Can't Say

Chapter 35

      All four Proxies were given messenger bags – due to their current physical handicaps. These would make it easier to manipulate them as needed. The task was simple: shadow Jeff the Killer and loot the victims' homes for supplies; no fighting necessary. Still, things would get heavy quickly, so your team would have to be picky about what they gathered.
      Upon confirmation of everyone's readiness, Slenderman transported Jeff and the Proxies to the human world. This immediately concerned you, though. If Slenderman had to bring everyone in and out of the Creepypasta world, wouldn't that be bothersome to him? Not only that, but any other time one of the Creepypastas went out on their hunts, they left through the front door of the mansion – Slenderman not included.
      You chalked it all up to Slenderman not wanting his Proxies to know how to escape into the human world. It would make sense, right? Proxies were slaves, so the more opportunities to escape, the more trouble for him.
      Jeff finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, not even bothering to stomp out the smoldering butt. “Just stay back and out of sight until I give the 'all clear',” he ordered. Not far behind him was a house sitting just beyond a tree line. Slenderman had brought everyone to a dark covering in some overgrown vegetation. There were just enough trees to hide behind. The cool, night air echoed with slow cricket chirps and dogs barking in the distance.
      “What's the signal?” you queried just as Jeff turned to begin his assault on the raggedy home. You were answered with a bold thrust of the pale man's middle finger. He never stopped to see your reaction. “Asshole,” you mumbled.
      “I'll remain here throughout,” Slenderman stole away his Proxies' attention. All four heads turned and craned back to make eye contact with a being who had no eyes. “Rendezvous to this spot once you've cleared the house. We'll accompany Jeff until you're all encumbered,” he said. To this, you all nodded.
      Now, the waiting game began. It was full of tense silence, then muffled sounds of struggle, which returned to a lull as though nothing had happened. You weren't sure how many people were in the house. Jeff probably didn't know, either. He didn't really pick his victims through specific reason, other than the fact that they were alive. This was probably the first house that seemed easy enough, considering the affiliates he had to lug around.
      Slenderman didn't seem concerned in the least bit. He could remove everyone from the potential danger at a moment's notice, if need be. Now that the members of that anti-Slender forum were eradicated, there shouldn't be any more disruptor devices lingering within the humans' possession. Though your master had been acting stranger than usual toward you, he seemed confident – relaxed. Perhaps the milestone of conquering an enemy had satisfied his frustrations.
      It wasn't until Hoodie interrupted your wandering thoughts that you realized you had been gazing up to Slenderman the entire time. You shook your head away, shifting your attention to the yellow-clad man as he gave the verbal signal that Jeff was ready for them. “He's done,” Hoodie's exasperated voice steered you back to the mission at hand.
      All four Proxies made a break for the house, entering through the back door just as Jeff had earlier. The path was already cleared of danger. All you and your teammates needed to do was grab all the food, medications, and any other necessities you could fit into your bags. Immediately, you began raiding the kitchen cabinets for canned foods, dry goods, and anything else that could survive room temperature. Masky filled his bag with frozen foods, which turned out to mostly be meats. Hoodie went for spices, seasonings, and kitchenware that would fit in the spacious messenger bag. It didn't seem like a necessity, but they were all important for morale. Toby was in charge of the medications and toiletries. He'd easily be able to carry numerous items of such.
      Unfortunately, your bag filled up much faster than you expected. Your heart sank at how quickly the thrill of looting faded away. This couldn't be the end of your mission, could it? There were still plenty of things to grab.
      You heard a curse escape Masky from nearby. He was over-encumbered, too. Hoodie wasn't far behind, though he was doing his best to choose wisely. Making distressed eye contact with the effeminate-masked man, the two of you exchanged worried thoughts. Jeff walked in, carrying a new backpack he obviously stole from one of the victims. It looked bloated with occupation. 
      “You're helping,” you asked and quirked a brow, impressed at the possibility that Jeff was gathering supplies for the residents – as he should be.
      “Helping myself,” Jeff replied with a rhetorical question. “Absolutely.” He pulled out a half pint bottle of some unknown caramelized, alcoholic beverage, unscrewed the cap, and threw back a deep swig. “Ol' dad had a nice stash in the bedroom.” Jeff chuckled, leaking a knowing tone that had developed through the years of various murders – or perhaps through personal experiences during his human life. All you could do was release an ashamed sigh. Of course Jeff was in it for himself. With the Proxies here to do the looting, he could focus on the “supplies” he cared about most.
