A/N: I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves and this is how it goes TRALALA.

He watched her drop in what felt like slow motion, his reflexes too slow to get to her in time. His mother hit the floor before he had a chance to react.

"Mom?! Mom!"

Vert ran to her, dropping his sword. He grabbed her wrist to feel her pulse, listened to her breathing. She was just unconscious, but she looked awful. The blood that trickled from her ears was starting to congeal in sticky rivers down her neck. Her face was pale, grey, and clammy. The hand he held was still bleeding freely where chunks of broken glass were imbedded in the flesh. His mother did not stir, not even a single twitch.

"Mom?" he asked, almost whispering. "Mom, please wake up." He stroked her face. "Come on, don't do this to me. Please? Mom… Please, just wake up…"

Sherman, AJ and Tezz came sprinting down the hall. Vert was shunted aside as they moved her onto the gurney.

"Please just wake up," he softly repeated.

AJ grabbed one end, Sherman the other, and together they carried her off.

"Mom..."

Tezz tentatively put a hand on his Vert's shoulder. "Captain, her injuries appeared superficial at first glance and I believe she should be okay," he gently told him. "Please, tell me what occurred. It will help Sherman and myself to better care for her."

Vert stared at the floor. He shuddered, but after a moment he was able to look at his teammate again. "I don't know what I saw," he told him. "Tezz, that…thing. It didn't have a face! It was wearing a suit and tie—goddamned human clothes, Tezz. What is it? Where did it come from? And how did it get in my house?!"

By this point Vert seemed more angry than frightened. What had begun as fear and unease had turned into an untargeted rage.

"Captain, I understand you are upset, but if you do not stop shouting at me I will, as they say, 'slap the shit out of you.'" The genius had completed his deadpan delivery with air-quotes and an annoyed look, and Vert sighed.

Tezz was right of course. He needed to keep calm. The team would help their captain any way they could, and they would help his mother. "Do you really think she'll be okay?" he asked softly.

"Well, Captain, why don't we go check on her and see?"

With no excuse not to, Vert followed his teammate to the med bay.

Science as humans understood it did not account for telepathic abilities, and with good reason. The species had not yet evolved enough to develop such capabilities. Certainly they had conceived of the notion of it, independently of any influence from other species. A number of humans even claimed to possess such powers. But Sage had found no evidence of any humans with such abilities, and if it was possible for humans to be psychic, it was not yet a common enough mutation to breed true.

Sage, however, was a Sentient. Both the Blue and Red halves of the species were almost universally psychically gifted. It was practically unheard of for a Sentient to lack even the slightest psychic powers, whether they were precognitive, telepathic, or telekinetic, and more often than not Blues and Reds alike had some combination of the three. Sage in particular was one of the most talented and well-trained of her people before the war. As part of her job managing the Blue Sentient gladiatorial team at the arena, Sage would often telepathically guide her fighters through something similar to the human concept of meditation, as well as using her abilities to aid her in analyzing her team's actions and behavior by occasionally peeking in on their thoughts. Randomly reading the minds of other people was generally considered bad manners in her society, but part of the standard contract of every gladiator included mandatory telepathic and psychological monitoring in order to help prevent what humans had recently named Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. These positions were very strictly regulated to prevent any possibility of manipulation or abuse of gladiators by their managers. As a result, in addition to keeping a wary eye on her own ethics, Sage had honed her skills for millennia and become one of the greatest telepaths the Blues had ever known.

But now that she was on Earth, she had much less use for her powers. Many Blues used their telepathic powers to communicate as easily as other species spoke. Occasionally, Sage would get a message from Rawkus, or have to fight off Krytus to keep him from overriding her personality, and maybe she would receive a sporadic precognitive vision. The white noise of little human minds formed a negligible background static, but, generally, since she had come to Earth, Sage did not sense much in the way of psychic energy from humans.

That afternoon, upon coming out of hibernation, Sage detected strong psychic interference in the vicinity of the hub and was naturally concerned. Her immediate fear was her own brother. When a cautious reach across their psychic link revealed him to be worlds away before she could even come close to pinpointing him, Sage's apprehension mounted. There was, very close to Handler's Corners, an unknown factor and possible threat whose origin she needed to determine.

The Blue Sentient searched immediate area, scanning every inch to narrow down the possibilities. The garbled signal became clearer—the vague, apprehensive rumblings became a panicked, fearful cry. And it came closer, closer still, getting louder by the microsecond. At any moment, Sage would isolate the source of the psychic outburst.

