Deep within a forest lies a beautiful manor unknown to humanity. The moonlight could barely penetrate the thick roof of leaves, leaving only white beams dancing through darkness and a humid chill. Lurking between the trees is the freakish silhouette of a monochrome clown. He walks lazily, back hunched, face covered by long black hair, and arms swinging next to him like branches. Despite his gangly height of nearly 10 feet, each step was ghostly silent.
Laughing Jack was banned from Slenderman's mansion years ago for an unforgivable crime. But despite many warnings, he continued to lurk nearby.
Today Jack found himself wandering past the tree line, straight towards the front door. He steps up the porch of the goliath mansion. The wood creaks beneath his weight, making his heart dance with both fear and delight. When Jack was banished he didn't go lightly. Slenderman had been the first creature to put the clown to shame, incapacitating him, and leaving his mangled body at an abandoned carnival. For years Jack remained at that place, with only the souls of the children he's damned to keep him company.
"Who are you looking for?", The voice echoed inside his head far louder than thoughts. Jack's throat tightened as he turned to the faceless god behind him. He froze in place, sharp adams apple bobbing with a single gulp. Even on the top step, the clown felt small compared to Slenderman.
Once again, that sultry voice boomed, causing blinding hot pressure in his temples, "Who are you looking for?"
Jack's facial expression was both anxious and cocky, like a constipated mime.
"You can't banish me forever. Hehe♪- I mean you can but- Just hear me out.", The clown nervously sputtered in a wavering pitch. His eyes avoid the creature whilst he fidgets with his tattered sleeves.
Slenderman said nothing, but the pain in Jack's head grew sharper, as if telling him to get on with it. He sneers, dagger teeth grinding behind his messy hair,
"Fuck! I don't want to be alone anymore, ok? I won't- Tsk-" Pain fades as the clown continues to explain himself with chaotic energy, "I can't defend what I did. But! I certainly, most definitely~ promise it won't happen again."
Jack sweats in fear of the gods silence. When he next blinks Slenderman is gone. His head no longer hurt but the sound of leaves in the midnight wind was deafening.
Not far from the mansion stands a giant ghastly oak. It's well above 80 feet tall, and surrounded by dead trees that loom hopelessly at its great volume. Up close the oak's bark looked weathered from root to trunk. Every spot a creature could reach was littered in violent dents and memorial carvings.
On a thick branch above the canopy stands a lonely woman overlooking the entire forest. Her figure was slender and petite, as if she hadn't seen food in months. She appeared human, but her hair is naturally bubblegum pink, as well as her skin, which possessed a grey undertone like a corpse. Her clothes stood out most, wearing a blush-pink shirt, cropped but still a little big as it slumped over her left shoulder. And a blue skirt, still vibrant despite the dry mud and blood stains.
Her legs stayed stiff, skillfully balancing on the heels of her dirty bare feet.
In the distance she saw a clearing where the Mansion stood facing her. The two giants at the front door looked formal, but the way the Clown cowered said otherwise. She places a hand on the tree and stares, deeply curious about the gravity of the situation. Slenderman is feared and respected, but she knows nothing of the monochrome monster.
Almost instantly after Slenderman vanished, her ears began to ring. She knew it was close. Like a boombox in her brain, "Pinkamena, my child. Keep an eye on Laughing Jack. There will be no protest." She didn't flinch as the stern voice clawed at her skull. Pinky merely gave a nod, then looked towards the sky.
Silver radiance fills her faded blue eyes. Moonlight dancing across her pale cheeks and dark circles.
Her broken spirit was the least of her worries. Jumping off the branch onto another below, Pinky easily descends the tree and lands with a soft crunch of dead leaves. "So what? I just watch him forever, or do I kill him when given the chance?", She asks but no more than a breeze responds. Can that thing even die? Wild questions plagued her mind as she strolled towards the mansion.
Jack hesitates to open the doors, but his frown curls into a cheeky grin anyway. If confidence was a penny, the clown would be rich. He brushes some of his hair back in a suave motion, but his hand snags in the overgrown mop. Worse, something bites his finger. "Dammit!", he jerks his hand away, ripping tangles and leaving black twine around his claws. "Fucking hell.", He cursed under his breath a dozen times as he grasps the gold door handle. Pinky wasn't far from the mansion, nonetheless, she intended to take her time. She moved gracefully on her toes, stopping to admire glowing bugs and odd mushrooms that caught her eye. If the clown was going to start drama with the first face he sees, she'd prefer to be the last.
The heavy doors creak, opening inward as Jack pushes them. He's immediately hit by inviting warmth. Hundreds of immortal candles litter the walls, decorative tables, and on the world's largest chandelier hanging 30 ft above. He quickly steps inside, carefully pulling the doors shut to avoid any sound. Jack's crooked smile twitches nervously. He could hear luxuries such as a blender and television, but it was the voices that startled him most. His eyes dart between flickering shadows as he slinks towards his old room. The hallway is a straight shot from the front door, and every room he passes is built for giants. The bustling of old enemies and forgotten friends echo down the hall, but only one thought hangs in his mind.
