AN:

*click*

*This is a pre-recorded message from: 'oh, do I say it now… um, Crow'. The person you are trying to contact is unavailable at the moment, but has left this pre-recorded message for your convenience. Thank you.*

"Hey everybody. I'm probably still… busy with whatever went wrong in the last chapter, but I'll pull through.

Yes, the song was inspired by Age of Ultron. I saw it a while ago and have been toying with the OC designs since Summer, but really finalized them last October.

This chapter is largely un-betaed. Sorry, but my sister hasn't gotten back to me on feedback. She rarely does change anything anyway, so I just went over it a few more times than usual.

So, this is my second OC (of 3). Please enjoy.

Sincerely,

Crow

P.S. There may be some references to religious topics, but nothing too deep. Just a heads up and flame deterrent. 'Kay, bye!"

*End of Recording*

*click*

…= Adrian's Story =…

Orange.

Red.

Gold.

That's all that I see; an endless expanse of wheat under an orange sky with several red clouds floating above and a red-orange sun hanging at the edge of the world to the west.

It seemed picturesque, but it was marred by myself. My heart seemed like it was filled with a roaring fire, pushing me to keep moving through the endless fields towards some goal I barely understood.

All I know is that I'm really, really angry. I needed revenge.

…

It pains me to admit, that the main flaw in that plan is that I don't know who to get revenge on or why I want revenge in the first place. It kind of makes it difficult to exact if you hold a grudge against a nameless figure.

My first real memory… or at least "aware" moment, was me standing in the middle of a field like this one when the sun was higher up, but still in the afternoon/evening hours of the day. I felt my anger, but it was directionless, like some rabid dog chasing after an unseen enemy.

I felt my knowledge, I knew a lot, apparently. Lots of tidbits of random facts and an eagerness to learn more. I felt cold, apathetic logic towards what I knew; about humanity, politics, society… but in the face of this anger, it was relieving.

So, as I walked, I began containing my anger. Bringing it down to a dull simmer and slowly bolstering my logic. Using the cool intellect to deduce myself and my surroundings.

It was very therapeutic.

Analyze everything factually, gather as much data and clues as possible, and try to piece together the great mysteries.

Who am I?

Where am I?

Why am I here?

Why am I angry?

Who in their right minds would plant this much wheat?

…

First, back to analysis.

My skin was pale, or at least what I could see on my arms and hands when I rolled up my sleeves. There was no reflective surface nearby (after all, it is a wheat field) so I didn't know how I looked, but my hair was just barely long enough to pull down and confirm it was black or at the very least a very, very dark brown.

I had no references to my height and I didn't know how high the wheat was, so I couldn't deduce my age. What's more, I would need a mirror to conclusively decide upon that fact. I could be a grown man. I could be a teenager. I could be a child. For all I know, I could be middle-aged with exceptionally youthful hands and hair.

My clothes were very plain; a simple dark gray shirt with a simple gray hooded jacket. I wore dark, blue jeans and some black and white converse shoes with gray socks. Out of curiosity for knowledge, I analyzed myself further and determined that; yes, I was a male and apparently I preferred boxer-briefs. Also gray.

I didn't find any wallet or cell phone. My hoodie pockets were likewise empty.

My only abnormality, aside from near-total retrograde amnesia in the middle of nowhere, was a length of barbed wire coiled about three times around both of my forearms. Touching it, I was surprised it didn't hurt. It actually felt mildly warm when I put my hands against it, but I didn't feel anything through my hoodie, even when it was obviously pushing through the fabric. I followed it with my fingers and felt it wrap around my torso underneath the jacket and deduced to assess it further when I found a mirror… if I found a mirror.

I was disappointed how much information gathering relied on a mirror and so I turned my attention outward to my surroundings.

The wheat around me moved in waves with the wind. The stalks were about waist high, but they went on in a flat expanse for as far as I could see. I could deduce I was in America… probably. The wheat and extreme flatness suggested the Mid-West to be precise or possibly Montana.

I've been walking for a while, now, so it could be anywhere.

It's frustrating. I know a lot, like how Montana has wheat fields and actually has flatlands, or that it's summertime, or what wheat even is, but I can't remember my own location or full name.

I just had "Adrian".

