dirty, green skirt on and her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail.
Harry smiled shyly at the quartet and allowed his voice to get slightly louder. "Hello. It's nice to meet you all."
Pansy's head cocked to the side. "What's the accent from?"
Tom answered for Harry. "It's British. My cousin showed me some clips from a show called Doctor Who one time. They draw out vowels." They looked at Harry who nodded in confirmation.
Pansy decided to break the ice with him in the only way kids really understand how. "So, do you wanna play?"
Harry's nod prompted Pansy to take his hand, ignoring the flinch at contact, and led him to the monkey bars.
Slenderman looked on at the scene from the shade and cover of a nearby line of trees leading into a forest. He was worried about Harry being isolated for so long from normal humans, so he thought to shadow-walk him to a park somewhere in southern California where it was still relatively warm despite the winter months.
He also knew he had to get him away from the others during their "kill of the season" and "assignments".
The faceless entity "sighed" to himself. He knew the other tenants needed their seasonal murder for catharsis and to ensure the Balance, but he was worried about Harry. He knew the boy would need to become acclimated to the thought of death and killing if he was to stay in the manor…
But, honestly, how do you get a 7 year old okay with the fact that his friends and surrogate family are murderers and serial killers?
Well, without causing massive psychological trauma.
Sally and Jeff both came to mind as he thought that.
He mentally shivered at the thought of a second Jeffery Woods living under the same roof. It was bad enough that he had Toby as well.
He watched as Harry found his way to the swingset. He was prepared to intervene when the bullies arrived, but didn't manage to put up his glamour before the rambunctious girl threw the stone.
Now, he watched his ward play with his new-found playground friends. Thankfully, their escapades didn't end with him needing any medical treatment on Harry's behalf. Funnymouth warned him that Harry's arm may be slightly weaker for a while, but should be alright for most tasks.
"Taw!"
He was broken out of his thoughts and looked down to see a small 4-year-old boy that had wandered away from his mother and was currently gaping up at him.
"Taw ma-an!" Slenderman smiled warmly… at least in his head. He knew the child was trying to say 'tall man'. Many kids he'd watched over had nicknamed him that in his years of existence.
A quick glamour later and a 6 foot, pale, white-haired, 30-year-old with essentially-black eyes in a suit led the amazed toddler over to the playground where he found a woman looking around with increasing panic. He sensed her surface emotions. Let's see; frantic worry, mood swings between self-directed rage and borderline tears, protective urges along familial bonds- seems safe to call her the mother. He mused.
"Excuse me, miss. Is this yours?" He "smiled" through the glamour. The woman saw the toddler and let out a relieved laugh before picking up the child.
"Oh God, oh God, thank you so much, sir. Oh, I looked away for a minute to get a juice pack and he was gone. Where'd you find him?" She asked, checking the giggling toddler over.
"He wandered over to the edge of the forest. I had to make a quick phone call, so I stepped over to the treeline, there. It let me keep an eye on my boy while the noise level wasn't too bad." The mother nodded understandingly and returned her attention to the child in her arms.
"Taw Man!" The child exclaimed, pointing at Slendy. The mother giggled and raised an eyebrow in silent questioning at the glamoured entity. Said entity just shrugged good-naturedly.
He saw the child cover his face with both hands, reminiscent of peek-a-boo, but Slendy got the impression it was meant to represent his featureless façade. The mother smiled and thanked him again before carrying the still laughing child to her park bench.
Slenderman, still glamoured, looked back to where he'd last seen Harry and his friends.
He frowned when he saw they weren't there.
That woman is right. He thought. You take your eyes off of them for a minute and they're gone.
But that still didn't help the uneasy feeling in his "stomach".
"Harry, come on! It's ice cream!"
Pansy and the others were encouraging him towards a white vehicle with a sign displaying various ice cream treats. The van emitted some corny music and a man and a woman were smiling inside with some aprons and small, paper hats.
Harry didn't know what exactly set off the alarms.
The fact that the van looked like a rented, white van with a crude sign taped to it.
The fact that there weren't any coolers or anything that looked like ice cream.
The fact that there weren't price tags for the ice cream pictures on the sign.
The way the two adults were smiling at them.
But the biggest factor was the fact that the van was parked on a side road far away from any other kids or adults.
"Guys, I really don't think we should…"
"Oh, come on! Don't they have ice cream vans in England?"
Harry frowned. He'd seen plenty of ice cream trucks in his neighborhood. Dudley practically screamed whenever it came around, though he'd never actually eaten ice cream himself. He conceded the point that it may just be different here in America.
But still…
Harry kept an eye on the pair of adults as they approached. The woman smiled at them. "Hey, kids. What can we getch'ya?"
The four kids each excitedly requested different items and the woman chuckled. "I'm not sure we have any of those left. Why don't you take a look in the cooler in the back?" She stepped aside and let the others venture in.
Harry's alarm klaxons were blaring. "Hey, guys. I really don't thi-mmmph!"
