GhostImageArt
patreon
Artistic Slashing Ch.3
🕑 Added 2023-07-10 08:30:31 +0000 UTCChapter Three
You made me do this.
The first day after she found her new hidey-hole was pretty bad. That first night of sleep had come with more nightmares than she could count. First, the faces of the two aliens she had killed chased her through the night. They asked her why and called her a murderer and a monster. Worse were the dreams of aliens surrounding Paula, burning and cutting her as the old woman begged for her life and called for Betty to save her.
She spent the following day in an almost catatonic state. Pacing around in circles and talking to herself. Telling herself she did not want this, that this was done to her.
She ate, drank, and slept.
The second night it was just Paula. Paula died while the creatures laughed. Paula died while calling for Betty.
All night.
That second day was better, in a way. The numbness gave way to panic attacks and anxiety. She was a killer. A murderess. They would be coming for her.
Every few minutes, she thought she heard them. Betty would leap up, pressing herself against the room's walls, ready to die.
That was the second day.
On the third night, she dreamed of revenge. She saw herself as a monster. She stalked the darkness and killed. One by one, the aliens died as levels rained down upon her. By the time the police came, she was indestructible, tearing them apart with her bare hands. And every one of them had her own face.
Betty lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Her bladder was bursting, but she did not want to move. She just wanted to stay here. Here was safe. Here she wasn’t hunted or hunter. She was just a woman lying in bed who needed to pee.
Nature’s call can never be put off forever. Grumbling and nervous, Betty moved out of her mine and into the forest. As she crouched and felt relief, a twig broke nearby. For a fraction of a second, Betty was two people at the same time.
One was a terrified woman, lost and alone, shying in fear from the noise. The other was a predator, disturbed in its own territory.
Betty blinked, and the two versions faded. Her Slasher’s Senses activated, and she knew no one was nearby. She went back into the mine, thoughtful.
It was a strange thing to become a defining moment of a person’s life, a snapping twig. But it would mark a turning point for Betty.
She spent the next day thinking about that moment. She had been dangerously close to a psychotic break there. But…
There was a stark truth in it that Betty had been avoiding. This was no E.T. This was a horror movie. She had not chosen to be here, had not chosen to be alone in this world. Neither had Paula. There was no happy ending here for her. Paula had been a lovely little old lady, if a bit fond of discussing her husband’s penis. They killed her. What was Betty hoping would happen to her?
The best-case scenario was government experimentation. Then death. That was the Betty path.
“Fuck, that’s bleak,” She muttered.
The other path was the path of a monster. Of a slasher. If she wanted to survive, she could try to hide, to keep away from these creatures. But how? She knew nothing of this world or its people. They could have ways of tracking people, of scanning areas that she had never even dreamt of. That meant she would have to kill to stay alive. Betty would have to kill often and without mercy. She needed to be stronger to survive, to defend herself.
Kills meant levels; levels meant strength; strength meant safety.
“Bloody Hell, Betty,” she said to herself. She began to pace. “It’s a binary choice here, girlie. Predator or prey.” More pacing. Was her life worth more to her than her principles?
“Yes.” Betty said, blinking in shock, “It fucking is.” A moment of silence passed before she laughed; it was a crazed and manic laughter that gave way to tears.
But the decision was made.
The rest of the day Betty spent mourning the death of the Betty that was. It was hard to admit that when push came to shove, you shoved. That night she ate the last of her food, drank the last of her water, and grabbed the spear.
Placing it against her throat, Betty closed her eyes. A single thrust would drive it through her throat and into the spine. Not even her regeneration would cure that, she was sure. If it were not removed, then she would die.
The final choice. Kill others, or kill herself.
With a bitter laugh, Betty threw the spear aside. The choice was made.
That night, Betty slept like a baby for the first time in her entire life.
It was a very different woman that awoke the following day.
===================
Stretching and cracking her joints, Betty rolled to her feet and stretched. Recovering the spear from the corner of the room, she stepped out into the forest after donning her now-dry sneakers. She kept her Senses active as she moved toward the camp once more, and Betty considered her spear. It would just not do. She was a slasher. Slasher, not a stabber, jabber, or spear-er.
