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Chapter Text

Plasma pulled a tray of chocolate chip coconut cookies from the oven, and with them came a cloud of smoke that normally would have set off the smoke detector had this not been the third time in a week, and the damn noise puck had been deactivated since round two. “I *cough* think we *sneeze* need a new oven,” Plasma said, setting the tray on the island counter and using her hand to fan away some of the smoke. “Any idea why it keeps smoking like that?” Plasma asked as Denver, one of two other proxies, strolled over to her side.

“My best guess,” Denver said, staring with disappointment at the oven, “is that the thing was never properly vented and/or the ventilation filter is so full of crap that the hot air is burning whatever grease and lint is in there so the smoke isn't going anywhere unless you open the door.”

As soon as Denver finished speaking, he and Plasma both heard the slam-jiggle-jiggle-click of the old, decrepit front door, and then the silence rang deeply for a moment and finally, a soft caressing voice in the back of their heads spoke, “Living room.” The two made eye contact and made it to the common area with apace.

Once they had arrived, Plasma noticed the other housemate and final proxy, Macie-Clare, padding in on a pair of black ankle socks with her short white skirt swishing as she moved.

As well as their collective boss, Offenderman, sans coat, and white button-up, mostly covered in blood with a grim expression on his eyeless face.

“It has come to my attention that our current accommodations are unsuitable, and so without further ado, I have arranged for the three of you to stay at my eldest brother's home for about a month whilst repairs are affected, as such all of you will be expected to fulfill your duties as I assign them to you,”

“Furthermore, none of you are to speak my name whilst there, for it would not be warmly received by my brother's proxies and other tenants due to the negative connotation associated with me. Is this understood?”

“Yes, boss,” they chorused.

“Very well, the three of you have one hour to pack; once you are done, rendezvous back here for further instructions.”

They nodded in unison and broke off in different directions. Macie-Clare and Denver went upstairs toward their shared room, and Plasma ran back to the kitchen to pack up the cookies she made.

Half an hour later Plasma was throwing the last of the crap that she'd need for her extended stay into a brown backpack with the hand-stitched initials H.B.

_______________________

Slenderman had made the announcement just under half an hour ago and the feeling of antsiness in the atmosphere had been steadily growing when suddenly he appeared in the living room with the faint word of “gather” being whispered at the back of everyone's mind, from there it had taken about ten minutes for the mansion’s inhabitants to coalesce in the entryway staring at the front door expectantly.

A knock on the door signaled the visitors had arrived, and the door was opened swiftly to reveal three people, the first one who appeared to be the leader, wore a trench coat-length grey cardigan and a lavender-colored v-neck t-shirt with khaki dress slacks and a braided leather belt adorned with a silver heart-shaped buckle, she? They? had long hair, so no one was sure. Didn't seem very sprightful in nature.

The second one wore black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved green shirt, a blue hunting vest, and a pair of steel handcuffs hung from his front left belt loop; Eyeless Jack didn't like him for some reason he couldn't decipher.

The third person was wearing a black long-sleeve bodysuit and a mid-thigh length white pleated skirt with light pink leggings. She seemed fairly chipper but slightly uncomfortable as well.

They introduced themselves as Plasma, Denver, and Macie-Clare. They said that they were proxies, but who's they wouldn't say, and Slenderman welcomed them like they were old friends and with open arms.

Slenderman asked (read told) the Bloody Painter to show the three to their rooms and also help carry the various bags and backpacks they had dragged in.

Later in the living room Jeff, Eyeless Jack, Nina, Jane, Ben, Laughing Jack, Puppeteer, And the Bloody Painter, after he had returned from giving his tour, sat down and on laptops, phones, and tablets started researching who their new guests could be from news articles both new and old.

After twenty minutes without success, Plasma came downstairs, no longer wearing her cardigan, and started towards the kitchen only to spot the gathered and wander over, “What are y'all do'n?”

