Can't Say

Chapter 38

      The evening was closing in, though the sun wouldn't set for another two hours. With trained ears and eyes, you listened and watched for any unpredicted variables that may distort the original plan. Slenderman would alert his Proxies when the targets were in position and it was time to move. You stayed low in the brush as best as you could. To your surprise, there wasn't as much cover available as you expected. No matter; there was enough.
      Daylight gradually grew dimmer. Dusk drew nearer. It seemed as though Jane Otters wouldn't show, but wasn't that easily accessible information for your master to discover? What was taking so long? Why weren't you receiving any updates? Your attunement to Slenderman's broadcasts had been established long enough, so you surely weren't experiencing any sort of difficulty with that. Had something else happened? Should you abandon your post to investigate? Hell, Slenderman hasn't said anything about your current anxieties, so there had to be something amiss.
      Just as you stood, giving in to your concerns, someone came running through the thin vegetation from behind you. A feminine voice called out right as you whipped around to face the ambusher, "Your master's in trouble. He sent me to get you!" It was a young woman; pale, slender, and long-legged. Her contrasting dark attire covered most of her body. The wavy, dark-brown locks that framed her face also draped over her left eye. Three deep, dark, vertical scars reached out from below the newcomer's visible right eyelid, stretching down the majority of her cheek. "We have to go," she urged, waving for you to follow.
      Anyone could understand you being hesitant, at this point. Something was going wrong, and now a stranger appeared to retrieve you? Slenderman had allies, yes, but wouldn't he have used someone more familiar to you? Maybe she was already in the area. At this point, you didn't have too much of a choice. She didn't look like an enemy, at least. "What's your name," you requested. Somehow, knowing a name put you somewhat at ease.
      "Iris," the woman responded, still moving away from you with urgency. You hadn't heard that name before, not while in the Creepypasta business, anyway. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.
      You followed.
      Deep into the woods, you were lead; winding and dodging through the limbs of foliage that tried to stop you with their hooked fingers. Iris turned here and there to make sure you were stilling following. She vaguely explained that a Zalgoid had attacked Slenderman. Your fellow Proxies were already safe elsewhere.
      Hiding in the waves of crashing branches and rustling leaves, you swore you could hear familiar whispers. They grew louder with each step you took in Iris' path, yet whatever the multitudes of voices were saying remained incoherent. Just as you considered asking Iris if she could hear it, too, you saw the brunette woman look over her shoulder once again. Her eyes were sunken and enveloped in darkness. Inky, black insects swarmed from her gaping mouth. It was then that you understood what was going on.
      A solid force tackled you from the side, sending you to the ground. The whispers scratched at your ear canals, and colors began to melt. You fought against your attacker, struggling to get a hand on one of your knives. When you laid eyes on its face, you saw similar effects to Iris' - darkness spilling out of orifices, accompanied by equally dark bugs and oily vines. No matter how many times you experienced such sensations, you could never steel yourself to them. Your heart rapidly clashed against its cage. A Zalgoid had attacked you. From the sounds of it, others were approaching. Did they get Iris, too?
      Two more Zalgoid demons pinned each arm to the leafy floor. Iris approached with a casual stride. "You're not here to help, are you," the words slipped past your lips with little hesitation. It was ever apparent that you had been tricked.
      "I'm here to help Lord Zalgo," Iris sneered. "He has questions that must be answered."
      "Why interrogate me? I'm the newest Proxy," you narrowed your eyes at the woman, not even bothering to fight the demons. God, the horrors that slithered and swarmed around were surreal, but you did your best to ignore them. 
      Iris pulled a heavily used journal and pen from inside her jacket, "Oh, don't worry about that. You have all the answers we need." Cracking open the blood-stained textile, Iris readied herself to begin taking notes. "Now. Let's see what's your story."
      You stuttered and stammered over pleas for the Zalgoids to wait and hear you out, but they ignored you as though your voice was drowned out by the increasing volume of whispers. The demonesque beings began clawing at your body, shredding your clothes and flesh. Iris briskly recorded the exchanges between you and your torturers, though she had a conflicting appearance of discomfort and bemusement. 