That was all I could rack my brains about. No last name, no middle name, no birthday, no address, just "Adrian". Even then, I'm only 85% sure that's actually my name.

So I, Adrian, am walking along a sea of wheat towards the only landmark I can see.

A small farmhouse.

At the beginning, it was just a faded blur in the distance, but now it was distinctly a house with a barn and a tree. The entire structure jutted out of the wheat like only a man-made structure really knows how.

I don't know why I want to go there, I just know that it's somewhere not wheat.

I arrived.

It was… interesting, I suppose.

The farmhouse was isolated like an island in the middle of a sea of gold wheat. The house itself was once white, but had faded and peeled, allowing the brown wood to show through. It was a simple two-story house with a wrap-around porch and an attic space with a window. Around the back was a dilapidated barn also brown with long-since-peeled paint and a tiny doghouse sitting next to it.

An obviously broken-down truck sat on the overgrown remains of a gravel path, but the ancient pickup was rusted brown, gaping holes corroded away like metallic termites got to it. The flimsy remains of the hood were propped with a support rod with a rusty box of unusable tools almost hidden in the grass. I followed the gravel and found the faded remains of a dirt road lost to the wheat.

A rusted tractor sat by the edge of the wheat field. The blade was not badly rusted from the cover, but the rest of it was definitely beyond use.

The tree was dead, but probably oak or ash. One of the branches had two tattered strands of rope set apart and a rotted pulp of mulch on the ground between that suggested a swingset once upon a time.

The sun was setting rapidly, so I decided to go for the farmhouse for the night. Possibly explore around and look through the barn later on.

In the dying, red light I scoped out the place. The residents left rather quickly. Dusty china tchotchkes and ceramic plates were still lining walls and displays while tattered blankets and comforters were still lying over the living room couch cushions.

An ancient television set was in the corner. Experimentally, I turned it on, but wasn't surprised that there was no electricity in the house. Even then, the wires to the set were cracked with some metal exposed. Even if there was power or a generator around here, I'd be reluctant to use it. I didn't want frayed wires in the walls or elsewhere setting the only shelter for miles on fire.

I found a door that probably led to a bathroom with a lock that cracked as soon as I opened it. Carefully looking inside, I saw the skeletal remains of a dog… or at least something like a dog. Its teeth were abnormally large and pointed. Its claws were worn down, but from the long, jagged lines raked through the walls and door I'd guess it filed them away scratching around the room.

I continued looking through the rest of the house, but most of the wooden or cloth-based furniture was rotted away. Surprisingly a lot of metal objects in the house survived; the forks, knives, spoons, and miscellaneous in the kitchen drawers were still in good condition, a few tools scattered around were also well off, and even the pots and pans had little corrosion.

Though, a lot of the house itself wasn't structurally sound. One bedroom's wooden floor collapsed and the bed was above the crushed remains of a dining table and overhead light. A few of the steps on the stairwell had fallen through with a couple more threatening to, so I limited my investigation to the first floor for now.

I glanced out at the endless expanse through a window.

By now, the light was obviously disappearing quickly. I made my way to the kitchen and was glad to find some emergency candles in a drawer along with a box of matches.

I set it on the tabletop and continued to look around the kitchen using the last of the sunlight. It took about five minutes before the twilight was close to running out. I opened the box and struck a match. Miraculously, despite their age, they still lit.

I quickly had the candle glowing as well and pocketed the matches. With the candle, I continued searching around the house. Aside from a lot of old tools, most either rusted useless or their wooden handles rotted to pulp, there was nothing useful.

I wasn't hungry, surprisingly, but given that there was just a self-sustaining ecosystem of mold and fungi in the fridge, I didn't have many options for food…

And I doubt I could pound enough wheat into bread.

I also found I wasn't really tired, either. That was another interesting point I kept thinking about. I'd been walking all day with no food (presumably) and even then I'd expect some level of physical or even mental exhaustion, but I was just as unperturbed by sleep as I was in the daytime. I resolved that I would just stay awake and be productive until I felt tired, probably looking for food when I inevitably become hungry… I assumed.

As darkness settled on the plains, I decided to at least keep the light going. Smashing up a few dry, splintered remains of some chairs, I quickly set them on fire in an old cast-iron stove in the living room using the candle's flame. The fire was small, but since it was summer, I didn't need the heat, only the light. I blew out my candle, saving the resource in lieu of the fire.