      Hoodie gathered himself closer to you and Masky, “I'm full. We'll have to go back, I guess.” You and Masky nodded, despite your reluctance to leave without everything available. Jeff strolled through the back door, making his merry way to Slenderman's waiting form.
      “Toby,” called Hoodie, careful not to raise his voice too much. “What's your ETA?”
      The response was only shuffling, followed by hurried footsteps across a carpeted floor. From around the dark corner, Toby appeared, “Now.” He was greeted with a lighthearted punch to the shoulder – thankfully, the good one.
      Masky lead the way out of the house, commenting, “Smart ass.” The grin in his voice was pure, as though the team had always been old friends. Perhaps they were. Even though the three men typically put up a front to the possibility of friendship, they couldn't deny the experiences and emotions shared throughout the time spent together. Tonight's rewards had lifted everyone's spirits.
      Collectively chuckling at Toby's soft antics, your team rendezvoused back to Slenderman, who waited alongside Jeff the Killer. The crew had already filled their messenger bags to the brim; hell, you even dared to cradle extra items within your arms and clothes pockets. Still, it wasn't enough. These supplies would last two weeks, maximum.
      “Jeff,” Slenderman held his invisible gaze on his Proxies, “are you satisfied for the night or will you be hunting for longer?”
      Jeff the Killer shifted, weighing his desires to indulge in cigarettes and alcohol or further bloodshed. “Didn't really get to do much carving,” he mumbled just clear enough for everyone to understand. “I guess I'll clear another house, but I'll be hanging around this one for a while longer,” he tossed back another estimated shot of his pocket whiskey before capping the bottle and returning it to hiding.
      Slenderman's pale head nodded once. He extended his tendrils to each of his Proxies, saying, “Scout your next target. I will remigrate my Proxies once they've deposited their spoils.” At that, Jeff was left alone to his own devices.
      As soon as your surroundings converted to the mansion foyer, your team scurried to the kitchen and dumped their findings onto the counters. The task of putting everything away would commence later on. Granted, you did try to organize the items so they wouldn't spill over. Within minutes, your team was ready and returned to their master's side.
      You weren't sure about Masky, Hoodie, or Toby, but your recuperating arm was beginning to feel sore from carrying the armful of cabinet foods. It was time to take it easy on the appendage again. The idea of taking your time at the previous house and looting it for everything it had crossed your mind, but your own subconscious knew why – the longer a criminal spent at the scene of the crime, the greater the chance of being caught. It was best to keep moving.
      Holding still as an ancient tree, Slenderman patiently waited for Jeff to decide on his next victim. No one bothered to rush the Creepypastas. Jeff wouldn't risk putting Slenderman's Proxies in danger, so careful decisions were necessary.
      It was funny, really. Despite the humanly-evil morality of Creepypastas, they were civil in their own way. Creepypastas killed, maimed, tortured, and worse, yet there were still various levels of good and bad throughout. If one were to remove the set levels of principality that humans had created, Creepypastas were the humans – and humans were the animals. Even Jeff and BEN could be viewed as humans who simply hunted for sport. The Zalgoids were like an enemy country, trying to invade the Slender Family territory and claim the Creepypasta world for their own. And the SCPs – the savage Creepypastas – were clinically insane; murderers of their own kind. With this in mind, were Creepypastas any different from humans?
      “He's ready,” Slenderman brought his team of Proxies to the new location via slender-walk. The sensation was mellowing through time, barely irritating your coordination.
      This time, the surroundings consisted of less foliage or more man-made structure. The chirping crickets were still clear and slow, though they were best heard from either of the two available directions that led to open ground. A three foot gap between two buildings was all that hid your team and master. Both exterior walls were made of the same material and paint. That usually meant that they were of the same property – a separate garage? One wall had a small, half window. Your eyes trained on it, expecting a pair of eyes to peer back at you.
      Your shoulders flinched at the unforeseen shriek from within the house – the building with the window. It cancelled almost as abruptly as it came. Honestly, you couldn't decide if it belonged to a male or female, though that had no effect on your mission. You glanced around at Hoodie, Masky, and Toby, hoping that they hadn't noticed your little jump-scare. They didn't seem to pay any mind, heads tilted to the ground or the small slit of a night sky. There was no point in hoping Slenderman didn't see. He saw everything. All you could hope for was that he chose to ignore the potential black-mail, even if it wasn't much. Goodness knows someone would try using it to tease you. How dare a Proxy be frightened by something they live around every day?
