It was around here somewhere.
All the facts pointed to it. Ever since they had found out the existence of this new slender they had been doing everything they could to track it, and she had been following their progress adamantly. It wasn't long before patterns had begun to form. Now it was only a matter of knowing what to look for, and its trail became obvious. This new slender obviously wasn't as secretive as the rest, and while this had made it easier to keep tabs on, this hadn't made them any more eager to try and make contact with it, because while they didn't know much about this new slender, they did have its name.
Honestly, that was its name. Almost makes you wonder which slender you would like to meet the least in a dark alley.
All across the country, cases of unexplainable memory loss, lasting between an hour to weeks, accompanied by a wide variety of common ailments that seemed to vary from person to person, with many having vivid nightmares, experienced by people from all walks of life, regardless of race, gender, body type, age (although all the victims seem to have at least hit puberty), marital status, social status, anything.
Same symptom's, same area, until it decides to move on. At which point a new batch of people will begin showing the symptoms. And what's worse, it seemed to be moving out of the forests and towns and into the cities. Oh joy. Now you can experience all the terror of the Slenderman without ever having to get near a tree.
And now, it was in this city that symptoms of the Sexual-Offenderman were showing up, which is why she was wandering the streets alone at night.
Nobody really expected her to find anything, and even she didn't expect that she would find it.
You don't just "find" slenders, the agency had spent the better part of a lifetime figuring that out. No, they have to find you, and that is the absolute last thing you could possibly want to happen to you, except maybe for Splendorman, but they were still questioning whether he actually existed or not.
But it was still a lead, and that was enough to make her try and track it down, regardless of the possible consequences.
She walked along the dark streets alone, hands in her pockets, with one on her phone and the other on a small handgun, kept mostly in case she encounters the regular kind of dangerous felon since it wouldn't do much good against a slender. Her face, while attractive, was blank of expression. Her eyes cold and hard as they occasionally glanced up to observe her surroundings.
She had been wandering the streets like this for the better part of a week, going to progressively more secluded places within the city, alone except for her contact back at the agency, who would call her occasionally to relay news and complain about how dumb of an idea this was.
She felt a small tug in her mind, like someone had called her name, but she didn't hear anything. She stopped and looked around. The street was empty, except for her of course. The hand on the gun in her pocket tightened as she looked left and right, down every dark alley and up at the windows of the buildings around her. Cautiously, she looks behind her as well, still nothing, but when she turns back around she sees a tall man, in a black trench coat and fedora, standing with his hands in his pocket's in the empty road beneath a streetlamp a couple blocks from her. The light casting eerie shadows across the man, who's clothing seemed to absorb the light a little too much, making him seem almost silhouetted against the dark road behind him.
The high collar of his coat and the hat he wore obscured his face from her view, but she could tell he was looking at her. He tips the brim of his hat in greeting, like how she had seen cowboys do in many movies, before turning and walking out of the ring of light cast by the streetlamp, disappearing entirely once he left its glow.
The hand on her gun slackens, and instead she takes out her cell phone, calmly dialing a number and putting it to her ear. It isn't long before a man's voice answers. "Hey, what's up?"
"I found it." She replies in a very serious tone.
"Wait what?! Where are you! What's
But his voice is suddenly cut off by a second of loud static. She looks down at the phone to see the words 'Signal Lost' written across the screen. She turns it off and walks in the direction where she has seen the figure. She reaches where she had seen him disappear and looks around. There's a faint flowery smell in the air, like when you're walking through a garden and the roses are blooming.
She spots him, reclining casually against the wall one building over, looking away from her down the opposite street, like he was expecting someone to come down the street at any minute.
She was astounded at just how non-threatening he seemed to look. Sure he was a little intimidating because of his height, but everything else about him seemed almost, friendly. Everything about his mannerisms seemed to say 'Just some tall guy hanging around in the street at night, nothing to see here.' And yet somehow he still managed to be fascinating to look at. For such a casual pose, he still seemed to show a tremendous amount of grace and strength, calling to mind the male models from magazines but with the height of a basketball player.
He turned his head to look at her. Even expecting this, she was still somewhat startled to see he didn't have a face, just smooth white featureless skin, like if especially fine, polished marble had somehow been turned into skin. But then he looked away, staring back down the street expectantly. Who was he waiting for? She thought to herself, even glancing down in the direction he was looking, but then she understood. He's not waiting for anyone; it's lulling her into a false sense of security. It's trying to get her to come to him. Peak her curiosity enough to approach him.
Sure enough he turns his head to glance at her, but he did it in a way that made HIM seem a little creeped out at her just standing there. Another quick glance down the road and he turned to look at her, pulling one pale white hand out of his pocket and casually beckoning her to come closer with two fingers. When she doesn't approach him, he just shrugs his shoulders and looks back down the street, hand reaching back in the pocket of his trench coat. She actually started to question if this really was the terrible rape monster she had been tracking. If he is, then he's really good at not seeming like one, but then again, that's probably just what it wants her to think.
She approaches him, his blank face turning to look at her as she neared him. He looked down at her, almost like he expected her to say something. When she didn't, it reached into the inner pocket of its trench coat, and pulled out a single, long stemmed, red rose. Taking a moment to inspect it closely, carefully fixing the petals slightly with one hand, he wordlessly offers her the rose.
A quick glance at it and she responds, "No thank you."