He panicked as he realized the man had crept behind him and grabbed him. He thrashed in the older man's arms, but the malnourished, underweight 7-year-old couldn't put up much of a fight.
The woman slammed the van door and Harry could hear the sounds of the struggle inside as she dealt with the other kids with, apparently, a third man hiding in the back. Her head appeared in the open window. "Get that brat in here! We gotta bail!"
Harry struggled as they tried pushing him through the window and he saw the other kids being taken down by the other man. He was bound by the older man and tossed in the back. The others soon followed him. The third man stayed in the back to watch them and the initial man and woman took the driver's and passenger's seats, respectively.
Harry's heart hammered in his ribcage. He felt something stirring in his chest-
Like the incident with the teacher's hair.
He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on that stirring. His own panic helped cause it to amplify.
I need to save my friends. I need to save my friends. I need to save my friends.
He repeated his mantra as he heard the keys go in the ignition and the whiririririr of the car's failed attempts to start. The other kids were crying and shouting for help. He tried to block out their screaming and focused on that swirling chaos in him and kept willing something- anything to happen.
He heard the radio emit loud static and a few broken phrases or bars of music. The windshield wipers ran themselves across the window and the side windows were spastically rolling up and down on their own.
"What the f*ck are you doing, Rad? Get this car started and stop f*cking around!" The woman shouted at the driver.
"I'm not doing it, Razz! The whole thing's just freaking out!" He looked out the window and saw the trees, grass, and some debris swirling around the van in some kind of wind.
The woman, Razz, shrieked as her soda cup from lunch suddenly boiled over, spraying some old coke on the dashboard. The glove compartment forced itself open and a few odds and ends came tumbling out. The engine core gauge on the dash ran from extremely hot to extremely cold and back again.
The entire time, Harry kept focusing in on himself, trying to reach the center-
"Harry?!"
Slendy!
The car roared to life as the ignition finally caught.
"NO!"
With that, it felt as though all of the swirling energy in him was released at once. He heard the car windows shatter or spiderweb. The radio made a loud *crack* as it fried in a violent spark. A few nearby trees toppled from the shockwave.
In his daze, he managed to open his eyes and see the back doors of the van were forced open and the bound kids and the third adult went soaring out, the kids landing significantly farther than the adult. He saw the man scramble to get up and started towards the kids.
"Leave 'em, Jack! Get in!" Razz shouted
The third adult, Jack, abandoned the others and ran in the car, slamming the doors shut behind him.
Harry's head felt heavier and heavier and it became harder to keep watching. His confused mind confirmed that his four friends were outside of the van and relatively safe, even if they were still bound. He managed to glimpse a hazy, white figure in a suit through the glass in the back door before his vision faded out.
Slendy…
A glamoured Slenderman ran through the forest, risking a short teleport every now and then as he searched for his ward. He had checked the forest already and couldn't find any sign of neither him nor the kids he'd been playing with.
He stopped as he felt a sudden spike in the electromagnetic field. He followed it and could sense it was getting both closer and stronger. He looked around and saw the birds and some squirrels were frantically running away from the epicenter.
As he got closer, he could sense something big was about to happen. He tried teleporting towards the source, but found that the energy somehow interfered with it.
He shuddered as he found that the trees and some litter was being picked up by an unnatural wind. Looking around, he saw some good-sized rocks had started levitating in place, untouched by the wind, but reacting to the energy in the air.
Oh, not good! Not good at all! He thought as he kept running. If this was what he thought it was, then he was correct about E.J.'s blood sample from earlier in the week.
Looking around, it started becoming more and more obvious that something was wrong. Even though the hair was just an illusion, it still reacted and stood up on end from the sheer amount of energy saturating the air.
"Harry!" He shouted. He heard screaming and shouting towards the center of the storm. His mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios.
Harry losing control of his power and slowly killing his friends.
Harry in pain and losing control, causing catastrophe and the screams could've been any unfortunate souls in the vicinity.
Harry in terror and losing control.
Harry alone and losing control.
Harry in danger and losing control.
Surprisingly, most of those issues dealt with control. Slenderman vowed to himself to teach Harry to control himself. If not for Harry's safety then for his own peace of mind.
Mind.
With that thought, he braced himself against the EM field's dampening affects on his abilities and focused to send out the strongest telepathic shout he could. "Harry!"
The center of the epicenter calmed and Slenderman felt the distinct emotion of relief and happiness-
Then it was crushed by overwhelming fear, panic, and desperation.
He felt the energy around him climax before a shockwave of light and force blasted through the forest. The energy interference lingered like ionized air after a thunderstorm, but he managed to concentrate enough to teleport a short distance to the epicenter.
He found four children bound in some plastic ties squirming on the ground and a grungy man slamming the doors to a white van a few meters away. Slenderman shuddered as he glimpsed a worn-out Harry inside.
The van screeched away and Slendy cursed the fact that the epicenter had too much lingering energy interference for him to directly transport from that location.