      A knock at the half-window stole your eyes back to it. You saw a pale hand waving “the signal” from inside. It still wasn't pleasant to see, but what choice did you have?
      Just before moving with the men to enter the house, you flashed your eyes over to Slenderman, feeling the need to check up on him. When your eyes registered what you saw, you understood why the small urge compelled you.
      Slenderman looked taller, straighter, more alert. His tendrils were sprouting and he had the appearance of a dog that had just heard a concerning noise. He turned, striding long-legged strides opposite of your team's direction, “All of you stay inside the house.” He was gone before you could attempt gathering further information.
      When you turned to ask your teammates what just happened, they were already hissing out a storm of curses. Toby grabbed your arm tight and nearly dragged your confused self into the house through the side door. All of you crammed into a small utility room, locking the door and barricading it with whatever could be moved.
      “The hell is going on,” you asked, not sure if you could help move anything and simply stepping back to give room. “What did he see? Or hear? Or whatever?”
      “Fucking ferals,” Hoodie replied with a grunt as he tested the nearby clothes dryer for mobility. The test was a failure. “If it was anything else, we'd help, but not these guys. We'd be screwed, especially in our current conditions.”
      “Jeff!” Masky called out further into the house, trying not to make his voice reverberate outside. “Jeff, we have a problem!”
      A gravelly voice growled with exasperation, followed by a small shattering of glass. Jeff was grumbling something along the way, but it was too low for anyone to hear over his moody thumping of boots hitting hollow floor. “Can't I get one good murder in with you shit-heads? God damn'it.” If there wasn't much blood on his stained white hoodie, there was a noticeable amount now. Butchery would be an understatement to what he resembled to have been doing. “What the fuck is wr-”, Jeff noticed the barricaded door from across the small kitchen and utility room. “Fuck,” he thrust his blood-caked kitchen knife into the nearby counter-top. “Now I have to babysit.”
      A piercing scream filled the air, making everyone, including you, jolt to attention. The scream wasn't like one of Jeff's victims; this scream was inhuman, angry, and daring. It sounded to be a fair distance away, but still within a threatening range of your current hiding spot.
      You heard Hoodie mumble something about a rake, but couldn't understand why a gardening tool would be on his mind. “What about a rake,” you asked, knitting your brows in concentration.
      “That sounded like The Rake,” Hoodie repeated, a little louder than before. “Definitely one of the SCPs.” Of course, your next question was the threat level of such a creature, curious – and nervous – if Slenderman would have a difficult time with such a foe. “It's definitely trouble, but Slenderman should be okay. We just need to stay out of the way.” To this, you nodded, accepting that there was nothing more to do than your original mission – loot.
      Leading the way, you began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for dry good and canned foods again. Your teammates followed, pushing past Jeff with reservation. “Hey, Toby,” you called before the youngest of the men got too far.
      “Y-yeah?” Toby paused and leaned back just enough to peek into the kitchen.
      “Have you been grabbing pads and tampons?”
      An audible groan reverberated from Toby's throat as he tried to sneak away, “I w-ill. . . I will n-ow.” He sounded like a child who was more than reluctant to carry out chores ordered by his parents. The low whining and grumbling faded as Toby walked to find the bathrooms.
      “Thank you, Toby. At least you only have to touch the clean ones.” Your lips spread into a wide grin, knowing how torturous it was for a young-adult male to handle feminine products. But, it was Toby's duty to loot the bathrooms and closets, so there was really no way out of it.
      Here and there, a commotion of The Rake's screams ripped through the air. It was probably fighting Slenderman. Dogs were barking from neighboring houses, and you were sure you heard humans slowly building their curiosity into panic. Jeff passively commented that it might get pretty crazy in the neighborhood soon, and that meant the five of you would need to hide deeper in the house. His ever-open eyes intently watched the outside events through a nearby window. With the lights off, none of the humans would notice what was happening in the house, but if the police showed up, things could get ugly fast.
      As if on cue, distant police sirens quickly approached the neighborhood. You heard a yelp from The Rake, like some injured dog, and one last warning scream. All this time, your team didn't stop filling your bags with food and supplies.
      The sirens closed in, doors opened and slammed closed. People yelled, and shortly after things began to register in their minds, guns fired one after another.
      “Let's go,” Jeff pushed off from the counter, taking his knife. “There's an attic ramp in the hallway.” You, Hoodie, and Masky didn't hesitate. The bags were already to the brim with goods. Jeff led the way to the aforementioned attic door, where Toby was exiting a bedroom. 
