Sunday, June 12, 2022

Outbreak Part 2

 All at once, it slammed its hand against the doorframe. From the contact, a presence flooded through. The wood began folding back into stone and flesh that spiderwebbed across the surface and shot down the hallway. The further it went, the more it changed, becoming dark and damp. The walls pulsed like they were alive as the Crumbling Castle seemed to be manifesting around us. As we neared the room of my rebirth, limbs twisted and wrenched themselves free from the wall ahead of us. Outbreak, now scarcely more than a walking disease with wet scraps of clothes hanging on, had apparently moved along the wall to block our path. In an instant, its hands- or what passed for them- caught us both by our throats. The blades that had run along its forearms were now indistinguishable from the rest of its limbs. The stench that had been brought on by the pulsing walls was bad enough, but what wafted off Outbreak was unbearable. I found myself gasping and gagging in its grasp and Hart was faring no better.

The burning silver orbs that made up its lidless eyes focused on us as a voice echoed in our heads. It was now a singular voice, unimpeded by that of another. 

"Your only choice is thus: I can take you both willingly, alive... Or I can take just you, Spot, by force."  

The ultimatum might have held more weight had I not been sure that whatever awaited us in the Plague Doctor’s domain would be far worse than death. I responded by launching two tendrils out of my stomach maw and driving them into its mess of a core. Hart, meanwhile, seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as he dropped his rifle, pulled out his knife and started frantically stabbing it. The taste was atrocious, but I pulled the embedded tendrils in opposite directions, widening the wound before finally ripping it in half. It released us as its torso fell back, now detached from its hip. We were about to start moving again when another voice cried out. A voice that should not have been there.

“DON'T FUCKING LET IT TAKE YOU TOO! HELP ME, HELP ME PLEASE!”

I spun around in shock. There she was, looking as real as Hart or the creature still thrashing on the ground behind me.

It was Fell. Her upper half emerging from a mass of sludge as she screamed and flailed, desperately trying to find something to cling to as she was dragged towards the entrance.

“No” I whispered in horror as my heart broke all over again.

Everything in me wanted to run to her aid, but I fought the instinct, summoning the will to control myself.

No. This couldn’t be. It was a trick. Scratch had finally caught up and created this mockery to draw us back outside and away from our escape. At this realization, my horror faded, replaced instead by burning rage.

The lingering effects of the gas could no longer hold me back as I roared, focusing every bit of my power on him.

Fell’s form came apart. The slithering mass that was Scratch began to flail in agony, himself, as he began to disintegrate. He suddenly lurched backwards, trying to launch himself out of the building. His attempted escape failed, however, as his panicked movements caused him to hit against the doorframe. The impact caused a section of the fire weakened roof to collapse around him, immolating him further. His flailing finally ceased a few seconds later, as what remained of him burned away to nothing.

From behind me came a sickening snap. Outbreak was putting itself back together.

"Another whisper in the darkness goes silent..." Our would-be captor’s voice leaked through our minds once again, like blood through floorboards. "Do you... feel pain for him? The lost boy... that only ever wished... To be the monster he pretended to be. To not feel the pain. To not fear the dark or the crushing loneliness. To not be consumed by the guilt of a choice he could never undo... Do you feel for him, Wolf? Or did he fool you too?”

The question stung me. I let out a sigh as my gaze sank to the floor. My anger still boiled, but other emotions stirred beneath. Yes. Yes, I felt pain for him. Even now as I write this, I feel it. Sympathy for the one whose path so closely resembled my own; whose fate I might have shared… Enslavement, the likes of which I was, again, facing in that hallway.   

The voice continued, “I once said... A proxy's story begins at its end... And, for most, that is true. For others... You. Me. Him. Kelevra. We made sequels that cannot be undone. There is no place for us. No peace. Just a job that is never finished, even as we degrade into dust..."

