I would like to note that most of these characters mentioned are not mine (i.e. Slenderman, Ticci Toby, and the likes), even though later on I may add a few of my own.

Uploads of the chapters will be sporadic due to my schedule.

The category isn't exactly right - I couldn't figure out what category to put it in.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

If you have made it this far, I would like to thank you for bearing with my story.

Please, feel free to leave any comments, along with any suggestions as to what should happen next.

- Ibby

4 Jane

I walked around slowly in the house, trying not to disturb anything. It was, after all, a crime scene. And the last thing I needed was the police trying to catch me.

I squatted down next to the tape outlining where one of the bodies had been found. According to the news report I had glimpsed, the officials suspected that my old nemesis had been responsible. There was, after all, a gaping hole in the chests and a smile carved on the victims' faces. I had come here in the dead of night, after the police had finished, to pick up Jeff's trail. But something didn't look right.

Carefully, I clambered onto the side of the sofa so that I could look down on everything. I had long ago traded the black dress for a pair of black jeans, as they were much more realistic. Once in my lofty position, I scanned the blood spatter and quickly realized why I wasn't convinced it was Jeff. The blotches on the carpet were too messy, as if someone was trying too hard to make it look random. An even closer look revealed a sloppy arrow pointing to the side table across from me.

Stepping down, I made my way over to the table, pulling open the drawer. Inside was a single piece of folded computer paper. Pushing my bemusement aside as to how the police could have missed this, I picked it up and unfolded it. Inside was a simple note –

Jane,

If you couldn't already tell, Jeff wasn't responsible for this. But don't worry; these people weren't nice to begin with.

Meet us at 3am tonight, by the old shoe factory. Everything will be explained then.

P.S. We're friends. We won't turn you in, we just want to talk. We think you might find it to be good for you.

I turned the note over in my hands, but I couldn't find a signature or any clue as to who had left it. I reread it several times, but could only get a few details from it: a) whoever wrote this obviously didn't take high-level English, b) based on the "we", there's more than one person at work, c) they were the ones responsible for the deaths here, and as such made them just as bad as Jeff, if not worse, and d) they wanted to meet with me. Tonight. I looked at the clock on the wall, deliberating. I had about an hour and a half before it was 3am, but I didn't know where the shoe factory was. I was also curious to meet the perpetrators of this double homicide, in order to bring them to justice if nothing else.

Letting out a sigh, I shoved the note into my pocket and searched the house for a computer. One of the few good things to come of my encounter with Jeff – even if I didn't wear gloves, I would leave no prints behind for the police. Any fingerprints would have been burned by the fire. A shudder of anger tore down my spine, and I quickly shut down the memory. I needed that fuel for later. Now, however, I needed to find where the factory was.

Eventually, I found a desktop in what I assumed was the office. Pulling out the chair, I sat down and woke it up. To my surprise, there was not password required – either the owners were completely innocent (in which my complete wrath would rain down upon the perps) or they were completely confident in their ability to hide from the police (in which case, I would look a bit more favorable on the killers. Maybe).

I opened the web browser and began my search for an address. Within minutes, I managed to find not only the address but directions, too. Printing off everything I needed, I made a hasty retreat and began to head towards my meeting.