STOP THE OPERATOR

          “   THE   MASK   KEEPS   ME   SAFE .   ”    they   assure ,   although   it   is   hand   -   hand   with   the   paranoia   caused   by   the   operator .    while   it   is    strapped   around   their   head   securely ,    a    gloved    hand   raises    and   presses    it    to    their   features ,    as    if    it    was   going   to    be   pulled   away   at   some   point .    the   last   thing   they   want   is   their   safety   to   be   torn   away ,    because   to   be   open   to   the   operator   was   a   death   sentence   in   his   book .

           TIM   CLEANS   THE   END   OF   THEIR   BLADE   TIRELESSLY ,   wiping   away   splats   of   blood   that’d   seemed   to   stain   from   the   last   conflict   they’d   gotten   tangled   up   in .    they   were   more   of   a   strategist   when   it   came   to   fights ,   they   loved   to   stay   hidden   and   study   their   target   -   so   a   few   bumps   and   bruises   were   common .   this   one   resulted   with   someone   who   had   fought   back   like   crazy   -   a   long   gash   had   torn   through   their   jacket   and   a   shallow   wound   had   been   inflicted   along   his   bicep .   he   pays   little   heed   to   it   now .

It had perhaps helped the Operator that they’d come into this paranoid. It certainly wasn’t helping Sass any, but for the Operator to find one already to on edge with paranoia it’s been labeled as part of their personality… Well, that made them an easy target, didn’t it? They should have been an easy target. But there had been something, some sort of tenacity, that had made them anything but. Call it perseverance, call it determination. Call it whatever name you desired, it all amounted to the same. 

Sass would not back down. And they wouldn’t stay down when they fell, either. How many times should they have died? How many times had the video cut when it seemed that there would never ne another upload? Certainly no less than anyone one else who’d gotten themselves intertwined in this calamity, but why did it almost seem like there were more instances with them? Something was keeping them alive, maybe? Something protecting them? 

Or something else entirely? 

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter at the moment. Sass was in the church, hunkered, staring down at what they’d taken off of the doors earlier that morning. Drawn pages, ones that reminded them of the Marble Hornets story, or the game that had been based off of it. It was possibly they’d drawn them themself, sure, and pasted them out there, but the video of them sleeping told otherwise. It hadn’t been them. They needed to get another camera to watch outside. And they would. Next time they went out, the next video they uploaded, the speculation, the-

Pale, shaky hands drop the pages to the dusty ground below them, their heart racing as they stand up abruptly, whipping around to the window they’d heard the noise from. They saw nothing, no, but they’d heard it. They knew they’d heard it, they weren’t crazy, they weren’t, and they weren’t hearing things. The thoughts are vehement and immediate, the true sign that they feared they were, and they might be had crossed their mind more than once. 

They ignore it and look around the empty church. 

Empty, except for them, of course. 

And now something was outside The idea of someone doesn’t really enter their mind, all adrenaline and righteous anger and thinly veiled panic that it was the Operator or it was something else. The thing with the feathers, maybe. There was not much choice, though, was there? If the church was no longer safe, they couldn’t stay here. They’d have to keep moving. God damnit. 

Gathering their things quickly and shoving them into their backpack- a heavy duty thing with sharks printed all over it- they swing it over one shoulder and pull out their camera. They stare down at it a moment too long, wondering, not for the first time, what it was about them. What was it about the camera that compelled them, and the people like them, to film it? To film it and be almost crippled without the camera? They pull their eyes away, flicking the camera on and carefully going to the door of the church. They wait there a moment, listening, trying to decide whether or not something was waiting just on the other side for them. 

After a moment, they unbolt the door and swing the creaky door open hard and fast, no use wasting time now. In the hand that doesn’t hold the camera, a machete with a pink ribbon tied carefully around it. What would a machete do against a faceless monster? Almost certainly nothing, but it had been a staple of the show since the start. They weren’t about to abandon it now. 

“Fuck OFF evil CREATURES.” Shouted into the daylight, both a show for the viewers and to force their confidence as they begin to walk the perimeter. 

          TIM   HAD   A   REASON   FOR   THEIR   METHODS   -   paranoid   people   can   be   dangerous ,   so   in   turn ,   they   themself   were   dangerous   too .   caution   would   never   be   thrown   to   the   wind   when   you’re   always   looking   over   your   shoulder ,   after   all ,   and   not   only   was   tim   already   defensive ,    but   they   too   found   themself   almost   constantly   wrought   with   fear .   they   tighten   their   grip   around   their   backpack   from   their   crouched   position   beneath   the   window ,   trained   ears   listening   to   the   shuffling   going   on   from   inside   the   building .   from   the   way   that   this   person   was   moving ,   there’s   no   rush   to   come   out   of   hiding   just   yet .   they   had    to   be   absolutely   certain   that   this   was   the   right   move ,    and   sometimes   it   took   days   for   them   to   settle   on   what   to   do   next .   tepid   steps   move   along   the   side   of   the   building ,   careful   steps   taking   heed    to   the   vegetation   and   to   not   crunch   the   leaves   and   create   noise .           they   peer   around   the   building ,   eyes   watching   from   afar .   maybe   they   themself   made   certain   movements   that   rode   in   similarity   to   the   operator ,    but   at   this   point   they   couldn’t   care .   they    needed   to   protect   themself ,   and   that   was   the   most   important   thing .   they   may   be   primal   at   times ,    but   with   reason .