He quickly ran to the kids and snapped each of the plastic restraints. He managed to overcome the residual energy to emit a calming wavelength to them to bring them out of their shock and panic. "Children, please listen! What happened here? Where's Harry?"
Pansy was still a bit off-put by the stranger incident. "W-who are you?"
"I'm Harry's… adopted father." He said with a slight pause. At this point, for all intents and purposes it was true.
Pansy nodded, still shocked. "W-we were playing a-and there was an ice cream truck. O-or we thought it was. H-H-Harry t-tried to w-warn us-"
She broke down in some hysterical sobs. Slenderman let the other girl her help comfort her and he turned to a less-hysterical though still pale boy. "What happened afterwards?"
"H-Harry tried warning us against going in the van. We were stupid and went in. Next thing we knew, we were fighting off these two adults and Harry was being shoved in through the window. After that, we were just panicking, but Harry was… doing something."
"Doing something?"
"He was sitting there, but the entire van was going crazy! It was like that scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Everything inside and outside of the truck was acting up!"
Slendy suspected as much, given what he saw. The boy continued. "Then, when the adults got the car started and it was like we were thrown back out of the car. I don't know how, but it didn't hurt when we landed. After that, the other guy packed up, they ran away, and you showed up."
Slenderman nodded, letting the kids gather their wits. When he was sure they were okay, he started searching around the debris. When the doors opened, a lot of stuff inside spewed out as well.
A piece of paper caught his eye and he found it was a cheap map of the nearby city on the back of a brochure for a museum. On the map was a small circled area conveniently labeled "Drop Off".
Slenderman straightened up in determination and turned to the still trembling kids. "Alright. I need you to be calm, okay? I'll get Harry back. I need you to find your parents. Tell them what happened and tell them to call the police. They'll be here." He handed them the brochure. He'd already memorized it (a benefit to being an immortal entity). "Do you understand?"
The children nodded shakily and the girl took the brochure. Slendy looked off in the direction of the van's escape and back to the kids before smirking. Screwing the Code, a variation of his black tentacles sprouted from his back and four spindly, spider-like appendages propelled him swiftly in the direction the van disappeared.
The kids' fear was partially replaced with instant amazement.
"That's an awesome dad." Mike said. The thought was agreed upon by the others, but they ran back to the playground with the map in hand.
"F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!"
"Rad, calm down!" Razz yelled out. Her voice echoed in the warehouse they staked out. Her words didn't stop him from pacing nervously. Though, she shared his sentiment; the abduction was a bust. She didn't know what the Hell happened, but four of the five kids got away and the van was totaled thanks to whatever that was.
The kid they had left was a scrawny brat. Probably wouldn't sell well, but it was all they had that week. She tossed him, still unconscious, in one of the dog cages in the back with several other kids they'd been keeping for the past month or two.
That was how it worked. Most of the kids they targeted were illegal immigrants' or street runaways. Kids who wouldn't be missed or whose parents wouldn't or couldn't go to the police. It was a big risk going to the park, but they were short on time and any of those little bastards' parents could be rich enough to ransom. Besides, they were planning on ditching the town tomorrow. They could risk a bit.
Their main buyer was a guy in Mexico who was going to visit that afternoon. He looked for slave labor and ransom money. Given that kids were easier to "break", he requested them over troublesome teenagers or adults.
She personally didn't care as long as the money was good.
She went to the back of the warehouse to the old break room and grabbed a beer from the mini fridge. They had to drive most of the day to get here, but it was the only safehouse they had set up in this town. Outside, the sunset became a sodium-lamp orange from the fumes of the industrial sector. The bright, orange light fell through the tall, warehouse windows and bathed the warehouse in a dark, rusty color. The light cast horizontal, orange slats in the dim breakroom.
They couldn't risk lighting the place up for now, so the orange sunlight had to do.
She downed the disgusting, cheap dishwater, grimacing at the taste, but grateful for the booze nonetheless. She headed over to the cages in the back room. From what they could tell, this place used to be for shipping and the back area was for temporary live animal containment. The cages were leftover and served well enough for their occupants.
Of the eight occupied cages, seven had Mexican kids either babbling in Spanish at her or whimpering something she thought sounded like prayers. "Damn religious nuts." She mumbled at them. She took another swig as she got to the cage with the unconscious white kid.
She suspected he'd be ransom material, but he had the half-starved appearance of one of the street rats. She shrugged it off. If he was rich, they'd ransom. If he was poor, nobody'd want him and he'd be just as good in the tobacco fields as the other seven brats.
Razz went back to the main area of the warehouse. It was filled with their client's "business product". They initially joked it was probably taco shells, but she managed to catch a glimpse of some of their client's "merchandise" and it ranged from guns and ammunition to bags of marijuana to blocks of powdered drugs. Rad handled the inventory for him.
She'd make sure not to cross their client after seeing the shipments.
She sauntered outside and found Jack smoking a cigarette outside the warehouse. He was twitchy and kept looking around nervously.