      Just as Jeff reached up and grabbed the pull-string for the ceiling ladder, a voice interrupted him, “To me.” Your master had returned to retrieve everyone. Toby hurried closer to the group, who all turned to face Slenderman. At the same time, the usually terrifying inky tendrils rushed toward your team, making contact with each respective shoulder. These were the few times that the tendrils were a more than welcome sight.
      For the second time that night, you were brought to the mansion foyer via your master's teleportation ability. Though the transition time was almost nil, it wasn't until the mansion's surroundings filled your senses that you noticed Slenderman's worn appearance.
      He wasn't nearly in such a bad shape as the time he had returned from his sudden disappearance, but there were concerning damages to his suit and flesh. Four deep slashes all but shredded Slenderman's chest; you could see his pale skin seeping a thick fluid, but it wasn't quite the same color of typical blood; the crimson tie still clinging to his collar was cut dramatically shorter than its original length. His shoulders and thighs were adorned with bullet holes, but he seemed unfazed, flesh-wise, by the copper and led rounds that were embedded into him. Hell, you saw one of the shots fall right out its burrow and to the floor, only to leave nothing but damaged clothing where it had been.
      Masky and Hoodie didn't seem to care, making a break for the kitchen with their loot; Jeff followed without a glimmer of concern in his wide eyes, most likely curious about what all had been gathered during the mission. You and Toby, however, stayed and gawked at Slenderman. Toby should have been used to this sort of thing, but his loyalty held him in place until he was certain that his master would be fine. You, honestly, didn't know if the tall being would be bedridden again.
      Your master's solid posture gave assurance that he wouldn't collapse at a moment's notice. The slashes across his chest were even healing right before your eyes; the suit, however, was ruined on a permanent level. You heard Slenderman sigh some rhetorical statement, “Trender will give me a long speech for this.” Whoever Trender was, you didn't ask.
      “Um,” you broke the tension in the air. “Are you gonna be okay this time?”
      Slenderman chuckled, visually lifting his shoulders, “This is nothing. There will not be a repeat of the last time.” He adjusted his ruined suit jacket, trying to straighten it, “Now, I'll be gone for a few hours. Behave.” At that, he was gone.
      Toby spun around to the kitchen, giving you a single pat on the back as he led the way. You followed, eager to drop the hefty messenger bag burdening your torso and shoulders, now that you remembered about it. 
      The two of you joined with Masky, Hoodie, and Jeff, who were all sorting piles of various plunders. You and Toby discarded your bags, adding to the main pile. Jeff sat back on a stool, drinking away his new collection of whiskey and taking occasional drags of his new cigarettes – for once, they weren't crumpled.
      Masky started going through the frozen and refrigerated goods, asking to whoever was listening what they should cook for breakfast. Everyone began fantasizing, not even sure if the necessary ingredients had been accounted for. All of their ideas were much more grandeur than anyone was capable of preparing. By the end of it, there was an undeniable chorus of growling stomachs. Even Jeff was hungry from the talk of luxurious meals.
      “Who's gonna cook?” Jeff asked, knowing good and well that he wouldn't be doing it.
      Each Proxy traded looks, hoping someone would volunteer. 
      “____ should d-do it. I'm sure she's a grea. . .great cook,” Toby suggested.
      “Excuse me?” You raised a brow to the twitching man, playfully offended by his words. “Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know how to cook.” You folded your arms and did your best to look angry with him. “I'll have you know that I can barely boil water.” Your poker face was cracking into a smirk.
      “Liar,” Hoodie tossed a box of tampons at you, which you barely caught in time. “I've seen you cook, so don't bother.”
      You broke into a cackle, placing the box of feminine goods aside. “Fine. Fine. I'll cook, but I want help. I only have one arm.” Waving your only good arm, your reminded the team of the shared handicap. To this, they all paused and looked at their nearly lame appendages as though it was the first time they had noticed.
      Masky coughed in embarrassment, continuing to sort the spoils. “Guess we're all cooking.”
      “You sure are,” Jeff said before taking a long, obnoxious drag of his cancer stick. 
      “Hey, Jeff,” you looked up from sorting and eyed the pale murder. As soon as his lidless eyes made contact, you thrust forward a gesture he was more than familiar with. He only broke into laughter, which startled you for a short moment. 
      Jeff lowered himself from the stool and swayed over to your side as he took another long drag of the quickly shortening cigarette. You held your eyes on him, shrinking in your spot with suspicion of his intentions. Leaning down to you, Jeff exhaled, blowing the thick smoke right into your face. You coughed and waved at the cloud of ash, trying to hide your face from it. “You asshole,” was all you could say before having to hack up the building film in your wind pipe. The choking smell of cigarette and foul breath enveloped your senses like a smothering blanket. Jeff walked away, chuckling darkly as he left the kitchen.