“ ARE YOU SURE YOU WANNA HEAR MORE ?  w-what if i ain’t worth the while ? “ 

          DEEP   FROWN   SETTLES   ON   THEIR   FEATURES ,   though   this   goes   unseen   from   behind   the   mask .   their   hands   are   shaky   beneath   gloves   and   curled   around   their   knife ,   though   they   make   no   move   to   harm   her .   the   story   behind   how   anyone   finds   themselves   in   a   similar   position   to   what   they   were   in   is   much   worth   their   while .

The clues had always been there, but only if you’d been paying attention. 

Paranoid from the start, Sass, the host of Slenderverse Explained, had never said their exact location. However, when shit started to hit the fan, they started to lay the framework for where they could be found, should it come down to that. They hadn’t been shy, even in the beginning, to mention they lived in Pennsylvania, western Pennsylvania at that. In between Pittsburgh and Erie, where I-79 and I-80 met. There were maybe four spot in between the two cities where that occurred.

When it started to get bad they’d done a walk through their town. Never showing street signs, but showing one of the businesses on Main Street, the only street in their tiny town that even had any businesses to show. 

It had only escalated from there, and they’d only gotten more cryptic. Locations in the middle of nowhere kept cropping up, these long, often shakily held shots would, for a moment, pause into still imagery, with coordinates hidden in the image, should anyone watching know anything about steganography. 

They didn’t want to be found, no, but they knew it was getting to the point where if someone was out there who could help… Let them come. 

Their latest video, posted two weeks prior entitled, Safe Room, had been one of those shots. In an old abandoned church, halfway rotted with ivy and deep in the back woods of PA, there head been coordinates when the shot became a still image. On the church door, still remarkably sound, had been a large symbol painted in red paint. They’d explained that the symbol allowed them cover for an unknown amount of time, the Operator could not see them so long as they were behind it. They didn’t know how long this would last, and leaving the church for anything other than a few hours was a fool’s errand. Especially since the trek out of the woods, into town, and back, left them a sitting duck. 

Or, running duck, really. 

But they had to get some place with internet access to upload the videos, to do research, and to eat. This wasn’t ideal, but it was what they had to work with. In the background of the video had been another clue. The sound of a river. They’d wished the audience to stay safe, and the video had ended. 

Should anyone come knocking, they’d find that the path taken through the woods was a bad one. The trail was barely there, it was muddy, there were bugs every where, and to get fully across it you had to pass through a swamp that banked the Allegheny River and the wood bridge was almost rotten and liable to give out if you stood in one place for too long. 

There was very little outside of the trees and the river. The muddy trail, the bugs, the stink, the realization that aside from the river and the buzzing of insects there were no sounds of any wildlife.

And then, there was a church. Like a mirage, in a clearing, dying from the chokehold of ivy but with spring flowers, daffodils and daisies and coltsfoot scattered out before it. 

And that red symbol painted on the door. 

There it was. Like a beacon of hope, or, maybe, it was more like a hole waiting for a body to be buried in it. 

          TIM   WAS   NO   STRANGER   TO   BIZARRE   TREKS ,   in   fact ,    he   was   intimately   familiar   with   going   on   uncomfortable   hikes   through   the   forest .   not   by   choice ,    but   more   -   so   thanks   to   the   sickness .   he’s   not   too   sure   what   he’s   seeking   out ,    but   he’s   come   this   far :   he’s   either   going   to   find   the   operator ,    or   the   answer   he’s   looking   for .           it   has   been   years   since   his   last   incident  -   one   where   he   was   brought   to   actions   that   he   himself   couldn’t   even   familiarize   with .   he   hated   when   people   sucked   themselves   into   this   mess .   it   always   found   a   way   to    drag   him  back   down ,   but   that   was   the   art   of   the   operator .   it’s   all   a   haze ;   it’s   always   been   a   haze .   he’s   never   seemed   to   find   the   proper   way   to   voice   his   troubles ,   instead ,   winding   it   all   up   inside   and   creating   the   mess   inside   his   head .   the   sickness   made   things   worse ,   it   made   it   jumbled ,   and   hand   -  in   -   hand   with   mental   illness ,   everything   came   clashing   together .   like   a   horror   symphony .           when   he   finds   himself   in   pennsylvania   on   yet   another   wild   goose   hunt ,    he   can’t   help   but   feel   the   churn   in   his   stomach   as   he   hiked   the   forest .   he’s   not   sure   what   he’s   looking   for ,   but   fear   tells   him   that   his   life   depended   on   it .