Chapter Two - How We Became His Prey

Flameslinger, though scared out his wits, had no trouble with his sprint through the forest undergrowth, even despite his limited vision (or, rather, lack thereof). Grim, on the other hand, wasn't used to having a physical body, nor running for extended periods of time, and so his adrenaline rush seemed to wear out faster than that of his elf friend.

Flame noticed his companion's heavy breathing and so briskly grabbed his wrist and dove behind a rust-covered van that had clearly been abandoned there long ago. They stumbled before righting themselves to a sitting position and pressing their backs against the door, scuffing off some of the peeling paint. Flame got his breathing under control and listened carefully, noticing that while he could still hear the steady, booming drumbeat in the distance, the soul-shattering ringing had ceased. Somewhere in the back of his fear-clouded mind, he supposed that the noise only sounded when the monster was upon them.

Grim's chest heaved and he stifled a cough. To put it simply, his body felt like it had been set aflame. His chest burned and his heart thudded faster than a drum beat. Flame had managed to hide them in time, but he still felt deflated.

Grim had gotten them into this mess, but he had no way out of it.

Flameslinger groaned, his headache not quite having dissipated. "So..." he whispered. "Any ideas?" He held up his hands forlornly. "I'm officially disarmed."

Grim shook his head sadly. "I think I bit off more than I could chew…"

"We can review our poor life decisions later," Flameslinger suggested. "Because we're not out of the woods yet. Literally. Hear that pounding?"

Grim winced as another explosion sounded in his head and Flameslinger did likewise. "We need a plan of action," said the elf. "First order of business: I need my weapons back."

Grim nodded. "Maybe we can find something of use in this bloody old car?"

"Worth a shot," Flameslinger agreed. The two rose to their feet, taking care not to disturb the grass too much. They sidled over to the driver's side and both pulled on a door handle, but neither would budge, stuck fast from the rust. Grim, frustrated, let out a sigh and backed against the side, the back of his hooded head colliding with the door. He expected to hear a soft thunk, but instead heard the distinct rustling of paper.

Grim spun around and grabbed the sheet of paper, a smile on his face. "Hey, look, another note!"

Flame was next to him in an instant, staring hard at the paper in his hands. "What—really? What does it say?"

"I have no idea," he muttered grimly. "It's too bloody dark to see."

"Hm..." Flameslinger murmured and let out a sigh. "In this kind of situation, I'd normally use my searchlight eyes to illuminate the area, but with these human guises in effect..." He shook his head. "Nothing for it now, and that'd only attract our slender friend's attention." He took hold of Grim's wrist once again and started pulling him back the way they came. "Come on, I can see my arrow where I dropped it; it's still smoldering."

Grim nodded and followed him, his body shaking. Was Germany always this cold? The speed at which Flame pulled him only heightened the wind-chill factor, but the elf seemed unaffected. Grim supposed that the Fire Element ran deep through him, not limited to his arrows and boots.

And speaking of his boots, Grim hoped they wouldn't have to resort to them. He could tell by the way the grass and dead pine needles crunched with their footsteps that the Black Forest was quite dry, and therefore quite flammable. If it came to a confrontation, Grim would have to rely on his scythe and ghosting abilities to hopefully out-sneak the Slender Man.

Flameslinger suddenly stopped and Grim accidently plowed into him from behind. As Grim recovered his balance, Flame knelt down and retrieved his bow and arrow with a quiet hurrah of triumph. "Thank the portals!" he breathed, twanging the string to test its tautness.

Grim smiled slightly, trembling from the cold and from excitement. They, although terrified, were surviving the monster that killed so many. They were hunting the hunter, and if they played their cards right, they wouldn't become prey.

"So, what now?" he whispered, his frigid hands wrapping around his scythe.

Flame gently puffed on the arrow, rekindling the fire spouting from the stone and holding it up. The recovered weapon cast low flickering light onto their surroundings, and Grim relished the warmth emanating from it. "Now," said Flameslinger. "We read the note."

Grim nodded and read the note, his stomach churning. "This is unsettling."