      You should have known there would be a repercussion to your action. Still, it felt good to give Jeff a big “fuck you” finger.
      It would be dawn soon. The clock hanging in the kitchen read 4:30 A. M.
      While the men continued organizing and putting things away, you went ahead and began making breakfast. No one objected to your decision, knowing that the sooner someone started cooking, the sooner they could eat. Then, once their bellies were full of fresh, hot food, they could have a good sleep. Your chest fluttered with a strange feeling; a feeling of warmth and modest joy.
      Tonight was a good night. Tonight was one of the few that you truly appreciated being alive. Tonight, you felt necessary and appreciated. You had a family growing right alongside you. They weren't bound to you by blood, per se, but the lifestyle and experiences of a Proxy had brought you all closer. Now that things were going right, they weren't so bad to be with. Maybe, one day, the same could be said about the Creepypastas.
      Glancing over your shoulder, you stole a scene into your memory of your Proxy brothers gawking and bragging at the items they had found in the short time of their mission. They seemed happy, compared to your first impressions of them some months ago. The energy was contagious. You could feel a giggle bubbling up inside you, but decided to hold it down and continue getting breakfast together.
      A thought struck you, surfacing for an opportunity to make conversation and participate with your teammates. “Are SCPs stuck in the human world?” You didn't bother to look back and see if anyone heard you. If they didn't answer, you would stay quiet.
      “No,” Hoodie replied. “They somehow know their way back and forth between the worlds.”
      You hummed in acknowledgment, greasing a pan with the new cooking spray. “So there's a chance we could run into them in the Creepypasta world?”
      “Yeah, why?” Hoodie answered again. You had a feeling he had stopped his sorting and was eyeing you with curiosity.
      “It's just that The Rake was my first semi-encounter with a feral Creepypasta, so I was wondering why something that didn't care about the laws of territory would be so rare.” From what you had been told before, Savage Creepypastas were incapable of reason. They were as dangerous as the most wild animals. The only thing on their minds were survival and primal urges. They were the Creepypastas of the human and Creepypasta world.
      “There's not a large population of them like the rest of the Creepypastas,” Masky contributed to the conversation. “It's already such a rare event that a Creepypasta goes feral, that there haven't been too many new additions.”
      “Are SCPs 'born' like when Jeff or BEN became Creepypastas?”
      There was a long pause. Hoodie was the one to answer, “Most of the SCPs' origins are unknown. There's a couple out there, like Sierra, the Drowned Bride, who are newer, so their stories were recorded.
      “The Rake, though,” Hoodie audibly shivered. “It's been around almost as long as Slenderman. He doesn't even known The Rake's origin.”
      “Damn,” you enunciated, not sure how else to express your aw. “I'm guessing it's pretty powerful, too, if Slenderman got scratched by it.”
      “Yeah. The Rake's no joke. Ferals are all crazy powerful, like apes in comparison to humans.” To this, you chuckled, but knew the seriousness of the statement. Hoodie walked over with a couple cartons of eggs by this point.
      You gratefully took a carton from Hoodie, set it on the counter near the stove, and began cracking eggs one at a time. It wasn't easy getting the shells to split with just one hand, but you managed to get it figured out after a few tries. Granted, you still had to pick out some shell fragments from the large frying pan, but you didn't do too bad. Hoodie was kind enough to throw the used carton and egg shells away, but you stopped him with an idea.
      “Keep those,” you exclaimed as though the trashcan was an irreversible abyss. “I can use all of that for the garden.”
      Hoodie slowly placed the carton on the counter nearby, holding a confused gaze to you. “Even the carton?”
      “Yeah!” You grinned, remembering some tricks you read about in the gardening books. “You can use them to start the seeds sprouting. And the egg shells we can put in the compost pile.” Your excitement was all too apparent, making Hoodie laugh. 
      “Guess we're starting a compost pile,” Masky smacked Toby with a bundle of romaine lettuce. “Don't forget to take all your shits to it.” Toby burst out laughing at this, clearly unable to take the lettuce from Masky and pass it on to you. 
      The men all tossed out toilet-humor jokes, which soon evolved into light horseplay. These were your boys; these were your brothers; they were your teammates; they were the closest thing you'd ever had to a real family.
      God, you didn't want this time of bliss to end.