"Hey, Jack, what's up?"
He jumped and stared at her like a frightened rabbit before he calmed down enough to recognize her. He raised a trembling hand before taking a long, calming drag and speaking. "I-it's just… that kid…"
She raised an eyebrow. "The white brat back there?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I-I don't know, man… er, woman? All that freaky shit that happened, I could tell it was the kid doing it. I have no f*cking idea how, but I know that kid was doing it all."
She snorted. "You mean like telepaths, ESP, and telekinetic shit? Come on, that's just some bull swamis and psychics use to scam people out of their money."
"No, you weren't back there." He insisted. "All the other kids were panicking and stuff. You know, the usual. That kid was just sitting there with his eyes closed. It was like he was meditating. I could feel the hairs on my arm stand on end. It was like- like one of those electric machines from science labs, you know? The ones that make your hair stand up? Except, it was that kid!"
"So, the kid has mind powers? What were you smoking before the gig?"
"Well how else do you explain all that freaky shit! What's your explanation?!" He demanded. Razz stayed silent. "Thought so."
"So, what do you wanna do about it?"
"I dunno. Maybe we could sell the kid on the Black Market to some freaky paranormal researchers or a cult or something. That client deals with all sorts of stuff. Maybe some Cthulu cult wants him to sacrifice or some shit."
"You believe in Cthulu?" She grinned.
"Not cthulu, but-" He paused, deciding whether or not to look like a loon. "There was… something."
"Something?"
"When we were high-tailing it outta the park. I saw this guy just appear. He didn't run up or jump down from a tree or whatever, he was just, suddenly… there. You know?"
"No, I seriously don't. I also think you're tripping."
"But I saw him again. When we were taking the kid in. I could've sworn I saw this… thing following the van. It looked like some kind of cross between Doctor Octopus and a spider."
"You mean we had a tail and you didn't say?!" She demanded.
"What the Hell was I supposed to say?! 'There's some freaky spider-human-thing following the car!'? How do you think that'd go down?"
"Ugh. Just stay clean next time alright? No drugs. I don't want you freaking out about spider-people following us when a cop car or something actually is." She walked away, leaving him to his cigarette.
She walked back to the break room and filled a cup of crappy coffee from the machine in the corner-
*chreeechktktktwahtchehdhehehehe*
She spun around and quickly located the source to be an old radio set the company had left. She snorted at her jumpiness and went to turn it off.
She flicked the power switch.
*wehehehehecthththdkhtkhtht*
"Damn." She cursed. She slammed her palm into the side of the machine to try to shut it up, but it just kept going. Finally, she had enough.
She looked behind it and found the dusty crevice had some rat droppings and spider webs. Grimacing, she reached in, ignoring the brushing feeling and located the power cord.
She ripped it out of the wall.
*chchckchcchchchkettktktkhkthk*
"What the fu-"
"AAUUGH! AUGH! AUGH! RAZZ! RAD! OH GOD! AUUUGHHH!"
She ignored the busted radio for now and ran outside to see Jack scrambling up against the side of the warehouse, staring at the rooftops of one of the other warehouses.
She clocked him. "Shut up, you moron! You wanna bring out every cop on this side of the city?!"
He was still shaken, but the knock to the head helped… kinda. "R-Razz, I saw him! I saw him, Razz! I saw him!" He whimpered before breaking down completely.
Razz looked around, but saw no one nearby. She led the obviously high and hallucinating abductor to the back room. She deposited the mumbling wreck unceremoniously in the chairs before going back to her coffee. She grimaced. It was stone cold.
"Raa-ha-ha-hazzz" Jack sobbed. "I-I saw him, Razz. The spider-guy. He looked r-right at meee-he-he-heeee." He broke down crying again.
"Shut up already! Look, whatever's in your system will clear out in a couple hours. Just ignore the scary man and he won't bother you." She rolled her eyes. A grown man shouldn't have to be told to not think about "the big, scary man". But when you're dealing with druggies, what else were you gonna tell them?
She picked up her jacket and headed outside.
She really needed the smoke.
Jack stayed in his chair.
He kept looking around the room fearfully and his heart was hammering away against his ribcage, but he stayed in his chair.
He saw it though. He was sure of it. It was almost the exact same guy as before, except his head looked different. He couldn't make out details from that far away, but he could make out that much. The guy was staring right at him and his human-like body dangled from four spindly spider-like legs which positioned themselves along the rooftops.
He looked longingly at the fridge for a cold beer, but he was terrified of the man being behind him when he turned around.
Behind him!
He swiveled in his chair, suddenly paranoid. The entire room was empty. The warehouse interior through the window was also empty.
He settled back in his chair. He cleared out his ears and fidgeted. That damn ringing sound was getting annoying.
The fan had long since shorted out and hung silently from the ceiling as useful as a decorative statue. To keep the power to the place low, they left the lights off in the room, but the red-orange light filtering through gave a rusty hue to the interior.