"Understatement much?" Flameslinger concurred.

The hastily scribbled note read:

DON'T LOOK…OR IT TAKES YOU.

Flame looked up at Grim. "Why couldn't we find this one first?" he cracked, trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, the constant drumbeat reverberating through the forest nullified the elf's intention, and reminded them that they needed to stay on their toes.

Grim ignored his friend and continued to study the note. He knew what "it" was referring to, but now he wanted to know who was leaving these warnings. Maybe, just maybe, if they found this person they would have an ally.

"Hey!" Flame hissed, snapping Grim out of his reverie. "Look, there's a number on the back!" He pointed to the lower corner of the otherwise blank side of the paper, which depicted numbers in chicken scratch: "5/8."

"I wonder if that's a date or something," Grim muttered, tracing the numbers with a pale finger.

Flame held out his hand. "Let's see that other page we found." Grim brought out the "FOLLOWS" page and handed it to Flame, who turned it over. Sure enough, another set of numbers, "8/8," had been scrawled onto the bottom corner. "I doubt the person who left this had three days to leave these warnings, if the handwriting is any indication," Flame mused. "These must be page numbers."

"So, there are eight of these?" Grim sighed, looking at Flame. "What happens when we find them all?"

Their heads snapped up at the sound of the tell-tale ringing, and fear erupted in their minds once more. Flame extinguished his arrow to a smolder and Grim brought his scythe close to his body, ready to run. They shot off into the forest once again, stopping abruptly when Flameslinger crashed straight into a fence. Grim heard the rattling of chain links and a startled cry from the elf in time to dig his feet into the ground and slide to a halt.

"A fence?!" Flameslinger sputtered, unhooking his fingers from the links.

"Hurry, climb over it!" Grim ushered, putting his foot into one of the holes. "Maybe we can escape!"

"On it!" Flameslinger grunted, pulling himself up alongside Grim. The fence wavered and clanged under their weight, and both Skylanders stopped dead when their faces came precariously close to scraping the barbed wire lining that tilted inward, barring their progress.

Grim seized his scythe from off of his back and with a grunt swung it in an upward arc, bringing it down onto the barrier. Much to his surprise, the blade plinked off harmlessly, the contact sending a horrible vibration down his arm and making his vision dance. Grim shuddered as his mind swirled with forgotten nightmares, his heart beating quickly as he fell off the fence. He could hear his mother telling him how pathetically small he was and the academy board telling him that was too weak to be a reaper. The memories came at him and taunted him to the point where he thought maybe it would be the best idea to just lay there and accept his fate. He ignored his friend's cries to get up and shut his eyes.

"Grim!" Flameslinger shouted, standing over him and suddenly not concerned about alerting the monster to their whereabouts. The ghoul was lapsing out of consciousness, and the disguising magic was wearing off, his true form flickering in and out of view. Flame whirled around at the horrifying pulsing in his ears, his thermal vision skewing into a swirling mass.

Grim's mind was blank. His body hurt and he faintly noticed Flame starting to drag him. The elf struggled to raise him up to a sitting point, but the ghoul's head lolled backward, and his human cover faded away completely. Now Grim's ethereal body gave off its own light, and through the vortex writhing in his vision, Flame could make out the slender form of Der Groβmann stalking toward them, tentacles waving about like hungry eels, and its white, almost mummified face shadowed over by Grim's glow.

Yelping in terror, Flame hoisted the limp form of his friend over his shoulder, but the action gave their pursuer enough time to reach out for him with an unnaturally long-fingered hand and grasp the elf's shoulder. Flameslinger froze, forced to drop Grim to the ground. His entire body had suddenly been drained of all heat and his muscles paralyzed in the all-consuming icy grip.

That terrible sound blasted in his head, wearing and grating on every neuron, stripping him of his lucidity and rendering him helpless to fight off the awful waves of paranoia pouring off of his attacker. Flameslinger was vaguely aware of the Slender Man ensnaring him in its tentacles and lifting him into the air, and through the chaos, what sounded like a deep growl reverberated through his being.

