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It was around 5 p.m. when the trio was finishing placing the notes and traps that the operator had instructed them to do; they had to ensure that the terrain looked hostile enough so that no person, with or without reason, would think of venturing beyond the public and safe zone.
They needed to head back quickly, since the weather didn’t look favorable, and to reach the abandoned wooden cabin they called “home,” they had to cross a small muddy lake that, whenever it rained, turned into a nightmare…
A nightmare for Tim and Brian, because the animal with an irritatingly childish personality they called Toby became a total pain in the ass, jumping in puddles until he slipped into one of them, soaking his clothes in mud.
“We need to hurry up, the Operator said he wanted to talk about something important before eight,” Brian lied as he stored his tools in the trunk of the old car they had.
“But… I didn’t hear him say anything about a meeting this afternoon,” complained the youngest of the trio, a bit confused. He was so devoted to listening to and obeying Slenderman’s orders that it felt strange not to know about such an instruction.
“He told Masky while you were sharpening your axe,” Brian played along. This week it was his turn to clean the house, so he didn’t want to fight with mud on the stairs.
“Mmh…” Erin let out a small groan, still doubtful. It wasn’t the first time Masky and Hoody had acted suspiciously united.
There was no time to think—the afternoon seemed to move fast, time jumping ahead by an hour and a half. Even Tim had to turn on the fog lights as soon as he started the car.
In complete silence, Toby sat in the back, glaring resentfully at his two companions. He wanted to sit in front, drive like a cool adult with cool sunglasses and a cool cigarette like Tim. But with the hierarchy they had, he should be grateful they didn’t send him to the trunk.
“At least can I—”
“No,” both the driver and the passenger interrupted in unison.
“That’s unfair, you didn’t even know what I was going to say,” the brown-haired boy complained.
Several kilometers passed in silence—a rotten silence that made Toby more impatient, but calmed the driver. Brian only spoke when necessary to give directions about the road.
The Operator usually sent them to different locations every time—sometimes to other states, sometimes to areas far from the meeting point. This time, he sent them to a zone near a tourist camping area, which meant they were three hours away from the cabin.
The first bad omen was the dark clouds and strong wind; bad weather was forecast for today. The second bad omen came when the first raindrops began to fall just as they got into the old car.
When they were half an hour from arriving, they came across a fallen tree blocking half the road.
“Toby, you’re up,” Hoody said without taking his eyes off his phone. After all, the named one was the only one who always had an axe on hand.
There was no response.
“Toby,” Hoody called again, louder this time.
Still no response.
“Toby!” Tim finally shouted, adjusting the rearview mirror to look at the back seats. He thought the guy had fallen asleep, but instead found a young adult staring out the window with an expression that showed anything but positivity. “TOBY!” he called again, more irritated.
“I’m not doing shit. You didn’t let me talk earlier,” Toby growled angrily as he settled deeper into his seat, a clear way of telling them he wasn’t going to move an inch.
“I remind you that this affects you too—”
“So what? I can wait while Hoody looks for an alternate route and you drive another two hours.” He took off his seatbelt and lay across the three seats. It was uncomfortable considering his height, but it was enough to protect his pride.
There were no more words—only the sound of a door opening and then slamming shut. Ha! This time, he won.
“GET OUT AND CUT THE DAMN TREE!”
He felt a hand yank his pants roughly as his door was opened, followed by the cold rain soaking the lower half of his clothes while heavy drops hit the upper part.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he lifted his head, trying to compose himself.
“I WANT TO GET HOME FAST. STOP ACTING LIKE A BITCH!” Tim shouted harshly as he got back into the car and locked the doors.
Erin stood up from the cold asphalt and began trying to open the door, but every attempt was useless. He was cold and soaked, while his companion watched him with indifference. Brian, for his part, looked uncomfortable with the situation. He knew Masky had a bad temper, but he’d tried being a mediator in past fights and only earned a punch… then punched back… then more punches… and in the end, they all got punished by the Operator.
Clearly, all these fights shared a common initial factor.
Toby could’ve obeyed his companion, gone to the trunk, taken his axe, cut the tree so all three could pass, and arrive at the warm house on time for the meeting with their savior.
But that damn ego always got in the way—or maybe it was the years of abuse from his companions. Being the youngest, ever since he joined, he’d been exploited with extra or heavy tasks, and it seemed like no one wanted—or had time—to listen to his complaints.
He decided to adjust his gloves and jacket to properly cover his skin.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” Masky yelled when a rock smashed into his window. Small fragments flew, cutting his cheek and arms.