Despite it being almost winter, the entire place felt like an oven. The orange sunlight just helped give the impression of heat.
He looked back at the fridge. A cold beer would be great right about now. Something to help cool himself down mentally and physically.
*Cough! Cough! Hack!*
And help wet his throat. He ran his tongue around the roof of his mouth and grimaced at the taste of copper… and iron?
No! He had to focus. He had to.
He watched out the window. Expecting to see the spider-person. The room was empty. The only place the spider-guy had to enter was the warehouse. He just had to sit in this chair and make the scary man go away.
The taste of iron kept pooling in his mouth. He also felt something trickling down from his nose. He ignored both and kept staring out the window. The man was out there. He knew it!
The radio must have started up again. The ringing and static filled his ears. "SHUT UP!" he shouted fruitlessly at the static.
He kept watching the window.
More… liquid kept running down from his nose. He heard it *plip* on the ground over the sound of the static and ringing.
Damn, he needed a beer.
He gagged on something in the back of his throat and spat a dark pink-red glob on the cement floor. He doubted he could keep a beer down, but he needed it. God, he needed it. There was that person outside the window. He just needed to catch him!
He kept watching the window.
The window.
The window.
The window.
The glass spider-webbed on impact.
He blinked in confusion and glanced on the floor to see the heavy, glass ashtray that used to be right next to him cracked in half on the floor. When did that happen?
He really needed a beer. Or scotch. Or vodka. Or crack. Or heroine. Or something.
He had it!
He weakly chuckled at the simplicity of his genius plan. He knew where the mini-fridge was. He knew where the beers were. All he had to do was back up towards it, keep his eyes on the window, and feel around inside the fridge for the beer bottles! It was so simple!
He kept laughing as he slowly got out of the chair.
He kept laughing as he backed away from the broken glass. His eyes started stinging from the staring contest with the window.
He kept laughing as he imagined where his prize was.
He kept laughing after he bumped into something that wasn't there before.
He kept laughing as he felt around it.
He kept laughing as he felt some expensive material and what felt like a button.
He kept laughing as he tore his eyes away from the window and up into the face…
He kept laughing as he backed away.
He kept laughing as he staggered back into his chair.
He kept sobbing as the spider-figure stared at him without any eyes.
He kept sobbing as the shadows behind the figure started branching out and wriggling.
He kept sobbing as the he felt the shadows wrap around his ankles and neck.
He kept sobbing-
*snap*
(AN: Fair warning, from this point on, it gets borderline M with the some violence and mild gore. Please know your mental and emotional limits in terms of graphic violence. Thank you. -Crow)
Rad stayed in the warehouse. He was calming down by checking over their client's "merchandise" and checking off which box arrived. He knew the boss liked things to be in order when he came around. He clicked his pen and looked down at the clipboard.
Okay. Five blocks of cocaine? Check. A couple weird-ass guns? Check. Some *shudder* syringes of God-Knows-What? Check-
"SHUT UP!"
He jumped as Jack's voice echoed through the empty warehouse. He knew that Jack was having a bad trip when he saw Razz take the poor guy to the breakroom. The bastard didn't know when to quit jacking himself up with that shit.
He ignored it and kept going.
Several barrels of explosives. Check and make sure Razz or Jack don't smoke around here; double-check-
*CRASH!*
He whirled around in the direction of the breakroom. There were a bunch of crates blocking his view, but the soft tinkle of falling glass shards still emanated from the room.
"Shit." He swore under his breath. Their client would not appreciate a druggie breaking his property. He had the suspicion Jack wouldn't be working for their client anymore… and with their client, he wouldn't exactly accept a resignation form or retirement plan.
He set down the clipboard on a crate and headed over to evaluate the damage control.
Halfway there, he heard Jack laughing. Damn, he must be tripping hard.
The laughter kept bubbling and echoing around him. As he approached it sounded more and more distorted until he couldn't be sure if the guy was laughing or crying. The echoes kept reverberating off the walls and-
Silence.
Rad stopped dead in his tracks. Jack's laughter/sobbing stopped abruptly. The echoes died off quicker than they should've. Rad's soft footsteps were the only sound echoing in the warehouse. "Jack?"
Jack? Jack? Jack?
His own voice echoed off the walls instead of a response and quickly faded off into silence and-
He frowned and cleared his ears out. Stupid tinnitus.
He ignored the ringing as best as he could in the silence around him. He could hear his individual heart beats thumping away as he got closer and closer to the room. His breathing, footsteps and heartbeat were the only sounds in the warehouse.
He kept walking towards the break room, now worried his friend banged his head against a table and he passed out or something.
Yeah.
He passed out.
He chuckled to himself about getting so worked up about it. The guy's tripping. Of course he'd bang his head and pass out or something.
Still, he ought to check it out. If he cracked his skull or something they'd be out one mover when their client showed up.
He made his way to the break room and confirmed his suspicions. The idiot managed to break the glass with something. The steel mesh inlaid in the glass kept most of the shards from falling out while the rest of the glass just cracked. By the looks of whatever was dripping out from between the cracks, it almost seemed like a red… wine… bottle…
He hurried to the door and managed to break it open.