So much hatred…it washed away Flameslinger's façade, baring his elven form and leaving him vulnerable before the monster that bound him. Flameslinger couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He wasn't aware of what was real anymore; the world, his world, was no more. There was only the monster and its overwhelming presence emanating from that blank white face.

And fear. Crippling, unbearable fear.

A weak groan from Grim cut through the din and Flame's ear twitched. Reality came flooding back and he gasped, jerking his body about wildly to escape. His leg lashed out and impacted something, his boot scraping against it and setting it alight, spraying sparks onto the ground. The Slender Man's hold suddenly loosened and dropped him heavily to the forest floor.

Flame didn't have to look nor listen to know that a wild blaze flared up behind him, apparently subduing the entity. He had to stop himself from bolting as soon he regained his footing, instead snatching up Grim and sprinting away from the scene in one movement, clumsy from panic and desperacy. He didn't realize that he still trailed fire from his erratic footfalls.

The fires quickly spread to the adjacent trees and engulfed them, granting the elf a vessel through which to see clearly without sparing a glance behind him. The Slender Man was gone, only thick gray smoke and violent embers thrashing about where the archer had nearly met with an untimely end.

Finally having regained enough breath and sanity, it dawned on him that they had a way out of this. Never breaking stride, he sucked in a massive gulp of smoke-filled air. "Hugo!" he cried to the sky over the roar of the flames. "Get us out of here, NOW!"

The air around the two Skylanders became charged and their bodies engulfed in a welcoming blue light, and a split second later—

FWASH!

—they disappeared, leaving behind them a raging conflagration that burned up everything it touched to a charred shrivel.

"So, Grim," Spy asked calmly as he sifted through the rubble in the Black Forest. "What exactly happened here last night?"

Sprocket, whose human form differed only slightly from her usual self, looked up from where she'd been inspecting the section of fence Grim's scythe had failed to cut through. "You know, apart from the obvious 'burning the forest down' thing," she added, throwing a look Flameslinger's way. The elf didn't seem to notice: he leaned against a charred tree with a faraway look on his face, gripping his archer's glove until his knuckles bleached white.

When the duo had reappeared on the portal back in Skylands, Flameslinger had collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint, with Grim's unconscious form falling on top of him. A distraught Hugo had flown into a frenzy, and several Skylanders rushed to his aid upon hearing the uproar. Grim Creeper and Flameslinger were rushed to the infirmary and Gill Grunt and Slam Bam had warped down to douse the flames before the forest could suffer any major damage.

Grim shuddered, then looked his best friend, other than Flame, in the eye. "Slender Man happened."

Spy' s eyes narrowed to slits, his now olive-skinned back stiffening as he let out a small snarl. "Slender Man?"

"Oh, please," the rich, Russian voice of Chill cut in, returning from her walk around the perimeter and planting an armored hand on her hip. The only marked differences in her human persona were her eyes, which were no longer so large and striking, and her more even proportions. "You believe in thiz urban legend, too?"

Grim scoffed, "Urban legends! The bloody monster tried to kill us!"

"Yes, I do," Spy countered, crossing his ash covered hands over his chest. His physical appearance changed the most out of anyone down on Earth at the moment, and it always took him several minutes to adjust to two legs.

Chill stared at Spy coolly (pun completely intended). "...Okay, then," she relented, propping her elbow into her palm. "I finished my evaluation of the temperature here," she began, changing the subject. "It iz definitely colder than it iz normally in thiz part of Germany."

"Well, that monster was very f****** cold," Grim glared at her as he started to sift through more rubble. The others looked at him; it wasn't like him to use foul language.

"Easy there, Grimy," Sprocket placated as she ambled over. "I'd tell you to "chill," but...now's not really the time for puns." She threw a sideways glance at the northerner next to her, who seemed indifferent. "Anyway, the fence gave way to my acetylene torch just the way it's 'sposed to," she reported, bringing forth said melding tool and briefly lighting it for emphasis. "Whatever Slendy did to it seems to have worn off. Like a curse or somethin'."