The entire night was uneventful save for the crackling of wood and occasional resupply of broken chair.

And in the distance, the faint howls of a coyote.

Dawn was surprising. Even with my knowledge from an unknown life, I'd never actually seen "sunrise" from 5 or 6 AM. The sky lightened so gradually I almost missed it because of a steady overcast. I hadn't slept at all, but didn't feel tired. It was confusing.

The overcast caused the entire farm and wheat field to appear gray. The sun and sky were above, but completely hidden by the cloud cover. It made time especially difficult to tell.

I continued to use the stove to keep a flame going, even at just a smolder. It was admittedly comforting to have.

A daytime search of the house actually came up with something I missed last night. The bathroom had a cracked mirror partially corroded away.

I examined myself.

I could guess my age around 14 or 15. My hair was short and black and stuck out at odd angles and I was able to put down my hood without the feeling of discomfort. My irises were dark, almost black, but I could tell by my skin pallor and bone structure I was Caucasian. Possibly French or German descent with some British or some other Northern European country, but from my knowledge of American History, I'd definitely say I originally was in the US.

It was helpful, at least, to have a face attached to myself. It was unnerving to have a sense of self, but no face to associate with.

Though, it didn't help me when I saw the wire. The barbed wire coils snaked around my arms and shoulders. It literally wrapped around my torso with direct contact to the skin, but no matter which way I moved, the wire didn't hurt me. But I couldn't find where the wire began or ended and when I tried taking it off, it seemed… stuck to me.

I tried to ignore it as best as I could, but it was still an unnerving reminder of something very, very wrong.

The rest of the day was quiet.

I spent the limited sunlight exploring the rest of the farmhouse and barn.

Carefully traversing the stairs and upper floor, there seemed to be about three bedrooms (including the one that fell through its own floor), one bathroom, several storage areas, and an attic space that yielded nothing important or useful.

Everything in the attic was either a dusty antique tchotchke along the lines of "Great-Aunt Mildred's thimble collection" or was a box of papers and documents that erupted in earwigs when I nudged them.

The basement was surprising. There was a tool spot with the beginnings of some crude birdhouse, possibly, but the tools were still in relatively good condition despite spots of rust or worn down blades. Interestingly, I found bottles of hard liquor hidden away under the stairs. I had no inclinations to drink despite being underage, unsupervised, and alone with moonshine and, even then, I didn't want to waste the alcohol inside. Alcohol this pure could be useful.

A flashlight in the basement was ultimately useless; it's battery long-since corroded to a white, crystalline mess. A few cans of gasoline and oil had been reduced to a grimy jelly-like sludge at the bottom of the canister. Any wood and timber they had was rotten and splintered off easily or filled with tiny insects burrowing into it. I put them aside to burn later.

The fire still smoldered away in the furnace, I found that the raggedy remains of some quilt comforters on the beds made for excellent tinder to keep them going or restart them.

I was somewhat glad to see there were no other skeletons in the house, save for the dog's in the upstairs and a few tiny rat bones in the corners. I guessed whoever was here got away… or could very well have disappeared into the wheat.

The overcast caused darkness to settle quickly on the farmyard. In almost no time flat, it went from about the same luminosity as the day to me groping around for my candle and making my way to lighting it from the stove.

I stoked the fire with a cast-iron poker when I heard the baying again.

Last night, it sounded distant, but this time I could pinpoint the angle of the howls and tell it was close.

Too close.

I took a relatively stable chair leg and wrapped it with a length of rotted quilt. Dousing the end in the alcohol from the basement, it lit readily and I had a crude torch available.

Another howl bayed outside. I brought up another good chair leg with some nails poking out. It was honestly better than nothing and a few practice swings gave the impression that it would do some damage.

I opened the screen door to the back area, my eyes scanning the edge of the wheat as far as the torchlight would allow. There wasn't a moon out, so that wasn't helpful, even then I doubt it'd get through a cloud cover.

*shf*

I raised the blazing stick above my head and peered out. The shuffling sounds continued and the row of wheat at the edge parted like a curtain. A large, black dog… thing came prowling out.

