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."