Ben answered her as she leaned over the back of the couch, “We're going over news articles and looking for potential new pastas,”

“Oh cool,” Plasma said, “ Hey, Look up the Radcliff murders and the Chatsworth Felonies,”

Chapter Text

The Radcliff Murders

1 year ago

All together six dead.

List of the deceased.

Roger and Lisa Benson.

Marvin and Veronica Lowry.

Tarry and Cristina Warren.

Twenty-eight-year-old Donovan Radcliff, former soccer coach at Fox County Public High School was kidnapped and assaulted by the angry fathers of three boys on the soccer team after Mr Radcliff had suspended them indefinitely from the team due to poor preference stating that they would be welcomed back to the team once they could prove that they could act rationally and would not become distracted on the field.

The assault was discovered by thirty-year-old Monica Radcliff, Donovan’s wife, when she drove to the school to pick up her husband after work, she went to the locker rooms when she didn't see her husband outside waiting for her, and when she located her husband and the three other men she shot and killed the three before carrying the injured Donovan to the car and driving them both home where Monica cared for her husband while he recovered for the next two months.

The victims were found the next week during a routine janitorial sweep and reported quickly; however, due to a lack of substantial evidence, all charges against the Radcliffs were dropped. At this time, the wives of these men gave villainizing and false testimony as to the character of both their husbands and the character of Donovan Radcliff. Afterward, these women, as well as the Radcliff's neighbors, came together and started delivering food to their residence so that Monica could continue to care for her husband.

Two weeks went by without incident until the new widows came over to deliver some casseroles, casseroles that Monica quickly discovered were poisoned with poke berries when she was cutting up pieces of them to reheat, At that time these women were in the living room with Donovan, Monica being protective of her husband knocked the women out and locked them inside the basement of the shed out behind their home.

When the women woke up they came to realize that the only food available to them was the poisoned casseroles they had intended for the Radcliffs, and they were made to starve for three weeks, unfortunately when the bodies were discovered Monica and Donovan Radcliff had already been missing for five days

What is known about this case is testimony from neighbors, security camera footage, speculation, and what the Radcliffs themselves said before they went missing, if you have any pertinent information please call this number xxx-xxx-xxxx

Chapter Text

The Chatsworth Felonies

5 years ago

One missing: Harris Bail

At the age of twelve, Harris Bail was kidnapped from the middle school he attended by an ex-researcher and former science teacher at the Fox County middle school, Brandon Chatsworth.

The boy was kept in a shed basement behind the Chatsworth's home. Over the next two years, he endured many painful surgeries including, but not limited to, having the left part of his brain implanted with computer software and having both of his legs up to the mid-thigh replaced with robotic attachments.

An investigation was launched after Chatsworth made a few suspicious purchases too close together, and a S.W.A.T. rade was enacted once more evidence was gathered; after the home and outbuildings were searched and Harris was found and subsequently sent to the Fox County Hospital for treatment, where he was reunited with his parents.

Unfortunately, due to the invasive nature of his modifications, none of Harris’ new additions could be removed safely; after two months of physical therapy and counseling, Harris was sent home.

Shortly after that, he disappeared from his home after hearing the news that Brandon Chatsworth had been convicted of several felonies and sent to prison on a three-lifetime sentence with no chance of parole.

As of this time, Brandon Chatsworth resides at the Fox County Penitentiary, and there is no new information; if you have any pertinent information, please call this number xxx-xxx-xxxx.

Chapter Text

OK, not that these articles aren't Wild, but why did you ask us to look at them?” Jane asked.

Just as Jane finished speaking, an alarm similar to the one from the Purge movie sounded from Plasma’s phone, as well as Denver, and Macie-Clare's phones as they came downstairs. Macie-Clare was now in black cargo pants and a matching black trench coat,

Denver handed her a black tactical vest as Plasma asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes sir” they responded.

“Excellent,” Plasma said and turned back to the group, “Anyways, good chat, we’ll be back soon,” and the trio sprinted for the front door, opened it, and left.

“Sir?” Jeff said, “I thought that this Plasma bitch was a girl!”