It was about the size of a Great Dane, but built more like a Doberman, but all black with red-black eyes. The snout was long and its canine lips were pulled back to reveal long, sharp ivory teeth. It growled at me, slowly getting closer and closer to the back steps.

I guessed that the skeleton in the room was, at most, an adolescent of the species. It was nowhere near as big as this one. Glancing down at my chair leg, I could tell it wasn't going to help.

I slowly backed away onto the wooden steps-

*creeeak*

The Dog burst into motion and was at the house before I had time to close the door. It barreled through into the tiled kitchen, its claws skittering across the floor before finding traction.

I faced it with my torch in one hand and crude wooden weapon in my other. The Dog just glared at me and kept growling, slowly circling around and causing me to adjust around it.

Suddenly, the Dog jumped over the table! I scrambled backwards, knocking over a china plate display, but the dog pounced again and I found myself underneath a solid 150 pound canine. My makeshift weapon was pressed against its throat, so the snapping jaws were only an inch away as it couldn't get low enough to bite my throat out.

I was using both hands to keep the chair leg up, but the other hand still managed to hold onto the torch on the end. I maneuvered it and jammed the flaming bit right below the Dog's eye. It howled in frustration and swiped at the burn mark with its paw. The torch and weapon skittered away in the scramble.

I realized that I had maneuvered it so it was in the other room while my back was to the kitchen. While the Dog was in pain, I put as much space between us as I could and quickly raided a drawer for a decently-sized carving knife.

By now, the Dog got over the burn and was snarling angrily at me. It slowly moved and then quickly gained momentum. I slashed at it with the knife, but it still barreled me to the ground again. This time, my weapon wasn't with me and I had to use my arms to barely keep it away from me.

Then, the Dog split.

I don't know how else to put it, but evidently it wasn't falling for the same tactics again. The lower jaw opened and the skin behind it came apart, revealing a gaping mouth with thousands of teeth lining it and about five tongue-like appendages wriggling like earthworms.

Whatever the Hell this was- it wasn't just a dog.

I flipped myself over, upsetting the creature's balance and quickly stood up and jumped the table to the other side.

I frantically realized the torch had gone out and the only light was the red flicker from between the grates of the iron stove behind me, casting too many shadows to make out where the weapon was.

The Dog had jumped on the table and was now tensing its hind legs.

The world seemed to slow down as the beast went sailing through the air directly at me, it's obscenely wide mouth revealing jagged teeth ready to tear me apart.

I couldn't move.

This was-

*shlk!*

For a second, I thought my perception of time had skewed even further. The Dog was motionless in front of me, hovering in the air mid-strike. Then, a glint caught my eye. I followed it up to a strand of barbed wire reflecting red light from the stove behind me.

Morbidly I followed the wire and saw that it had impaled the dog straight through, killing it almost instantly and keeping it suspended in the air. The other end lead straight to my right arm, where the coil was.

I swallowed heavily in fear, confusion, and adrenaline crash. I relaxed myself and the wire ripped out of the Dog and went back to coiling around my arm. There was no blood or gore, even on the barbs themselves, but the mess of a Dog was still in front of me.

I looked down at my arms, the wire still coiled around unmovingly.

I felt a wave of nausea in my stomach despite not eating a single thing in probably well over 24 hours. I impulsively ran to the bathroom in the darkness and stood in front of the sink, waiting to vomit or dry heave or whatever.

About five minutes in, the feeling subsided and I slowly got up-

I jolted backwards and jammed my back into the door handle. I ignored the pain, aside from shifting so it didn't impale me, and stared ahead of me. Two red lights were peering back at me, like faded embers.

Backing away, I made my way back to the stove and used the flame to light a candle before picking up the discarded knife from the fight. I walked slowly, apprehensively back to the bathroom.

I screwed up my courage and entered, tense and ready to slash at whatever was there.

Above the sink, was the mirror.

I felt confused and foolish for being afraid of the mirror, but mostly concerned about the lights. I removed the mirror from the hook and confirmed there was nothing behind it that may have caused it. Cautiously, I hid the candlelight , but there was no red glow anywhere.

I was about to just give up when I noticed my wire.

It was glowing slightly red.

I put a hand over it, and it did feel slightly warm, though it ought to have felt a lot warmer given that the metal was glowing.

