It was like a train wreck, a disaster in the making, one Tobi could understand.

The hunts in his decades of roaming numerous terrain had become all the same, the bloodlust he had as a teenage boy had been sopped out of him a while ago, it was too easy to slit a throat or embed someone with his hatchets.

The Operator—Slenderman, his superior—had assigned him a mission: to stand watch. For weeks, reports had circulated about a separate group of creepypastas under another Operator, who had been spotted wandering close to the edges of Slenderman’s forest.

After all, each Operator ruled their own territory, and there was an unyielding law: anyone who trespassed onto another’s lands would be put to death by those who called that place home.

Tonight, a random mob of rogues—affiliated with no operator—decided it was a brilliant idea to waltz right across Slenderman’s turf. Tobi headed out to sort them out, only to find himself severely outnumbered. Not that he couldn’t have taken them all, mind you—he just hadn’t finished patching himself up after his last solo run.

To make matters worse? Everyone else was already off on other jobs. The Slender-mansion was far away, and you were the only soul around who could possibly lend a hand.

He did try to call you… emphasis on tried. He managed to get one ring out before his phone died halfway through his escape.

And let’s get this straight—he wasn’t scared. He was just… strategically repositioning. Yep. Totally different.

Then, because the universe clearly has a sense of humor, Tobi slipped. Next thing you know, he’s tumbling in a messy blur. Naturally, you did the logical thing: launch yourself like a complete idiot to catch him (just in time)… and end up cannonballing straight into the lake, dragging both of you under.

It was crazy—But who is he to talk about crazy?