Turning around, I was met, not with sentient disease, but a vision of Nightscream as it once was. It stood, whole and human with its auburn hair, old worn and torn hoodie and gleaming metal gauntlet, smirking, like nothing had ever happened. Even its ravens had apparently been resurrected to perch on each shoulder.     

"I have always been a servant of my word. You are forfeit already, Wolf. Your partner is not. I can remove his infections, the disease my mere presence inflicts. I can deliver him outside this structure. I can walk away, allow his story to end at its own pace. You simply must come with me.”

"Wolf... No" Hart interrupted, though his voice was low and strained. “I… won’t let-” he broke off into a coughing fit. The stench, the smoke and the sickness were beginning to take their toll on him, yet, once again, he was refusing to leave me; to save himself.   

Ignoring him, it persisted. “A new era must be ushered in, and the former ruler dethroned." Its words now matched the movement of its lips, sounding real as opposed to an echo in my mind. "Or do you not wish to see the Slenderman fall?" 

At this, I could not help but form a smirk of my own. Did it not understand?   

"If I had wished to see that, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Selfish child." Came the venomous reply, accompanied by the flash of an image in our minds. A memory of its baby, screaming without a face; blackened, caved in holes where the features should have been. The same vision that Kelevra had seen. It was laying the blame for the next generation of Ritter’s victims at my feet, as if the Plague Doctor would not do the same, in his stead.  

We both moved at once. I sent out my tendrils, intent on slapping it aside, while its gauntlet shot forward with surprising speed, intent on catching me just below the maw and gutting me. It wasn’t quite fast enough, however, as the tendrils hit first, driving it into a burning wall.  

Immediately its grip on my insides returned. This time, it felt as if my lungs were filling with water. A lump was forming on my neck, while my heart tightened, sending arcs of pain down my limbs. I could see that Hart was being similarly afflicted, as sores began forming at the corner of his mouth. Even as the fire consumed it, Outbreak fought; pulling at whatever it could in a last-ditch effort to end us. I must admit, its tenacity was admirable, but we did not have the time to keep trying to kill it. We had to make our escape and hope that its influence would not follow.

I wrapped a tendril around Hart’s waist as we burst into the room of my rebirth. Knowing that we might have to make such a hasty retreat, we had prepared emergency packs and left them waiting within reach of the Threshold. Grabbing them as we passed, we made our final leap. Glancing back, I saw its charred twisted form standing among the flames; its accusing, enraged gaze still locked on us as we left the world we knew.

Plunged into complete darkness, I wheezed as my body shifted and spasmed. Vomit spewed forth from my maw as it expelled the disease, as it had done before. Beside me, I heard Hart struggling, coughing, gasping for air. Pulling him close, I held him, trying to offer some comfort as his body adjusted. Four years ago, I had stitched his wounds, repairing the damage Osprey had done as best I could. Those stitches, those dormant little pieces of me- of that “god”- now served a secondary purpose; allowing him to breathe, to exist within this empty domain. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to rid him of all the lingering effects of Outbreak’s grasp. While his breathing returned to normal and the chest pains vanished, the sores at the corner of his mouth remained.  

That brings us up to this point. We have been… “walking”, slowly but surely moving to our destination, however, we still have a long way to go. Thinking it all over, my mind returns to the incident with the sick child and the darts. I figure they must have been trying to test my susceptibility to illness before attempting to take me. Of course, that leaves the question of the child’s involvement. Perhaps they were trying to study my behaviour, looking for weaknesses… 

Ah well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now… 

This has been a rather lengthy couple of posts, but I have one last thing to address before I finish it.

Scratch… My lost little brother 

I wonder if you are still out there; a fragment left behind, hidden away, and waiting to regenerate. If so, then maybe we’ll have the chance to speak once more. Maybe we can have a rematch. Just you and me. No interruptions. A better test of what we’re both made of.

If not… If you are truly gone, then I am… sorry it had to end like this…

It’s funny...  Despite your actions, despite my anger, I still cannot bring myself to hate you the way you so desperately wanted me to.    