“We all thought that Jeff, fuck off,” Jane said.

______________

Plasma, Denver, and Macie-Clare spent two hours training in the forest, running and springboarding off of trees and taking each other down in various ways, and when they came back to the mansion the three of them were covered in cuts and scratches, and bruises, Denver came in first and sat down on a couch with a huff, next came Plasma who was adorned with handcuffs, and finally Macie-Clare with rope tied around her back, wrists, and neck.

Plasma spoke first, “Hey Den, are these ones yours?” She said, jingling the cuffs at him.

“Yep,” he said Plasma nodded, dislocated her right thumb, gently pulled her hand out of the cuff, then relocated it, and repeated the process with the other hand before finally throwing them at Denver.

At the same time, Macie-Clare had disengaged herself from the rope harness she had been trapped in, she coiled up the rope and silently handed it to Plasma.

“Macie-Clare,” Plasma said, “why don't you go up and shower,”

She nodded and quickly made her way up the stairs, Plasma turned and looked at Denver, he nodded as well and went up after her.

Chapter Text

After the other two left Plasma continued to sit on the couch and started to type on her phone.

“What was that?” Jeff asked, a snide undertone in his voice

“That,” Plasma said without looking up for her phone, “was an overstimulated adrenaline monster just off the brink of a panic attack, and her husband who loves her going to go take a shower and a nap, which honestly is a fanabulious idea,”

Plasma was cut off by the ringing of her phone, which she quickly answered standing up from the couch to pace, seemingly unaware of the curious gazes cast her way.

“Yes sir, no sir, not at all, yes of course, no sir, unfortunately they won't be able to join us on our expedition, however I can be geared up in fifteen, yes sir, good bye.” Plasma ended the call and Helen was about to ask who had called, when he was subverted by Slenderman appearing in the living room to ask if Plasma needed a lift.

To which she agreed to, before running upstairs.

She came back down about eight minutes later with different shoes on and her brown hair up in a French braid holding a black duffle bag and the hunting vest she was previously wearing in one hand.

With the other she was buckling the straps of an underarm gun holster, a gun on each side.

She nodded at Slenderman and he put a hand on her shoulder and she disappeared from the room.

Chapter Text

Plasma POV.

TW: Gore, mentioned rape, mentioned sex trafficking.

I appeared in the clearing that the coordinates indicated, cedar trees all around me.

Offenderman strolled up to me and gestured behind us to a light blue, double-wide trailer “house”.

I gave him a thumbs up and zipped open my tack bag, grabbed a good selection of sheathed knives and took my belt off the thread them on.

Once done and re-buckled I pulled out the gas mask that Plasma was known for as well as extra, loaded, magazines for the two nine mils under both of my arms.

I started putting the mags in hidden pockets in my pants and ran through the information we had to run with: the crap heap that may have once been called a home has now a sex trafficking warehouse, not just for people but animals and some supernatural creatures as well, Offenderman and I would be using the side entrance while the equivalent of the supernatural SWAT team would go through the front door in order to create a distraction. The basement was central and there was to be no nerve or tear gas used unless lives are at stake.

So I grabbed two flash bangs and stuffed them into the front pockets of my vest and finally shrugged the thing on. Lastly, I reached for the night vision goggles and Offenderman held out an ear piece.

I first put on the goggles, then the mask and finally Offenderman affixed the ear piece to my ear with the help of some liquid latex, once dry I fell forward into a summersault and came back up on my feet and when nothing fell out or came loose I called that good.

I looked to Offenderman and he gave me a thumbs up, I reached up, taped the comm and chatter erupted forth.

In the back of my head I heard Offenderman ask, “can you disable communication from within?”

“Yes sir,” I whispered, with the computer components in my head and the use of wifi that I couldn't believe actually worked out this far I sent a self written twenty-four-hour virus that suspended all forms of digital communication and waited.