"Are you sure?"
she almost jumps at the sound of its voice, not that it sounded particularly scary or anything, quite the opposite, he sounded, charming. She couldn't think of another word for it. Although, at the same time his voice seemed a little, off. Voice a little too deep, tone a little too low, the sounds of the words not quite mixing together like they should, but it was only barely noticeable.
She stares him down and says
"I know what you are."
He looks quizzically while she continues with
"I've been looking for you."
"Really now." In an instant, its body language goes from casual, to terrifying. The skin across his jawline tears apart, ripping in deep bloodless gashes to reveal long pointed teeth as it grins a wide, evil grin that seemed to take up most of its face. "You know what I am?" it asks mockingly, brilliant white tentacles snaking from its back as it seems to grow a few extra feet, going through a quick and smooth change from the form of a man of above average height, to a towering monster, with inhumanly long limbs that seemed to only hint at any kind of skeletal structure, ending in long, sharp looking fingers, all in the time it took to take a few steps towards her.
"Yes." She reply's plainly, surprisingly unfazed by the monster in front of her.
It quirks an eyebrow curiously at her before saying, "You hoping to get some crazy fucking action?" It's broad smile widening further at the thought, its sharp teeth clicking together slightly at it continues with "I love it when my playthings want to get kinky."
"No." she responds forcefully, not changing her blank expression.
"No?" it responds, the smile on its otherwise featureless face faltering for a moment before returning even larger than before as it moves in closer, looming over her menacingly. "Cold feet?"
"No. I just want to talk." Still no real emotion on her face or in her tone of voice.
It leans in closer, its broad, sharp toothed smile inches from her face. "Well I just want to fuck. Seems we're at an impasse." Like liquid darkness it circles around behind her, too fast to properly see, and leaning over to hiss in her ear "But I'm the unstoppable fuck monster, while your just some Slenderman fangirl who managed to track down the real thing."
She scowls at the words 'Slenderman fangirl', and turns around to face him.
"Give me an interview first, then you'll get what you want."
He pauses for a moment, tentacles still coiling and uncoiling in midair slowly, in stark contrast to how utterly still the rest of it was, as it considered her proposal. Its mouth closing and healing over quickly, before splitting open again as he says a cheerful, but still rather menacing "Sure."
His body language and mannerism suddenly becomes considerably less threatening, shrinking down to more normal human proportions, standing at about 6'7 instead of eight or more feet and the brilliant white tentacles retracting into his back.
He sifts around in his black trench coat with one hand, pulling out a black marker, then quick as a flash snatches her with a mix of hands and tentacles, holding up her arm up by the wrist with one hand and pushes down the sleeve with a tentacle, quickly scribbling something across her forearm before immediately pulling her into a playful hug, craning over her like they were doing the tango so they were face to face, instead of having him tower over her, A big cheeky grin on his face as he says "But no take backs! I take my deals seriously." Before letting her go and strolling off into the darkness with a casual wave and a quick "See you tomorrow sexy." before vanishing from view completely.
She stood there dumbstruck for a moment. The whole thing going by so quickly she hadn't really had the time to make sense of it. Did that really just happen? Was it really that easy? She thinks to herself for a moment.
She looks at her forearm where she sees a time and address written in a barely legible chicken scratch across her arm, with a few X's and O's thrown in at the bottom, ending in an x drawn over a circle, the typical Slenderman sign. She didn't recognize the address but that was irrelevant. She now had a time and place she knew a slender would be. She couldn't have asked for better luck.
She quickly hightails it out of there, coming to a street with a few scattered people before pulling out her cell-phone and hitting re-dial , the sound of a worried man's voice answering before the phone had a chance to ring twice.
"Are you ok! Did you really find one?!"
"Yes. I arranged a meeting. I have a time and a place."
you're kidding me."
"I never kid."
"And you're positive it was the real thing? Not some guy in a costume?" excitement and worry building in his voice.
"No human can move like that."
"And it agreed to meet with you, just like that?"
"Yes." she says, pausing for a moment before admitting "it surprised me too."
"Jesus Christ. How the hell did you pull that off?"
. I promised it sex afterwards."
"They weren't kidding when they said this things name was Sexual-Offenderman were they."
"No. they weren't."
"Well, hopefully it won't come to that. Alright, hold on, I have to spread the word around. How much time do we have?"
"One day. Here." She takes a picture of the writing on her arm with her phone and sends it to him.
"Got it. Stay in touch. And be careful."
She hangs up, and quickly makes her way back to her hotel room, getting out her laptop before calling again.
"You contacted the first response team yet?"
"Yes, and I looked up that address you gave me. We have a problem."
"What is it?"
"The address is for a small café in the heart of the city. It's closed for a few days while the owner is off at his daughters wedding, but that's actually the good news, the bad news is just how incredibly public this place is. Even at night, or should I say, ESPECIALLY at night, that area will be swarming with people and cars. It will be a nightmare to try and close off the area without drawing attention to ourselves, let alone get a bunch of heavily armed men scattered around."
"I thought they were supposed to be able to go wherever they're needed the moment we get a chance to capture or kill a slender?"
"They can, doesn't mean it isn't incredibly difficult though. But the real issue is them deciding whether or not to believe you."
Her tone hardens" I joined this agency so that people would finally START believing me."
