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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HughEhhoule on 2024-11-25 21:50:04+00:00.

For anyone that missed things a few days ago.

“So how do we know when this guy is causing the distraction?” I text.

JP laughs, it’s genuine, but dark all the same.

“The one thing I can promise you, is that when this lunatic does his thing, you’ll know.” Is his answer.

Everything is still happening so fast, the karmic quicksand that is our situation is dragging us down faster with every passing second.

Kaz is still looking rough. He’s a living example of how being able to withstand violence isn’t necessarily a good thing.

“What is this guy? Besides the obvious. “ I text.

“He’s on a lot of radars, but to the best of anyone’s knowledge, he’s just some asshole. You’d think the headline would be that he has a scrap of the ripper in his skull, but it isn’t.

No one can find anything on him before about 4 years ago. And even then, it’s spotty.

This might not sound like a big deal, but I’ve never seen someone that the collective efforts of the nosiest pricks on either side of the void can’t figure out.

Regardless, this guy can do 2 things you need, spill blood and cause shit. “ JP assures me.

“Do we need to worry about him?” I question.

“Yes, of course. What part of anything I said was unclear?

Unstable, unknown, unfriendly. Christ, how much brain did you get left with?

I’m texting you a location. If you get out, I’ll be there. Then we can see what we can do for Leo. “ JP says, dropping the call.

I hide the phone, but realize it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of the guards or twisted medical personnel walk by.

The sounds of other entities, caged and tortured , ring through the grim hallway.

“Kaz, how are things coming along?” I ask, fear and panic rising.

“It’s going to be a while still. “ Kaz says, punctuating the sentence with a pained scream of his own.

I’m going to spoil things, just a bit, what happens next, feels like the end of the world.

And contrary to popular belief, the end of the world doesn’t start with a whimper, or a bang, but a song.

Two guards walk into the hallway, human, or close enough.

Doesn’t make them any less intimidating though. Heavily armed, and in tactical gear that’d be at home in a warzone, they patrol the cells.

“Subject 248 has escaped, repeat , subject 248 has escaped. Non-lethal force only has been authorized. We must retrieve the asset. “ A voice barks through a military grade walkie-talkie system.

The taller of the two, a man with a caustic looking facial scar, presses a button on a mounted speaker, “ Roger.” He says, looking to his companion and nodding.

They both draw stout, arcing batons from hip holsters.

The sound of broken glass, a doorway at the end of the hall is plunged into darkness.

“Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk to you again. “ A thin, sinister voice half-sings.

The guards exchange glances, standing firm, almost amused.

Another lightbulb bursts, barely audible footsteps.

“Because a vision softly creeping.

Left it’s seeds while I was sleeping.” The voice gains volume, taking on an eager, almost wavering tone.

“There’s only one way down the hallway, this dickhead is just trying to shake us up. “ the shorter guard, a man with red hair and ghost white skin, says.

Two more lightbulbs give way, there’s fifteen feet or so of visibility, the rest of the hallway is black as pitch.

“And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains. “The voice is no longer singing, the ancient song’s lyrics sound like a threat.

The shorter guard stumbles to the side, hitting the bars of our cell. His companion is confused, and to be honest, so am I.

But as the man starts to fall to his knees, I see it.

A piece of jagged steel protrudes from the side of his skull. Blood falls in sheets as the man starts to gibber nonsense, clawing at the metal futilely.

“Within the sound, of silence.” The voice croons.

The taller guard attempts to grab his speaker, to radio for backup.

There’s a moment, where you can tell this man, who willingly chose this evil job realizes how much of a mistake it was. A look of shock as a rough, brutal length of metal, nothing more than a sharpened piece of debris spins end over end, first severing his hand, then the cord of the Walkie-talkie and finally buries itself in his shoulder.

The part of my brain that loves watching pain and brutality, is being absolutely outshined by fear.

Now, this may seem dramatic, even confusing. But you need to understand something. The difference between terror and horror.

Terror, is the fear of the unknown. Horror is the revulsion once it’s revealed.

Horror, I’ve been modified to love, terror, sadly, I can very much feel.

From the darkness, walks a figure as confusing as the fact my creator didn’t snip out the fear centres of my brain.