______________________

The clock struck two and they moved in, Offenderman and I listened to the sound of the front door being kicked in while I picked the side door for silent entry, once open and immediately inside were two goons of some variety, Offenderman was swift in their deaths, one clawed hand around each of their throats crushing immediately and quietly.

Next we went down the hall (trailer homes could be better laid out by three blind monkeys than whatever brain dead asshole was in charge) to a set of three doors along the left wall, Offenderman set a careful hand on my shoulder and pointed to the far door, I nodded my head and walked to the door, trying the handle I found it unlocked and the door swung away to reveal stairs leading downwards.

The lighting was low, the air was stale and smelled of fear. In the din of the room against the far wall were about fifteen beings all huddled together.

The sounds of fighting were starting to die down above us when the basement door swung open and three men stepped down, they weren't in gear that I recognized so I silently pulled a knife, I waited until the goons had descended half the stairs and saw their gazes sweep over the group, ugly smiles on their faces before I acted.

I felt my proxy mark start to burn.

And adrenaline rushed through my body.

I moved.

My knife plunged through the first guy's neck only to be pulled out a second later, the gush of blood that followed felt like heaven to my proxy senses. fountain man first dropped to his knees then the rest of the way down the steps.

The second dude had a gun to my head in short order, however, Offenderman had teleported to the top of the stairs and shut the lights off. In the same moment the night vision goggles turned on and I cut off the hand of the gunman, his scream was beautiful, before I broke his neck.

The Final Bastard was held still by Offenderman, his tendrils winding tightly around the guy's frame.

Apparently my blood-lust wasn't as sated as I had previously believed, because without thinking I tore off the mask and ripped his throat out, the taste of his blood refreshing, like a balm to my afflicted soul.

_____________

The SWAT team had evacuated the house and the forensics team had swept in gathering evidence and the like. There were about four bandaid wagons in the driveway, paramedics handing out trauma blankets and water bottles like candy when Offenderman and I were led outside. I still had my mask in one hand and the knife in my other hand, when an older woman came up to me and asked if I wanted a blanket or a wet towel.

“Towel please ma'am,” I managed, hanging the mask on a carabiner clip.

She nodded and went away for a few minutes, another first responder came up to me with a water bottle and asked if I wanted a change of clothes, I said no but thank you and continued to wait.

The lady came back soon after and I wiped away most of the blood from my face, neck, and clothes before wiping the knife on it and balling it up and dropping the towel into a provided bag.

Once I was clean-er Offenderman sent me back to the mansion with the clear instructions to shower, clean my tack, and go to bed. All instructions I happily obeyed.

Chapter Text

Plasma got up the next morning with a sore jaw and bruises from where her guns rested against her sides, she yawned, stretched, and then reached for her legs where they were resting against the night stand and attached them to their sockets.

Feeling the nerve endings come on line she stood up and put on a pair of grey sweatpants, snagged a pocket knife and tucked it into the waist band and then put on a pair of socks.

Plasma left her room, navigated the hallways, came down the stairs and went to the kitchen, she found Denver and Macie-Clare standing next to each other, one hand holding a cup of coffee the other holding each other's hand, next to them was the electric kettle they bought with, “water hot?” She asked.

Denver nodded his head. Plasma pulled out a coffee mug from the cabinet above them and put two chia bags into the cup and poured the hot water.

Denver nodded his head towards the tea timer already set for three minutes, Plasma hit the start button and leaned against the counter next to Macie-Clare.

“Are you feeling better?” Plasma asked Macie-Clare.

She set her cup down long enough to give Plasma a thumbs up and recollected the mug with the same measured movements.

The three of them stood in silence until the timer went off and Plasma took out the tea bags to fix her tea.

When she was done Jane came into the kitchen to see what the noise was from, Plasma smiled at her and showed Jane the timer, “ just the timer, do you want a cup of tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” Jane responded.

Plasma refilled the kettle and set it to boil before grabbing a second mug and handing Jane a box of different tea bags to choose from.

She chose some Scottish breakfast tea and Plasma went about making the tea to Jane's specifications while Denver put away the box.

