Friday, June 3, 2011

Well. It took longer than expected to get dear Seven to cough up the password to the blog, but I've got my ways. He'll be hurting for a while, but progress is progress.

It was too easy. He keeps a blog detailing his movements, lists his kills, and then over something as trivial as a mention that Jersey could use some help, off he goes, blowing the rest of his money on a first class ticket back home to NC.

The latter details, of course, were never posted here, but some basic detective work and a bit of torture got  that info out well enough.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Seven has been a fool. He fancied himself some sort of avenger, even if he was unwilling to claim a formal title in writing. Driven by grief and anger [which I say was little more than your everyday insanity] he embraced the life of a murderer, killing my kind for the "greater good" or whatever justice he was after.

He dared to dream that he could even go as far as to cut down the Tree.

Pride comes before the fall, children. Don't worry; I'll take good care of dear Seven.

He is, after all, still useful. Until I get ever last bit of information out of that pretty little brain of his, he'll be allowed to live. Terrible pain... but life.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Nothing yet. No requests, no tips, no "go here to meet your doom"s.
Waiting is shit. Even the proxies don't want to keep me company anymore.

Friday, May 20, 2011


Is this really what we're reduced to, once He enters our lives? Killing, running, lashing out at anyone who tries to help; simply by being around those who are free from his grip we just endanger their lives.

Some little girl got killed just to strike out at Zero. An innocent in every sense of the word, booted rather abrubtly from this mortal coil just because some psychotic bitch wanted to hurt one of us. Us. That's a weird word right now...

Is there really an us, an Us? Sure, for the most part we're all fighting Him, but do we really have any allies? The last person who offered me help is now running around senselessly murdering people. Have we really fallen so far, that all we can do is kill and run? Seems like Zero's taking out those He has affected, part of some ploy to build a weapon... a tool? Meanwhile, dear Glassy has gone off the fucking deep end, and seems to be hunting down Zero, and anyone who so much as looks up to the guy.

And I... I don't even know anymore. I've only killed His, because they keep coming day and night, but at this point I don't see the line in the sand. How far of a step is it between killing one of them, and one of Us who marks me as an enemy? They all bleed the same.

I don't know the answer. I'm not even searching for it anymore. Maybe we're not supposed to kill the Slender Man. Maybe we're supposed to just mindfuck him out of existence by stopping to believe. Maybe if everyone who knows of Him dies, then he too shall vanish. Fuck, maybe if someone beats him in a game of chess he'll go off to sulk for a few centuries.

I don't fucking know. I don't really care. I don't have an Answer, but I've got a Path. I'll keep walking. I'll help when I can. If someone gets in the way, they'll be pushed aside. Failing that... they'll just be cut down. I've been wandering around SoCal lately, looking for a sign for where to go next. East seems obvious, but where is the mystery.

Someone send me a comment, an email, whatever. [My email is of course by the way] If you need help, I'll see what I can do. If you've got a tip, a destination, same deal.

In the meantime... I'll see what I can do to cut down on His influence on the area. See if I can dye the ground a nice shade of red for a bit... I don't have some fancy title. I'm no Warrior, or whatever. But as far as I'm concerned, this sword is Ex-fucking-calibur. That's really all I need.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

how long has it been? doesn't really matter I suppose.

not to sound whiny, but at this point nothing fucking matters.

it's gotten so easy, killing. a step to the side, an easy dodge, and the a jet of blood bursts into the air. it's like they're not even trying anymore.

and why should they? they got what they came for. took her away in a moment of carelessness. if that was their mission then it's no wonder the useless fucks can't manage to keep themselves alive. they've got nothing else to live for with the job complete.

so I'll do them a favor.

I'll keep hunting, drawing them out, cutting them down.





they'll all bleed.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

One more body lies upon the ground. They keep coming like cannon fodder, not caring if I was forced to take one of their allies in the nights before. I've killed twice now, and... I can't bring myself to regret doing it. I could have ran, but I didn't. Someone lost their life by my hand, and I don't really feel bad over it.

I'm changing, but for good or bad I can't tell.


I'm sticking around this town for a little while longer. I found someone; another Runner. She looks so scared, another person left adrift in a world of lies. If not for the fresh scarring of an operator symbol carved into her shoulder, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. My senses for spotting other Runners aren't that in tune, or so it seems.

I have to wonder, what goes on in someone's mind to bring them to the point of actually cutting that... thing... into their own flesh?

Monday, May 2, 2011

Another night, another attack.
I got away without a fight this time, but some part of me... just wanted to tear them apart.
What's happening to me?

Friday, April 29, 2011

I stopped to sleep at a small shelter just off the beach. Not like... a homeless shelter, so much as an open area with a roof. More of a shelter from the weather than from anything else. Not really enclosed, but like I said, I've felt safe since I found that blade.

I wasn't asleep for too long, but... fuck, they came out of nowhere. Three men with long coats, each carrying a blunt instrument of some kind; I saw a wooden bat and an iron pipe, I think the third might have had a hammer or something. Muggers I could have understood, but those fucking masks...

Thought I was safe from Him, but apparently not His.

Everything after that... it's a blur. The broken blade I was wearing under my shirt seemed to burn white-hot as they approached, almost begging to be set loose. I... I think I killed one of them. Everything happened so fast, one moment they were closing in and I was racing to get my stuff together and the next... hilt-deep in the chest of the man with the bat. I don't even remember moving, but at that range... looking over his shoulder, I could see the broken blade protruding from his back, already stained a deep crimson.

The sound of breath rattling through a ruined lung.. I don't think I'll ever be lucky enough to forget it. I tore the blade free and started running. I've never been good for endurance running so much as sprinting, but I swear I couldn't slow down until I'd covered what felt like miles. I don't think they followed me, but... this feeling I had at the time, just... just fucking joy. I was happy. The rush of combat, the feel of metal stabbing into someone's flesh, the almost surprised exhalation as the prey becomes the predator...

I don't know if it was me, I don't know if it was that broken blade, but I fucking loved it.