"Look, I'm here to give you the strait facts and that's what I'm going to do. Your one of the few people who have actually met the Slenderman who isn't dead, but the thing is, meeting the Slenderman almost always makes people go insane. And you're a paranoid enough wreck as it is."
"I don't care if they question my sanity, as long as they get a team to that café. I'll check back soon."
"Okay, over and out
. Man I've always wanted to say that."
She hangs up and gets to work writing down a description of the event in detail to send to the agency as soon as possible, a common practice that was encouraged by the agency due to the treat of memory loss caused by the slenders. She works quickly, trying to get every detail of how he moved, spoke, where she saw him, what she was doing earlier that day, everything, managing to get the report done in just under an hour before sending multiple copies to different addresses on the internet. It was about two in the morning when she finished and looked around for a place to get some rest. Forsaking her hotel bed, she instead looks for somewhere more public to sleep, where there would always be people around while she slept. Her first option was the bus, full of people, always moving, relatively cheap, and much better than the subway, she had a very bad experience with the subway.
But she was unable to find a time and a route that suited her purposes, so she left the hotel and walked the streets in search for a good spot, but the only things that were open within walking distance were nightclubs and fast food restaurants, her previous experience, along with general common sense, letting her know that neither were good places to get some shut eye. She would have to wait until morning, when she could sleep in the hotel lobby, or on a bench at the mall. And since she wasn't going to be getting any sleep anyway, she figured she might as well go somewhere where sleep was almost impossible.
She sits alone at the bar of the biggest nightclub she could find, full of loud music, flashing lights, and dancing people. He holds a half empty bottle of Pepsi in one hand (no way was she drinking any alcohol) while she propped her head up with the other, staring at the pattern of the tabletop in front of her. Shifting her position, she looks up to glance at the people around her, only to see Sexual-Offenderman, human sized and sitting on the barstool next to her, leaning on the bar and lazily tracing a finger around the edge of an empty martini glass, looking at her with a slight smirk on his otherwise blank face.
"So, you're a secret government fangirl. I like it."
She wakes up in her bed like she was waking up from a terrible nightmare, siting strait up as the shock and surprise of seeing him there in the nightclub washed over her like it had just now happened. She takes a few deep breaths, taking in her surroundings. This was her hotel room. That's not right.
She leaps out of bed and grabs the nearby digital alarm clock. It read 9am of the next day, so if she did have memory loss it was minimal. She fights the thought that it may have all been a dream, having learnt long ago how dangerous it can be to start questioning herself with these sorts of things. Instead she tries to go through a mental checklist. She checked her clothes. They were the same ones she wore yesterday. Not right. She always changes her clothes before she goes to sleep, wearing something akin to pajamas, but not out of the ordinary enough to cause any suspicion in case she has to leave in a hurry. She doesn't feel hurt or anything, but she still checks for any injury's she didn't have before. Nothing new, but the message it had written across her arm was still there. Wait, rose petals, whenever a missing person's case or the like comes in one of the main clues pointing to Sexual-Offendermans involvement was rose petals. She tears the sheets from her bed, opens the closet doors, and scours every inch of the small hotel room for flower petals of any kind, even doing a quick spot check in the hallway outside her room for good measure, nothing.
She pulls out her cell phone and places it on the bed as she quickly works to pack a small back pack with her laptop, a new change of clothes, and the complementary soaps, shampoos, etc. provided by the hotel. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she picks up her phone and calls the agency as she leaves the room, heading down to the hotel lobby. The moment the phone is answered she says
"It knows that I work for the government, but it seems like it will still be attending our previous engagement."
A different voice answers this time, saying in a very professional sounding voice. "Can you give me a description of your encounter?" but in the background she can hear arguing and the muffled words "I don't care about the god damn constant vigilance shit! It's my legal right to be able to use the bathroom! But I'm here now so fuck off!" And the sound of a headset being adjusted before the regular guys voice comes in "alright, tell me everything."
"I just woke up in my own bed."
"Right after a slender encounter? You? That can't be right."
"Well do you have any other evidence to convince the big wigs?"
There's a small pause before he asked "You weren't raped were you?"
"I don't think so. But I have a six hour black hole in my memory, so I can't rule out the possibility."
She reaches the hotel lobby, setting down her backpack and taking out the laptop. Shifting her phone to her shoulder as she begins to type.
"I'm beginning my report now."
"Send me the cliff notes version." He waits for a minute as she types it out and sends it to him.
"Alright got it." He says over the phone. "Wait, you met him in a nightclub?"
"It's obvious that this one isn't as prone to secrecy as the Slenderman." She answers.
"Well, we're pretty sure the Slenderman has had his fair share of party's as well" he says jokingly. "Are these his exact words?"
"Jeeze, this thing is starting to sound less like a sex crazed boogieman and more like a comedy relief character from a sitcom."
She really appreciated it how he would try to lighten the mood whenever he could, even though he wasn't particularly good at it.
"It seems that it was following me around for a good time after I left the alley. I can only assume it's still listening as we speak."
"We'll just have to risk it for now, but point taken. I'll try and be a bit more vague."
"So, what do I need to know?"
"Well, the military jerks are trying to replace you for the interview."
"We both know that's not an option."
"Yeah, but the bureaucrat bastards still want to waste time talking about it anyway. Although a couple of them are trying to prepare a list of questions for you, I'm supposed to give you a copy to memorize in a few hours, but my advice is, don't use it. Half these questions sound like they could get you killed on the spot, what with you being a massive shut in with no people skills and everything."