Later, as the four of them were finishing their beverages, Toby came into the room, he'd apparently aged quite a bit since his transition from person to proxy and looked to be in his early thirties now. He had a sheepish expression on his face and asked only loud enough to be heard, “does anyone know how to pick handcuffs?”

“How old are they?” Plasma asked him.

“Like, seven years old?” He asked, sounding uncertain.

“OK,” Plasma said, “let's stop by my room and grab my pick set and a can of W-D-40 on the way.”

Toby nodded resolutely and started towards the stairs, Plasma hot on his heels.

Chapter Text

The two stopped at the door to Plasma’s room and Toby waited outside while Plasma grabbed the aforementioned can of grease and lock picks.

Threading through the dim hallways once again. They made it to a door with pretentious white crown molding and stepped inside.

Inside were two other people, one of whom was Masky, shirtless and handcuffed to the bedframe.

Hoodie was nearby and fidgeting nervously with his hands.

Plasma sighed, diplomacy barely hanging on and crossed the room without further ceremony, she set one knee on the bed next to Masky's side and dripped some W-D-40 into the cuff lock and unzipped the case.

She selected a few picks that she thought may work and tested the pins.

After a few seconds of wiggling the lock and about three picks Plasma heard a sharp hiss from Masky and looked down at his face, “did I hurt you?” She asked.

“No, but your leg is cold,” Masky said through clenched teeth.

Plasma nodded, and while speaking continued to work, “probably because my legs are metal,” and shifted her leg away for him a few inches.

A baffled-sounding, “Pardon?” Came from behind her.

“Yeah,” Plasma said, “If you are interested, look up the Chatsworth Felonies, if I remember correctly he's in jail, maybe dead. Regardless, he's responsible for many of my more ‘eccentric’ qualities.”

Hoodie sans mask stared at Plasma aghast, “There!” She said seconds later as the cuffs skittered to the floor.

Masky sat up and Plasma turned away from him and caught sight of something shiny on top of the door trim.

“Maybe next time use leather cuffs, they'll give you less trouble, alternatively I can teach y'all to pick locks fairly easily. And by the way your keys are on the door trim.”

The trio of confused proxies were left standing where they were as Plasma left to put her stuff back and make a second cup of tea.

Chapter Text

Cup of tea in hand Plasma made her way to the living room, and was met with Nina and Jeff sat on opposite sides of the room, having a staring contest. Of which it was impossible for Jeff to lose. Whatever.

Sat on the couch in between them were Plasma’s siblings in proxy, Macie-Clare was reading on her kindle and Denver was texting someone, Plasma started rhythmically tapping her metal fingertips against the mug to subtly get everyone's attention.

Finally Denver looked up and asked, “ Hey, boss wants to know if your stomach is upset from yesterday's misadventures.”

Plasma thought about it for a second and in the meantime Toby, Masky, Hoodie and Eyeless Jack all came downstairs.

“I don't remember if I ate that one guy's throat or not but other than that no I think I'm fine,” Plasma said.

“Cool, I'll let him know,” Denver started typing.

“You ate some guy's throat?!” Jeff yelled, jumping to his feet to stare at Plasma.

“Yes,” Plasma affirmed, regarding him with a calculating expression.

“Are you also a cannibal?” EJ asked from behind her.

“When the mood strikes, I suppose,” Plasma offered.

“Fuckin’ blood sucker,” Masky muttered.

“Your talkin’ alotta’ shit for someone who can't escape handcuffs without help sweetie,” Plasma rebuffed, grinning now, and showing off the fangs that being a proxy of Offenderman had afforded her.

“Oh, and you can?” Masky challenged.

“Den,” Plasma said and Denver was already getting up to hand her the handcuffs from his pocket, she put them on easily and just as quickly dislocated her thumbs, pulled her hands out, and relocated them, the whole ordeal lasted about a minute.

She gave the handcuffs back to Denver and started Masky down with predatory malice.

