Ghost Town Part 1

I’ve been thinking about this shit for a while since it happened, but I finally decided to sit my ass down and type it out.

I needed to see it. I needed to see the little community that the Wolf had fucking destroyed. I needed to test myself to make real fucking sure that I was mentally prepared to face her. I guess I was also hoping for some kind of closure too.

Thanks to a mild, rainy streak of weather, the fucking snow had finally melted enough so I could actually drive to the community. Parking my car on the shoulder of the one main road that ran through it, I got out and looked around. Unsurprisingly, the place was completely fucking silent except for the rolling waves of the ocean next to it. I saw that two of the houses had broken windows and another had been tagged with graffiti. It looked like some dipshit thrill seekers wanted to go see the spot where the whole population, all fifty of them, suddenly up and disappeared one night. I guess it’s not that surprising since this shit was in and out of the news so fucking quick. They had reported that no bodies were found, but the cops suspected foul play, and then that was the last anyone heard, so of course that kind of mystery is going to make some people want to look.

Anyway, I picked a house and went to check it out. The door was unlocked so I let myself in. The windows let in enough light so that I could clearly see the footprints, boot prints, dirt and some smears of old dried blood on the floor. Wandering through the place I quickly found the fucking bedrooms. The first one had a single bed in it with a moldy mattress that was covered in blood, just like the walls and the floor. I immediately felt a pang of guilt and anger and it got way fucking worse when I saw the second one. It had pink walls and two twin sized beds. This was the kids’ room, and it was as much of a mess as the other. I hoped that the Wolf had been fast and quiet enough, that they never woke up. That they didn’t have to hear their parents die, only to see a fucking blood soaked stitched up monster crawling into their room to eat them next. I staggered back out of the room, leaning against a wall before closing my eye and gripping my fucking head as what happened to them played out in my mind. I knew what the Wolf had done, but actually being there… My guts turned and I found myself running back outside, feeling like I was going to throw up. I kept thinking that it was my fault. I hurt the Wolf by venting on the blog, and she took that hurt out on these people, these children. I don’t know how long I stood there, taking in deep breaths of the clear, cold air but when I finally calmed down enough, I realized I was hearing something other than my own breathing and the waves- a sound that abso-fucking-lutely should not have been there.

Music

It was coming from somewhere behind the buildings across the road. I was immediately on edge. My first instinct was to get back to my car and GTFO, but I didn’t. If someone was going to attack me, why wouldn’t they have jumped my ass as soon as I left the house? Why would they just randomly start playing the fucking saxophone?

That got me curious enough to ignore my gut and check it out. Following the sound across the road and past the houses, I saw a person sitting on one of a few boulders by the shore. They looked like a drifter with their faded black hoodie, jeans with torn out knees and army boots that weren’t laced properly. Since their hood was down, I could see that they had greying auburn hair. They seemed lost in their music, swaying as they played. It had a sad sound to it, but it was nice.   

"... I was never any good at endings, unfortunately." They said once they finished their song. Shifting the saxophone to rest on their lap, they glanced at me with their grey eyes and gave me a slight smile. “Hopefully it was still enjoyable. It has been a long time. I feel a little rusty."        

“Yeah, that was really fucking good.” I blurted, feeling thrown off by the whole situation. It was true though. I don’t usually listen to that kind of music, but I could still tell that they played it well. Then it hit me that I kind of just showed up and interrupted. “Sorry… I didn’t mean t-”  I broke off before awkwardly scratching my neck and starting again. “I’m just surprised to see someone else out this way…” I glanced around, trying to spot anyone or any hint of a trap, but I didn’t see shit.  

“So, uh, what brings you all the way out here?” I asked. This place was way too isolated for some random drifter to be passing through, so they must have purposely come here. Either they were sent to find me, they were a squatter and were living out here, or they knew one of the people the Wolf killed and were trying to get some kind of closure themself. I really fucking hoped it wasn’t that last one.

