Chapter 13

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       As your eyes scanned over the weapons room again, you thought over what you had experience with – which was a kitchen knife. All these powerful weapons, and you had hardly a clue how to use them. Hesitantly, you made your way over to the numerous variations of knives that were neatly mounted on a wall. Others were arranged by size and function on a table just below. Machetes and hunting knives were a common thing in the display; Swiss Army pocket knives were also available; you even saw a few butterfly knives, to which you smirked to yourself at the thought of flipping one around your hands like a pro.
       By this point, Hoodie had walked over to your side. He had suspected as much that you were practically a novice with weapons. Part of him wondered what Slenderman saw in you when you first arrived, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
       “I recommend a hunting knife – preferably with a serrated edge,” Hoodie broke the silence as he shoved his handgun into the back of his pants. “Not only is it good for fighting, but efficient when you need to cut rope and wires.” Flashbacks of his few instances of getting captured and tied up entered the man's head. He quickly learned through those experiences to keep a hunting knife on hand during any mission.
       You went to reach out for a hunting knife, then noticed the variety of serrated edges. Some were on the blades' spines, others on the belly. There were even varying depths in the serrations. You quickly settled to grabbing a large knife with a deeply serrated belly near the hilt. There was a black leather sheath to slip into, which also had attachments for looping onto your pants.
       Rather than hooking the knife and sheath to your pants, you liked the idea of slipping them into the inside of your trench coat. Your eyes quickly scanned the room again for other weapon options. It’d be a good idea to get something for medium to long range, so you spotted the wall full of handguns. Hoodie followed you over.
       You knew only so much about guns – the basics, really. You knew about the kick that resulted from firing the gun, and that there were different styles for different purposes. Generally, though, the handguns were not your forte, and Hoodie quickly recognized this. He sighed, shaking his head just a bit, and said, “You’re probably not used to kicks, so let’s start with something that has minimal strength.” He reached out and grabbed a small, stubby handgun. “This is the Ruger SR 22. It has practically no kick, is easily concealable, and is easy to maintain,” Hoodie held the gun to you so that you could inspect it. “We’ll work with you on this one today, and you might also use it for the mission tomorrow.” Plucking up the silencer attachment that was laying in the same spot as the gun, Hoodie handed that to you, too. “You’ll almost always want a silencer on a mission. It attracts less attention, but you’ll have to practice getting it attached and firing as quickly as possible. The silencer makes the gun harder to conceal when they’re already put together.”
       Nodding every so often to ensure Hoodie that you were listening, you played with the gun and silencer in your hands. They weren’t all that heavy, which would help you work up your accuracy a bit faster. Eventually, you’d like to use the heavier, more powerful guns, but this would have to do for the time being.
       After Hoodie showed you where the required bullets for the gun were, and educated you on loading it, he brought you outside of the mansion. You were led beyond the patio, and near the edge of the yard. There were glass bottles and used cans of various sorts scattered around – some broken, others still intact. It was there that Hoodie gave you a quick rundown of how to aim and shoot your gun; taking the safety on and off; attaching the silencer.
       It was no secret that you weren’t a professional at any of this. The first several tries had you making your fair share of mistakes. Three hours later, though, you were able to at least hit your target more than half of the time. You would sometimes fumble with the silencer and gun when practicing the entire motion of pulling them out of your jack, setting them up, and then firing. Still, Hoodie figured you were at least acceptable for the upcoming mission. 
       “I’m more concerned with you not killing your teammates,” Hoodie’s words ingrained into your head. 
       Considering that you were a newbie, the rest of the Proxies understood that you weren’t going to be getting the kill, nor would you be completely reliable on the first few missions. This was all for experience. You were there to learn the procedures and serve as an extra body (the victims often felt much more panicked with each extra Proxy on site).
       The moment Hoodie closed your little training session, you turned to him and asked, “What’s the mission, anyway?”
       “We’ll all be briefed tomorrow morning,” Hoodie didn’t bother to wait on you as he walked back toward the mansion. 
       You stood there for a few minutes, watching the yellow-clad man until he disappeared beyond the patio doors. You were lost in your own thoughts, part of you running fears in your mind as you slowly began to accept that you would be going on your first mission very soon. 
       4 AM
       “Ugh,” you groaned at the thought of having to wake up at an ungodly hour. It’d probably be best to get to bed early tonight. 
       You estimated that it was about one or two in the afternoon, so you decided to wander the mansion grounds for a bit. The last time you had been out here, you were being drugged and chased. Not quite pleasant, so this would be a nice change of pace.
       It took you a while to get from the very back of the mansion to one of its sides. Most of the view so far consisted of the bright orange and yellow leaves and dull grass. The walls of the mansion were littered with winding vines that climbed high up. From what you could see, the building was nothing short of a typical horror story haunted mansion.
       The moment you rounded the first corner, you paused mid-step as your eyes took in the sight of an old, overgrown garden. Not a flower garden, mind you, but a vegetable garden. Rows and rows of weed-covered mounds, leaving scars in the earth where someone had so patiently tended to their crops. You approached the garden, inspecting the mounds to see if there was anything actually producing food. If it was, you could use it to stock up the kitchen, seeing as it lacked much variety.
       “A shame, isn’t it?” The milky voice of your master sounded around you, to which you whipped around in surprise. Slenderman was standing behind you, hands gingerly clasped behind his back. “I was quite impressed with this garden. A former Proxy of mine had tended to it.” He stepped forward, looking down at the inedible vegetation.
       “If you don’t mind me asking,” you started out quietly, but your voice grew bolder with each word, “what happened to that Proxy?”