I turned my arms over, looking at the metallic appendages and concentrated on moving them, like moving an arm or leg or finger. Slowly, a small tip separated itself from the coil moving almost like a snake, hovering above my arm.

I glanced in the mirror-

I could feel myself freezing

My face.

My eyes.

I found the glow.

My face was still the same shape. My hair was still the same short, black mess. My skin was still pale.

But my eyes were gone.

They weren't gone in the sense that the eyelids were empty, it was more like my sockets had sunken into themselves and the skin faded into the dark recess. In the center, though, was just a faint red glow. Like two burning embers.

My mouth had changed too. I had no lips and I couldn't see my teeth or gums. It was just as dark as my eye sockets, but without a glow. The sides of my mouth were slightly split so opening slightly gave the impression of grinning, though I could manipulate it into an extra-wide frown or other facial expressions.

I looked at my arm, at the coil hovering above it and slowly willed it down. Keeping an eye on both it and my appearance, I saw that my face changed back to a much more natural appearance a few seconds after the wire was tucked away again.

I backed out of the room slowly.

I made my way to the living area with the red glow of the fire still going. I sat in one of the more sturdy chairs and slumped down in shock at everything that happened in just under a day.

I am in an unknown location.

I am possibly completely surrounded by those Dog Creatures.

I can control wires attached directly to my body.

I am not human.

I sat collectively thinking about this; putting my logical left brain to use.

Simply put, I needed to put this in a succinct, logical way that expressly puts everything in perspective.

…

What the f*ck is going on?!

About 32 days have passed.

I have deduced where I am.

I must be in Purgatory.

That is one of the more logical solutions to this situation… at least it was the best I could come up with. Plus, looking at it in a metaphysical standpoint I suppose it made sense given my limited knowledge of religion and Judeo-Christian and Catholic beliefs… as well as several snippets from an occasional movie or two.

I woke up with only vague knowledge of my past life (or, along the Purgatory motif, my "living" life) in the middle of an unknown expanse of wheat, similar to ancient Greek depictions of the Fields of Asphodel. Now, my afterlife is consisting of waiting in a dilapidated farmhouse with limited provisions and fending off nightly attacks from the Dogs, or perhaps Hellhounds. I'm honestly not sure.

I wasn't one for mythology or religion in "life", so I'm unequipped as to what to do exactly… bummer.

I didn't need to eat or drink or sleep, so that further supported the "afterlife" theory as well as my… unsettling appearance.

I thought it over and theorized that I probably died horrifically and held a grudge against someone which manifested in the wire and consistent mild anger.

All-in-all, not what I was expecting in the slightest.

Although it could be worse.

I wasn't in pain or agony, just boredom. So it was a good chance I wasn't in Hell… yet.

On day 6, I finally got around to exploring the barn and I found a lot of the harvesting tools were rusted away from the relatively open structure. However, I found a few that were safe from most of the elements under an old tarp.

Over the choices; an old pitchfork, a tiny hacksaw, a couple of power tools (with no electricity to power them), and a vintage scythe, I had to say the scythe was the most aesthetically pleasing and useful in this place. Plus, along the "afterlife" thing, I felt it was ironic and fitting.

By day 10, I'd exhausted the useless lumber of the house and short of ripping apart the supports themselves, I had to turn to other fuel sources. So, using my scythe I learned how to reap a few bundles of wheat around me. As it turned out, it was late enough in the summer that the wheat had taken on the golden, yellow hue and burned more readily than green grass.

The Dogs kept coming each night, oftentimes just one, but sometimes as many as five would show up at a time. I used my wires and scythe to keep them at bay. It was an effective strategy, most of them died quickly. I would toss their corpses back into the wheat and by the morning they'd be gone.

I didn't know if they were undead and just got up and limped away to attack again the next day or if their brethren weren't above cannibalism and just dragged their fallen into the wheat.

I found my way to the top of the farmhouse and contemplated that.

If this is Purgatory, then those hounds must be trying to drag my "sinful soul" into the wheat. Presumably, I would be devoured by them for eternity or taken to a place of eternal suffering somewhere far, far beyond the wheat. But still, as far as I could tell, it was just me, the farmhouse, the barn, the tree, and the wheat.

It was largely boring and sad.

Wow, who would've guessed the afterlife would be so dull. I remember the Egyptians buried their wealthy with possessions and toys.

