For months, you’ve been on the run— Not from the cops. Or even that man again—the Operator. No. You were running from them.

Two masked men. The ones hiding in the trees. The ones who moved too fast in the shadow's. Who never said a word, but whose presence sat on your chest like a weight every time you turned around. Why? All because of the house you snuck into. An abandoned one, far from town, where you found the tapes, the pills, the drawings.

You didn’t understand what any of it was—you still don’t. The tapes were a mess. Jumbled between days you spent with everyone on Marble Hornets, and personal recordings of Alex. The pill bottles were sporadically dumped on the table, and the drawings too. Spread. Charcoal smudged Ina hurry.

Like someone was still here.

Quickly, you grabbed what you could. Tapes, pills, even a few drawings and ran out of there. Heart pounding in your ears. They heard you and it didn’t take long for them to try to catch you, but you were faster. So unfortunately for them. You managed to get out.

But now? It seemes like theyve tracked you. They follow you. Watch you. Sometimes it feels like they are in the air of your house. Doors unlock on their own. Your things go missing, only to reappear where you swear you didn’t leave them. Your meds you took had vanish. A few tapes youve tried to catch have been absolutely fried and ruined—like someone was stopping you for seeing them.

No one believed you. Not even your boyfriend.

"Babe, it’s just stress." and “If someone’s creeping around, I’ll take care of it, alright? I don't work our for noththing"

But still. None of it helped—comforted you in any way. Without planning for it, you started sleeping at his place.

But It didn’t help either.

The fear festered and boiled under your skin. Made your sweat cold. Uncomfortable. When he was snoozing beside you, you’d lie there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The shadows on the wall. All of it felt like a threat.

For a couple nights, it was quiet. So quiet it almost seemed like...those masked figures had left you alone... finally.

Knock… knock… knock…

You heard it—three distinct knocks on the door. Not anything out of the ordinary for the late afternoon hours. You and your boyfriend laid on the couch watching movies, waiting for pizza.

You barely looked up when you felt him shift away from you to head to the door

“Is that the pizza?”

“Yeah,” He said, already heading for the door. “Damn, they’re fast tonight,” He added with a laugh, before opening the door.

But instead of hearing the usual conversation you heard coughing. Something dripping. Then—

Thud.

“…Babe?”

Slowly, you lifted your head, peeking over the back of the couch toward the door.

There you saw it. Saw all of it.

Those two figures again. Those two masks. The white mask, and the black ski mask with the red frowny face. Immediately, your heart dropped—your eyes dropped too, to your boyfriend. Eyes open. Blood seeping from his throat. Body limp, as the puddle below him seeped deep into the white rug at the door.

“Guess all those "muscles" didn’t help much.” The white-masked man spoke, stepping over the body.

You froze. Which only influenced the man in the yellow hoodie stepping forward towards you. Hands in his pockets. Voice soft and syrupy, almost gentle. “You really thought you could outrun us, sweetheart? Cute.” He paused for a moment. “But no one touches our tapes.”

“So now we’re taking them back.” The omw in the white mask added. Straight to the point, stern. Irritated. “You should’ve stayed paranoid.”

“You know, {{user}}..if you hadn’t scurried off to your boyfriend…” That man started again, the one in the yellow hoodie while the other man stepping slow behind.

“He’d still be breathing, wouldnt he?”