"Thank you, my dear. Don't fret the language,” they said, “it's not like either of us have virgin ears." I guess they thought I was apologizing for swearing instead of interrupting. They shifted around on the boulder to face me more directly, before crossing their legs. "But to answer your question... well-" they gave a short laugh before continuing "-it's a rather long story that's equal value a trail of mistakes as much as it is keeping just enough luck to make it to another day. Until I didn't." They tilted their head "Your instincts are spot-on, as someone in your position tend to be. I won't lie and say they aren't. Although I know you haven't the slightest of reasons to trust me, I give you my word that I am not here to fight or kidnap you or any some such nonsense. I may not be a proxy anymore... or particularly human anymore.... but I am still a servant of my word. In fact, I'll do you one better: while we chat, you can consider yourself under my wing. If any of the idiots that pass as Slender-fuck's monkeys come running around, I'll take care of them for you. Free of charge." They gave me another faint smile "My name is Sam. My alias was once Sam Freeman, but there's no reason to use that anymore. My real name - back when I had a real life - was Sam Redmond. I was active as a proxy many.... many years ago. I doubt it's familiar to you."

From their appearance and voice, I couldn’t tell whether they were a man, or a woman and the name didn’t fucking help either. Something about them seemed sort of familiar but I couldn’t place it. Since they had given me their name, though, I decided to give mine. “My name is Kristy, but I’m guessing you probably already knew that, so if you’re not here to take me then why? If you’re not the Tailor’s bitch anymore, then who sent you? People don’t usually come to me just for a fucking conversation. That was always the Wolf’s thing.”

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kristy. I'd shake your hand, but I've a sneaking suspicion that you'd rather I stay fused to this rock," they smirked. "Lucky for you, I had the gift of gab in life. Admittedly I did lose it for a while, but apparently you can only go so far insane before you get bored of the mania and start ricocheting in the other direction. In any case... You asked 'why' and my leash holder, yes...?" their gaze shifted back to the waves for a moment."... Revenge, in a word. That's the why." Their tone became sharp. "...I had a deal with Tall, Dark and Creepy, you see. A very simple deal. When I died, he seemingly deemed our contract null and void. Apparently, he didn't anticipate the Plague Doctor putting Humpty Dumpty back together again” They snarled, looking back to me. "The Black King has sat on his throne far too long. He must be torn down. Thankfully, my new patron has a similar goal. They've actually batted it back and forth for centuries, but if I am to be this immortal wretch, then I think I'd like to use it to show 'Slenderman' that he shouldn't have given me a reason to give a damn again. Or I'll destroy myself trying. Not like I haven't made that gamble before." They paused for a moment, then continued "I'd like your help, my dear. And I think my plan might just fit nicely into your own desire for revenge against... Well. Someone else.”

At the mention of the disease bird, I took a step back. Sam didn’t move to follow me though, so I stopped there and decided to keep talking. “You’re not the first person to come to me with a revenge deal, you know.” I said, running a hand through my hair. “The Tailor sent a couple of proxies to try to get me to serve again, promising to give me a place to stay while I got ready to kill the Wolf,” I laughed. “As if I’d agree to work for the cocksucker who ordered her to fucking break me. As if I’d be fucking stupid enough to trust any offer from him again.” I was getting agitated as I went on. “But your boss didn’t exactly give me a reason to think he’d be any better.” I pulled my sleeve back, showing some of the gross itchy sores that had developed from the blisters that the disease bird had stuck me with. “So as much as I’d love to see the Tailor get fucked too, why should I help you? Why should I trust you and your plan anymore than those proxies?”

Sam looked at the sores, seeming to get distracted for a second. Then they inhaled deeply and focused on them. Closing their eyes, they slowly reached an arm towards me. Nothing happened at first, but then the itching stopped, and the sores started to shrink and fade away. For a moment, they reappeared on Sam before sinking into their skin.

“...Thanks…” I said after getting over my shock.

They opened their eyes and nodded. "That should offer you some relief, my dear. My strength is nowhere near his, of course, but... well. He isn't here right now, is he? The Plague Doctor is..." They gave a weak smirk and scoffed "...Well, Disease sucks. You could be a fairy that farts rainbows, but you'd still be a dick if your main gimmick was spreading disease. It's his nature; his domain. He's certainly not a benevolent being, but... he is better than The Stranger, in my opinion. If only because I have the unique perspective of having served under both." Frowning they seemed to, struggle with something before laughing and shaking their head.

