When Violence Ensues: Slenderverse Short Stories.

Story Three: Invoke

Things were about to get much worse for the already bloodied man. He could only guess how this was going to turn out, as he was thrown viciously into the dark and cluttered space. Landing heavily on the wooden floor, a pained whimper left Patrick's lips as HABIT gave a malevolent chuckle, "THINGS HAVE CAUGHT UP WITH YOU NOW, HAVEN'T THEY, PATRICK?" He questioned, a smug expression gracing his features. The wounded man simply winced and gave a trivial, strained smile in return, "It seems that they have, indeed." He agreed, wrapping his arms around his bruised and bleeding torso, as if he was trying to hold himself together for the fear of falling apart.

HABIT observed Patrick's calm demeanour, curiously. Usually by now, they'd be screaming, swearing or trying to fight back. Patrick, on the other hand, was on his knees. The immoral being gave a mockingly sincere smile, "AT LEAST YOU ADMIT IT. YOU KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE, DON'T YOU?"

"I'm afraid not, no." Patrick responded, "Care to enlighten me?" He questioned, one eyebrow raised as he glanced up at HABIT. How loathsome he was. An entity filled with so much power, consumed with his own hate with the authority over anyone and anything, able to even unravel the Administrator's spider-like web. What a horrible entity HABIT was, yet there was something about the chaos he brought that made sense. As the embodiment of mankind's bad habits, the evil being brought pain to everyone, in more ways than one.

Patrick understood why.

"There is nothing you can't do." Patrick murmured his eyes locked with HABIT'S predator-like stare. HABIT cocked his head to the right, smug expression leaving his face. A sneer replaced it quite quickly afterwards,

"SAY THAT INTO MY GOOD EAR?"

"There is nothing you can't do. I saw the video, HABIT." Patrick repeated, seeing a flicker of recognition in HABIT'S dark eyes, "The story of Bartram Burk."

"AH, I'M SURPRISED, PATTY. I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D BE THE ONE TO DO BACKGROUND RESEARCH."

"Of course I would. I like to know what I'm up against." The damaged man responded truthfully. Patrick tended to usually understand most things he was faced with. He enjoyed knowing how to avoid, or overcome, any obstacles that may come his way. HABIT wasn't overly shocked by Patrick's statement; the whimpering delinquent seemed to know a lot about many things. Usually the information was pointless, however.

"WELL. NOT LIKE IT'S GOING TO DO YOU ANY GOOD, IS IT? YOU'RE HERE TODAY, BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN INTERFERING. STICKING YOUR NOSE IN WHERE YOU SHOULDN'T, TURNING UP IN PLACES YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN. MAKING MY LIFE PROBLEMATIC. WHAT AM I TO DO WITH YOU, PATRICK?" HABIT questioned in a sardonic fashion. He took a blade from the table in the corner of the room, shrouded by the darkness. The only light that was in the room was a dimming floodlight that was stationed in the other corner of the room. Patrick was adjacent to the floodlight, staying in a position where he could see HABIT and also see where he was. Apart from that insignificant extent of light, everything else was obscured by the shadows. Eyes flickering from the wooden, stained floor of the attic, Patrick gritted his teeth at the dread that established in the pit of his stomach. The glint of the blade in HABIT'S hand sent convulsions down his spine. He identified that this was going to be excruciating. The bloodied male shifted backwards as the sinful entity started forward towards him in a menacing manner, a vindictive grin plastered onto his lips. Of course he would find great pleasure in tearing him apart.

"HABIT, I often wonder whether you are an intelligent entity with a plan, or a criminal with intent." Patrick recoiled, watching as HABIT's expression changed from that grin, to a suggestive smirk,

"A LITTLE BIT OF BOTH, IF I'M HONEST. NOW, MY PLAN, WHICH IS WHY YOU'RE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, IS NOT TO KILL YOU." He insisted, gesturing with his hands as he explained. Patrick's brows furrowed in slight confusion,

"I'm unaware of what you're trying to tell me."

