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Wednesday, February 7, 2018


I left. It's November 2011 now.

I really did it. I guess.

After that post. I should have left on Thanksgiving.

After Nessa.

I was scared.

It was too late to run away.

My stupid gloating made me a target.


He was being followed too. Even after he tried to masquerade around as me.

It's...it's really complicated.

We started the blog last November. It was a long shot and I thought I could just hide as things died down. But when Ritchie died. When Cheska went back.. when everything changed...

It's silly to think I was safe. But I did.

So I came back here to update everyone.

New location. Not saying exactly where, but at least there's running water, a bed, and some natural scenery. At least my laptop and hotspot still work.

I don't know if I'm making it to where I'm going.

I'm leaving this here, just in case something happens to me. If this post never sees the light of day personally, at least it's on a timer.

So, a few clues.

The Happiest Place on Earth in the ass end of the United States.

 Sources tell me that there's a neutral zone there.

Proxies and Runners. Together in one place.

Without trying to kill each other? It's a gold mine.

Probably a breeding ground of acolytes for both sides but who's complaining?

Maybe with.. maybe with everything Ritchie left behind.

I can actually make something that works longer than a few hours.

But in case I don't make it, this post is set to appear sometime in the future.

I don't know who will continue my work when I'm gone. But there are people out there who are a hell of a lot more successful than me.

Ritchie, that lovable bastard. He was an idiot.

You can't unite people who run everywhere to survive.

Mess up their lives with the grand purpose of thinking that you were helping everyone. It's that inflated sense of ego that probably got you killed.

But not me. If you want to survive, you need a Proxy. Maybe a neutral or someone gathering information for both sides.

I don't know how to contact any of them, been out of the loop for too long.

But rumors spread.

Just a name, not a face.

Dia. Some sort of information gatherer the proxies have.

Whoever she is. She's a Keeper.

Hope I live long enough to meet her. She sounds like a hell of a candidate if this thing ever got off the ground. Tried that once, but.. well.

Some of Ritchie's old contacts dropped off the radar. They were the first batch.

Scott. Ava. Alora.

Wherever you are, I hope you're okay.

But they would have made great Keepers too.

But back to Dia... They call her a gatherer. Got herself into the biggest melting pot I've ever seen.

If she found any of this, maybe it'd all be worth it.

For a Proxy, she would have done great if we worked together. 

I like the ring of that. Dia the Keeper.

But I need to go now. It's getting dark soon.

Good luck everyone,


Monday, April 18, 2011

Truth in, Truth Out.

So, some people have noticed that I type like Jeff.
Well, there's a simple explanation to that.

Well...how do I say this?

Well, I can say that I am Jeff.
Or, at least, my real name is Jeff.

That's right.

I'm Jeff.

Always have been.

The guy you met?


That brave sensitive guy who ended up dead?

That was Ritchie.

He took my name, my title, and my face.
He did it to protect me. The fucker.

He was my best friend and he goes on this huge adventure.

He really did have someone to protect.

He was protecting me.

I'd take his name and look like the villain.
I'd be safe. I'd be there to protect Cheska after he died.

But it's all gone now.
The plan failed.
I'm... I'm one of them now.

I guess...
Well, I have nothing better to do than pull a Jeff.

Wish me luck,
Jeff (Just Jeff)

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Okay, So I lied...

I'm all alone on this one.

Fizzy's dead, Jeff's dead.
I captured Cheska in the heat of the moment.
Jeff's easy to imitate. Be nice, sound stupid.

It was kind of sad, seeing her sitting in her own little world.
She misses them so much, her friends.

I have her, she's been sedated.
She can't fight back as it is.

The drug isn't going to wear off anytime soon.
And apparently it doesn't keep her from hitting me.

But enough small talk.
I'll cut right to the chase.

You try to find me and save her?

She dies.

You let me do what I want?

 She lives.

Simple as that.

I could have killed her from the beginning.
Serves her right. Her little boyfriend killed my two best friends.

They were guarding the cell the day we captured them.

But I need her alive.

I need to know what the hell this thing is.

I need to learn everything about Slender Man.
And she is the key to all of it.

She knows who Jeff was.
She has all the information.

And one way or another...
I'm going to damn well get it.


Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Do you know how hard it is to set a broken nose?

....Really, do you?

I mean... I deserved that one.

Yeah, if you guys haven't guessed it yet, Fizzy's my partner.

I respect her like hell, and she gets the job done.

But why did she choose to save Cheska?

The ma... I mean, boss man wants her dead anyway.

But she's going high and mighty over this chick.

Not that she isn't attractive, but Fizzy can have her.

That and she hates me.

I come over to talk to Fizz about her next mission,
and the minute I see her, she takes one look
and smacks me right in the nose.


A bag of frozen peas later and we were talking.

I'll post the transcript later.

But for now...

I'm looking for something...


Friday, April 1, 2011

What's Going on So Far...Crazy Partners.

Hey kids, Cheska's sleepy right now, so you get a guest host tonight!

I've got good news, and bad news.
Good news first: Cheska's no longer in danger of being killed by Big Blue or a proxy.
Bad news: It's because she's my new right-hand girl. Well, actually, that's just bad news for you guys, I think. It's excellent news for me.

