𝙏𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙌𝙐𝙀𝙏 - ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘʏᴘᴀꜱᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

1. ZALGO!

彡彡◦༄◦°˚°◦.¸¸◦°' *•.¸⦻¸.•**◦༄◦°˚°◦.¸¸彡彡

Four people stood nervously at the end of a long, pointless hallway.
The walls were fully embellished with various paintings depicting mostly flowers and portraits, all painted in the same hauntingly elegant style. The carpet was red and the walls were brown and tattered. The ceiling was far higher than necessary to match the ridiculous length of the hallway, probably about ten feet above each of their heads. From it hung a large chandelier, which seemed to be fighting for it's life, the yellow bulbs constantly flickering.

Despite the obvious signs of decay, this hall was the grandest area of the house, reserved for the the boss, and sometimes his colourful relatives. The rest of the manor could never live up to that name.

The middle knocked three times on an equally-ridiculous door, the doorknob of which sat just above his head. Screwed to the door was golden plate that read 'The Slender Man's Office'.

"Come in."
The one in the middle reached up for the doorknob, turning it and carefully pushing open the dark oak door, causing it to screech.

On the left side of the room sat a tall entity. It was man shaped, sporting a black suit and matching tie. The creature's leathery skin was completely porcelain-white, and it's face was completely blank, void of any feautures. It sat at around nine feet tall, and it's limbs stretched far longer than rational. Six long black tentacles sprouted from it's back, constantly swaying and twitching slightly despite the creature's unusually relaxed status.

The eldritch sat on a cushioned antique red velvet chair, which accommodated it's height perfectly. The wall to the left of the chair was lined with a humble bookshelf, and behind it sat a bright, flourishing fireplace that cast the room with a bright glow and welcomed the Proxies with it's warmth, something that was hard to come by in a place like this. On the right side of the room was a tall wooden desk and filing cabinet, typical office apparel. There was a large landscape group-photo of everyone and everything that inhabited the place together stretched across the wall behind, like some sort of contorted family photo.

The four of them sat down on the couch in front of him.

"What seems to be the issue?" asked the creature they knew as Slenderman, sensing anxiety in the air.

The group's eyes collectively shifted to look at Tim, the unofficial foreman of the quartet, who responded with a nervous sigh, before looking up at Slender's blank face.

"Zalgo."

The room seemed to fall into a deep silence. The quaint blow of wind outside and the quiet crackling of the fire came to a stunned halt. Even the usual humming static ambience that The Slenderman emitted paused, and the deafening sound of nothing rang in the Proxies' ears.

This was bad.
This was really bad.

Nobody spoke, enough had been said. That one, treacherous word was more than just a name. It meant death, and not death in the way this house was used to. Not death in the passive sense, not in the same way the pastas annihilated dozens a week without another thought.
An eternal sort of death. Death that meant physical doom for everything Slender stood for.

Zalgo was a strange being, Slenderman's not-so-mortal enemy since the beginning of time. Sure, Slenderman killed innocent humans, but he was evil at worst.