Forgive an old monster’s sentimentality, but I hope your keepers will finally leave you to your rest. There may not be peace for creatures like us, but I still hope that you will one day find something close.  

Goodnight little Star, at least for now     


Thursday, June 9, 2022

Outbreak

In light of Kelevra’s recent posts, I figured I’d finally take the time to address our current situation. There is a lot to cover, so I’ll likely put it up in parts as I get it typed. 

The last month or so has been quite... eventful  

It all started on a cold, quiet April day when a familiar scent made its way to my nose.

Immediately alerting Hart, he tucked the knife he had been sharpening into its sheath, grabbed his rifle and followed me to the entrance. 

It was then that an explosion shook the building. Swiftly, but cautiously, we made our way outside only to see that the roof was ablaze. Despite the billowing smoke, I could still clearly make out the scent of the one responsible nearby.

“It is rude to come knocking only to hide away” I said as I followed the trail. “Come on out, dear. Come out and say hello.” 

I glanced at the treeline, half-expecting another sniper to be waiting to take a shot. Between that expectation and the surge of excitement at the prospect of confronting the culprit, I foolishly failed to detect an object hidden under the falling snow. There was a sudden click, followed by an overpoweringly sweet scent, giving me just enough time to curse myself for my stupid mistake before the gas took effect. 

The air came alive with whispers. Shapes started to emerge from the trees surrounding the camp. Unnatural shadows, slithering masses, Denizens, and even a few of my old art projects lurched towards me. Through the chaos of the hallucinations, I heard Hart snarling behind me. Spinning around, I sent out a tendril, shoving him out of harm’s way and bringing me face to face with our attacker.

Scratch

Grinning, he threw a knife after Hart, before falling back into sludge.

“I think we both know its time to put the old bitch down, permanently. Am I right Fido?” Scratch snickered while slithering around me. “Isn't it time to go back to that long and empty sleep?” he said, taking his human shape once more.

Usually, I enjoy engaging in banter while fighting, but the effects of the gas would not allow it. Growling, I let my fingers fall from my hands, extending them into claws before attempting to slash him. He leapt backwards, avoiding my attack before covering his mouth in feigned fear.

“Oooooh SCARY. I can do that TOO you know.” He taunted before shaping one of his hands into claws to match mine. “Why don't you just save us both some time, lay down and get put down. We both know I win a war of attrition.”

He lunged, intending to do to me what I had just attempted to do to him. Addled by the gas, I could only dodge and dodge again.

“WOLF MOVE” Hart screamed. The knife that Scratch had thrown at him had transformed into a replica of his own hand and was now chasing him towards the burning building. The message was clear: We had to make our exit before the Threshold became unreachable. With my attention momentarily diverted, Scratch’s claws caught me, raking across my chest. My body set to work mending the wounds as I sent out a tendril, attempting to knock him back. This failed, however, as he shifted his body around it, trapping the tendril within “No more of THAT” he cried as he brought his claws down on it. 

Hissing as the tendril was severed, I desperately tried to get my head together. Scratch smirked, pulling the tendril from himself before slitting it down the middle with one of his claws. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Hart swinging his rifle like a bat to knock the hand away as it leapt at him. I had to get past Scratch. I had to help Hart. Backing away, I waited for him to attack, hoping I could avoid it and use the momentum to run for the entrance.

Scratch began his approach, but he staggered his motion, changing his pace from fast to slow. He was using his movements and the effects of the gas to confuse my sight; appearing where his momentum would bring him at one moment, before jerking back to pseudo-reality the next until he was practically on top of me, his claws bearing down on my neck. Before he could land the killing blow however, his wrist was caught in a gauntlet of rusted blades, throwing his balance to the side. I hadn’t seen the figure approach, yet there it was, wagging a gloved finger at him.

"Horrible form, Shooter." The voice was deep and rumbling. Thick, but clear with a defined edge. Like poison laced honey. The words slipped from lips curled into a malicious smile. "I thought I taught you better than that."

