"Trender!" Toby yelled towards the door for the seventh time as he knocked, his irritated voice deafened by the jazz music booming from the other side.
It had been like this for half an hour. You thought he had been overexaggerating about the long wait time, and you were grimly mistaken. You leant against the wall with a quiet huff, resting your head on it as you rolled your eyes to the ceiling. God, this was fucking boring.
Rolling your head to the side, your eyes searched the hallway and the other two proxies you accompanied, trying to find anything to distract yourself with. As you did, your eyes caught onto a glint of metal hanging off Masky's belt, and you lifted your head to get a better view. A big, metal keyring through one of his belt loops, various keys of different sizes, rust and age hanging from them.
"Don't you have a key for the door?" You questioned, directing to his belt when he looked over.
"You really think I'd have a key for one of the Slenderbrother's rooms?" Masky rhetorically asked, almost mockingly, like he couldn't believe you didn't know that.
"Who the fuck is the Slenderbr-" You began snarkily, but was suddenly interrupted by frantic, frustrated knocking.
Toby's knuckles rapping against Trender's door seemed to reverberate through the walls, each strike just more angry and loud than the last. You flinched instantly, your hands clamping over your ears to try and muffle it, wincing with each deafening noise. Your one weakness; angry banging. As much as you hated it, and even found it humiliating, you couldn't control the anxiety it gave you, the blurry memories of your childhood blinding your vision.
With a grimace, you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to push it all to the back of your mind, back into the box you locked it in, where you would never have to deal with it. But you were spared anyway, Hoodie having turned around and noticed your state. Honestly, he hadn't moved an inch the entire time, to the point you forgot he was there. He seemingly stared at you from behind his mask for a few seconds, then suddenly moved, grabbing Toby's shoulder and shoving him away from the door.
"Shut up." He ordered coldly, getting onto one knee as his hands searched his hoodie pocket.
Lowering your hands from your ears, you watched as he fished out a lockpick, shoving the two tools into the lock and beginning to wiggle them back and forth. Glancing to Masky, you found yourself surprised that he wasn't intervening in this, instead seeming completely uninterested. With how much he rides everyone's dick, power tripping on his proxy status, you expected him to go ape shit over someone lockpicking the door of Slender's... brother?
A click brought you from your thoughts, Hoodie standing back up and shoving his lockpick into his pocket again. Then he reached out and grabbed the door handle, letting the door swing open.
Jesus, the music was a whole lot louder with the door open.
"F-F-Fucking finally," Toby complained, "Why didn't you do that to begin with?"
"Wanted to make you wait." Hoodie replied bluntly, leading the way into the room.
"You think you're s-s-soo f-fucking funny, don't you?" Toby hissed angrily as he followed.
As you stepped into the room, you swore that you could hear Masky snicker behind his mask, shooting a curious glance up at him. Honestly, you had been convinced he couldn't express happiness, or didn't have a sense of humour. As you did, his head turned downwards slightly, looking back at you through the holes of his mask. But it wasn't with the same annoyance or hatred he normally carried towards you.
"Move, then." He ordered, giving you a shove in the back.
Nevermind. Definitely still hates you.
"Don't shove me, dickrider." You snapped fiercely, turning and thwacking his hand away with more force than you intended.
"Feisty," Masky tilted his head at you, narrowing his eyes from behind his mask, "need putting in your place, dollface?"
Dollface? The word made your face heat up, your eyebrows furrowing as you glared up at him. Although, you weren't sure if it was completely out of disgust, but that wasn't something you were about to address.
"Aren't you like, 30? Why are you trying to fight an 18 year old? Get a grip." You looked him up and down with a scoff. Toby let out a roar of laughter, pointing mockingly at Masky.
"Damn, she called you old!" Toby cackled, clearly getting a way bigger kick out of it than was necessary.
"...I'm 25." Masky seethed through gritted teeth, glaring down at you darkly.
"Halfway there. How was the meteor hit? Hot?" You questioned innocently, jerking your head to the side at him, earning another loud howl from Toby.
"Cut it out." Hoodie swivelled, casting you and Toby into silence as you both blankly stared back at the hoodied proxy. He paused for a second, then beckoned you over with a jerk of his head, "go sit."