That was when Sherman and AJ rushed the woman past her, calling for her help. She was unconscious, her body still, but the noise of her mind was a mess of echoing sobs. Sage stopped searching. She was inclined to believe this human female was the source of the psychic blast that had awoken her.

"What happened?" she asked, floating to her new patient.

AJ spoke first. "Vert went to go talk to his mom—"

"Female axon," Sherman clarified. "He brought her in through the tunnels and enacted containment protocol, but I don't know why yet."

The injury to the woman's hand did not look serious, but Sage had heard of humans injuring a major artery near the base of the hand as a method of self-termination. With the history of mental illness Vert had reported, it was quite possible the wounds were self-inflicted. Once the boys had laid her in the hospital bed they had there in the med bay, Sage instructed them to take the precaution of restraining her. After that, she told Sherman, they would start an IV and begin on her stitches. The younger Cortez nodded and gently reached for the woman's arm—

Janet's eyes shot open and she bellowed, lashing out with her fists. AJ barely managed to hold down the thrashing madwoman. Sherman flew back, dazed, his nose already bleeding and probably broken. Janet made awful, guttural noises, showing her teeth, kicking and scratching and biting.

Sage gasped at the sharp pain in her mind. The passive sobbing had become a piercing scream, terrified, too large for the woman's skull to contain, so panicked her thoughts were projected outwards. And underneath it all was a whisper, almost a growl…this horrible, muttered, voice that she could barely understand, egging Janet on. 'E̦̙̘͕̫̟n̡̥͕̰e͞m̡̜i̱͙̠͚̱̼̘e͞s̛ͅ,' it told her, 'enemies A̡̹͕̱̲L̛L͘.̘ͅ Kill e̘v̥̙̟̪͔̮ͅe͍̗̺ry̨ ̣̯l̶̯a͚͈̲̘s͉̩͈̰̖̭͟ͅt͖̝ ͙͍̝̭o̫͘n͉͇̯e̥̬̮̳̣̜, don't let them s̡̘̜t̝̼̼͙an͔̥̰̻͕d̙̱͔̪ in your w̹̤̯͓̻̪a̰͕̘ͅy̛̺̙̟.̰͔̻̤̙̫.͓͔͚͡ͅ.̲̮̯'

"Pick her up," Sage said abruptly. Sherman was busy getting a sedative ready.

AJ looked at the Sentient as if she were crazier than Vert's mom. "I can barely hold her—"

"Pick her up and follow me!" Sage demanded. AJ did as he was told, though with great difficulty. "Now! Hurry!"

Janet sank her teeth into AJ's forearm and he screamed, losing his grip. They weren't even halfway down the hall before she threw her weight forward, pulling him up and over her in one quick movement. AJ was flung over the top of her and flat on his back. She ran down the hallway, desperate, confused, kicking him in the head and stomach as she went.

Everything was so loud! She could hear how afraid they were, a̹̫̤̺̠̰f̧̭̠̜̥̯r̤̥̞a͔̫͟ị̝͖̲̪̘d̪̫̘͍ͅ ̵͈̞o̤͔̣̯̣͢f̷̥̠ ̫̫̹̜̮̟͈h̶̜͕̪̦̪e͔̻r̯̗̗—fancy that, with how these strangers had dragged her to some strange place with some weird glowing chick. And another voice, one she realized she'd been hearing for some time, told her they were ͎̱̝̣̹̟͇ri̡̘͚̯g͙h͔̩̩͓̖t̼̭̙͕ to be afra҉i̡d, that she was their executioner, that it was her d̤̱̤̼̖e̹̲̺s̖͍̖̞̼̗̯t̘͈̮͢i̵ny̟ to be the thing that ̵̫ͅs͉͢ͅk̨̠̱͇̬͉̰̦u̻̭͙̮̗͡ͅl̙͔k̺̯ḙ͍̺͍͇̩̥͝d̙ ̕i̢̻ņ̭͖͉ ̢̼̭̥͈̮̙̻t͕̖̹̩͚̮h̥̦͠e̟͠ ̥͎͚̻͝d̨͕̱̦̗a҉̟͙̩̫̞̖r͇̙k̘͙̺̜͙̹̭͠ ͖̲̙̜͜ ̪̙̙̝͟ ̠̳̦̫͇ ̥͎̪͔͚̖͘and made the little bastards wet themselves in terror. She would show them all, and on that day, when the f҉̦̙̮͔I̡̙̣̻̻̠̗̮n̷̻̖̰̞A̠̟̘̗̖͚̤ĺ̯ ͡S̶̜̟̖̳̤e͏̬̗̪A̺̩̰̥̪͠l͇ was broken and the trumpets sounded their clarion call, her master would open his seven mouths and sing the song that ended the world, and every last one of them would melt in boiling acid and burning torment—!