A wave of nauseating fumes hit him. He took a moment to focus-
"Oh, God."
He found Jack.
The guy had always needed to relax. His face was a constant reminder of his stress and twitchiness caused by drug addiction. Even now, he could see the tension in his upper body-
And in his head lying about six feet from it.
The guy's arms and legs were also scattered across the room while the torso was still stuck in the chair, dripping out onto the floor. Looking around, the entire room had splatters of hemoglobin red on the wall. The broken glass window was coated in a layer of blood which drizzled on the floor and through the cracks.
He backed away and vomited lunch on the cement floor outside the room. He felt himself shaking and struggled to get a grip.
What would he do?
Where would he go?
He snorted despite the situation as the thought of calling the police ran through his panicking brain.
Still…
Okay. Okay. Assess the situation. He thought. He took a few calming breaths before thinking.
Okay, so there's a murderer in the warehouse.
Said murderer is capable of decapitating and quartering a full human in under a minute.
Said murderer is able to get out of there, unseen, in under a minute.
Said murderer is probably still here.
Said murderer will probably go after them too.
He ran over to one of the crates he'd run inventory on and picked up a crowbar nearby. After a bit of work, he pried off the lid and found the shotgun shells and a shotgun to go with them. He loaded the double-barrel and pumped it.
He navigated the maze of crates away from the bloody scene. He kept the gun in front of him, ready for anything.
The ringing got louder. He ought to see an ear specialist in the next town they go to.
He turned a corner with his shotgun prepped for anything he might see. Nothing was there, so he decided to risk it.
"I know you're there!" He shouted out. "Just get your ass out here! I promise I won't hurt ya." He chuckled weakly. As a childish afterthought, he crossed his fingers to make it "official" and a quiet, morbid giggle bubbled out at his thought process.
His head was pounding. He guessed it was a combination of the stress, adrenaline, and the fact that there was a bloody murderer on the loose. Still, it didn't help when he had to concentrate through rhythmic pounding and a bloody nose.
Wait.
When the Hell did his nose start bleeding.
He felt something on his leg.
Razz was waiting outside, enjoying her cigarette. She heard some muffled shouting, but it was completely garbled from the echoes and the walls. She didn't care. It was probably just Jack yelling up a storm about his "scary man".
She took a longer drag.
God, she needed better morons to work with.
She heard the sound of tires crunching on the gravel around the warehouses and an obscure, black Corolla rolled up to theirs.
A figure walked out of the driver's seat. She dropped the cigarette and extinguished it with her shoe. This was their client.
He called himself Gomez de la Muerte. Literally, it could be interpreted as "Man of Death". She doubted this was his real name, but wasn't about to call him out on it. This guy had more connections in the criminal underworld than there probably were connections in the criminal underworld.
The guy looked around late 20s early 30s and was wearing an expensive gray suit with a blue undershirt. He was shaven and his skin was very evenly tanned save for a nasty, pale scar across his cheek. She remembered one new guy asked about it and Mr. de la Muerte simply told him it was from a knife fight back in Mexico.
Then, he shot the guy and told the rest of them not to ask personal questions again.
He walked up to her and smiled. "Buenos Dias, Senora Razz."
She nodded back. "Good evening, Mr. de la Muerte."
He clucked his tongue playfully. "No, nononono, Senora. I always insist you call me Senor Muerte. It's so much less of a mouthful." He chuckled softly and she forced a smile to comply. She was startled when he suddenly clapped his hands. "Now, then, let's see how you did. Si?"
She nodded and opened the door-
*BANG!*
The loud gunshot echoed from inside the warehouse. Mr. Muerte had his own gun pulled from his jacket and was scanning the area before grabbing Razz in a chokehold and pointing it at her.
"What was that, Senora? La Policia? Did you rat me out?" She frantically shook her head, whimpering as she stared down the barrel. "Then you tell me why I hear gunfire in my warehouse."
She blubbered about how she had no idea and he tossed her aside with a sneer. He checked the cartridge on the gun before heading inside. He ran around the maze of crates and boxes with the woman, Razz, following.
He stopped short at an opened crate. "So, Senora, you and your friends have been sampling mis drugas? Si?"
He ignored her frantic babbling about how they didn't and wouldn't and inspected the crate. It wasn't one of his drug cargoes. It held an array of shotguns and shells, though one shotgun looked like it was missing from the stack along with a few boxes of shells. He could guess their mystery gunfire was courtesy of that gun in particular.
He kept going, following the maze until a faint, but familiar metallic smell hit his nostrils.
He followed the odor further down a few crates.
They came across a large pool of red on the floor with some splatters going up the crates' walls. The missing shotgun was still slightly smoking and lying in the steaming puddle of blood. An empty bullet casing shined on the floor, distinctly bronze against the red-
*plip*
He looked at the puddle and saw rings.