She didn't try to scold him for it, he was just being honest. He continues,
"My advice is to just keep it talking, about anything whatsoever. If you sit there for hours, listening to how much it fucking loves rainbows, it will still have been worth it. We could still use it against them. They're also going to try and send you in with recording equipment. It probably won't fucking work since recording equipment never works with these guys, but they're going to try it out anyway, see if they can overcome the distortion somehow. Also I'm making sure to get a constant monitor for your gps tracking chips. You disappear again and we'll know about it. I'll keep you posted if anything else comes up. You keep getting ready and do your thing. And try not to get too paranoid, as impossible as that is."
"I've dealt with worse." She says coldly.
She finishers her report and heads down to the locker rooms for the hotels pool to shower, as it was more public, full of people, and therefore safer than her hotel bathroom. As the rest of the day goes by she stays in the hotel lobby, moving to a nearby restaurant when the population in the lobby dwindled, until as the moment for the interview grew close, she tried to make herself seem presentable and then was picked up by a taxi cab that was secretly manned by people from the agency, who briefed her and outfitted her with the various pieces of hidden recording equipment, before dropping her off in front of the café and driving off.
The building was dark, with wire mesh blinds pulled over the windows to stop people from breaking in. she looks in the window, but it's too dark to see, so she tries to open the door, its unlocked. She pushes the door open a crack and the light flickers on, illuminating the small café, but it seems empty. Calmly she sits in a booth by the window. The light flickers again, and suddenly she's sitting on the lap of Sexual Offenderman, having spontaneously appeared beneath her in the booth. His arms wrapped around her like they were sweethearts and a big grin on his face.
She pushes herself out of his arms and angrily take's the seat across from him in the booth.
"Not really a foreplay kind of gal are you?" his tone sounding cocky and self-assured.
"I don't like surprises." She takes a long look at him before asking "should we get started then?"
"The sooner we can get to the sex you promised the better. So shoot" he says while leaning back in the booth and resting his hands behind his head. Tipping his fedora over his face slightly so that it hid the patch of blank space where his eyes would have been.
"I have to admit, you aren't at all what I expected." She thinks aloud as she took a small notepad out of her pocket and placed it on the table.
"Well if you want I CAN TALK LIKE THIS" its voice becoming monstrous as the lights start flickering and white tentacles snake from his back. He takes off his hat, placing it on the table as broad unquestionably evil grin rips across his face and he rise's to his feet, limbs extending to inhuman sizes as the pale white hands on the table become more claw like and he leans over until his face is inches from the her own,
"You did say that you hated surprises, wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." It says mockingly, its mouth not moving to the words, just keeping that wide grin.
Once again, she surprisingly seems unfazed.
"The other way is fine." She says plainly.
He sits down, returning to a more human scale and picking his fedora up off the table. Putting it on as he leans back in his chair casually, and resting his hands behind his head before saying suggestively "I can be whatever you want me to be baby. Pick a length."
"Although the pick-up line was expected." She says more to herself than anyone.
"Hey, I still gotta be me."
She eyes the few stray rose petals that had fallen off him onto the table, hiding her fear well and saying politely "Of course if there is a form your more comfortable in then
" but as her eyes glance up she sees him sitting there naked except for his boots and hat, his black trench coat draped over the seat beside him. "Keep your coat on"
"Party pooper." He responds with a smirk, standing up, With her pointedly averting her eyes as he did so, although she couldn't help catching a glimpse of what looked like a third leg, and putting the long black coat back over his shoulders and tying it around his waist before sitting down again, leaning over the table a little further than he probably should and resting his head in his hands to look up at her with a smirk, just close enough to make her uncomfortable but not quite enough to really intrude on her personal boundaries.
"So" he continues "what's gotten you so interested in little old me? Since I'm starting to think that there's a tiny, infinitesimally small little chance you didn't come find me for the sex."
She stares at him blankly for a moment. "It's my job."
so its personal." he says in a gossipy, teasing sort of voice.
"I just told you that it wasn't."
"And I'm telling YOU that you're lying, so spill."
She gives him a hard look. "I would rather not."
"Come on, I can keep a secret."
After a moment's awkward silence, she responds stiffly. "You're asking me to tell you the single most painful thing I could ever have to say to anyone. What has made my life a terrifying hell, and stir up all the memory's that make sitting next to you, and listening to what you have to say with as little bias as possible, very, very difficult."
She stares him down, her expression hard and unforgiving. He didn't like it.
"If I tell you, then you have to promise to be honest with me. I can accept that there might be some things you can't tell me, I'm not so unrealistic as to expect you to give me all if your secrets, just like I can't tell you all of mine, but you can never lie to me."
"This is about him isn't it?" he asks, his mouth having been closed long enough for the skin to heal back over it, leaving his face blank of expression. She doesn't respond, just holds her gaze with him. His face splits back open into a broad smile
"let me hear it."
She averts her gaze, body relaxing into the booth morosely as she looks down at the floor beside her. Arms held against her like someone who was scared and cold, but wasn't quite willing to show it, and began to speak, her voice hard and monotone, like she were trying to distance herself from her past enough to tell the story
"I had a husband, and three kids. We had a great house that bordered a forest, although I wasn't able to enjoy it very often since the company I worked for had me travel around the country almost every month. I was on a business trip when I heard that my family had vanished, and that the authorities suspected foul play. I went home immediately, hoping that I might find something the police had missed. Instead I saw him, standing there, waiting for me. I got back in my car and I left. I didn't know what it was precisely that I had seen, but my husband had told me many times about a nightmare he had since he was a kid, about a tall faceless man in a black suit that was coming to take him away, and I was too terrified and miserable to question if he was real until I had spent over an hour driving away and the sun had set completely.