Hot water. The depressive state he'd been in led to completely disheveled clothing and literal years worth of dirt, blood, and grime. He hadn't even realized his hair was a literal rats nest until today.
At the very end of the hallway is his bedroom door. It looked repainted and scrubbed a hundred times. Yet marks and profanity showed through the white coat, cursing him for his crime. The second he noticed a streak of dry spit, an eye began to twitch.
With an unsteady breath he pushes the handle and steps inside. Quickly he turns to close the door, struggling not to slam it. It clicks shut, and his legs feel heavy. Leaning against the door, Jack turns around and feels a wave of anxiety at the sight. The room is covered in broken glass and ancient blood. Furniture is toppled and claw marks litter the walls, ceiling and floor. His vision pulses with the rapid pace of his heart. The outburst he had so many years ago still haunted this room. But of course, Jack wasn't hated for destroying upholstery. It was what he did to Sally, how he mutilated her when she tried to leave.
Jack stared down at his claws, his vision doubling and chest rising faster. She was going to leave me. The little girl's blood is stained into everything, and for a moment he saw his hands dripping red. The room was supposed to be fixed, but nobody could bear more than the removal of her corpse. Jack's throat aches at wanting to cry, he couldn't be weak. His fingers curl as he imagines tearing the feeling from his throat.
"AAAH!Hahaha!", he coughs out laughter, but it doesn't help. The clown's legs become so heavy they collapse beneath him. His knees hit the dusty ground with a thud, and gasping laughter begins to sound more like sobbing. Jet black makeup mixes with his swelling tears. Jack wants to stop it, but he can't; trails of ink are already streaking his dirty cheeks. He cries for the first time in decades, and it feels like ecstasy.
Pinky sighs as the front doors cling shut behind her. It was never silent in the mansion. Even during the dead of night, nocturnal creeps lurked about. She should start keeping an eye on the clown, but since nobody was screaming, she didn't worry. It'd have to be near impossible to lose someone his size.
Pinky glances down the giants hall before turning left to enter a huge circular living room. Two figures sit on a long L shaped couch. With their backs turned they don't notice her slip behind. Messy cords run from an open window to a flat screen television sitting on the coffee table. They both snicker at a boring show about normal human friends.
"I thought this place doesn't get real tv.", she mumbles, earning a blood dripping side eye from the small man dressed in green. His red pupils float in black voids, a smirk glitching across his face.
"Well y-yeah, it didn't.", his words, like his movements, are sharp and electric, as if he was made almost entirely of unstable code. Despite his attitude, Pinky shares a smile with Ben. He's fun to be around until he's crashing out on malware.
The other man slowly turns around and licks his dry lips, permanent smile and bloodshot eyes peering from behind black messy locks. "Ew.", He croaks at her before looking back at the TV. Jeff was always an asshole, but she didn't mind him. Ben elbows his stiff shoulder, but the famous killer doesn't react. Jeff simply pulls his hood up and slumps deeper into the couch.
"Join us?", Ben asks as he turns back around, but Pinky is already strolling away. She clearly didn't care for 'friends' or television.
Just before the kitchen, she ascends a carpeted staircase. Each step felt further from Slenderman's orders, but she needed a moment to herself. Her everlasting debts would wait.
The hall is dimly lit, but the bedrooms are easy to tell apart. Most had signs or like hers, some were painted.
She enters a door decorated with pink flowers. It was previously owned, though she didn't know by who.
Pinky had been staying in the room for a few months now, but she refused to change it. The decor resembled a modern child's room, abandoned for many years, yet still beautifully pink from floor to ceiling. Giggles and sunshine made her chest ache, but removing anything felt wrong. She falls back on the bed and rolls to her side. Face sinking in the cold pillow as she pulls a dusty plushie to her chest.
I'll get him back. The thought racked her mind every night. She zones out at the pink flower nightlight beside the closet. To think a child scared of the dark lived amongst monsters. Sometimes she wonders if the girl grew up, but her gut knew better than to ask anybody.
What if I can't get him back? She couldn't stop the repetitive thoughts. She wanted to cry or scream, instead she bites into the plushie, tasting the bitter tart of molded fabric. For a moment there was silence, and she doesn't even feel her eyes close. Every deep breath pulls her further into darkness until she's consumed by slumber.
In less than a minute, Jack was on his feet smudging makeup across his face. Hopefully after a shower it'd be like he never shed a tear. The clown sombers into the bathroom, poorly lit by a few broken white candles. Above the sink is a massive mirror, cracked all the way across and missing pieces. He used to hate his reflection but now he can't look away. He'd never seen himself so filthy, so weak. He crosses his arms and grabs the feathered shoulders of his costume. In a single motion his claws tear through the fabric, ripping it down until his pale chest is bare. Musky air caresses his smooth back as the sleeves slip from his bandaged arms. The soiled shirt falls to his feet and Jack's long torso flexes, inhuman muscles bulging and twisting. He couldn't tell if he looked more like a god or a monster.
