First we are isolated in a limited area, cut off from resources and help. Then one of our own is taken from us in our midst. And now this. It’s almost as though Slendy’s finally decided to stop playing around and start crushing us.
Shortly after Sara was Slendernapped, fog began to roll in. The boundaries of this loop we’re trapped in have now been clearly marked by the walls of fog surrounding it, so there goes our view of the outside world. For added excitement, the boundaries of the loop have shrunk since the fog’s appearance; we’re now working with only a 3 mile diameter here. Setoth attempted to test it out by walking through the fog; five minutes later (or, according to Setoth, half an hour later), he came out of the fog back at the point he’d started. He’s spent all his time since attempting various magickal things that could get us out. None have worked thus far.
As an added precaution, we’ve begun to keep at least two people on watch. But with Setoth doing magick and Kal and Michenab busy competing to see who can feel the most guilt over losing Sara, that usually means JD and I are always the ones on duty.
Did get my first chance to speak with the boy. He’s not as bad as my initial impression was; I suppose one can’t survive long running from Slender Man if one is a whiny, high maintenance child. What really surprised me about the boy was the amount of rage boiling inside him. The death of his older brother appears to have filled him with a great desire for revenge, which only adds to the preexisting irrational anger which seems common in the younger ones. The end result is a beautifully destructive intensity, focused entirely on aggression against our enemy. Had Slender Man appeared before us right there and then, I think I’d have had to race the kid to see which one of us got to rip off Slendy’s head first.
But it wasn’t Slender Man who visited us on this day. As I was in the middle of explaining to JD the most effective methods of stabbing someone with a knife, several figures walked out of the fog. Four in total, one wearing a mask, the rest with identical blank expressions. They were all keeping their distance, making no aggressive moves, just watching the hotel. As hours passed, more began to arrive, until we had a full dozen, standing around the hotel. Five were wearing various masks, ranging from cheap plastic to elaborate Halloween style.
Can’t say that alone was very exciting (Hooray, more brain dead cannon fodder for me to slaughter). Then proxy number 13 arrived. You’ll never guess who it was. Actually, you probably will, but I’m going to treat it like it’s a surprise anyways. Good ol’ Javert, back in action! He stood with the others in the circle around our hotel, observing from a distance.
My first hint that maybe something wasn’t entirely right about my old friend was the clothes he was wearing. It was his old uniform, not the fancy black thing he’d taken to wearing lately. But I was too excited to notice such small details, and instead ran out to greet him.
Arkady: “Javert! So good to see you again! I knew you wouldn’t leave me like that!”
No response from him, which was the second sign. I still hadn’t caught on.
A: “Come on, Javert! Don’t be so down! Are you still mad at me for last time? Did your bossman have to do terrible things to you because of me?”
Javert: “He would never harm me.” Soon as I heard the voice, alarm bells blared in my head. It was completely monotone; not a trace of personality in it. “All He did was show me the true path. I have been cleansed of my sins against Him, and made free of all doubt and hesitation.”
A: “Lovely. And I suppose you’ve come to try and finish me off then?”
J: “If you live or die is for Him to decide. Whether I am His instrument in this or not is inconsequential. All will be taken by Him in the end.”
This entire time, Javert’s face hadn’t shifted, not even slightly. It was beginning to grate on me.
A: “So I suppose this means you now love Big Brother?”
No response. Come on, Javert, throw another reference back at me, come up with some convoluted reason why my use of that allusion was wrong, make a snide comment about how I chose an obvious response that practically everyone who went through high school English class would understand, something. Silence? I didn’t know how to deal with silence.
A: “Why so silent? Hm, Javert? Answer me! SAY SOMETHING!”
J: “There is no need. The purpose He has given me here does not require communicating with you.”
A: “Yeah? And what is your purpose here, D-503? Making sure me and the other Mephi folk don’t blow up the Green Wall and escape in the name of the eternal revolution?”
Still not even the slightest hint of a reaction from him. I don’t know what that thing I was talking to was, but it wasn’t Javert. Just looking at it filled me with disgust; and its silence was almost as nauseating as the empty voice which it spoke with. I couldn’t bear to even stand in its presence for a moment longer, so I did what I always do to solve my problems. I charged at him so I could punch him in the face.
As it always seems to, this plan failed spectacularly, though not in the way I’d expected. Javert pulled out his gun, and shot me in the thigh. And due to the unfortunate fact that I am not an action movie star, I went down pretty fast after that.
A: “A gun? Whatever happened to you always fighting fair!”
J: “Fairness is irrelevant.”
Then he turned around and walked back into the fog, leaving me there with my bullet wound. Jerk.
After I recovered from the OH GOD I’VE BEEN SHOT panic, the knowledge of first aid I’ve been throwing together the past few months kicked in. The shot was surprisingly minor; going clean through without hitting anything horribly vital. Either Javert was aiming to miss and just happened to hit something, or he’s an amazing shot who can target one of the few places in the body where a bullet won’t have horrible life threatening consequences. Was able to bandage myself up enough to limp/crawl back to the hotel (another perfectly good shirt ruined thanks to Slendy), where the others finally decided to help me with this stitching nonsense.
Javert and his gang are still hanging around outside, though whenever one of us goes near them, they walk into the fog and appear somewhere else. Suppose they’re looking to avoid a confrontation at the moment. I have the misfortune of being forced to rest as my injury recovers. Still capable of moving around freely (even if it does hurt like hell), but any spree of action and excitement has a good chance of ripping the wound back open. Which is making me begin to suspect that Slendy’s goal here is to bore me to death.