All the greats had their weapon of choice. Machete, Knife, Blade-glove, Hook, whatever. A spear is just not stylish enough. She wanted something slashy. Something quick and effective. Or maybe something hacky. An axe, perhaps. Or both, a hacky and a slashy. Betty smiled, reminded of one of her favorite Graphic Novels. Her feet stilled. A dual-wielding slasher? Had there been one of those? Betty smiled. There would be soon.
Slowing as she returned to the outskirts of the camp, Betty noticed tracks and scents in the air. They hadn’t been there the last time she came through. Guess there had been searchers, after all. None seemed to go towards her retreat; still, caution was called for. Betty changed direction to move towards a more random approach, just in case, before she noticed a shadow pass overhead. Looking up, she could just see a vehicle passing above the forest. The trees blocked her from seeing it clearly, but it was enormous. Following the path of the slow-moving and silent vehicle, Betty watched from the bushes as it landed in the clearing she had noticed a few days ago. Those flags were not for games; it was a line system. The large boxy vehicle was painted a vivid yellow. Betty suppressed a giggle when she realized it was a Camp bus.
All the younger locals were lined up and waiting, bags in hand. They filed onto the transport one after another before the Counselors waived as the huge boxy bus lifted away. It passed over her head again as it flew away. Making a note of the direction it flew for later, Betty narrowed her eyes at the remaining staff. None of them had left. She focused more on their characteristics this time. It was the same group that was at the bonfire.
The girl with moss-green hair was the apparent leader. The others all looked at her as she chatted away, one of the largest boys hanging his arm over her shoulder. She called the pair Bossy and Jock.
To the left of them was a pair of twin girls, both shorter and freckled. Betty named them Twinsy One and Twinsy Two. What? Names were hard when it came to aliens. Hovering behind them was a shy-looking male with glasses over green eyes; Betty decided to call him Glasses until she saw the evil look in his eyes whenever he looked at the girls. He was quickly renamed SerialSam. The name Glasses was transferred over to a shorter girl with abundant curves and sunglasses pushed up over her hair.
A giggling girl with jet black hair and almost nothing on, Betty called Trashy before feeling bad for shaming another girl. Then Betty reminded herself she was going to murder the girl anyway and kept the name. Right at the back was a pair with equally jet-black hair; both wore eyeliner so thick she was surprised they could blink. Black jackets and neon collars completed their look. Betty assumed they were brother and sister from their similar facial features. She named the girl Punky and the boy Captain Emo. There were four more of the little bastards, but she could not see anything to separate them. With a wicked grin, Betty collectively named them the Trash Mob.
With that, she had her list. It was time for some recon.
If these were the only ones here, they would not be here for long. She needed to move fast. It was time for some scavenging and recon.
Betty came to the dock by sliding back into the forest and taking a fast, if wide, circuit of the camp. She wandered around a little, finding a boat shed. This was her best bet for something big. Inside she found a couple of boat hooks but ignored them. They failed to be either hacky or slashy. She rummaged around for a little while before finally finding what she wanted. Right at the back, on a dusty and ignored table full of random tools, Betty found her Hacky. It was probably some kind of fire axe. To one of the locals, it would be a two-handed axe. With her stats and size, Betty could use it as easily as a hatchet. She strolled out of the building, stroking her new weapon. It was a little rusty, in need of some tender love and care. Betty was an artist. Appearances mattered.
Ducking into the woods at the sound of voices, she watched as the group came down to the water and jumped in. Hiding amongst the trees, She counted. They were all there. Oh, well.
Betty moved off at a low jog towards the ‘archery’ range. She was on a mission. It seemed a lifetime ago she had first come past here. As soon as she arrived, Betty Slasher Stepped over to the targets, pulling one out of the floor and vanishing into the trees. Her strength was more than enough to tear it apart, grabbing the white and red leather bindings out of the straw. She chucked the remains behind her and moved again. Where does a slasher find her crafting supplies?