He slumped his shoulders and stalked away to the kitchen without a word.

Chapter Text

“I like your shirt,” Nina said in an effort to lighten the mood.

Plasma had a moment of panic that only people who wear offensive tee-shirts have, and looked down at the bright pink ‘all panic no disco’ shirt she had found at a farm store when she was there observing a target, “Oh, thank you.” she said in a sigh of relief.

“Oh, hey, Boss is glad you are alright, but also wants to know if we want to wall off half the basement and make it a dungeon,” Denver piped up.

“Only if I can have him put heavy weight rated eye bolts in the floor and ceiling,” Plasma said, picking back up the cup of tea she had set down to adjust Masky's attitude about her past times.

“OK spiderling,” Denver said, starting to type again.

___________

The next few days were fairly boring with a few notable exceptions.

1
The nickname ‘spiderling’ came into play once again when Jeff had walked into the living room and saw Plasma finger weaving with kevlar thread.

2
After the day's training time ended Denver came into the mansion with Macie-Clare on his right shoulder and her red kitten heels in his left hand, Plasma holding the door.

3
Plasma came from the kitchen and calmly announced to the room of people, quote ‘So I've been lightly stabbed, Macie-Clare would you be a dear and grab my backpack for me?’ unquote.

4
On the final day, three weeks later Offenderman showed up to collect them in person.

Chapter Text

Plasma POV. 

Macie-Clare had received a text from Offenderman and quietly showed us so that she would not have to speak in front of the group of people gathered in the kitchen.

He said he was coming to get us and would be there in an hour, I nodded and told her to respond in affirmation before sending them both to start packing our shit back into its bags, they said ok and ran to complete their objectives.

stepping back into the kitchen I discreetly told Jane that our boss was on his way and we were going to start packing in preparation of his arrival.

I also told her that he was not generally a welcome topic of discussion among the underground due to the things associated with him.

She was slightly apprehensive but agreed to do damage control for the inevitable blow-up from the other people in the mansion. Thanking her I went up to pack my stuff as well.

/\

Stuff packed and sitting in the living room we anxiously awaited our boss's arrival. 

It had taken us a little under an hour to pack our crap and warm up before the tells appeared, everyone had finished up in the kitchen and either went back to their rooms or to the living room.

Any background noise slowly went to static silence and the air felt thick and stagnant. 

Oh, so Offenderman was gonna be a dramatic bitch today, swagety.

The middle of the room started to shift and swirl, then coalesce into a tall shape before solidifying into a towering figure.

There in all his, rosy, fedora’ed glory was Offenderman, caring a briefcase. Why? Who knows! That man is a mystery and a menace.

But he is here, and that means we can go home and go back to quiet, uninterrupted mornings and calm, peaceful evenings. Yay!

“Boss,” I greeted, despite the silent processing of the other turkeys in the living room.

“Plasma,” he acknowledged, “I trust you and your siblings are well?” 

“Yes sir, and we are ready to leave as soon as you are,” I responded.

“I must first speak with my brother but I should not be long, I'm certain you three can entertain yourselves in the meantime,” Offenderman said, despite the shell shocked stares around him becoming angry and resentful stares.

I nodded and he vanished, once he left I braced for impact, and I was unfortunately not disappointed.

The cacophony of anger was immediate, Nina demanded that we leave now, Jane quietly wanted to know why we would serve such a being, and Puppeteer had stood from the couch looking ready to kill all three of us.

And on top of it all Toby, Masky, and Hoodie came downstairs just as Offenderman left the room.

Oh, we're fucked, fucked

“shut up!” I yelled. 

The silence was deafening. 

I cringed feeling my proxy mark burn.

“To answer your many questions, we are the proxies of Offenderman for our own reasons, mine is that I wished for my brutal suffering to end and the one to answer my call was Offenderman, however I will not speak for my siblings.

“Moving on, Offenderman is Not a rapist, he kills and or eats them, as well as sending us on errands to dispatch them, furthermore the discourse surrounding him is due to the lies told to victims of rape and abuse so they wouldn't be able to seek out supernatural support and justice.