Glaring down at his arms he slips off the stained bandages with surprising dexterity. Beneath them is the ugly cost of his greed. Leathery black skin from his fingertips to elbows. Like death's kiss, his claws grow stronger, but the corruption creeps further with every innocent soul claimed. Jack wonders if someday the darkness will consume him entirely. His vision blurs watching his chest rise faster, but he continues to undress. Jack quickly tears away the bandages around his waist, exposing long thin scars across his stomach. A memento from all times he's ripped into his guts like a pinata, futile attempts at ending his immortal life. Eventually the pain became pleasure, and like his color, everything he ever loved or was just faded away.
With her hair strewn across the pillow and a plushie nuzzled against her face, Pinky truly looked at peace. Unfortunately good things didn't last long, especially good dreams. Her body jerks hard, again and again till she's breaking a sweat. Suddenly she's strangling the stuffed animal, knees curled to her chest in a fit of silent screams. Images flash behind her tight lids, butchered ponies and mutilated friends. Teeth grind and her fingers twitch, but she can't escape the nightmare. Suddenly her eyes snap open, heart nearly stopping at the sight of Zalgo leaning over her. Pinky's lungs squeeze and muscles ache in a state of paralysis. She knows it's a hallucination, but his presence feels real.
That unforgettable demonic laugh mocks her as he rips away skin and bone. She's reliving the night she became human. The agonizing transformation from pony to person, before being ravaged by the devil himself. Every bed she slept in felt ruined by the heartless beast, but she made the deal.
"Get up Pinky." Zalgo echoes but she can only whimper. Her hip burns with the devils seal, a stamp binding her to him. The only solace she found was a brief vision of Gummy. A tiny toothless alligator who meant more than a pet, he was her world. "Gummy!", Regaining movement her scream fills the room. If she was going to save him, she had to complete their deal. Pinky sits up drenched in sweat, strings of hair stuck to her face. Her eyes swell with hatred in the darkness. The deal was near impossible, kill Slenderman and collect his head.
She slides out of bed and runs her hand over her hip, feeling the scarred mark of Zalgo right on top of her cutie mark. She lost everything, but if she could get her best friend back, she had to. Hugging her waist, Pinky slips into the bathroom and quickly shuts the door. White candles suspended on the walls ignite, bathing her in soft light. She snaps on the water and strips down, hesitating at her undergarments. Even alone, she felt exposed. She doesn't give dread anymore time to stir and steps into the lukewarm water. Facing the stream with her eyes closed, she considers the clowns usefulness.
The gloomy bathroom is full of peppermint fog, a thick layer of steam still pouring from the giant shower. Scrubbing his hair for the 3rd time, dark brown water continues to pool at Jack's feet. The sensation of so much grime washing away brought him unforgettable chills.
He tilts his head back, letting the water weigh down his massive mess of hair. Completely soaked it reached past his shoulders to the middle of his back. He couldn't remember the last time he trimmed or brushed it. After one last wash the drain is full of dead hair and a drowned rat. As Jack steps out of the shower he cringes at his feet, he's never had a pedicure but definitely needed one. His gnarly black toenails curled into the math mat, basically a weapon on their own. Regardless, he felt confident and refreshed.
Aside from his arms, Jack's clean skin is pearl white and his tired sunken eyes are surrounded by a porcelain complexion. With a black towel pulled around his waist, Jack steps over dust bunnies and broken glass. Like his tattered costume, the room possessed a stench bleach could never fix. Fortunately, the drawers that weren't scattered still had guest clothing. The outfit would have to be formal, but at least it was something.
On the second story of the mansion, at the top of its widest staircase is a pair of tall wooden doors, every inch carved with art of nature and wildlife. Inside, books cover walls and shelves from floor to ceiling. Slenderman stands in the center of the colossal library, surrounded by thick air and six tentacles that drip black smoke.
Behind him at a long table, sitting in a puddle of his own tar, is Eyeless Jack. Unlike a proxy, Jack was more of a loyal pet. He's dressed entirely in black to blend in with the night. Sporting fingerless gloves, jeans, and a hoodie with a beat up leather jacket over top.
"Isn't he banished?", he asks, the demon's otherworldly voice is deep yet respectful. Slenderman's hovering tendrils snake across books of every size and color.
Jack waits for a response but only hears books being placed onto the table in front of him. He accepts silence as an answer and slowly runs his fingers over the cover of each book. His carnivorous nails create a distinct noise across the leathery textures. His shoulders feel tight upon recognizing them as chthonic text. Ancient prophecies promising the end of the world.
"Are you sure it's time? And with him here? He's the reason we're missing so many heads.", Jack was always bitter, yet he still managed to sound genuinely concerned. The godly being turns to the desk and Jack feels it's promise of strength and safety. Slenderman collects the text, tendrils stacking the books into his massive white palm. Jack wants to protest, but the presence is already gone, leaving a command burned into his mind, "War is already here. Nobody else is to know." Jack roughly pushes the desk as he stands, the fear of armageddon was nothing compared to his anger towards the clowns untimely arrival.