Chapter Text
You were standing in front of a Denny’s on the side of a highway. The cold wind whipped around you, the scattered roar of cars was the only sound you registered. It was dark.
You felt like throwing up.
A small voice at the back of your head urged your feet to move to the door. It felt like you were swimming through a haze, the actions of your body weren’t completely your own. The bell at the door rang as you stepped into the fluorescent space, coffee and bacon wafting from the kitchens. It felt like a breath of fresh air, the haze that had settled over your mind evaporating. To your left there was a tired old trucker at the counter, and a waitress flicking a lighter. Your eyes wandered over the grimy table and tiles, and stopped on a group of three men at the very back. One was smoking, his eyes closed and his head against the window. Another had his back towards you, the only descriptive factors being his brown hair and jacket, and seemed to be very interested in his plate. The third had a yellowish colored hoodie on, and was staring straight at you. You stared back, unsure of what was going on. The last thing you remembered was a blank face and indescribable pain.
The Slenderman. What the fuck was going on? The yellow hoodie nudged the smoking man awake, who shuddered and choked on his cigarette. He turned to angrily say something, when he also noticed your presence. They both stared at you with narrowed eyes, waiting for you to make a move. The last man, the one in the brown striped hoodie, noticed the tension and looked up, whipping his head back around to you. He had a white bandage on his cheek and a bandanna looking thing around his neck.
The four of you stood staring at one another, waiting for someone to finally do something. Then a quiet static washed over your brain, and you jolted. Your legs moved without your autonomy, over to the back table. They watched as you walked over and halted in front of them. The feeling of control in your legs came back, and you could only stand there open eyed as the three men looked at you.
“So?” The one who was smoking spoke. His voice was deep, with the slight raspiness of cigarettes. He had on a tan bomber jacket, with dark brown hair and sideburns. He was surrounded by empty coffee cups. You didn’t answer him, still at a loss for words. He looked at you for a moment, then rolled his eyes and turned back to the window.
“I really do not have the energy to deal with this right now.” He sounded pissed. You knew you were at the right place, talking to the right people. How you knew that, however, was unknown. You glanced over to the boy in the striped jacket. He was considerably younger than the other two men. His face was freckled, with a small scar on his eyebrow. The white bandage on his cheek moved as he chewed, like it wasn’t fully attached to his skin in certain areas. The fork rattled out of his hand and onto the table. You quickly looked down to see his hand spasming, in quick jarring tics. It was scarred, with scabs covering his fingers.
“What are you–looking at?” He sent a pointed glare in your direction as he grabbed the fork and stabbed it into his plate of eggs. The man in the yellow hoodie sighed. His hoodie was less yellow and more of a washed out, dusty color.
“Are you (Name)?” He deadpanned. You felt like you had cotton in your mouth, unable to form the words. Finally, you were able to speak.
“Yes? Um, I’m confused, I–” You gripped the hem of your shirt.
“Sit down.” Yellow Hoodie spoke again, and motioned for the younger man in the stripes to move aside, who did so without complaint. You tentatively sat down, wanting to fold into yourself right there. You looked at the man who sat in front of you. He had dark sandy blonde hair, which was cropped to his face. Small patches of stubble sprouted from his chin. His eyes were a dark blue, with dark rings under them. He raised an eyebrow at your staring.
“I’m assuming you accepted?” He had a gap between his two front teeth, and a few acne scars. Your eyes felt glazed over. You were starving. The last meal you had was breakfast, and even that wasn’t enough to hold you over for that long.
“I’m assuming she’s brain dead. Jesus Christ, it is way too late for this,” Smoking guy spoke up. Yellow Hoodie sent him a glance.
“Sh–es probably star–ving,” The boy next to you spoke. His words cut off sporadically, and he flinched every now and then. Yellow Hoodie looked surprised, then waved over the woman behind the counter. She approached annoyed, shooting the smoking man a glare.
“Anotha’ cup of coffee?” Her accent was thick, unrecognizable. You realized with dread that you were not in your home state at all. You were in a different state entirely, possibly even across the country. There was no chance that you were going to be able to go back home. You had no idea if they were even alive.
“Just a menu, thank you,” Yellow Hoodie smiled, showing off the gap in his teeth. The woman turned and grumbled under her breath, stalking back to the counter to grab a laminated menu. She slid it down in front of you, before reaching in her pocket and pulling out her lighter. She lit a cigarette before pulling out her notepad.
“Whaddya want? I don’t have all night,” Her makeup was heavy, and her hair stringy. The life you were probably doomed too, if you lived through this whole ordeal. You took a glance at the menu, filled with edited photos of eggs and pancakes. Your mouth watered, Jesus you were hungry.
