I don’t usually go to bars. But when I do, it’s with the intention of taking the property of someone who has consumed far too much alcohol.
There was a reason behind my petty theft, different from my usual “I was bored and had nothing to do on a weekday night” excuse I tend to fall back on. This time I had a PLAN. After taking some drunken fool’s wallet, I went to the police station to drop off a lost wallet, like the good citizen I am. The whole plan was something of a gamble; whether or not I succeeded was based entirely on luck, and if I failed, well, repeatedly dropping off items I’d “found” would be a tad suspicious
For a long time, I waited outside the police department, distancing myself so that I would not arouse suspicion, but close enough to see the people who entered and left. When I saw someone who bore some resemblance to what I remember from the officer New Year’s night, I memorized his license plate, then walked in after him. I still couldn’t tell if he was the man; I’d need to hear him say something, so I could tell if the voices matched. If they didn’t, and I had followed the wrong man, well, would have sucked to be me.
All I needed was to hear him say a few words to identify by, so my plan had been to just drop off the wallet, and pray that not only he said something within earshot, but that my one shot was being spent on the right person. Was not expecting him to be the one who was collecting the lost and found property that day.
It wasn’t even necessary to wait for him to speak for me to identify him. The instant I saw that gleaming, carnivorous smile, I knew I’d found the right target. He went through the motions of taking the lost property, but I could imagine the laughter he was suppressing. There were no doubts from his expression, he remembered who I was, and he found this entire meeting most amusing.
For sake of greater accuracy, I’ll use this as an opportunity to further describe his appearance. He had a name tag on, but I think I’ll just call him Javert (All I did was
After our meeting, I returned to waiting outside the department. Several hours later, Javert’s time for working ended. Staying a few cars behind him at all times, I followed his drive back to his home. The man lives in a surprisingly lavish house, on the outskirts of the city, where habitation ends and forests begin (of course). It’s two stories tall, with a fence surrounding the property, except for the back, where a barrier of trees existed. My ability to observe from the outside was limited, and I felt that breaking inside would be stretching my streak of luck far beyond what it could take, so I was forced to be content with peering through windows. Our Javert fellow appears to be living with a wife and elementary age son. Certainly was not expecting that. Though this family of his may prove useful to me later on.
My observation of the man in his natural habitat continued until night fell. Everything I had seen thus far had been boringly normal. Not until late in the night did things turn interesting. I had dozed off for a little (in hindsight, that doesn’t sound like the most intelligent of decisions, does it), but was awoken when I heard Javert leaving his house, and walking out back. I fingered the hilt of my knife as I watched him. It wouldn’t be much use against a man armed with a gun, but it was better than no weapon at all. I though perhaps he was coming over to where I was hiding in the brush, but he walked past me without stopping, towards the forest. Inches from the branches, he dropped to his knees, and spread his arms out. An absolute silence fell over the area, as though a bubble had encased this one small place, blocking all outside noise. Shadows snaked out of the forest and wrapped around him in an embrace. The expression on his face was of unrestrained bliss, jaw hanging slightly open and eyes gazing distantly into some world not visible to anyone else.
Curiosity made me stay longer than I should have. After five minutes of watching Javert kneel motionlessly, his head suddenly snapped to the side, looking straight at my hiding place. His lips were pulled back, stretched impossibly far, showing more teeth than I’d have liked to see. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and started lurching towards me. I assumed this to be my cue to leave, and made a quick escape, dashing to and over the fence as fast as I could.
I had nearly made it to my car (note to self: parking a distance away from your target is good for avoiding suspicion, but terrible for making quick getaways) when I heard footsteps gaining on me from behind. My first thought was that Javert was a quicker man than I had assumed, but when I looked back, it was someone new on my tail. Terribly disheveled fellow, I would have just assumed him to be some homeless drifter were I to encounter him in any other situation. It would be inaccurate to say he was running towards me. Instead, it looked like he was being pulled, his feet moving across the ground not to propel himself forward, but to keep himself from falling as his body accelerated. Without any grace at all, he leapt at me and tackled me to the ground. Long and dirty fingernails clawed at my face, reaching for my eyes. After a brief struggle, I threw him off of me.
My attacker was younger than I’d first thought, around my age. The scraggly beard and torn clothing he had gave him a deceptively old appearance. His movements looked…. Wrong. He didn’t move like a person, but like a puppet. When he stood back up, I caught myself looking from the strings pulling on him. Again, he threw his body at me in another attack, this time adding biting on top of clawing to his methods. I managed to keep his teeth off me (which I am very glad of; he didn’t seem to have the most hygienic of mouths), but I couldn’t prevent my arms from being covered in cuts as he slashed those claw like nails at me over and over. The actions were clumsy, but relentless; no matter how many times I struck back, punching him in the face, kicking him in the stomach, he kept up his attack. Once more, he managed to knock me to the ground. This second time, I didn’t bother with trying to throw him off; I pulled out my knife, and started stabbing it repeatedly into him.
At first, even that didn’t seem to hinder him. Most would stop fighting once they’d been stabbed in the jaw once, and those few that would continue would tend to throw in the towel after the next five knife wounds. No matter how many times I stabbed him, he would keep trying to claw out my throat/bite my eyes out/etc.
I’m not sure how long we fought there. By the end, I was covered in his blood (as well as a fair helping of my own), and he was barely recognizable as a human. He should have died long ago, but even as I threw his mutilated form off me, his body still twitched, trying to move its broken limbs towards me. To be safe, I ran over him as I drove away.
Since last night, I haven’t seen Javert, Slender Man, or any hard to kill puppet proxy whatevers. There was a new message in my inbox, from the university. It said that a student had been murdered last night, and told everyone to be on the lookout for a white male in his twenties with brown hair, brown eyes, 5’9”, and wearing a collared shirt.
Yeah, well, fuck you and your police alerts, Javert. If that description didn’t match dozens of other students here, I may be concerned, but now it’s just an annoyance. I’ve gotten rid of the knife, burned the clothes I was wearing at the time, and you can’t use Mr. Faceless on the witness stand. And now I know where you, but more importantly, where your family, lives.