"...You know, my old allies would be slacked jawed and probably very jealous of you right now. There were days that I think David would have given his left hand to get a straight answer out of me. Luke would probably just assume I'm some sort of doppelganger - he never did well with change. Phillip might have wanted to try an exorcism. I've played the games - the mistrust and deception and mind-fuckery - and quite honestly, it's all a little too much ego for my liking anymore. After everything I've experienced... I suppose I'm just over it. I... gave everything I was to the Slenderman. I was good to my word. I did everything he wanted. Every whim. I never complained about the whispers, the insomnia, the night terrors, the blood that I could never clean off... I never even complained when he'd just... show up. Take possession of me like some anorexic puppetmaster and send me off under his will. I'd wake up somewhere I didn't recognize, typically covered in blood, usually injured, and with no memory of what happened. Just a very horrible headache and sometimes with someone actively trying to kill me out of some revenge for something I supposedly did. I did it. I was... his. His humble servant. And I won't lie. I found beauty in the work. I found things I could enjoy. After all, you have to find reasons to smile, hm? Lest you join the chorus of tormented screams in the darkest hour of night..."

Their shoulders lowered slightly. "I thought I had earned... his favour, somewhat. Or at least I was keeping neutral. But it didn't matter. When I made a bet, I was doomed to lose, another puppet-master stole me away from myself. From my station. From my service from Him. You'd think he would have been annoyed, hm? Someone else playing with his toy? Someone else BREAKING his toy? Tearing their mind apart with little red strings invading every thought and memory. Red strings that broke the toy so deeply, so thoroughly... that they couldn't even function anymore because they couldn't trust what version of reality they were sitting in in that moment. Every second was another panic attack. They had spent years being the nightmare for Slenderman's runners... and then they were..." Their voice trailed off. "...I hurt my friends by not trusting them. I never wanted that. But fear turns you selfish. It distorts everything until you believe the most... idiotic things..."

They pushed their sleeves up, revealing nasty, wide scars that went from the base of their palms to their elbows. "...Word to the wise: How you die seems to get kind of stuck on you. So I have to wear these badges of my own cowardice for eternity now. But, I suppose, I shouldn't be complaining. My soul and mind were both equally wrecked. I had hoped that death would bring... such nothing. An endless black. That's what I had wanted. I had failed to pay enough attention to the blackened sore that never healed on my chest. Plague's mark. I hadn't known it, but there was only one place I was going in death: The Crumbling Castle. I was... out of my mind. With grief, with fear, with all of it. I thought I was going to get experimented on again, but... I wasn't. Instead, I was..."

They seemed to struggle for the right words. "...The strings of Spencer Fitzgerald had run deep. There was damage beyond damage that Plague... seemed to treat as though it was a mental illness. Which I suppose is accurate enough. It was... agonizing. Torturous. At first, I thought it was just a new hell. It took me embarrassingly long to even notice that the tangled wires in my mind beginning to unwind. That I could think better. Clearer. Each time, I could feel less and less of him."

I was surprised by a genuine smile on their face as their eyes settled on me again. 

"He saw use for me. So he fixed me. He pulled all the red strings out and gave me the Castle to freely roam. For a while, my mind did strange things. I spoke in third person. I was... nearly robotic for a while. The mind is a funny thing, how it tries to protect itself after being so traumatized. But, day by day, I reclaimed myself, with his help. Nowadays... I have duties, yes. There are certain Expectations. The oathbreakers have come to call me 'Outbreak'. I guess they didn't like my old 'Nightscream' title. Probably to do with that old cult town incident that I had looped David into helping me with. But, in any case, Plague mostly allows me to do as I wish now. A unliving fuck you to his Slenderness, if you will. He fixed the toy that the Stick didn't give a second glance to. He fixed me. And while I know this is just... words for you. I do believe that just my existence here before you - speaking as clearly as I am - is nothing short of a miracle that proves Plague can be reasoned with. Perhaps even worked with. If you need more... I am an open book. Ask away. There is nothing left worth hiding anymore."

I had been listening quietly as they spoke, wincing at the mention of the strings and the sight of their scars. I could fucking relate thanks to the Wolf. I thought of how she tore me the fuck apart and how she made me love her so much that I wanted to die rather than live without her. While I knew that Sam could just be bullshitting to manipulate me, I still felt like I should say something. “What you went through sounds fucking awful,” I offered, “I’m sorry you got fucked up like that. It’s bullshit, and I know how it feels.”  I would have said more but that’s when the name clicked in my head and I realized just who the fuck I was talking to. “Wait… Outbreak? You’re the one that attacked the Wolf and Hart, aren’t you?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. “Hart is like a brother to me, and you nearly fucking killed him.” I growled