She arrived at the room below the garage.

At the end of the hallway, there was a large open chamber, as big as the town square. The vehicles that belonged to her son's friends were parked there, under the immensely high ceilings. The monitors, consoles, and machinery were like something out of a bad scifi movie. The size of the space—The blue woman—The machines—

The big Latino approached her slowly, a handkerchief held to his nose with one hand and not doing much to staunch the blood flow. "Dow, Missus Wheelern, I doh dis is a lodd do dake in. Bud we're all freds here. Doh one's going do hurd you."

"You l͡y̕i̢n͠g son of a bitch!" she snarled. "Where the hell am I?!"

"Verd broad you here," he said gently, his kind smile still caked in his own blood. "Remember? You're safe here. So why dode we jusd—"

"Don't come any c͜l͟os̶er̨!͞"

At the sound of her scream a wave of force rippled out from her, pushing him back several feet. The equipment around her rattled and creaked.

Sherman gulped in dread. Mrs. Wheeler clutched her head and roared in pain, dropping to her knees. When she looked at him again, her eyes were black as onyx and the vein popping out on her forehead was tinted the same dark shade. Her clammy skin was as pale as a corpse and her lips were a sickly grey. She gritted her teeth and growled against the pain of her throbbing head, wide-eyed and staring at him as wrenches and bolts began to float up from the work stations and toolboxes. The little bits of metal and paint chips and sand and pebbles orbited around her, and she just kept watching him with those soulless orbs of empty night.

"It hurrrrrts," she growled at him, rocking back and forth. She blinked hard against the agony, tears of blood welling up in her eyes. "What did you bastards doto me…?!"

Janet screamed and clawed at her own face, leaving four red furrows in the flesh of her cheek. She needed to get out of there. As soon as she could stand again she had to run…No. She had to f̶i͠g̡ḩt̴. Who did these people t̷hink͘ ţh̨ey ̸we̕re, holding her like this? She was supposed to be free. They let her out before, and that meant ̛n͟o͢ ͜one̷ had the right to hold her, let alone these ̶͝i̷̡͜n̸͢ś͏̴o҉̀l̸̕è̶nt́ ̸͞c͢͞H͞i͠͡L̡d̷̡͜R̕e̷͏N—

"Janet!"

Her coal black eyes flew to the blue woman.

"You are Janet, yes?" she asked. No patronizing tone of voice, no shushing her like a child, just speaking to her as if she were anyone else. "Your son, Vert, told me about you."

The mother made a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan. "I don't believe you."

"He said that you were ill," Sage said. "He said he was worried about you, and that you needed help."

Janet shook her head, her breathing labored. Her eyes were fading back to their natural blue, but black veins still stood out against her pale skin. "M-mind your own business."

The whispers and growling got louder and louder. More and more voices rose up, hissing over each other. She could make them all g͡o͡ ̡aw͝ay͡ with the right word, with the flick of her wrist. She could give them what they ̀de̕s̢ȩrv́ed—

Sage frowned. "Janet, I can hear them calling to you. Don't listen to them. You can't give in to the despair they force upon you."

"Why should I fucking listen to you?!" the blonde cried. "Because you'll make me a better offer?!"

"Because your child needs you."

Janet was silent, unsure. The pain in her skull made her unsteady, even on her knees. This glowing wench was trying to trick her, they would trap her again! She had to die. No… No, wait. Was that Janet thinking that, or someone else? She was just so confused…

The blue woman dared to float closer. "Janet… I am called Sage. Please, let me help you. For Vert's sake, if not your own."

She stared at the delicate blue hand that was offered her. So fragile, so bR͢e̡A̶kAb͠L͢e̡. The blue woman asked for Janet's trust, but she made herself v͠U͡l͜NeR̡a̶B͝lE in the process. It would be so ҉ea͜sy. She would pull her in and ̶̡c̀r҉̧ųsh͝ the brittle shell of the strange, glowing creature and she would kill the rest of them. Yes. Yes, there would be so much RED—

Janet tentatively took the hand that was offered her and pulled herself to her feet. "Please help me," she whined. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but they're so loud. I can't tell which thoughts are mine and which ones are theirs."

