Covens and Proxies

15

Toby's POV

The mind is a truly mortifying place. Especially mine. Just sitting at the dining table brings hundreds of different death plans for my colleagues. Of course, all of them are insane. And so am I. But since I can't see (Y/n) as much, my issues have gotten worse. In fact, I'd somehow forgotten how painful my life was before her and that beautiful magic she has.

Jeff throws a hot dog bun like a dart across the table, aiming for Masky. Hoodie shoots the bit of bread, the bullet grazing Blood Painter's shoulder, who was worried about dodging Clockwork's pickles.

Slenderman sits at the head of the table, resting his temple on his fingers in an attempt to calm himself. I sit next to him, Tim and Brian on my other side.

Slenderman manages most of the human pastas, Splendor takes most of the supernatural ones. At least, those on our side.

I'm too lost in thought to eat, resigning to pushing my food around my plate until I can excuse myself and sit in my room for a few hours.

Tim stands, catching my attention. "Sir. May we be excused?" He asks our boss.

Slenderman waves his hand, his tentacles slowly picking up the swaying speed. A sure sign that he's pissed.

Masky grabs me out of my seat, dragging me off from the dining room. I give weak protests and excuses for him to let me go, which are ignored, before I give up and follow him. We step into his dark room, Masky locking the door.

"Alright, Tobias, spill it." Tim growls, getting in my face.

His aggression pisses me off, so I shove him into his bed.

"Are you dumbasses back on that girlfriend bu-ullshit again?" I snarl, already backing towards the door.

"Hoody gave up. But if you don't tell me what's up, I'm taking my theories to the boss." Masky snaps, pushing me back into the dresser.

He slowly circles me, watching my every movement. My neck cracks, making me wince. His threat is legitimate. "What do yo-you want me to say?" I give in, moving to the center of the room.

I know Tim. He won't report me, mostly because us proxies are better as a trio then any of us in a duo. Not to mention we're almost like brothers. We've been killing together for ten years now.

"Who is she?" Masky stars "Does she know? Is she going to join us? What the hell is Jeff's deal?"

He opens his mouth to continue, but I cut him off. "She was a victi-tim that beat me in a fight, yes she knows, no sh-e isn't going to join us if I have something to say-say about it and Jeff doesn't rem-remember jack shit because she erased him me-emories!"

He stops at the memory bit, eyes wide. "She wiped his memories?" Tim breathes, "And beat you in a fight," completely incredulous.

I nod.

He blinks before laughing his ass off. "Damn man! That's the biggest load of bullshit we've ever heard!" Tim gasps.

I clench my jaw and take deep breaths, fighting the burning rage boiling in my gut. "She's a witch." I snap, maybe a little too loud.

He freezes, looking at me. "The witch the boss told you to kill?!" Masky snarls.

I look at the ground shrugging. "I told y-you, she beat me in a fight." I mutter.

Tim bites back laughter. "She cursed you?"

"She had the whole fuck-fucking perimeter tripped with magic, jackass! You try sneaking up on a witch!" I snap, itching to draw my blades.

"Wait, so not only did you let her go, but you've been seeing her after every other kill?" He probs.

"Don't tel-tell the boss, and don't mention shit to Jeff." I snap, my hand clenching around my axe.

"Sure, man." Masky leans against his dresser, his arms folded. "But I'm not covering for you if you get caught sneaking off."

I smile comes to my lips as a wicked idea pops into my mind. "I'll owe you." I offer. He cocks an eyebrow.

In this house, owing a debt to someone of any kind is a pretty big deal. If you don't pay up, all hell breaks lose. Of course, Jeff is the only one that's never payed up when payment was due. Sally got to bleach and dye his hair bright, neon pink. It took four months for the die to wash out, and almost three years before he could chop off the bleached bits and his black hair was long enough. That was the first time. The second time, and the last, was about two years ago. He lost a bet to Natalie. She needed a partner on a difficult spree of targets, and he refused to go. So he became a victim.

"What're the boundaries?" Tim asks skeptically.

"You help me visit her whenever I'm hurt or after a kill, and I'll return each favor on demand. Whatever the hell you need me to do." I'm really going out on a limb by offering that, but I can't keep seeing her without help. And I have to see her.

"Whatever I want?" Masky gives me a shit-eating grin. "That's a steap price for seeing this girl. That you're breaking rules to see. And went against direct orders to keep alive. You sure are turning behind Slenderman on this."

He's right. I've done so much unforgivable shit for (Y/n), and I'm not even planning to bring her home. The consequences are going to be excruciatingly painful.

"And... I let her use one of the wa-warehouses for practice." I mutter, looking away from my colleague.

He stifles laughter. "You're begging to get killed, aren't you Ticci?" Masky asks through gritted teeth.

"Whatever. Do we have a-a deal?" I snarl.

He shrugs. "Sure."

Without another word, I turn and storm out of Tim's room. The door slams behind me as Clockwork and Jeff sprint down the hall. I take off after them, fully ready to vent the anger that idiotspent up inside me on the jackass that hurt (Y/n), and the whore that cheated on me two and a half years ago.

The duo turn down corners, but all three of us know I'm faster then them. Clockwork starts losing steam close to the stairs leading to the third floor. In one swift motion, I drive my axe across her stomach, spin and keep running. Jeff takes a late turn, slamming into the wall before pushing off. That half a second lets me close the gap by nearly two yards. Just a few more feet... He jumps into his room and slams the door in my face. I don't bother pounding on it, only pulling out my picks and undoing the bolt from the outside. The lock gives the faintest click, signalling it's not a problem anymore.

I open the door, shutting and locking it behind me. Jeff is rolling on his bed, laughing his ass off. I walk up to him, my footsteps silent, my heavy breath shortened and shallow. He only notices me as I raise my blood-stained blade and bring it down. He curls in a ball, only for the weapon to drag across his back, leaving a jagged, already bleeding wound through his stained hoody.

I turn and walk out, leaving the murderer cussing and groaning. Well, now I'm all worked up. I think it's time I take on a harder target. It should give me an excuse to visit (Y/n).