I thought that maybe the loss of my family was making me see things, that somehow it had reminded me of my husband's nightmares and made me panic, so I pulled into a gas station, bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, even though I hadn't smoked in years, and tried to calm myself down, but he was there, just outside where the light reached from the gas station. Standing there, his arms open, beckoning me to come to him.
Instead, I grabbed one of the gas pumps and let it pour all over the asphalt, the fumes made it harder to hear him, and I was able to remember why I was pouring gasoline all over the ground, I was mad, I wanted to burn everything around me to the ground, so I knocked over the firewood stacked by the door to the station and started throwing the blocks of wood into the puddle of gasoline.
He put his arms down, he stopped calling me and I shouted and blamed him for everything, but that got the attention of the man behind the counter.
He ran out and tried to stop me; he froze when he saw the lighter in my hand.
I shouted if he was going to take this greasy idiot too or if it was just my life he was going to destroy. The gas station man ran, he had good reason too, he would have died if he had stayed, I would have killed him. But when I looked back for the tall man in the suit, he was gone.
I burned down the gas station anyway as I drove off. But he kept following me, so I kept running. I started to live on the buses, the mall's, and in the cities, because I had learned that he wouldn't try and take me when there were enough people around me.
I might see him, but he wouldn't try anything, and I in turn tried to give him every reason to leave me alone. Eventually he seemed to grow spiteful of me for being so difficult. It became less about trying to take me so much as trying to make me beg for him to take me.
I made it very clear that I would never ask him for something I can do myself so easily, so he took that option out of my hands.
I was discovered by the authorities as the crazy woman who had burned down a gas station, starting a huge forest fire that had spread through miles of wilderness before finally being extinguished, and was sent to a padded room to rot, the doctors mentioning me committing all sorts of acts I couldn't remember ever doing.
He visited me almost every day, and would stay, making me sick with his presence until I would pass out. I would try to sleep through it sometimes, and that was the only time he touched me. He would kneel down, grab my face, and make me look at him
And I would beg him over and over to just kill me and get it over with, that he had made his point and I was too weak to do the deed myself.
But he didn't, so I tried to do the next best thing. I tried to break my own mind. The next time he came, I laughed at him, I got on my feet and mocked him, and I laughed as he twisted my stomach in knots and made blood drip out my nose and ears.
I complained that he wasn't letting me do unspeakable things to the doctors and nurses, I complained that everything wasn't on fire like it was supposed to be, I said every crazy psycho thing I could think of; and he stopped coming.
I kept up the ruse for the next week, probably more, I can't say exactly. I would attack the nurses and doctors, I would shout at them about the Slenderman, although I didn't know to call him that until later. I played the sadistic psycho, and I must have been very convincing, because they hopped me up on so many drugs I couldn't even see strait. Until one day, I got a visitor.
It was a man, dressed in regular street clothes, who asked me to tell him everything I knew about the Slenderman. I quit the ruse, and explained everything, including how I was faking my own insanity to the man. For the first time, I had someone actually believe me, that's an incredible feeling. Moreover he told me that I was going to be out of there as soon as possible.
The next day, under the ruse of being transferred to a new asylum, I had my death faked, and instead I became a part of a secret agency started by the German's in world war two to learn everything we can about the slenders and deal with your kind however we can. Mostly it just means manipulating the media enough so that people are aware of slenders, but still question their existence. We've pretty much given up on accomplishing anything else "
She looks up at sexual ofenderman, who was still leaning over the table and looking up at her, but now HE looked dumbstruck.
KIDDING ME! You actually got away? But you don't seem marked."
"Great to know those fifty or so chemical baths I took paid off." She says feebly, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She looks exhausted, like telling the story had taken a lot out of her.
He shifts his head to one hand, the other resting on the table, as he looked at her for a moment, as if he was searching for the right words to say in this sort of situation. He eventually settles on
"You reeeeeeally need to get laid."
"Is it too much to ask that we keep things professional?" she thinks aloud as she rubs her eyes in frustration and to wipe away the tears that had threatened to accumulate
"Come on gorgeous, there's no need to act all professional around me." His voice sounding less cocksure and more empathetic now, like he was trying to comfort her.
"Encouraging you is the last thing I want to do." Her tone hard and laced with hate.
"Hey, I'm gonna be one horny mother fucker no matter what you do. The question is, how much fun are you willing to have with it?" his attitude coming back as fast as it had left.
"Let's just get on with the interview."
"I'm all yours tonight babes, ask away." He says while leaning back into his seat.
She thinks for a moment, figuring it would be best if she tried to verify some of the agency's information on the creature first, starting with "What's your name?"
"Sexual-Offenderman." He says without hesitation, and with a hint of pride.
"Do you have any other names?"
"How about sexy fuck-beast?"
"So it's just Sexual-Offenderman then." She says while writing down in the small notebook on the table.
"Well hold on, I never said that."
She looks up at him, pausing in her note taking for a moment as he continued
"You can call me Smexy if you want."