Somehow, even though Hoodie said less and was a whole lot less aggressive than Masky, you found yourself listening to him before you even processed what he had said. Walking over to a brown, artistically squiggly couch, you sat down and finally took in your surroundings.
It was a big room, more long than it was wide, a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that cast a startling white shine. The beginning of the room had two couches at either side, all in strange shapes and colours that somehow worked. The rugs beneath your feet weren't any more normal, colours of brown, sage, cream and orange reminiscent of the 70s abstract movement. The wooden planks the mansion were made out of had been coated over in plaster, smoothed out and painted a creamy colour. Each surface, which looked more like art pieces than furniture, were riddled with clothes, fabric samples, magazines and sewing equipment. After the seating area, the walls were lined with racks and racks of clothing, only breaking for the occasional curtain changing room, before continuing to the very end of the room. You leant forward, looking past the rack of clothes to see a large desk at the end of the room, also riddled with magazines and fabric, as well as a huge sewing machine bang in the middle of it. On the wall behind the desk was a huge display of different rolls of string, lace, ribbon, thread and needles, as well as various print outs and photographs of paparazzi and catwalk photos.
To summarise, it was the most visually overwhelming room you had ever been in. Nothing compared to the attic you were born into, and certainly not to the dingy cabin you had raised yourself in.
The sound of the music lowering and a door closing further down the room broke you from your trance, and only a moment later a freakishly tall, lanky figure strode from the back of the room. Whoever this was looked almost exactly like Slenderman, from the freakish height and long limbs to the lack of face. Except somewhere along the way Slenderman found a tanning bed, a pair of rectangular glasses, maroon dress loafers, black suit pants, a maroon and orange 70s button up, a dark brown sweater vest and a cream tie.
"Well, I wasn't expecting visitors! How did you troublemakers get in?" Slenderman greeted joyfully.
He had apparently also found a personality.
"The door." Hoodie replied in his usual, flat tone, then craned his head to where you were sitting.
Taking that as your cue, you stood up quickly and walked over somewhat hesitantly, spooked out by Slenderman's sudden transformation. As you approached, the tall creature reached out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you closer and examining what you were wearing.
"Please tell me she didn't come in this," he exclaimed, releasing you and instead extending his large, freakish hand, "Trenderman, or Trender. Whichever you'd like."
"So... not Slenderman?" You replied sheepishly, taking his hand and giving it a small shake, "...er, I'm Y/N."
"God no! You wouldn't catch me dead in that dreadful suit!" Trenderman dramatically scoffed, "not even for my funeral! That aside, my job is to help put together your outfit. More practical than fashionable, I'm afraid, since it will be for work."
"Work. Right." You replied, feeling that same chill you got everytime you were harshly reminded of what you were really here for.
But Trender didn't give you enough time to feel sick to your stomach about it, whisking you off towards the huge racks of clothes. Stepping on a tile, a tall, circular platform suddenly rose from the floor, rising just enough to be somewhat level with his waist. Then he grabbed you around the waist, gently placing you on top of the platform before leaving to rummage through the racks of clothes.
As he did, you gingerly stood on the tall platform, feeling a bit exposed standing so tall. You took a glance over to where the proxies still stood, the music not loud enough to drown out the sound of Toby and Masky bickering. Hoodie, on the other hand, faced you directly, his head slightly craned to look at where you stood. Although it was hard to tell, based on his mask. Why was he just... staring?
"Right!" Trender made you swivel back around, and you took an instinctive step back when you saw him almost eye-level with you. Fuck, this platform was tall, "(F/C) works well with your skin-tone, but I think I might start you off on something more darker... wouldn't want you getting caught so soon!"
One of his arms was heavy with different articles of clothing, and white tentacles slowly appeared from his back, picking up various items at a time to hold them up to your body. He cycled through each one quicker than you could keep up, pairing different items before discarding them to the floor below. Each time he would tut or shake his head in disapproval, your head reeling as you tried to keep up. Finally after what seemed like forever, he let out an approved gasp and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
A dark, almost greyish (F/C) coloured cropped hoodie with worn, baggy sleeves, a black utility belt, dark grey cargo pants with straps, black fingerless gloves, black mouthguard mask and black combat boots. Wasn't what you were expecting, not from him, anyway. Although you were thankful he wasn't dressing you up in 70s disco gear instead.