Grim nodded weakly, feeling the urge to puke and/or cry. This monster, this horrible monster, was wearing down on his sanity and the others knew it. Chill looked concerned. "Would you rather go back to the infirmary, Grim? You look...paler than usual."

"Yeah," Sprocket agreed. "We can wrap things up here." She looked back at Flameslinger, who hadn't moved. Something flashed across her face that Grim didn't catch. "In fact, maybe both of you should head back."

Grim shuddered and looked at Flame, who seemed to be shaking uncontrollably, "Flame? Are you okay?"

Flame gritted his teeth and abruptly pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow to it, letting it fly toward a tree about ten yards away. It missed badly, whizzing past the trunk and embedding itself in the ground at an angle that suggested the archer had used far too much force. Flameslinger re-slung his bow. "Non," he replied tersely.

Sprocket pressed her mouth into a thin line upon hearing this. She refused to believe that Flame, the arrogant and cocky Flameslinger, was suck an emotional wreck because of a monster. "Flame," she said quietly. "Maybe you should go back to the infirmary."

"That won't help," he snapped, brow creased in an angry arc. Sprocket moved closer to him and carefully brushed against him, noting how he didn't flinch or pull away as he had when Dr. Haus poked and prodded him when checking for wounds. He hadn't let anyone else get close to him since last night, and clearly needed some companionship.

"Are you sure?" She suddenly sounded a lot less tomboyish. Her hand found his archer's glove and his blindfold met her pale-eyed gaze; firm, yet concerned. The elf let out a sigh.

"The pages," he whispered.

"The pages?" Sprocket repeated, her voice catching in her throat. She knew her guard was dropping, and that she probably looked like an idiot in his eyes, but she had to know. She couldn't bear the pain he was in.

Before got to answer, however, a ghostly white Grim fainted into the burnt soil of the ground. "Grim!" Spy called out, checking his pulse.

"Oh, no," Chill murmured as she knelt to the ground, Flameslinger and Sprocket next to her in an instant. The ice guardian grasped his arm and frantically whipped back toward her friends with horrified eyes. "His body temperature'z dropping like mad!"

Spy desperately turned to Flameslinger. "Flame, warm him up!"

Flameslinger didn't hesitate to reach for his bow and an arrow, but as he made ready to strike it, he flushed madly and his arms went limp. "Flame?!" Sprocket cried, catching him as he slumped forward.

Horrible realization flashed across Spy's features. "Slender sickness," he whispered.

"Slender what?" Sprocket snapped, supporting Flame, who still seemed conscious. She slipped off his blindfold just to make sure, relieved to find his pale, human eyes only half lidded.

"Slender sickness," he repeated, looking at Grim with tears in his eyes. "It acts as a poison to the body. It kills whoever comes in contact with Slender Man slowly and painfully, so that even if they escape him, he still gets to claim them as his meal."

Spy choked then, looking upon the frail form of his best friend. He was so young, so full of life. He couldn't - he couldn't die like this. Not a vegetable due to monster's curse. No, Spy thought as he scooped up Grim' s thin and cold body, he wouldn't. "We have to get them back now."

Sprocket nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. Normally, she would never cry. No; she was too tough for them. However, here were two of her best friends, destined to become vegetables because of some damn monster they were hunting. She called for Hugo to take them back to Skylands, her heart breaking slightly.

The familiar flash brought them back to the Citadel Portal, and once again, Hugo began barking out frantic orders upon their arrival. Terrafin and Grilla Drilla carefully took the limp form of Flameslinger from Sprocket's golden arms, which remained in place, trembling. Chill put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, watching the scene morosely.

Spy watched as Boom Jet and Stealth Elf gently grabbed Grim, whose head flopped back like he had no muscles at all. They carried the frail reaper like he was weightless. Completely weightless. His breath caught in his throat as they disappeared with his best friend.

The entire group was speechless. They didn't know how this could happen to such a lively pair, but now they were all hell-bent on helping them.