"You know, cause of all the smex. It's a nickname some girl I know came up with that I'm starting to like. I mean, it's not like my name really rolls off the tongue that well does it?"
She jots down something and asks
"Is there anything you want besides sex?"
"Does it count if it has to do with sex?"
"I suppose not."
" he strokes his chin thoughtfully, then suddenly raises his hand as if he were about to say something, then decides against it with a "No, that's no fun unless you do it naked. Hmmmmm
" with a snap of his fingers and sudden realization he answers "I want a theme song."
"You know, some song that when you listen to it, you can immediately go "Yeah, that's his song alright." It doesn't need to have words to it; I just want something that I can hum. After all Slendys got like twenty of his own songs, why can't I get one?"
Is there anything else you want?"
"Why? You looking to make another deal?"
"It's more for future reference."
so you're looking for some cure all way to deal with me once I escape from this sorry little trap you people have put for me?"
He smirks. "Well I did say I was gonna be honest with you, so honestly, it depends on the kind of day I'm having. Some days I just want a piece of cake and a hug, other days I feel like keeping twenty people chained up in a basement while I have my way with them"
A slight look of worry flickers across her face, but she quickly switches back to a more neutral expression as he continues,
"But I'm a reasonable fun loving guy, (most of the time.) I'm pretty much good with whatever."
"So is that why you agreed to this interview? You didn't have anything better to do?"
"Now you're getting it."
He looks over at the menu above the counter thoughtfully, Saying "all this talk of cake is giving me cravings. Wonder what kinds of deserts this place has."
"Why did you choose to meet here?" she asks, snapping him out of his train of thought as she continues.
"Do you really think it's wise, meeting in such a public place like this?"
He sits up in his seat. "Well I don't know about you, but I'M on my way to a costume contest." And he continues sarcastically "I spent so much time on it, I just know I'll win first prize for my Slenderman costume."
"Wait, so are you saying that you pretend to be slenderman? You don't have any problem with that?"
"Babes if you still have to question whether or not I would do something then you really need to get with the program."
"Why not? He is the famous one? And on top of that, you know how easy it is to put on a suit and hit the town? All you have to do is say "I'm wearing a Slenderman costume" and you can go wherever you feel like in plain sight. And just for laughs? There's always the option of actually going to the costume contests. All those scantily clad cosplayers all looking to get a piece of the Slenderman?" He gives off a disturbing, inhuman chuckle.
"He might get all the fame, but I get the benefits. Like this one time, there was a guy in a Wookie costume
"but she cuts him off with
"I don't need the details."
He looks disappointed at not being able to tell his story, but lets her continue with the questions.
"What do you think was your biggest influence?"
His face breaks into a broad smile at the question, saying "Gotta love the Japanese. Not even I'm that creative when it comes to what you can do with all these tentacles of mine."
She quickly changes the subject
"How long have you been around? We know Slenderman is at least a century old."
"I'm not nearly as ancient as that old fart Slendy, but I've been around a few years."
"How many years?
"So how did you, happen?"
"HA H HA HA!!!! This is why I love you people. Sitting across from an honest to fuck monster, and still the biggest thing on your mind is the birds and the bee's.
Well here's the facts as yours truly understands them. Course I could be wrong, I mean it's not like any of my brothers are too keen to be in my company. But from what I can gather Slenderman can turn half dead people into Slenders."
She starts jotting down notes like her life depended on it.
"So I figure this is how it plays out. He finally starts getting lonely or sick of his lot in life and decides to make a brother, but let's just say things didn't turn out quite the way he wanted. In other words, he made Splendorman.
HAH! Of all the things that could have gone wrong, he had to end up with a cheerful, happy go lucky clown of a slender.
But he must have tried to give the weirdo a chance, since Splendy always so chummy with the guy whenever I saw them together, and Slender certainly tolerates the guy more than he does the rest of us, so they must have spent some time together. Although I'm positive that Slenderman still tried to kill him at one point or another, but he failed. Turns out Splendorman can get these, episodes. Never seen it myself, but if it's bad enough to make the big bad boogieman in the woods leave Splendy alone, then it must be one hell of a psychotic episode.
So since his first try was such a hilarious failure, he went and tried again, but that only made Trender, so he stopped making slenders after that. You know who those guys are right? Being the secret government agency supposed to keep track of us."
"We know of Splendorman, but not this, "Trender" you speak of. But I'm curious. If the Slenderman only made two other Slenders, then how.."
"How am I here?" He butts in, "Easy. I was made by Splendorman."
"Wait, Splendorman? Made you?"
"Shocking isn't it? Funny how that works out. Besides Slendy himself, Splendorman is the only brother who knows how to make more slenders. And man, did he make a bunch of slenders, gave them all these ridiculous names too, although im really not one to talk am I?" he says with a smirk "But I think my favorite had to be Suspenderman."
"Because he wore suspenders?"
"Exactly. Course Slendy wouldn't have any of that. He killed most of those clowns Splendy made.
Not sure if he liked having all these new slenders to kill, but he never seemed to make an effort to stop him from making more so I have to assume so, but when splendy made me, well
He really didn't make any new Slenders after that." An evil smile splitting back over his face.
She takes a moment to let it all sink in, finishing up her notes and considering this new information. "So is that why you're so obsessed with roses?" she asks carefully.