It’s the man from before, of course. He’s wearing torn, bloodstained pants, shirtless, and carrying a military style duffel bag.

His hands and forearms are covered in so much blood and gore it looks like he’s wearing gloves. The man’s left hand holds something but I can’t tell what it is. The shirtless psycho’s body is a detailed map of wounds that tell a story of torture, escape and revenge.

The man’s body language is half way between apex predator and drunken schizophrenic. His stroll to the two mortally wounded men is casual but eager, as if he’s savoring every moment.

“In restless dreams, I’ve walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone.” The pale figure comments in a wondering tone.

In an instant he slams the object in his hand into the taller guard’s head. The quarter brick cracks the guard’s skull, and he falls backward, legs flailing like a dying spider as he tries to keep his footing.

The lunatic drops to all fours searching for something on the ground. I get a good look at him, and see that he’s flensed the tattooed jester’s makeup from his face. Accurately enough to keep the sharp, angled patterns. His lips are ripped and torn from the oversized ball-gag, completing the clown from hell look.

“ ‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp. “ The mysterious killer mumbles to himself, then his face brightens, as he finds what he’s looking for, a wicked grin causing blood to ooze from his torn lips, “ When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light!” He screams.

Neither guard is in a state to defend themselves. The clown blinds them with a shard of shattered lightbulb.

He finishes his grim task, slowly turning toward Kaz and myself. His smile is full of shattered, almost fang-like teeth, his voice though hoarse seems normal.

“You two the puppet and the ‘Candyman’ ?” he asks.

“ Yes. “ Kaz says, trying and failing to rise.

I nod.

“ I’m Mike. “ The tall stranger says, taking a keycard from one of the dying guards and opening the cell door.

He throws the duffel on the cement floor, and unzips it.

“So, You look like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag, Slenderman. How long is it going to be before you can walk?” Mike asks.

“ I don’t know, maybe five minutes if I’m lucky. But I’ll be in no state to fight. Who, are you? “ Kaz replies.

Mike laughs.

“No fucking clue my guy” He says, rapping his bare skull with one hand, “ There’s a lot of loose nuts and bolts up here, and separating those from all the paranormal horseshit, that’s a task I gave up on a while ago.

What I do, is kill people. Believe it or not, It gets kind of boring. I’ve always wanted to kill monsters. “

Mike lets the comment hang, bringing out a long purple jacket from the bag.

“Jesus Christ no. “ He says tossing the garment aside.

Kaz’s eyes go wide.

“That fabric is indestructible. “ He comments, wincing in pain as ribs begin to fuse.

“You wear it then, I’m not walking around here looking like the god-damned joker.

Actually, let’s trade. “ Mike says taking Kaz’s jacket and shirt. They hang absurdly off of the man.

The supposedly indestructible garment sits on the ground clearly too small for Kaz.

“So, here’s my dilemma. Your friend says the shit in this bag has enough chutzpah to let my punch my M-card. And all I have to do to keep it , is cause enough of a distraction to let you two get out of here.

Now, five minutes fighting whatever the hell Pi’s A-team is, that’s going to be risky as hell. “ Mike says, pulling a walking stick topped with what I can feel is a lead plated infant’s skull from the duffel.

It radiates an energy that makes me walk backward.

“But sending you two on your way, that’d put a notch in my belt and let me get out of here before the shit really hits the fan. “ He stalks toward Kaz.

My friend tries to move backward, but succeeds in nothing more than making himself scream.

Mike taps Kaz’s shoulder with the head of the walking stick, the flesh peels back like wax under a welder’s torch.

“So, tall, warped and handsome, I’m going to ask you a question, and keep in mind I know the answer.

When you were talking to Pi, you said you were buddies with the god damn cancer I’ve got stuck in my brain.

Were you?” Mike asks.

Every sense I have tells me this person in front of me is just that, a person. But the look he gives Kaz, is as terrifying as anything I’ve seen yet.

“We could be found in the same circles for a time. “ Kaz replies, ashamed.

“God-damn it. “ Mike sighs, moving the walking stick, “ Guess you’re walking out of here then.

But someday…

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1gzuzyr/im_an_evil_doll_but_im_not_the_problem_part_7/