I at least wished my family, assuming I had one, buried me with a magazine or a book or something. All of the reading material here was either crumbling dust or earwig food. The most entertaining thing to do was just sit up on the farmhouse and stare at the sunsets.

In the distance, I saw a parting in the wheat moving along towards the farmhouse. I sighed and picked up my scythe and headed back to the ground.

Sure enough, a Dog erupted out of the wheat and barreled towards me, unhinged jaws snapping. It put up a bit of a desperate fight which made it harder to hit with my wire. In the end, it got too close and with one swipe of my scythe, I lobbed its head off.

I tossed both the head and the body a ways into the wheat, but I glanced up at the sun worriedly. The first week, they would always attack at night probably around midnight. Then, they got earlier and earlier in the night until finally it got to the point where Dogs were arriving at the farmhouse at the sunsets or in broad daylight.

I hoped it was just desperation from their numbers dwindling. In that case, I hoped the population of the Dog-creatures went extinct rather quickly.

If this is Purgatory, then I hoped for the Apocalypse to finally get me out of here soon.

I hopped back up to my spot on the top of the farmhouse.

That's when I saw him.

He was out in the wheat by the Dog I'd tossed out there. From how he was bent, I could see he was examining the corpse.

He was tall, abnormally so, maybe 7 and a half feet. He wore a simple black suit that closely fit his thin frame.

He was odd to say the least… but then, I've been stuck here for a month now with no other living creature save for insects, Dogs, and the very rare rat or field mouse.

I quietly settled down from my perch and approached him. His back was turned to me as he examined the Dog, so I managed to stay undetected. When I was about four feet from him, I set my scythe on my shoulder in a relaxed position.

"Can I help you?"

The figure stiffened slightly, but gave no other indication of surprise. He slowly stood up and towered over me. He slowly turned-

…

"Are you a Harbinger of the Apocalypse? Or are you here to tell me that it's already begun and I'm due to move on?"

The figure tilted its head wordlessly.

I interpreted it as a silent question. "I have deduced I am in Purgatory. It's the only explanation for why I don't eat, sleep, drink, or have any other living inclinations. It also explains why I'm in the middle of nowhere with a faint concept of what my life was like and, finally, it explains why I'm being approached by a faceless, 7-foot-tall inhuman being.

"So, you being here, I assume that something's happened and I'm supposed to do something. You're the first living thing I've seen since I got here… aside from those." I pointed to the corpse of the Dog.

Hahahaha. The entity chuckled soundlessly, though I still heard it. Telepathy… interesting.

No. As far as I understand it, the Apocalypse is not anytime soon. I am here to investigate a sudden drop in the Field Hound population as of late, not that anyone minds that fact. No one likes those vicious things. However, I was told to investigate due to its remote location.

"I see." I shifted, moving the scythe more into view. "So, you've found out I'm the one… 'reducing the population', so what are you supposed to do now?"

Truthfully? I was just supposed to find out what it was and if it poses a threat if it's not contained. However I see you're doing well enough on your own, and I know many out here prefer their privacy, so I'll leave your territory if you'd prefer-.

"Wait!" I exclaimed before it left. This was my only chance, I couldn't lose it! "I have questions… please. Who am I? Where am I? Why can I do this-" I raised my wires and felt my face shift. The entity's posture suggested mild surprise. "- and what does it mean?"

The entity thought for a moment before a reply drifted through my head. I don't know who you are, however I can tell you that you are in a remote farm in Kansas. It is currently mid September, though I'm sorry to say that the exact date has slipped my mind.

"So, I'm not in Purgatory?" I clarified.

No. The entity chuckled again. I promise you that you are still very much in the realm of the Living… though given your appearance I can't guarantee that you, yourself, are still among that number.

I looked away in contemplation. So, I was still on Earth (that was a relief) though as to my past or condition I had nothing. Honestly death made the most sense.

"So, I'm more of a ghost than anything else? A wraith or something?"

Possibly. Contrary to popular beliefs, many of the ghosts I encounter are very much solid. I have one ward who is a particularly energetic eight year old and is completely like any other child her age save for some bloodstains.

"There are more like me?" The figure nodded. I felt… relieved for lack of a better word, though I was still curious. "So, if I may be callous, what exactly are you? Or who are you?"