"You tell me." He says with a shrug "Although I have been known to dump bags of glitter on people. That's all Splendy genetics right there."
"So if Splendorman made you, why do you keep calling all the other slenders "brother?""
"It's always either brother or sister with slenders, and though I guess you could technically think of me as Slendermans grandson, it's just not a word any of us ever use. But there are some grey areas."
"So it sounds like you don't get along with the other slenders very well."
"Gee, what gave you that idea?"
"You're less than subtle sarcasm for one"
"I knew you were a feisty one beneath all that mental trauma. I keep this up you might even smile, doubt it though. Well, during the interview at least. We'll see about afterwards."
He was right; she was starting to loosen up around him. She was almost glad he pointed it out, and she tried to steel herself. "Encouraging you is the last thing I want to do." She repeats, but this time in a less convincing tone.
"And I'm still gonna be one horny mother fucker no matter what you do." He leans in slightly so they're more face to face, his broad smile seeming oddly humorless, and more threatening than she had seen so far. "and either you can decide to enjoy it," his smile becoming more sadistic and excited "or I can make you."
She feels a tentacle stroke along her thigh, and she twitches like a cat thrown in a bathtub full of water, reflexively jumping onto the booth and as far away from his touch as she could in a single movement in a surprising display of agility and reflexes, ending up perched in the corner where the booth met window, though she didn't scream or make much of a noise as she did so.
She watches as the single white tentacle retracts into Sexual-Offenderman's back, and see's a wide, suggestive smile plastered across his face, his teeth now slick with clear black saliva, making the otherwise white teeth of his smile seem to stick out especially against his face. "That's one hell of a nervous twitch you got there. I like it."
She stares daggers into him, but he just smiles even broader as more tentacles start to snake from his back.
"I wonder how mad Slendy will be when he finds out I fucked one of his targets." He says, rising to his feet to tower over her.
"I still have questions to ask." She says forcefully, at the same time backing further into the corner
"You can ask them later." Its voice sounding more monstrous now as the tentacles lengthen on his back, and his mouth starts to open, long black pointed tongue coated in saliva started to snake from his mouth, when suddenly there was a loud "BANG!"
And in a bur of movement too fast for her to comprehend, she finds herself suddenly standing on the other side of the room, one of his hands grasped firmly on her shoulder as he stood beside her, looking at the booth where they had been sitting barely a fraction of a second before, and breathing heavily. She could see waves of cracked glass coming from a bullet hole in the window, which followed a trajectory that took it through the middle of the table and into the floor, a warning shot from one of the snipers.
She looks back up at him. He stops his panting and looks down at her, smiling a cheeky grin and saying
"You were saying?" he says cheerfully.
She walks back to the booth calmly and takes a seat, he follows her lead, sitting down casually, and turning to look out the window, a creepy grin on his face that seemed to say 'I know where you are.' Before turning back to the woman across from him, his smile now seeming happy and good natured.
"I should do this sort of thing more often." He says happily. She on the other hand, is nearing the end of her rope.
"Really?! well I'm glad you're having a good time!" she snaps back at him, but then she sighs and rubs her temples. Trying to calm herself down. "Just stay on your side of the table okay?"
"I can't promise anything" he says jokingly, but she immediately shoots a positively murderous look at him.
"Don't fucking touch me."
She bury's her face in her hands and sighs heavily. "I need a minute."
He looks at her for a moment, a slight hint of concern on his face, which turns into a smirk as he reply's "Sure."
After rubbing her eyes and taking a few more deep breaths, she starts writing down in her notepad while Sexual-Offenderman leans over onto the table, folding his arms over it and resting his chin on the table, although with him being so tall this meant he took up about three fourths of the table's width. Although rather than scolding him for it she instead scooted to the next seat over and continued writing.
He watched her write for a while but seemed to quickly get bored of it. Scanning his surroundings he noticed a sugar dispenser at the end of the table, like that was used for tea or coffee. He reached out and grabbed the sugar, pushing himself off of the table with his other hand and leaning back in his chair, tilting his head back and tearing his mouth open, before lazily starting to pour sugar into his gaping maw, and pour, and pour, and pour.
She looks up at him and finds her train of thought petering out as she watched him lounge there pouring sugar in his mouth. It just seemed so comical and bizarre somehow. He glances at her staring, and puts down the sugar dispenser, shifting the sugar around in his mouth with his tongue for a moment before letting it seal shut as he says sarcastically "Please, don't stop on my account. I'm sure whatever it was you were doing was VERY important." His attention shifting back to the sugar dispenser as he worked to twist off the cap.
"Do you always eat this much sugar?"
"Don't worry" he says as he takes the cap off the dispenser "I'll burn it all off with all the wild sex I'll be giving you." And then he tore open his mouth, tilted his head back, and dumped the entire thing into it, leaving a large pile of sugar held precariously in his mouth, lips healing shut as he carefully closed his mouth around the pile of sugar.
"You didn't answer my question."
He looks at her quizzically, with that weird expression of having an eyebrow raised, even though he didn't have eyebrows as his mouth was still healing shut. Once closed he tilts his head back down and replies
"Why do you want to know so bad? You trying to set up a Fatterman joke or something? Oh, wait, of course not. You don't have a sense of humor. My bad."
He was actually starting to sound a little hurt and defensive, although she couldn't quite understand why, so she decided to just keep talking
"I'm just curious. There seems like there might have been more too it."