For a moment, I stared dumbfounded at the stranger. The man had shaggy black hair and wore a similarly coloured hoodie under a torn trench coat, that made for a stark contrast against sickeningly pale skin. Had it not been for the clear grip on Scratch’s wrist, I might have thought it was another hallucination. With a snapping motion that looked painful, its neck twisted, shifting its sharp gaze to me. Glowing silver eyes met mine.

"You must be my damsel"

Before I could respond, Scratch interrupted “HERE AND NOW? THIS IS WHEN YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO LEAVE THAT TRASH HEAP OF A CASTLE? TO GET IN MY WAY?”

With that, he shifted his free hand into another set of claws which he drove into its core. At this, the stranger’s skin suddenly erupted into red blisters that spread from the corner of its mouth, across its cheek and down its neck. Almost as soon as they appeared, the boils burst, dripping yellow pus and dark blood onto its clothes.

Recovering from my shock and disgust, I seized the opportunity and attempted to leap past them. As I did so, the interloper twisted its arm up. The long blade fastened along the length of its forearm rose just enough to cut me as I sprang. Thankfully, the wound was superficial, failing to stop me as I extended my limbs and began to run on all fours. 

"If you didn't like the new look..." the voice reverberated behind me. It sounded layered, like two separate voices speaking as one. "You only needed to say so! In any case, this one is mine! Plague insists"

The realization hit me. Nightscream. This was Nightscream… or Outbreak, as it is apparently called now.  

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw it kick Scratch in the gut, using him to flip itself over, gaining enough distance to escape him and pursue me. Up ahead, the hand that had been chasing Hart suddenly turned and started heading my way. At the last moment, it transformed back into a knife and flung itself at me. Heaving my body up, I fired a tendril out of my stomach, catching the knife before pulling it into my maw like a frog with a fly. The gas rendered me unable to focus that molten power outwards, but inside my stomach, the fragment was destroyed. This little victory was short lived, however, as I suddenly found myself unable to breathe. 

"YOURS?!?” I heard Scratch yell “Hell, you can HAVE her, I don't care, just so long as she dies here and now. But why stop me from... Oh." He had apparently just figured out what would happen if I ended up in the Plague Doctor’s clutches and was likely back in pursuit. I would have laughed at him, but my lungs- or whatever I have that passes for them- refused to work. Outbreak had formed some sort of grip on my insides and was forcing my body to suffocate itself.

Through blurring vision, I saw Hart emerge from the building’s entrance, having realized that the hand was no longer chasing him. Unsure if I was going to make it to the Threshold, I mouthed the word “run”, figuring that if I couldn’t, then maybe he would be able to escape while they were focused on me. He refused, however, choosing instead to help me. He fired a shot at Outbreak, before catching me as my limbs retracted. Pulling my arm around his shoulders, he proceeded to drag me through the door.

"Kill me, and I'll just take over you, little one!" our diseased pursuer yelled. It seemed that Hart’s shot had made its mark "This body is as disposable to me as you are, but I am not the one trying to kill you. The Plague Doctor would be most displeased to not make your acquaintance."

The injury seemed to loosen Outbreak’s grip on me, as my lungs started partially working again. 

"I am His humble servant. Once Slender's, now only His. And so can you be," it continued.

Despite only being able to take shallow breaths, I managed to wheeze a response.

"I'm... done... serving!"

The little air I was able to take in was enough that I didn’t have to lean on Hart anymore, but we weren’t out of the woods yet. We still had to make it to the end of the hallway.

Glancing back, I saw that our pursuer looked even worse than before. Black ooze dribbled from its nose and eyes. Its head jerked, spasmed and repositioned into a tilt.

“You don’t get it, do you….?”

The blisters and boils turned into holes that looked... almost fungal, while other parts seemed to almost be rotting into blackened, wet flesh.

"It wasn't a request."