"Go put it on, so I can see my handiwork!" Trender stepped on the tile again, whisking you off the platform as it lowered and setting you onto the floor.
Taking the pile of clothes in your arms, you headed into a changing room and shed the pyjamas Clockwork has lent you, stepping into the outfit Trender had put together. It was surprisingly comfortable and light despite its high storage, and as you put on your mouthguard mask and gloves, you looked up into the mirror. It hid your identity completely, the hood casting a shadow across your eyes, your skin barely visible apart from the exposed part of your stomach. Not that anyone would recognise you anyway, before you ended up here you had probably spoken to three people after your parents abandoned you.
It felt weird, looking at yourself like this, knowing that soon this would be the last thing someone saw. The thing that brought them the most fear, making their last moments full of panic. But there wasn't anything you could do. With a sigh, you turned away from your reflection and picked Clockwork's pyjama's up off the floor, ripping open the curtain and stepping back out.
"So?" You questioned, holding your hands out at your sides for Trender's approval.
As you did, Masky and Toby haltered their bickering to turn and look at you, Trender already towering over you awing and exclaiming over his creation. But your attention wasn't on the faceless creature, instead on the proxies as you tried to assess their reactions. Hoodie stood faced towards you, supposedly staring, but didn't say a word. Just stood there, watching. Before a sour comment could even form in your throat, Toby stepped forward with a shrill whistle, circling around you as he examined your outfit.
"Not bad, not bad," he assessed, but you could hear the smirk behind his mouthguard as he paused in front of you, his brown eyes drifting up to meet yours, "look, we're matching."
He bent down slightly so his face was almost dangerously close to yours, tapping your own mouthguard with his finger, creating a quiet but sharp sound. You leered your head away, your eyebrows knotting into a scowl as you tried to avoid his irritating touches. But he didn't seem to care, a muffled snicker coming from behind his mouthguard as he stood back up straight, eying you up and down again.
It was a weird look, weird in the way that it was unfamiliar, maybe a glint of curiosity? But it felt far too soft, too intimate to be simple curiosity. Nobody had looked at you like that before, your brain churning as it tried to identify exactly what it was, finding yourself automatically jumping to anger.
"Yeah? Too bad it looks better on me," you snapped back sourly, storming past him with an intentional shove of your shoulder.
"Masky was right, you are fiesty," Toby replied, the tone of his voice showing he was unaffected by your sharp remark, but his voice grew lower as he spoke again, "I like that."
"Get moving," Masky suddenly barked, giving the back of Toby's head such an aggressive shove he fell on his face. Ignoring Toby's fit of rage, he then turned and glared down at you, "you too."
For a moment you stood, half expecting him to shove you as well, your eyes looking through the eyeholes of his mask. He had that usual firm, angry darkness to them, but strangely enough, you could see something else in them. Narrowing your eyes to try and get a better look, just as his gaze seemed to slip from your eyes. Almost... uncomfortably.
"You deaf? Move!" Masky quickly interrupted you, then huffed angrily and stormed out of Trender's room, making sure to kick Toby in the side as he did.
"F-F-Fuck is his problem?!" Toby scrambled up, dusting down his hoodie as his neck cracked furiously, "Did someone shart in his fucking cereal this morning?!"
"I wish," You grumbled back, following Hoodie and Toby as they trailed after Masky, calling a quick thank you over your shoulder at Trender as you did.
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A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry it took so long to come out I've had the craziest writers block recently :( if you guys could give me any tips on improvement I'd really appreciate it! I also want to know what/who you guys want to see in this book so let me know.
Also, sorry if Y/N's personality is different from how it was in LTWC. She still has her sarcastic charm, but I'm trying to make this book a bit more realistic when it comes to trauma, especially with the extent Y/N has. Since she has PTSD (not to her knowledge), she is going to be a lot more irritable and sensitive to violence, noises etc. So unfortunately she won't be the badass bloodthirsty killer she was in LTWC (at least not for a few chapters anyway).
Also let me know if there's any spelling mistakes so I can change them lol ty <3