"Oooo, is this one of those psychoanalytical things? " he lean's in over the table, putting his elbows on it and holding his head in his hands, his cheerful demeanor seeming to return.
"Well don't leave me hanging."
"I'm not sure if I should."
"Hey, you already called me fat, I'm sure I can handle whatever other nasty things you have to say about me." He teases
"I didn't call you fat." She says forcefully
"You're not answering my question" he mocks
"You never asked me a question."
"Come on, enough pussyfooting. Freud me up. Pick me apart and read me like a book. Put some method in my madness and mind-fuck me up and down the corridors of my subconscious."
"You know that's really not helping any."
"Well its making me feel better."
"Wow. You're so tolerant and understanding. Would it kill you to be a bit more pig headed?"
"Compared to most people you've got all the attitude of a piece of limp spaghetti. Sure it's funny to watch you try to keep your cool, but you're not giving me the chance to use my innuendos and one liners. Heck, you've even got me calling them innuendos."
Wow, her associate over the phone was right. This guy really did sound like a comedy relief character from a tv show. She thinks to herself before answering with
"You're talking to a person who's family was murdered by your "Brother" and then spent over a year going through hell trying to escape him, was almost raped by YOU, and is still probably going to get raped, by you. You're just going to have to deal with what you get. "
"That's better! Now on with the interview! Ask me something that is both shocking and distasteful!"
She thinks for a moment before asking
"Do you go after kids?"
. Huh. Not what I had in mind, but I'll take it." He leans back smugly and continues. "How about I let you in on a little secret. First to answer your question; no, my dear big brother Slendy won't let me. Apparently he happened to meet some kid I spent the night with, and didn't like the idea that his food could be more afraid of me than it is of him. Plus, he has this thing for the whole 'childish innocence' crap. So yeah, no ankle biters for me."
He leans in closer, a hint on menace in his body language "but you know, there are other ways to get rid of that "innocence" he likes so much besides fucking them silly."
He leans in even closer, unnerving smile splitting across his face
"Imagine how surprised he would be when a six year old pulls a knife on him and try's to burn down his forest. Just something to consider."
He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and looking away in hatred "that lousy hypocrite, thinking he's better me. At least I mostly leave them alive."
"You really don't like him either do you?"
"I thought we already made that clear."
"Do you want to help me, us, kill him?"
If he had been drinking something he would have spit it out all over the place in shock and alarm.
"What?! I mean, uhhh
"I'm sorry. Never mind." She says quickly, immediately trying to change the subject to the first thing that came to mind.
"So about this whole rose thing. How does that work?"
His breathing slows as he calms down.
"What was that? Roses? Alright. Fuck, you shouldn't just drop a bombshell like "let's kill the Slenderman on a guy like that. Right, roses." He pats down his trench coat like someone looking for their keys
"So, what's your favorite color?"
"Umm.. blue." She responds, only half listening. It was so weird seeing he flustered like this. Was he terrified of Slenderman as well? Her mind raced trying to comprehend why he had reacted like that.
He reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a single, long stemmed rose with vibrant blue petals, more beautiful than any rose you would have seen in a store, or even in a magazine. It almost seemed to defy description with its beauty. And hands it over to her with the words "Simple as that."
"Wow, it's beautiful." She says, forgetting herself for a moment as she took the rose and inspected it. It didn't seem dyed at all, it's as if blue was the roses natural color.
An evil smile forms across Sexual-Offendermans face as she realizes her grievous error with an "Oh shit!" as he leaps over the table and tackles her to the ground, numerous long white tentacles sprouting from his back in mid leap, the both of them disappearing before the numerous bullets pierce through the restaurant, ripping it apart, as he suddenly reappears on a nearby rooftop behind two snipers, the woman wrapped in his tentacles and held in midair behind him as he quickly grabs one of the men and pulls him into a passionate kiss, the man screaming into his mouth as sexual offender man's long tongue scraped the inside of his mouth while tentacles shoot out at the other terrified sniper, grabbing his gun and breaking it in half as he gets wrapped up in the bright white tentacles, one wrapping around his mouth to stifle the man's screams as the four of them vanish again, reappearing next to another group of gunmen only long enough for his tentacles to snatch another screaming gunman while his buddies shot at the thin air where the giant smiling monster had been barely a moment before, causing pandemonium throughout the area as the commanding officer, who had been watching from street level in an alleyway shouted into his walkie talkie, trying to maintain some kid of order, when a disturbing shadow that almost seemed to be made of snakes was suddenly cast over him, making him immediately turn around to see the terrifying form of Sexual-Offenderman, made of inhumanly long limbs that made him tower over the officer despite the fact that he was hunched over. broad, demonic grin, slick with black saliva, and his captured victims thrashing and trying to scream as they were held in numerous white tentacles above him.
Terrified, the officer drops the walkie talkie, eyes wide with sheer terror at the sight, while Sexual Offenderman reaches into a pocket of his trench coat, pulling out the woman's note pad and tossing it at the officers feet, then jokingly gives one of those small, two fingered salutes, before vanishing with his captives, leaving the man standing there, frozen in terror, staring at where the giant monster had been only moments ago.
His eyes glance down at the small notepad. Hands shaking, he kneels and picks it up, quickly scanning the pages of notes she had written, until he came to the last page, this one written in a barely legible chicken scratch with a marker that said
"I'll consider it."