Deciding the rest would have to wait, Betty sprinted through the forest, Slasher’s Senses pushed to the maximum as she made for the Counselors’ Cabins. She paused at the edge of the forest, checking everything was clear.
No signs of life remained in any of the buildings.
She ducked into the first one, finding the same scent of a teenager. She searched for any identifying items, deciding eventually this place belonged to one of the Trash Mob. She moved on. From each of the girls, she took something. A lipstick, or a bit of nice clothing. Each scent she could identify, she memorized.
Only the two largest cabins remained.
The first was the one belonging to Jock. It was like a shrine to himself. Slightly moving pictures of himself flexing and posing lined the table. The bed was littered with clothes. A whole wall had medals and ribbons taped and stuck to them. Someone was compensating for something.
The last cabin was Bossy’s. Almost neurotically neat and tidy, one wall was taken up with what seemed to be a calendar. Days had been crossed off until what looked like the day she arrived. Notes covered the square. A little drawing of what could have been a human with ‘x’s for eyes was in the bottom corner, with a smiley face next to it. Rage burned in Betty.
Shaking herself free of emotion, she kept looking. This was an opportunity to learn something. Notes covered the day she killed Pudgy as well. It was hell not being able to read the language. She put that on the ‘to be fixed’ list and moved on.
She could tell this world used a ten-day week using the days she knew about and the calendar on the wall. A rough sketch of the bus was on today. Another bus came in about five days. Until then, there was just a series of what looked like bottles, streamers, and party balloons.
What the fuck? She had killed two of them, and they were planning a party. It made her anxious. Searching the drawers in the room, Betty found a sketchbook. It was hexagonal, like everything else here. Inside was a series of drawings, mostly pornographic. This girl needed to get therapy. Or a vibrator. Each page was filled with scenes of various pairings having sex, Pudgy turning up most often with the one Betty killed by the lake. The drawings continued until the last few pages. Those showed the forest filled with locals, the blood trail, and the body by the lake.
The last four pages showed the two dead locals in the Cafeteria, fighting. Lakeboy running through the woods, chased by Pudgy, and finally, Pudgy stabbed them in the neck with the bottle.
The last page showed many uniformed locals holding pictures of Pudgy before the collected camp kids.
“Huh,” Betty said, “Guess I got lucky there.” She returned the sketchbook, “Or they are just exceptionally stupid here.” Betty straightened the place up before leaving, ensuring everything was where it should be. The only thing she took was some of Bossy’s underwear. Most of her collection she placed in plain sight in SerialSams room, The lingerie she put under his pillow. Unfortunately, it was not the only pair under there, which made her gag a little.
Betty whistled as she strolled through the forest, the entire area clear of campers giving her more freedom to relax. She would know if anyone came long before they got in range to hear her quiet whistling.
Stepping up the stairs and into the Cafeteria, she paused at a change in the room. A picture of Pudgy, ringed in red, was pasted to the walls. The other change was a picture of the Lakeboy, grinning from ear to ear; some kind of wreath made of ribbons and stones was hanging on a nail underneath it.
It was cute.
Not wasting any more time, Betty pushed through into the kitchen and the store room beyond. Loading up with water and what remained of the food that she knew she could eat. There wasn’t much left. Her senses pinged at her. Focusing on them, she heard the group approaching. She panicked for a second before looking longingly out the window. Face palming, she looked again, and Slasher Stepped out into the forest. Giggling as she retreated into the woods.
Being a Slasher worked pretty well as a thief class, it seemed.
She had one more important stop to make before retreating to her base…
The abandoned camper’s cabins were empty of little locals. This was a perfect opportunity. Campers hid things. As she strolled through the cabins, her senses were tuned for anything that seemed… different. A loose board or two yielded some local candy, but Betty left it there. Who knew what was in that stuff?
In the cabin for the youngest kids, she finally hit paydirt. Ribbons. And glue, some paints, and even a few brushes. Betty took it all.
It was time to return to base and prepare for her first night as a proper slasher.