“I serve him because he gave me justice and safety, and because he asked. I was not forced,” I was breathing a little harder now and I felt both lighter and heavier than I had in a long time. 

Offenderman reappeared and helped us gather our stuff as I struggled to hold in my tears, he didn't say anything as he put his arms around us and teleported away.

As soon as we landed in the living room Denver and Macie-Clare threw the bags onto the couch and everyone pulled me into a hug, my tears felt like acid on my glamered skin until I let it pull away, my facial scars tugging gently at me and my tattooed arms comforting me.

I'm home. 

Chapter Text

The house was a shadow of its former self, the formerly peeling wallpaper was replaced with soft white paint and the decrepit old front door was replaced with an eleven foot tall mahogany masterpiece.

Up stairs the bedrooms were now fifteen by eleven feet with eight foot closets and attached bathrooms, where they had been eight by ten with tiny closets and no bathrooms on the top floor whatsoever. 

In case you couldn't tell the previous owners and contractors could not understand what a code violation was if it started smoking in their face.

The kitchen had been rather industrialized, food service three hole sink, an in-set double oven that didn't just do whatever the fuck temperature it wanted when you turned it on, yards of clean stainless steel counter top, and open shelves instead of upper cabinets. 

The basement was half gym and half dungeon, the walls and ceilings on both sides were a neutral light-grey with clean dark grey slate tile on the dungeon side and a central floor drain.

The gym side had faux wood linoleum and nice, new exercise equipment as well as one wall covered in mirrors. 

After the tour Offenderman called everyone back to the living room for an announcement. 

“We have been invited to the family reunion,” Offenderman's grave tone did not match what should have been a perfectly normal announcement. 

“OK, can you try that again, from the top, and sound a little less like you just got handed your death date?” Plasma asked, tilting her head to the side as if that would give her a better angle to see the problem. 

Offenderman sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and slowly started to articulate his words, “I have been uninvited from gatherings my brothers have hosted because of the unfortunate nature associated with me, which would otherwise not be of issue, however the opinions of pastas and proxies of my brothers have been such that their comfort has been more important that my socialite nature.”

“What changed?” Denver asked. 

“You three, actually,” Offenderman remarked. 

“When is the reunion and how come we're only hearing about this now?” Macie-Clare whispered from her spot on the couch. 

“The reunion is next month and you're only hearing of it now because it only happens every ten years. I have not been invited to the last two because of my undeserved reputation, but before that I had always been invited to these gatherings.” Offenderman sounded wistful in his musings. 

“I forgot you are an extrovert,” Plasma said.

And I forget that you are not, my dear,” Offenderman replied. 

“Well,” Denver said, pulling out his phone, “let's add it to the calendar, date and time?”

Chapter Text

Plasma POV. 

We were getting ready to leave when we heard the rarely used car pull up to the front door and Offenderman sent a text to the group chat: ‘Trenderman's sensibilities will be irked if we are not to arrive formally, please expedite your preparations and meet me in the car.’

All of us sent various affirmations back and hurried up.

/\

Well it had started out alright, the reunion was held at Trenderman's estate, and the place was beautiful, everyone was civil at least.

Until we showed up. Denver, Macie-Clare, and I had taken up orbit around Offenderman doing our own light socializing when things went to shit.

Jeff had made a rape joke at Macie-Clare's expense and not a one of the female pastas had thought to come to her defense.

I made eye contact with her and she came over to me for a hug before going back to circulate around our boss. 

I caught Denver's attention and hand signaled to him that his wife had been upseted. 

His expression was tight as he inclined his head and continued to observe. 

Offender had gone over to talk to splenderman when it happened, I had been conversing with Jane and Nina when the three of us heard a yelled, "you fucking bitch!"

I whipped around to survey the room and found Jeff, why does it always have to be Jeff, yelling at a now cowering Lou Lou.