Cheska woke up tied down to a chair, with an IV plugged into her right forearm via needle. I made sure to wipe up any blood and I numbed that spot so she only felt minimal pain. I also made sure the first thing she saw was me.
“... Isabel?” she asked, groggy from whatever had knocked her out when some dude in a mask dumped her in the chair earlier that first day. Yes, first. She held out for two days. “What... where am I?” I tipped my hat to her,
“Glad to see a friendly face, kitten?" I asked, lounging back on the chair opposite her. Cheska just gave me a cold stare.
“What the hell is going on here, Fizzy?" A fair question. I decided she deserved to hear my take on things. Well, okay, I'll give her a choice. The way this drug works, it'll get harder for her to think the more brain activity goes on. From what the science types told me about it, it moves through the brain faster that way. I don't know, I'm not a fucking biologist.
"Well, do you want the answer that'll let you feel relieved, or do you want the answer that'll make you realize you're bound into a chair in the middle of nowhere with a powerful hypnotic drug dripping into your bloodstream?" I swept my hand around, and I could tell she was only then coming to realize we were in an abandoned airplane hangar.
“I'd prefer knowing why one of my old friends isn't dead, if you please."
"Alright, another choice, though pretty soon your poor head's gonna start feeling really foggy. Do you want the long version, or do you want the short one?”

She asked for the long version. I obliged. I told her everything about how I ended up like this. Something like pity dawned in her eyes. I told her about how I'd been ordered to kill her. That pity crumbled. I held up a finger, and started in on the real meat of the plan. I leaned against the back of her chair and hugged her from behind, telling her how I felt. I considered, and continue to consider her, a dear friend, and how if she stayed with me, she'll be safe. You know, from Big Blue, and his other merry henchmen. I explained why I stopped caring about most people—hell, look at the people who are being haunted these days. People who want to meth lab a cure, people who want to treat this like the sequel to The Expendables... Well, you get the gist of it. The people making the same mistakes I did, only, they're not learning from them.
“He loved you, you know. You were family to him. His cool big sister.” How do I explain what went on in that hangar to you all? Big Blue was there, you know. If I didn't get her to see things my way, I had to kill her. If I didn't do either, he'd kill her, then kill me. And I'm still not ready to die, and I can't stand to let Cheska get hurt if I can prevent it. And that's what I told her. I made sure the computer was still recording, and I spent hours talking to her in a soft, soothing voice. Reassuring her, as the drug kicked in full-force and Cheska started having trouble telling my words apart from her thoughts, that I was going to keep her safe from everything that would hurt her, I stood behind her and lightly massaged her temples.

Yes, yes, I know, some or all of you are gasping right now, pointing at me and calling me a bounder, a cad, a villain for brainwashing her. Here's the thing: I didn't use anything but that drug, and techniques you learn in a first-year psychology course. I kept appealing to the part of her that wanted to be protected and loved, and touched her in relaxing, reassuring ways. If she wanted, she could have fought it off long enough to pull the IV out of her arm, especially since I unbound her and re-bound only her wrists and ankles once she went limp, and her denials turned into soft, curious questions, and finally, acceptance. I held her there like that, for... I don't know how long. I'd long since pulled the IV out. She fell asleep smiling and snuggling up against me. I used the computer to edit the recording, replace all her denials early on with acceptance, cut out the extraneous parts, and put it on an endless loop after donning some earplugs. I wasn't tired, so I stayed up all night, hugging her close, listening to her start to whisper along with my played-back voice.

It was around noon when she woke up, so I stopped the recording and pulled the earplugs out. Big Blue wasn't near anymore. I didn't feel that tug in my head. Cheska just fixed her soft blue eyes on me and asked,  in a heartbreakingly innocent tone, “What now?” I sighed. Now to see if she was going to be saved, or if I'd have to bury that last bit of me that's still sane and decent.
“Well... we're going to have to do some very bad things to some good people, Chessie,” I began. She knew exactly what I meant. I wasn't surprised, she's always been bright.
“Why can't we help them?”
“We... are, in a way. They won't be scared, they won't be hurt, they'll be free, Chessie. I promise, we'll make sure it doesn't hurt when we catch up to one and they'll be given a proper burial.” I looked at her, eye-to-eye, and cradled her cheek in my hand, “Trust me.” Cheska waged a short inner war, then nodded, resting against me, and before she fell asleep (putting us in our current situation), she managed to slurr out,
“I trust you.”

So, before anyone thinks about playing the hero, I need you to stop and really think. I can keep her safe from Big Blue, and the other proxies. I can make sure she's never hurt, that she's safe, protected, and loved. I can give her a *life.* Would you rather tear her away from that, leave her alone and terrified in a hostile world with an otherworldly creature hunting her down, leaving her dead in a ditch somewhere after spending the last days of her life terrified, lonely, hurting, and with her sanity in shreds?

It's funny how you think you're only a one time guy...

and they just drag you back in.

Greetings bloggers and the like.

As you can guess from my last post, I'm a little new here.
But not that new. You may have known me as Recessed.

Cut that bullshit.

You can call me Ritchie.

And well, this is my blog now.

You'll see me around once in a while, but I'll mostly be on the quiet side.

I'll let my partner speak for me. You may have met her already.

But I think that's enough for now.

We'll see how this goes.