       “Killed on a mission,” Slenderman stated bluntly. “He was a vegan, as it’s called. I permitted him to grow his own garden, seeing no harm in it. Much less trouble than travelling around and scavenging for food.” Your master paused for a moment, perhaps in a moment of reverence, though you doubted it. After a few moments, he continued, “I believe the human phrase is: ‘he had quite the green thumb’. This garden flourished well.”
       Casting a glance up to Slenderman, you wondered why he didn’t bother continuing the garden. Maybe he didn’t find much use for it, aside from feeding the other residents, but they seemed to prefer fending for themselves. Their diets also didn’t seem to consist of much foods on the healthier side. “May I have your permission to use the garden?” You hoped the Tall One didn’t have too much partiality toward it or the Proxy that started the produce bed.
       With a single nod and the turn of his head to gesture that he was eying you, Slenderman replied, “You do have my permission. I’m certain Masky and Hoodie would appreciate it.”
       Part of you was frozen in awe that your master was seeming friendlier than when you first met him. He also seemed far more civilized and composed than his strange episodes of dominance that he had so far. Your orbs gazed up to him, a sparkle of happiness gleaming from within. “I, uh,” you shook your head out of your faint thoughts of appreciation, “I guess the next thing I should ask is where I can find the supplies.”
       Raising his long arm and pointing a lanky finger, Slenderman steered you in the correct direction to an obvious nearby shed. It looked awfully run down, causing a pitying cringe to contort on your face. Still, you thanked your master and excused yourself to go take a look in the shed. As you walked across the yard, you chuckled to yourself at how you were so quickly picking up on your manners. 
       The shed door creaked open, flakes of dried paint fluttering off as it moved for the first time in God knows how long. You found that the inside of the shed was not at all clean and orderly like the inside of the mansion. Rather, it was dusty and cluttered. You took note that you might have to start your gardening project with the task of organizing the tool shed. 
       So, you did. You spent the next two hours organizing rakes, shovels, plows, hoes, and various other items that had been collected over the years. You had found a plastic storage box full of vegetable seed pouches. There were even soybeans. With the storage box keeping in good shape and being air-tight, the seeds were still in usable condition. After cleaning and sorting everything to your liking, you realized that you hadn’t found a single power tool to make things easier on you. Even tilling the dirt was going to be all manual labor. You sighed, trying to find the brighter side of the situation, which you did. At least all this hard work would help increase your strength and stamina. 
       It wasn’t until you dusted off your hands and plucked up the large manual tiller that you noticed Slenderman standing just outside the shed doorway. You squeaked with surprise, sincerely not expecting him to be there, watching you do all that cleaning. “Um,” you gripped the tiller close to you, not sure if your master was trying to corner you inside the small building, “I need to get out so I can start prepping the garden soil.” A sheepish grin spread over your lips, looking up at your master with pleading eyes.
       Slenderman stepped aside, watching you closely as you passed him and made your way to the old garden area. He seemed exceptionally curious about what you were doing. Did he enjoy watching humans go about their daily lives? Or maybe there was something about cleaning and organizing that fascinated him? You tried to ignore his presence, feeling incredibly awkward now. 
       For a few minutes, you had to figure out just how to use a tiller. You hadn’t quite spent all that much time growing a garden as a human, but you knew the process. Using the tools was a different story. The tiller actually required quite a bit of strength, especially with the overgrown grass and weeds. Maybe it would have been easier to pull them out by hand? You shrugged and went about ripping the dirt and plants with the spiked wheels at the end of the tiller. An amused smirk formed on your lips as you began thinking about how interesting the tool would be as a weapon. You began imagining the ground as many faces of your old enemies, the metal spikes puncturing and churning their flesh and bones. After a bit of that fantasy, you had to stop and vocally let out a quick laugh. The idea of a gardening tool being used that way just seemed funny to you.
       “Quite the imagination you have, considering your hesitance down in the torture room,” Slenderman’s voice echoed around you. 
       Turning your head to look at your master, you gave his words thought. He was right. When you were ordered to torture that innocent boy, you had such a hard time. Now, you were thinking of ways to kill people with random objects. Still, they were people you actually had a beef with, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising. “Maybe it’s just something I’ve been suppressing?” You shrugged, and then went back to tilling. 
       Churning the garden soil took far much longer than you anticipated. By the time you finished and went to put up the tiller, Slenderman stopped you. “I suggest you begin preparing yourself for tomorrow. Clean yourself, nourish and hydrate your body, rest. I do not appreciate Proxies who cannot maintain themselves.” At this, you nodded in understanding and closed up the shed. Slenderman disappeared as soon as your back was turned.
       Getting a bit of something to eat and drink was easy enough. Taking a nice shower was also a simple task. You dusted off and wiped down your clothes and mask so they wouldn’t be too dirty for the mission tomorrow. In hindsight, you probably should have changed into something else before doing all that gardening, but oh well. Things were quite peaceful within the mansion, that is, until you laid yourself down and curled up in your bed. 
       You were just starting to drift off to sleep when you heard a shriek of terror or pain or something terrible. The voice had you shoot upright in your bed, staring at your closed door to the hallway. If it wasn’t for the profuse cursing that followed all that screaming, you would have been Scooby-Dooing it down the staircase. You came to realize that it was Jeff and Ben fighting again.
       There was really nothing you could do about the racket. Jeff and Ben didn’t have much respect for you, nor did they really fear you. All you could do was lay back down and cover your head with layers of pillows in an attempt to block out the chaos of noise from beyond your room. They didn’t help much. 
       The majority of the night consisted of you zoning in and out of consciousness as your sleep was repeatedly interrupted by yelling, banging, and crashing. At some point, you thought you heard Ticci Toby get in on the action. Things went quiet pretty quickly at that point, and so did your mind.

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