"It's going to be alright," Sage said, tugging her towards a larger vehicle. It looked like a cross between a yacht and a station wagon. "Please, follow me, we must hurry."

"Running's not going to help," Janet said forlornly, though she followed regardless. That awful ringing and the sound of rushing waves seemed to drown out half the sound in the place. She could still hear the two big guys mumbling and cursing over their injuries, but she could hear their fear. She could hear frantic whispers of desperation, of the same confusion she felt at what was going on. "He'll find me. He always finds me." She gasped in pain, hearing a demonic growling. "It's…getting louder. Please…"

When they were still several yards away, Sage telekinetically threw open the hatch on the Mobius command center; they didn't even have to slow down. "Inside, now!" Sage ordered. She shoved Janet towards the back of the Mobi. The human had begun groaning in pain, but it was turning into a growl. When Sage looked at her once more her eyes were black as crude oil, tears of blood leaking from the bottom rim. Janet roared and lunged for the blue, but Sage caught her with her telekinesis and threw her into the charging station. With all the speed she could muster, Sage sent out an electronic pulse, and Janet was encased in a transparent sphere.

Janet beat her hands against the crystalline bubble in desperation, absolutely terrified. "Let me out!" she screamed. "Let me out!"

"Janet, you are safe."

"No, I'm not, you blue bitch! Are you fucking retarded?! Let me out, NOW!"

Sage mimicked a common human gesture by putting a finger to her lips. "Shh," she said. "Listen."

Janet stared at her. "Listen to what? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly."

She furrowed her eyebrows. The mother listened carefully for the slightest sound. She closed her eyes and wracked her brain.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

"I don't hear anything!" she laughed. "Not a sound!"

There was shouting from outside, and Vert came rushing in through the Mobi's hatch. Even though Sherman was right at his heels, warning him to stay back, the blonde didn't slow for a moment. He froze when he caught sight of her beatific face covered in gore.

Janet laughed and smiled at him, her bloody face a grisly sight. "I can't hear them," she said happily.

"Mom?" Vert let his sword clatter to the ground. He stepped carefully towards the sphere and put his hand on its surface, and his mother raised her own so that their palms were flush, only the fraction of an inch of hadron crystal separating the two. "Mom, are you okay?"

"Better then okay," she told him. She looked more relieved than he could remember ever seeing her. "The voices are gone!"

"Only temporarily, I fear."

Those four words sent a shiver of dread through both mother and son. They had fought hard, and they were tired, and they didn't dare believe they could handle whatever was coming. Not after today. Not yet. But the words had been said, and it was too late to take them back. Vert looked from his mother to his mentor and waited.

Sage nodded wisely as all eyes fell on her. "The charging stations are psychically shielded," she explained. "A necessary precaution, as my people are telepathically gifted and vulnerable while we recharge. But humans are mammals with more and varied needs; our physiologies are very different. It is possible that you may not be as well protected as a Sentient would be, Janet."

Vert glanced at her and ran a hand through his hair. "Sage, you wanna maybe dumb it down for me? I'm kinda tired."

Sage acknowledged Vert, but she was being carefully diplomatic. Her newest human acquaintance was likely very confused about the day's events and the last thing the Blue Sentient needed was to be blamed or mistrusted in any way.

"Janet, I would like to preface this by saying that what you experienced today was not your fault," she told the human gently. "Your mind is more open and sensitive, psychically speaking, than that of the average human. As a result, you were targeted by an interdimensional being, and subsequently mentally manipulated. It happens surprisingly frequently."

Vert scratched his head. "Uhh..."

"The Slender Man," Janet breathed. "He's been following me for years and-and-and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?! Then what's all that crap he kept saying about 'Our Master' and me ending the world?!" Janet's hand balled into a fist against the sphere. "Are you seriously telling me that skinny jackass in the suit has been fucking with my head because I'm a convenient meal?!"

Sage looked away. "It is not impossible that the creature had a further ulterior motive," she conceded. "If it would make you feel better, we can look into it. But more important at the moment is that you be protected from it happening again. As I said, the sphere is only a temporary measure; you will need to leave eventually. And such as it is, Janet…you have much training ahead of you."