The Killers' Nightmare (A Female Creepypastas X Male Reader story)

Chapter 72 | Conflict

Whilst Lazari gently snored away and Smiley got to work, I decided to strike up a conversation with Zalga after drawing the room-side curtain. "So, any idea on how we separate?" I asked, drawing the room side curtain plopping myself down on the end of the bed.
"No idea" Zalga answered plainly.
"I see..." I muttered, looking up at the TV. "Got a plan for how fix your portals?" I asked, hoping to have a shred of a plan before the school day ended.
"Dunno, how do I start fixing that?" She wondered.
"Reverse the magic and start from scratch?" I suggested, flicking through the limited TV channels.
"We'd have to evacuate the whole pocket dimension first, and since the portals don't work we'd have to separate before I could even try to get everyone out" she explained, resulting in us both sighing simultaneously.
"Welp... no point in stressing about it right now" I muttered, taking my shoes off and shuffling back to lay on the bed. "I get the feeling things'll fall into place when we get there" I added, flicking through the channels once again.
"Maybe so, but either way I'll still try and come up with that plan I mentioned earlier" Zalga stated, a somewhat dejected tone in her voice.
"Smart" I responded simply, setting the remote down after I had reached the news channel.

"Witnesses say that the man in question was, quote, 'covered in blood' and 'wielding a samurai sword'. In contrast to these grim claims however, footage from across town shows the same person performing rather heroic acts earlier on in the night" the reporter stated. After she finished speaking, the camera cut to CCTV footage of my 'night out'. There were a few short clips of some back-alley combat, thankfully contextualised by my opponents talking to their targets before I intervened. I smiled as I watched the footage, although I certainly did cringe at my poor attempts at one-liners.
'Gonna have to work on those' I noted, chuckling to myself a little. 'I'm certainly glad the coat looks cool on camera though' I noted, watching the coattails flap elegantly as I dealt out a solid tornado roundhouse.
"Despite the surprising number of criminal activities that were stopped last night, it is confirmed that this mysterious 'vigilante' is leaving his own 'calling cards' at the crime scenes" the reporter explained, a handful of images flashing onto the screen.
'I guess those sticky notes were a good idea after all, good job, past Nightmare' I reflected, admittedly still sad about the loss of the old demon.
"It was assumed that the vigilante was the 'no-killing' kind, however camera footage from 'Club Freaks' shows that that's not the case" the reporter stated, her demeanour becoming much more serious. "Please be advised that the following content will show bloody violence and gore, and should not be shown to minors" she added, the screen also displaying the warning she presumably read out.

"The hell?" I muttered, sitting up and shuffling to the end of the bed. As I got closer to the TV, I could hear the rather familiar sounds of yells, screams and combat. But once I was at the end of the bed, and the picture had become much clearer, my eyes immediately widened in horror. The old speakers poorly played a violent squelching noise, one that accompanied a video of me dismembering a pair of guards. I was stood at the bottom of a staircase, and the shaking pair were clearly no match for the katana that I wielded. A familiar feeling of disgust formed alongside the pit in my stomach, and they both only grew in size after another clip showed myself shambling across the dance floor. I was soaked in blood and I was dragging a metal bat along the ground, but there was something much more horrifying that the camera picked up.

I was smiling.

Despite the evident stab wounds in my clothes, and the sheer redness that coated my everything, my raised cheekbone were proof that beneath my mask there was a smile on my face as I weakly shuffled along the empty dance floor. "Holy-"
"Well that certainly explains the concussion" Zalga commented. "Although I'm pretty sure most of that blood isn't yours..." she added.
"I think I'm gonna hurl..." I muttered, clasping a hand over my mouth and feeling my stomach churn.
"Oh please" Zalga groaned, following her sentence with a firm gulp that forced my vomit back down. "What's gotten into you?" She asked.
"That's me on the screen!" I exclaimed, pointing at the TV. "Normal people don't kill, Zalga" I stated, my tone laced with horror and resentment.
"And you qualify as 'normal'?" She asked sarcastically.