Tim jumped out of the car, grabbing Toby in his fists and lifting him off the ground until he was defenseless. With force, he removed the rock from his hand.
“I ASKED YOU FOR ONE THING, TOBY! JUST ONE!”
“Masky… a car could pass by at any moment, I think we should—” Hoody tried to calm the situation, more worried about another run-in with the police.
“ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS GRAB AN AXE AND CUT THE TREE! YOU’RE NOT A KID OR A TEEN ANYMORE, STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!” Tim kept Toby in his grip, threatening to hit him.
Toby just spat in his face, staring at him defiantly.
“YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH,” was all Masky managed to say before punching Toby in the face. As Toby tried to break free from the older man’s grip, he started hitting him back—and even biting him.
“YOU NEVER LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY! IT’S UNFAIR! UNFAIR!” Toby shouted between blows.
“MAYBE IF YOU BEHAVED, WE WOULD!” Masky yelled back.
“MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED TREATING ME LIKE A KID ALL THE TIME!” Toby screamed as he tried to choke Masky.
“MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED ACTING LIKE ONE!” Masky screamed back, trying to choke Toby as well.
“GO FUCK YOURSELF, ASSHOLE.”
While the two of them fought, Hoody simply sighed tiredly. This was why he hated joint missions—he wasn’t joking when he said they always ended like this. He was grateful it usually only happened once a month.
He got out of the car in the pouring rain, grabbing an umbrella from the glove compartment before opening the trunk, determined to take initiative. He didn’t want to be stranded on the road depending on a passerby or civil protection—he knew that if anyone recognized or checked them, they’d have to end their life, and all he wanted right now was to get home.
What he didn’t expect was to find the tool bag EMPTY. Toby had forgotten his axe in the forest… again.
With the other tools he had stored, trying to cut the large trunk blocking the road would be a joke.
“Tim,” he tried to call him, but Tim was too focused on fighting Toby—they’d already moved on to slaps, scratches, and even kicks. Without a doubt, it was a typical bitch fight.
Worst of all, Hoody knew they wouldn’t get anywhere. The Operator didn’t allow killing other proxies (unfortunately). The rule was: if two go out, two must return; if three go out, three must return; if five go out, five must return. And the same ones who left had to come back—replacements weren’t allowed either.
He looked around the area. It was desolate. He doubted help would arrive anytime soon, and from experience, he could tell Toby and Masky would go back to being civilized people in about twenty minutes. So… holy shit, is that an OXXO?
Behind the tree, yellow and orange colors provided some light to the dark area they were trapped in. They were literally on a steep uphill road at the edge of a forest, not even close to an entrance or exit—almost in the middle of nowhere. The nearest civilization was two and a half hours away by car, already traveled, and it was a camping zone.
He’d heard a bit about those stores during some missions—the locals talked about them like some kind of epidemic—but he never really understood what they meant and didn’t pay much attention.
“DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!” Toby’s cracked voice, accompanied by Masky’s irritated and genuinely angry shouting, left no doubt about what Hoody needed to do.
Besides, the cold and wind battered the place—it wouldn’t hurt to grab some coffee.
He took the car keys for safety and headed toward the mysterious store in the middle of nowhere.
Carefully, he climbed over the tree branches and crossed to the other side. The yellow and orange colors grew more intense, and contrary to what he expected, the store was well-stocked and its interior lights were on.
He entered and was greeted by nothing but faint background music. He thought it might be a self-checkout store or something like that—it made sense, since he still couldn’t believe there was a store in such an area, much less so close to their refuge.
Walking through the aisles, he didn’t recognize any of the packaging, but they looked fun—so many colors and words in another language.
He prepared a coffee as best as God allowed him to. They were something like full-time workers isolated from society, so they were a bit outdated with technology. Plus, the machine was in another language, just like the promotion signs—he had to rely on images, but the hundreds of tiny letters didn’t inspire confidence.
He went to the register, ready to face the challenge of paying even if the screen was also in another language, but he jumped slightly when he saw something—or rather, someone—come out of one of the back doors.
The person didn’t look older than twenty-five, but didn’t quite look eighteen either. Her skin was brown with a slightly chubby build. She was wearing a t-shirt with the logo that accompanied this place (seeing that logo so much made him wonder if he had entered a cult disguised as a store) and a curious little nap hat. She whispered irritably something in another language as she approached. In his mind, he paraphrased her words trying to understand their meaning: “Cheen-gen soo co-lah, yah noh deh-han dor-meer ah oo-noh.”