Chapter One

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As Masky is lying in his room, he feels the familiar feeling of static in his head, signaling that he had another mission. He slowly puts down the book he has been reading, and walks over to Slenderman's office. He lifts his hand and silently traces the patterns on the wall, humming a melody under his breath. He stops when he sees the office.

He knocks on the door, and waits for a reply, feeling no emotion, like an empty, used up bottle. After a couple seconds, the door opens, revealing Slenderman, at his desk, and Hoodie, standing near it. The tall white man with no face gestures for Masky to come. Masky takes his place next to Hoodie and waits for further instructions.

" I have another mission for you both." Slenderman tells them both, using telepathy. Masky and Hoodie nod, and wait for him to continue.

"I have recently been hearing news of a new killer rising. He goes by the name of 'Ticci Toby'." Slendy hands the boys a file."Your mission is to bring him back here. He's a...delicate being, a frail human, so I want him unharmed. Understand?" He asks the two men standing in front of him.

They both nod, and take the file from Slenderman. In it, is a photo and location. The boy looks about 19, with curly brown hair and chocolate colored eyes. He is wearing a mask, that covers the bottom half of his face. To top it all off, he has a set of yellow tainted glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The location was unfamiliar but they would go none the less. They say thank you respectfully and leave the office. Masky and Hoodie both have weapons on them, so they decide to leave right away.

Masky's P.O.V.

We walk out of the house and through the trail in the woods. It's dark, and there is menacing silence all around. Hoodie and I walk through the woods, and I notice he isn't up for conversation. Instead, I start reading more in the file on this boy. I didn't notice before, but behind the old photo is the little known info about the boy named Ticci Toby. He is suffering from many mental disorders which many believe is the cause of his violent tendencies. I continue to read and see a list of the diagnoses. It stars with Tourette syndrome, and down the line is Amnesia, PTSD, C.I.P.A, bipolar disorder, and Schizophrenia. I can feel empathy for him, knowing first hand the devastation mental health can cause.

I got so lost in thought, that I didn't notice we had come across an abandoned house, on the edge of town. I check the location, and this appears to be the place.

"This is it Hoodie. Let's get this over with." I say, not bothering to look at him.

Hoodie just nods in agreement. We walk up to the door, and it's locked. Of course, I figure there is no point in knocking, only letting him know we are here, so I climb through the window. Hoodie just stays outside. As I jump through I realize I'm in a bedroom.

It's extremely messy, and has blood, everywhere. The walls are falling apart, crumbling and cracked. There is a simple dirty mattress on the middle of the floor, and desk off to the side. There's a connected bathroom, and the mirror has been shattered. I walk over to the desk, and pick up a photo. It's of a girl with blonde hair, hugging a boymi presume is Toby. In the background there is a tall man with black hair, but I can't see his face. It appears to be scratched out.

Suddenly, a hatchet comes flying past my head, and catches on my jacket, thus pinning me to the wall. I look up, and see a small, skinny, twitching figure in the door way. The person has a hood on, so I can't see their face.

"D-Don't touch that." The figure says.

Based off of the tone of voice, I can figure out its a boy. A young one. Most likely the one we are looking for. I smirk, and pull the hatchet out of the wall, freeing myself.

"Nice aim. It takes practice to throw that good," I tell the boy. He suddenly twitches violently, and I hear is neck crack.

"Do y-you know the faceless m-man?" He asks me suddenly. I don't bother responding.

Without warning, I charge at him, preparing to cut him, but he dodges my attack, and hits my head with the handle of his one remaining hatchet. He uses this distraction to run behind me and grab his other one, so that he's armed with both.

When he turns back around, he comes running at me. I prepare for a frontal attack, but he slides between my legs and kicks me in the back. This is just embarrassing now. He's totally kicking my ass. I get a good couple of punches to his stomach and jaw, but it doesn't affect him at all. I prepare to attack again, but the kid suddenly falls to the ground in tears. He's holding his head, and is screaming;

"SHUT UP!!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" I take this opportunity to knock him out. I pick him up and carry him out of the house. I see hoodie leaning against the front door, with his arms crossed.

"What took so long?" He asks. I shrug.

"The boy put up a pretty good fight." Is all I say in return.

Toby's P.O.V.

'Dear Mom and Lyra,

I'm so sorry. What I did was wrong. You don't deserve that mom. Lyra, I should have been a better brother to you. I should have taken the hits. But your both gone now and I can't change the past. I can't take back the flames that burned him. Please forgive me. For without you, I am nothing.'

I finish writing the letter, and place it aside. I knew no one would ever read it, but it felt good to have. I feel icky from sitting all day and I feel like taking a shower. I go to the bathroom and turn on the water. I have to make it as cold as possible or else I could burn myself.

I was just about to get in my nice, peaceful shower, when I hear someone climbing through the window. I sigh, and turn of the shower, place on my glasses and mouth guard and grab my two hatchets. I walk to my bedroom, and see a tall man, with a white mask on that has feminine features painted black on it. I notice he's holding the picture of Lyra. I violently throw one of my hatchets at him, and pin him to the wall.

"D-Don't touch that." I say, silently cursing at myself for showing my stutter.

The man pulls the hatchet out of the wall, freeing himself.

"Nice aim. It takes practice to throw that good." He says. I can hear my neck crack loudly, as my head is jerked to the side.

Without warning, He charge at me, and attempts to stab me. I dodge his attack just in time, and use my hatchet to strike him on his head. While he try's to get over the attack, I use this distraction to run behind him and grab my other hatchet.

When I turn back around, I run at the man. I see him prepare to counter a frontal attack, but I have other plans. I slide between his legs and kick him in the back, but not hard enough. He is barley effected by my attack. He starts to punch me all over, and lucky for me, I can't feel pain.

He's winning.

Oh great. Just what I need, for these stupid voices to start talking.

Your not strong enough.

Give up.

Why are you fighting to live, when you deserve death?

Remember what you did to her?

Remember the way she looked at you when you killed him?

The voices just won't stop! I can feel my movements becoming slower, and I slowly start to listen to what they are saying.

"SHUT UP!!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" I yell, grabbing my head, begging for them to stop. I fall to the ground, and hear the man snickering. Now he's going to either kill me, or drag me to the faceless man. Just as I'm thinking this, I feel myself get hit on the back of my head, as everything goes black.

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