"LET ME EXPLAIN, DUMBASS. I'M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU. NO, I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING. AN ALTERNATIVE WAY OF THINKING, COMPARED TO HOW YOU THINK."

"Okay?" The injured man spoke, a questioning tone of voice. Was this a virtuous or ruthless change in events? If HABIT was scheming, frequently it didn't entail anything innocuous. That same malicious grin rose to HABIT'S lips once more,

"CAN YOU TRUST ME THAT I WON'T HORRIBLY INJURE YOU?"

"No."

"GOOD. NOW, YOU NEED TO LEARN SOMETHING," HABIT started, crouching down to Patrick's level. It was more intimidating than when he towered over him, the injured man shuddered at how close the loathsome entity was,

"What?" He asked, his mouth dry as he dreaded the next words that fell from HABIT's lips like poison,

"NOT EVERYONE YOU ENCOUNTER CAN BE USED AS A PAWN, FOR ONE. SECONDLY, I AM GOING TO BRING STICK-IN-THE-MUD TO ITS KNEES, AND YOU'RE GOING TO HELP ME."

Patrick's eyes snapped open in shock. How could he possibly benefit this plot? Opening his mouth to speak, he was quickly silenced by the icy scowl that HABIT had dawned, "I'VE GOT OTHER SOURCES TO ASSIST ME, IDIOT. YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE SOURCES, BECAUSE YOU'VE GOT CONNECTIONS TO IT."

"Michael isn't going to like this." Patrick mused softly, a look of concern reflecting in his dark eyes. HABIT snorted in response,

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF HE LIKES IT OR NOT, YOU'RE GOING TO ASSIST ME OR I'LL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL. WHICH ONE WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE?"

Patrick almost whimpered as HABIT gently pressed the tip of the blade to his throat, forcing him to tilt his head back,

"Fine, as you wish. How, may I ask, do you plan to tackle something this big?" He questioned, voice slightly strained due to the severely concerning fact that a knife was pressed to his jugular. Gritting his teeth as HABIT brought the knife away, Patrick sat up as straight as he could, clutching his torso. The cracked, most likely broken, ribs made it difficult to even sit upright,

"WITH THE HELP OF SOMEONE FROM THE INSIDE, I CAN UNRAVEL STICK-IN-THE-MUD'S LITTLE GAME."

"Why, HABIT? Why are you even doing something this risky?" Patrick asked, almost shaken. HABIT seemed to have been waiting for that question, as the smile that found its way to his lips suggested,

"BECAUSE IT'S IN MY WAY, I'M TIRED WITH ACTING LIKE ITS SLAVE AND ITS PAWN. I'M ITS RIVAL, PATRICK. I'M MUCH MORE THAN JUST A RIVAL AT THIS POINT." He responded, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right as his eyes narrowed, "SO WHAT DO YOU SAY?"

Patrick was stunned. How had he not seen this coming? Of course something as power-hungry and daunting as HABIT was going to want to prove he was not a force to be reckoned with. Even if it meant that The Administrator knew that he was lesser than the embodiment of mankind's bad habit, Patrick had a feeling HABIT would be satisfied. He didn't want to kill the 'Stick-In-The-Mud' No; he wanted to prove he was superior.

"I'll do as you wish." Patrick responded with dread. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was going to regret them, "On one condition. Once this is over, you leave Michael at peace. You never approach him again."

"FAIR ENOUGH, AS YOU SAY PATRICK." HABIT replied, his tone of voice suggesting that he did not really seem to care, or believe that Michael even exsisted, "BUT BEFORE I LET YOU OFF THE HOOK, I NEED TO TEACH YOU A LESSON OF SORTS." He spoke, malicious intent dripping from his voice. The flair of excitement in the entity's eyes was enough to invoke trepidation in Patrick,

"YOU DO NOT FUCKING THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT YOU CAN DOUBLE-CROSS ME." He growled, as Patrick braced himself for the punishing hours of pain ahead of him.

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