      It wasn't until this moment that you realized the harsh whispers hadn't completely overwhelmed the rest of your senses; you wished they had. The hot claws of the Zalgoids felt like molten rakes marking your skin. The last thing on your mind was how grotesque the scars would turn out if you lived through this. On the back of your neck, you could still feel the itch of leaves crunching beneath your writhing form. A fleeting reminiscence of BEN's dreamworld attack flashed through your mind. If you were screaming, you couldn't hear yourself.
      Saliva pooled in the back of your throat. You sputtered with each chest-heaving shriek, splattering the greenish fluid onto your offenders. A droplet or two landed on the grinning chomps of one demon. He licked it away with pleasure before returning to his toothy cackles. It was intimidating to feel the near-effortless strength of these beings as they held your body to the ground. Still, you struggled for freedom; a fruitless endeavor, it seemed. You were beginning to lose consciousness.
      Shortly before the tables turned in your favor, the Zalgoid who had ingested a taste of your flinging saliva began to seize and foam at the mouth. It soon vomited onto your chest a gruesome blend of partially digested flesh and blood. If any of the contents were its own, you couldn't tell. As for the other two demons, they had paused their torture to cast quizzical eyes at their ally. Iris continued to slowly circle around and scribble your "story". The suffering Zalgoid was collapsed to the ground within seconds, still heaving its stomach clean, if not completely out of its body.
      It was then that you felt a surge of new strength throughout your form. You wasted no time to throw the demons off, slashing at them with claws you didn't remember having. A snarl escaped your clenched teeth, bubbling the steady ooze of saliva and venom. Though it didn't hurt, your body was changing; it was morphing into something inhuman.
      "That's all we need," Iris' distorted voice sounded from somewhere in the vicinity. "Zalgo will want to see this in person." At that, the two remaining demons tackled you once again, making the world melt into darkness before you could react.
      As soon as colors began to warp and twist into view, you were restrained by strange bindings, not unlike chains. Each arm and leg had its own chain.
      He comes. The familiar announcement of countless whispers boomed above all else.
      With searching eyes, you tried to separate hallucination from reality, but everything in this new location was a psychedelic nightmare of twisted structures and mind-melting physics. None of this was soothing your animalistic temper. You resorted to leaving your lips parted enough for the endless flow of drool to leak out.
      He comes. Zalgoid demons and Creepypasta minions gathered around. Their distorted faces flowed with dark insects of chaos.
      You struggled against your metallic captors to no avail. Beating like a violent war drum, your heart fueled the fire within.
      He comes. A dark mass slithered from all directions and combined in front of you. The darkness grew into a humanoid figure that you had yet to forget - Zalgo.
      He is here. The announcing voices rang out one last time before dying to a tolerable white noise of whispering gibberish.
      Zalgo held a curious gaze down to you. He seemed pleased with your presence, for whatever reason. All but the one mouth parted to speak, "So, Slenderman has been trying to tame a feral pre-mutation. I knew I had smelled something rugged when I first saw you." He stepped closer to you. "We can't have that pompous prick befriending a mutual enemy; not when I could be controlling you." His face melted before your eyes, yet he held his form. To be hallucinating under the influence of the Darkness for so long was taking a toll on your mind. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold consciousness.
      From the side, Iris approached Zalgo and presented her journal to him. Most likely, it involved you and what happened earlier. Zalgo's red eyes scanned over the notes quickly, his mouths broadening their grins with each word. He chuckled darkly. "A pet for me. A pet for me!" He gleefully began to sing, though the tone quickly grew sinister, "A pet to poke and prod and lead. A pet for me! A pet, you see! Just what I need to kill ol' Slendy!"
      At that, you began your confusing and torturous montage of skipping memories. Rarely were you conscious, and if so, what you could remember was spotty. You remembered defending yourself to the best of your restricted abilities. You remembered swatting demons away with a tail you never had before. You remembered striking at them, fangs bared, like a serpent. Each time you regained some form of human consciousness, you were being tormented by Zalgoids - their master supervising from the background.
      Zalgo's teasing sneer ingrained into your memory the deepest.