I made brief eye contact with Denver and Macie-Clare, and in that split second we'd gone from formal to full proxy attire.

Gone was Macie-Clare's black pinstriped slacks and pressed white button-up, in their place was a long sleeved emerald green shirt with blue roses spiraled up her arms and a blue rose crown adorned her head along with black leggings embroidered with red rose petals. 

Denver no longer wore his charcoal grey suit, instead he wore a navy blue full body suit with attached forest green armor pieces and black combat boots. 

My own black slacks and grey tee-shirt were traded for a soft purple cropped halter top and a utility belt with pocket panels that ended at mid thigh, underneath that was a pair of boot cut canvas slacks. 

Alas, no magical girl transformation, you ain't got time for dramatics when lives could be on the line. I cast my gaze about, searching for Offenderman. I found him and his brothers all staring at Jeff's continued spectacle.

Catching his attention was an effort I had wished not to expend in these circumstances but now that I had it it was necessary to ask if he wished one of us to intervene. 

He nodded, ‘subdue him but do your best not to harm him or anyone else.’

I gave him a thumbs up and leapt into action, the room was gracefully traversed in moments, I pushed him down and pinned Jeff's hands above his head with one of my own and straddled his abdomen, my knees planted firmly on either side of him, my other hand rested on the small of my back and he struggled a bit more before I asked, “Do you yield?"

He grit his teeth and shook his head before attempting to headbutt me, I leaned back out of his way and his head harmlessly brushed my chest.

“Do you yield?” I asked again, this time slamming his hands into the floor,  hard.

“Fuck you,” Jeff snarled. 

“Are they flirting or fighting?” Jane asked Denver, looking curious. 

“Fighting,” Denver said, “ Plasma doesn't flirt, and if she wanted to fuck him she would have just thrown him over her shoulder and left.” Denver finished, watching with crossed arms and a neutral expression, unaware of my earlier conversation with Offender.

“Jeffrey,” Slenderman's looming voice called, “Stand down,” He left no room for argument.

“Only if Offender calls off his bitch,” Jeff snarked. 

Slenderman looked to his brother, Offenderman shrugged, “she'll release you when she's satisfied that you're not going to retaliate.”

I stared into Jeff's eyes, noting the apparent healing of his eye sockets and color in his bleached cheeks. Something is wrong and it's not a small issue either. 

Chapter Text

Plasma did eventually get off of Jeff after some deliberation on her part.

After she got up and brushed herself off Plasma went to go check on Lou Lou, who said she was OK but seemed nervous when left alone.

“ Where are you staying right now?” Plasma asked.

“In the mansion with Slender,” Lou Lou's soft voice answered.

Plasma nodded and slipped her a laminated black card with her number on it and told her that she didn't have to stay there if she didn't want to.

Chapter Text

Lou Lou ended up going home with Macie-Clare, Plasma, and the rest of them. They set her up in the little used guest room on the main floor.

Plasma generally didn’t like house guests but Lou Lou seemed to be an exception to the invisible house rule.

She was quiet like Macie-Clair, and polite like Denver and altogether a perfect guest.

The household dynamic had gone back to normal as of late, lazy late mornings with the occasional midnight wake up for work and early evenings to accommodate the extra awake time, all seemed to be well.

Now if only Plasma could shake the feeling of a brewing storm-yeah who the fuck was she kidding, time to go track down Offender and ask him if he felt the thunder cloud as well.

/\

He did indeed have the same feeling as Plasma, and he had hoped that at least one of his proxies had received that sense from him during their turning.

“Well now that we have acknowledged the elephant in the room, now what?”

“Now we call a meeting of the Operators and discuss any and all possible epicenters or catalysts.”

Plasma nodded, “Do you want me to have everyone saddle up for this or is this one of those no proxies allowed things?”

Offenderman shook his head, “I do not wish for everyone to come, however, proxies are not banned from Operator meetings, please gather your things and I will make the call, also do let your siblings know of our surprise absence.”

“Understood,” Plasma was quick to obey direction.