*plip*
Another drop fell into the puddle.
He looked up and, apparently, so did Razz.
"Oh my God!" She shouted in alarm.
Rad's body was still intact, but he was dangling from a lifting hook on the ceiling. However, said hook was buried in his upper back.
Gomez was instantly on high alert. He led the other woman away from the scene and headed towards the back area. He knew the security room was just at the back of the cage room and the keys would be in the break room.
They got to the break room and Razz muffled a shriek at the bloody, broken window. The door was already bashed in and he saw the more gruesome mutilation of their other comrade. Razz retched outside, adding to another pile that was likely Rad's. That made her vomit even more.
Gomez stepped calmly through Jack's remains, even kicking an arm that was in the way, not caring that his expensive, leather shoes were getting blood on them. At the back of the break room was a small cabinet with keys labeled for different areas of the warehouse. He picked up the one for "Security Room" and walked out of the bloody horror fest.
Razz followed behind, not wanting to be alone at that point with two people already dead.
He tore open the cage room door, startling the occupants who started babbling to him in Spanish, pleading to be let go or offering pick pocketing services. He slammed his palm against one of the metal wires and effectively shut them up.
He then used his key on a door in the back area of the cage room and opened it to reveal a room filled with old televisions and some keyboards.
He flipped a breaker switch by the door and the televisions whirred to life. At this point, screw the power usage, he needed a location on the bastard that got into his warehouse and he wanted it now.
All of the cameras showed up clear as day. According to them, there was nobody else in the warehouse.
He kept glaring at the screens, willing them to show more.
As if the Universe wanted solely to spite him, one-by-one the televisions filled with static. He frantically hit a few buttons, but nothing came up. Razz was still whimpering in the corner. He grit his teeth. This was not how things were supposed to go around here.
How are they supposed to go around here?
He found himself answering his own thought. There weren't supposed to be so many hitches.
You'd almost think it was sabotage.
Gomez looked up at the static-filled screens. It made sense. Someone was trying to sabotage his work. Rat him out. But who would do that?
Her?
He looked frantically at the woman cowering behind him. Yeah, that made sense. It was all a clever act to get him set up.
She was the only one left. She was a pretty good actress to keep tricking kids into following her. She could easily be FBI, CIA, or just a generic policewoman undercover to bring the entire operation down from the inside.
His own paranoia fed into itself when he squashed any rationale pulling up evidence against it and concluded that the gunshot, the murders, everything was all part of Razz's plan to shut him down. She probably had another partner on the loose and he cut the cords to the security cameras.
He leveled the gun with her head. She stared blankly at the barrel. "What are you doing, Senor Muer-"
"Callate, perra! I know what you're up to. You think you can hide it from me? Well, you are so very wrong! I know you are the one who's doing all of this. You can't lie to me."
She shook her head in disbelief. "I-I didn't do any-"
"CALLATE!" He screamed, spittle flying out. His nose bled slightly down his chin, but he ignored it and kept the barrel trained on the shaking woman. "Now, I will ask once more. Are you trying to sabotage me?"
"No!"
*Bang*
She screamed as her left leg flared in pain. The bullet nicked the femur and a fragment was embedding itself in the muscle tissue, making it all the more painful to move.
"Now, I will tell you again. Are you trying to sabotage me?"
Instead of answering, she backed up against the door and scrambled backwards as it opened up into the cage room. Gomez followed behind with his gun still pointed at her. His eyes had gone bloodshot and his nose was flowing as blood drizzled off his chin.
"Tell me, Senora! Tell me now!" He shouted.
The kids in the cages had long since hidden in the back, shadowy part of the farthest wall to avoid the crazy man with the gun.
"Tell me! Tell-… me…" He shook as he stared behind her. She fearfully followed his gaze.
A man- no, a thing in what looked like a black suit and tie was standing in the doorway. It was too tall to be a normal human and it's "face" was as blank as a canvas or a white mannequin head. It could have been a mask, but the height and the presence it emitted gave an overwhelming feeling that it was not.
Gomez trained the gun straight at the figure. "You! You are the one who came into my warehouse and f*ck my shit up! Well, Gomez de la Muerte does not stand for it!"
He fired the gun until he emptied the clip; almost 14 bullets. After a few seconds of silence, the figure just stood there before a curled-up, long, black, shadowy tentacle-thing snaked out of its back and unfurled-
Allowing 14 brass bullets to fall to the floor with a small, metallic clatter.
Gomez stared at the being and fruitlessly kept pulling the trigger, just getting empty *clicks* each time.
Razz had backed away from the entity and screamed when she found one of its black tentacles curling around her ankle. She smacked it, punched it, scratched it and even, in her desperation, bit it, but the shadowy limb did not release its grip on her.
She flailed helplessly as three more wrapped around her other limbs and fastened themselves.
The drug lord watched as his remaining ally was crudely torn in half.
Gomez kept clicking the gun uselessly at the figure.
He knew he lost.
He just kept clicking the gun.