My name is Slenderman, one word. I know you said you didn't know who you were, but I would appreciate a name or title for the paperwork.

"My name is Adrian. That's all I know." I admitted.

I see… May I ask you, why are you here?

"… I don't know. My first conscious moments were in the wheat about a month ago. Ever since, I've been stuck on this… island for lack of a better term."

I can see the analogy. I suppose it isn't terribly entertaining around here, save for the Hounds.

I nodded. So far, my most anticipated moment of the day was fueling the fire, cutting some wheat, and occasionally making faces in a reflective spoon I found. Not too stimulating.

If you don't mind, could you possibly come with me to fill out the paperwork? My head perked up. I admit it's difficult to complete when the applicant doesn't even know their own story, so it would be much simpler if you came along. Of course, if you prefer to stay here I-

"Please take me with you!" I exclaimed pleadingly. I was surprised by my own outburst and more than a little ashamed at the clear desperation. But in my defense, I'd been stewing in the middle of nowhere for a month now. I was pretty desperate to get out and more than slightly stir crazy. I straightened myself and cleared my throat. "I wouldn't mind at all and I'd be very grateful for the lift. I'm not here voluntarily and I'd appreciate a change in scenery. Especially to understand the nature of my current condition."

The Slenderman didn't have facial features to depict it, but I could somehow tell he was smirking. Very well, do you have anything here you with to collect?

"No. Just my scythe. I'm rather fond of it now." The entity inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Now, as a formality, most who find themselves in your predicament choose their own names. Do you have any preference or would you prefer to just go by "Adrian"?

I thought about it, glancing at the scythe in my hand.

Standing here, with a long imposing scythe with my arms wrapped in barbed wire and my legs shrouded in wheat stalks, I looked like some scarecrow. It felt appropriate, so I racked my brain for something that fit.

"Thresher. I am the Harvester, Adrian Thresher."

Slenderman nodded in acceptance and held out a pale hand for me to hold onto. A wisp of black smoke later and we vanished.

A desolate wind blew across the cold, empty fields.

*click*

*This is a pre-recorded message fr-

"Yeah, yeah, they get it. Hello everyone. Just an ending AN, here.

ATTENTION EVERYONE, POLLS SHOULD BE UP! PLEASE READ THE AN FOR DETAILS.

Adrian may or may not have a specific backstory, but we'll reveal that slowly.

For this character, I actually based it off of my Left Brain and the characteristics/personality of several friends. A bit more cold and analytical with a tendency to enjoy fire more than is healthy. We actually designed the character together during an unnecessary lecture session.

Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,

Crow"

*End of Recording*

*click*

Poll so far (3/21/16)

Alright. I'm officially ending nomination votes and activating the polls for these. I decided to take the top picks of the names and weapons (indicated by a *). Please vote!

I'm keeping this poll up until Thursday, April 4th (about two weeks).

…

Weapons

Magic AK-47 (this was actually a joke when I first suggested it, I felt it'd be too OP... this early in the story *wink*): 1

*Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 6

*Hallucinagenic cloud: 2

Hakujin no tachi: 1

Urumi: 1

Hakujin no tachi: 1

*Hatchet: 2

Giant Axe: 1

Balisong: 1

Razor: 1

Large scissors: 1

*Knives: 2

*Monstrous assembly of Death (Inspired by Krieg's Buzz Axe PM): 3

Scalpels: 1

Mage Staff: 1

…

…

Names

*Cain/Kane: 4

*Shadow: 4

*Scath: 7

Ghost/Puca/Sanctus: 3

*Lamp-Eyes: 9

Lampo-Okuloj ("Lamp Eyes" or "One who hopes" in Esperanto): 2

Tenebris: 3

Haze: 1

Hikaru ("glow"): 1

Bolt: 1

Slash: 1

Stalker (kind of taken by the guy in London): 1

A combination of "Dark Shadow": 1

A combination of "Green Darkness": 2

A combination of "Green shadow": 2

Lamb/Agnus/Uaineoil/Cit-Oen/Lambaz/Becard: 2

Casper: 1

…

Alright. I think the poll is up and active. I don't know how to vote on it. Does anyone know where I can go to view it? If someone could give me a confirmation PM or something, I'd really appreciate it.

Thanks to everyone who voted!

-Crow