“Chicken fried steak please, with mashed potatoes on the side. With a coke, thank you,” You gave her a small smile. Smoking guy coughed and grumbled something under his breath about the cost.
“Tim, the amount of coffee you’ve consumed alone would cover the cost of her meal. It’s fine,” Yellow Hoodie turned towards the man, whose name was apparently Tim. Tim rolled his eyes, then looked straight at you.
“Are you going to talk or what?” He settled back in his seat and watched you with a scowl.
“I don’t really know what’s going on– I just kinda… appeared here? Where am I?” The boy next to you spasmed, which caused you to flinch from the sudden movement.
“Aw, Toby, you’re scaring her,” Tim said with a sort of sadistic glee.
“Shut the–hell up, Tim,” Toby pointed his fork at the man, then swiveled to you. “I bet you–don’t care, do you?” There was an underlying threat in his tone. You mustered up the best grin you could and flashed him a thumbs up. “Yeah. That’s–what I thought.”
“At this moment, you are somewhere in Oklahoma. We are a few miles off of Route 66- at some random truckstop. My name is Brian. Tim,” He pointed at the man next to him, “Is this wonderful guy, and next to you is Toby.” Tim narrowed his eyes at you.
“We shouldn’t have told her our real names. How do we even know if this is the right chick? Could very well be some coked-up bitch from the side of the street,” He spat. You recoiled at the name used.
“First off, we already mentioned our names in her presence, no reason to hide– second, I think it’s pretty obvious that she’s our girl,” He rubbed his face tiredly, “Okay so, you accepted the Offer. Welcome to being a Proxy. We are your new team, we will teach you the ropes, I…” He trailed off as the waitress set your plate down in front of you. “Can we actually have this to go?” She sent him a flaming glare, and marched back to the counter.
“Wait huh–?” Did you not get to eat? Apparently the face you made was comical, as Tim laughed.
“The world doesn’t revolve around you. We’ve been up for a good 48 hours– non-stop; it doesn’t matter how advanced our bodies are, they’re still human.” Tim’s voice was gruff, signaling how tired he was. Brian rolled his eyes at the man, but had no rebuttal.
“We’ll take the food with us– you can eat in the car or something. There’s a safe house about half an hour away, once we get back we can all finally sleep.”
“Thank God for–that,” Toby muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes. A sudden thought hit you.
“What day is it?” Brian looked up at you and thought for a second, before adjusting his sleeve to check his watch.
“November sixteenth,” His gaze was unwavering, searching your face for a reaction. Your heart dropped. The day you got into this mess, the date was November tenth. Six days missing. Was anyone looking for you? You went without a trace, with no evidence. Where would they even start? Your apparent distress was evident on your face. Brian spoke up, “You’ll get used to it. It’s better this way, puts more distance between you and your past life. They won’t be able to find you unless you look for them, and I advise against it.”
“What’s stopping me from going back? Or contacting my family?” A silence fell over the group. It was heavy, weighted with sadness and secrets. It was finally broken by Toby, whose strained voice cut through the air.
“Just don’t. Trust us.” The silence continued. Part of you wanted to yell and make a scene. Why should you trust them ? You just met them half an hour ago after apparently being unconscious for six days. They were connected with the creature , and introduced themselves as “Proxies” and that you were now a part of their team. You wanted to cry. You were exhausted, dirty and really, really hungry.
The waitress finally came back with a styrofoam box and the check. Brian slipped her a large wad of cash and she left without a word.
“Was that even enough?” Tim glanced over at Brian.
“More than enough. We caused her enough grief, especially for this late at night. She’ll be fine.” The matter seemed to be decided, as all three of them began to get up and brush off their clothes. You were ushered and pushed out by Toby, and you began to follow the group like a wounded puppy. The door of the diner creaked open and a gust of cold wind hit your face. The world was still dark and silent, and you realized how truly alone you now were. The men briskly walked over to a beaten up red pickup truck. Tim threw open the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. Brian took the front passenger, and Toby slid into the back. You tentatively sat next to him as the truck started up. Bottles of water and miscellaneous drinks were strewn across the floor, random jackets and articles of clothing sat in small piles. The seat was cracked leather, worn and soft. The truck pulled out of the diner and onto the road, and you gazed out the window as the landscape whizzed by. Toby snored softly beside you, and the men in front were dead quiet. The only sound was the rumbling of the engine. Your eyes drooped, and you were finally pulled into the silence of sleep.