That was all he had left.
*Click*
*Click*
*Click*
Dear Balance, his mind's collapsed from my radiation. Slenderman surmised. The vile human kept staring at him, pulling the trigger on his rather amusing toy and did not move from his position.
Slenderman decided to spare him for now for the sole purpose that the police were coming (if those kids did well) and arresting him in this mentally weakened state would collapse his entire ring. The investigator could just ask the nervous wreck what underwear he preferred and the man would reply honestly. His mind was simply too far gone to even contemplate a lie.
So many children could be saved from this vile adult when he confesses.
Speaking of children-
He looked around himself. At first he had not noticed, but the room was filled with cages and 8 cages held children cowering in the back area. He peered in through the bars and saw they were all watching him closely and fearfully. Those that had them had small, wooden rosaries in their hands and were praying vigorously.
He looked through each of the bars until he found the last one.
A pair of striking green eyes almost glowed from the back shadows of the cage. Slenderman saw those eyes shivering and darting from him to his suit to the… mess behind him.
Oh shit. His unspoken thought eloquently summarized his emotions at that moment. This was pretty much exactly what he didn't want to do to introduce Harry to killing. Looking down he "grimaced" as he realized his suit was damp with blood and the red splotches were especially prominent on his white dress shirt.
He looked back at the boy who was currently trembling uncontrollably and whose green eyes were watery with tears.
A still-slightly-bloody tentacle lifted the latch to Harry's cage just as he had with the cuboard. His still-white hand reached out palm-side-up. He stayed that way for almost five minutes of silence save for the occasional whimper or sob from other inmates.
He was relieved when Harry finally started edging towards his hand. After another three slow, painful minutes of this, Harry weakly grasped the older entity's hand after flinching the first time.
Slenderman led the traumatized, little boy past the quivering, pathetic man clicking at an empty gun and the remains of the woman.
Harry's shoulders shook as they walked out and he saw the body of Rad dangling from the ceiling on a hook.
The boy buried his face into a clean part of Slenderman's suit as they passed by the bloody remains of Jack still seeping out the red-coated window.
The faceless entity walked out of the warehouse and into the cold air of twilight. He heard the sirens of the human's "policemen" approaching and he knew the kids did their job.
He held onto the sobbing child and did a short teleport to the top of a roof. The entity allowed them to watch as the police took away the traumatized drug lord and released the other children.
Satisfied that things would run their course for now, he teleported away with his youngest ward in hand.
AN:
***Extras Opportunity***
Believe it or not, out of paranoia I really removed a lot of graphic gore from this chapter after initially writing it. I suppose I got a bit… over-descriptive at times. So, I censored a lot of it… a lot of it. Though, I stored the paragraphs I removed on a separate Word file on my computer. If you're interested in knowing some of the more violent and/or gory moments of this chapter, send a PM request and I'll include a few paragraphs that were deleted for the sake of a safer Teen rating. If you want, you can consider it a DVD extras deleted-scenes.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities with anyone, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Please remember, this is a work of fiction. Not real life.
"Creativity, not Reality".
This message brought to you by:
-Crow
P.S. I'm sorry if I got a little too insistent/persistent about the whole "Creativity, not Reality" thing, but I really don't want our community to take another hit like that after Wisconsin. Here's a fun little "Omake" to lessen the tension. Enjoy.
(Omake)
After the arrest of Gomez de la Muerte (real name unknown), he confessed readily to any locations, people, groups, even politicians involved in his crime ring. He traveled through every country to confess to certain crimes he committed or arranged within their borders.
The child slaves were all freed and sent home. Some were unfortunately deported back to their home, but were escorted the entire way until they made a tearful reunion with their family. The families all received a large compensation courtesy of the confiscated bank accounts of de la Muerte.
The drug ring fell apart as meth lab locations and drop-off points were confessed and the politicians were arrested for bribery and conspiracy. Some even had charges of murder.
The last country they visited was the UK. Gomez had some dealings moving unusual substances for a bunch of weirdos in robes. No one looked into it, though some inquiries by some… unusual men and women were made to certain people who could never clearly remember the people afterwards.
The evening of his final trial (Gomez was sentenced to several lifetimes in a maximum security jail in Mexico), the washed-up drug lord was sent to a local penitentiary to await his transport back to Mexico.
Unfortunately (depending upon your perspective), in the middle of the night, Gomez de la Muerte was slaughtered in his cell. There was no footage, no visitors, and no screams. The inmates were just as surprised as the guards and there was no one else sharing the cell with him.
The body was decapitated and a symbol was carved into the chest; a circle with an X through it.
No one had any idea what it meant and the only one who claimed to have seen the event was the man in the cell right across from him.
Though, no testimony was made as the man was obviously suffering from his medication and possible psychosis. The man was in emergency recovery for severe blood loss and apparent organ removal. The entire time the police were investigating de la Muerte's cell, he was ranting and raving about "faceless freaks", "masked freaks", and "making them give his liver back".