II: DANSE MACABRE (Pt. 4)
(Dedicated at heart (still not a thing on the app - request to BEN processing) to SpaceTrash328 for being such a hilarious and wonderful reader/commenter/reign of terror. Chaos just isn't the same without her!)

"-What happened to you?" Smiley questioned, his glowing eyes following their backs as they trudged past him, quiet as mouses, shadows of stirring forest branches ghosting along their forlorn faces.

Frowning, Dark Link opened his mouth to speak, prominent red bump throbbing on his forehead. But before a single word left his torn lip, Smirky's arm coiled over his shoulders in the deadly wrap of a python, suffocating his voice like a glass over a candle's tongue of flame.

"This poor, clumsy creature took an awful tumble down a small hill. Didn't you, Darkie?" the illusionist cooed, nails digging into his silken sleeve.

Making a peculiarly soft and strangled choking sound at the back of his throat, Dark Link garbled out, "numh-uhm," which could've been interpreted as yes or no.

"Was that... a yes?" Smiley guessed hesitantly.

The illusionist made Dark Link nod by manipulating a handful of his snowy hair from behind like a puppet string.

Bewildered by their odd behaviour, Smiley pried no further into the matter and returned to his game. As soon as his brother turned away, Smirky tore his hands off Dark Link and pushed the shade out of his personal space.

"Shoo, pervert!"

"But I- but you- hah..." Rubbing the back of his head, the shade tactfully retreated from a doomed battle and busied himself with fussing over their bruised jack-o-lantern, which had been left on an overturned log by an illusion.

A grey lizard, brownish in the eerie orange light, scurried from a hole in the creaking, decayed wood when he hefted the pumpkin into his arms. It sped over Jeff's shoe and off down the path from whence they'd all came, waddling like it owned the world. Dark Link tilted his head to watch it.

(CAW!)

In front of his very eyes, a haggard crow dived from a gap in the flittering treetops and caught the reptile in its skeletal talons, landing in a noisy flutter. Took its flailing prey into his beak, grim feathers illuminated in approving moonlight. Glittering black eyes, cold as stone, locked with his own. Crunch.

The lizard jerked then moved no more, broken and resigned to its fate.

You could've stopped me. Breaking their stare, the crow beat its wings and vanished into the darkness, lost amongst rippling shadows once more.

Desensitised to death, Dark Link nonetheless felt a morbid chill for watching the cruel act and wanted to put it behind him quickly. He turned to his friends and began strongly dropping hints about wrapping up their game and leaving, but soon realized that they weren't even listening to a word he said. 

Creepypastas were competitive by nature, but this was bordering on ridiculous.

Smiley and Jeff were playing Go Fish, sitting on swirled, enchanted forest-esque tree stumps. A whimsical sight to behold, if not for BEN on all fours between them, serving as their substitute table.

BEN was being hand-fed snacks to keep him happy.

A Doritos bag, the source of the feed, rested wide open and half devoured on Jeff's lap, though most of its contents were heading into his own mouth instead of the elf's.

The killer looked up. There was a definite competitive glint in his blank, soulless eyes.

"Got any fives, Smiley?"

Jaw tightening and eyebrow twitching, Smiley plucked three cards from his fanned-out hand. He slid them over BEN's tunic-covered back, and Jeff cheerfully yanked the offering from his white-knuckle grasp.

"Hooked and booked!" he flaunted his new cards, plus the one he had already had, smacking them facedown on rear side of the BEN table.

The table squeaked in surprise and wiggled. They ignored him, too deep in the game to see an inch past their opponent's cards.

Smirky, who had so far stood back and watched with a mixture of disbelief and disapproval, seemed to have the same idea as Dark Link and cut in with a blunt, impatient reminder about where they were supposed to be going.

They ignored him too.

"So, it's my turn again." The killer peeked over his remaining cards deviously.  Do you have-"

"Be careful what you say, Jeff. I can steal your pancreas in your sleep," Smiley said quietly.

(quick as lightning, his brother dropped to a knee as though he'd spotted a lucky penny.)

Under fire within the not-so-good doctor's dangerous glare, and oblivious to all else, Jeff kicked at the leaf-strewn ground and said meekly:

"Uuuuh... any sixes?"

"Go Fish."

The next thing anyone knew, their cards went flying. BEN shot to his feet and ran in circles, screaming incomprehensibly until his incomprehensible screams became comprehensible to their ringing ears.

It didn't make much of a difference in the unpleasantness of his intolerable, nails-on-chalkboard high-pitched tone of voice, honestly.

"AAAH! GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF! HELP! HEEELP! HEEEELLLLP!"

One of the swirly tree stumps, now vacated, split wide open dead center, revealing corroded wood; hundreds of thousands of slimy worms squirming inside like a mush of lamb brain.

Smirky knelt by the fallen cards, and the ones who saw him do so assumed he was picking them up to throw away, preferably into in the heart of some deep dark, dense thorny bushes. Being gentle as a feather, he scooped his hand over the moist soil and flimsy dirtied cards until a brown spider caught onto his palm and clung like morning dew.

All attention went to the ruckus-causing blonde elf, who performed the 'ol duck and roll, and kept on rolling.

"EW! EW! EW! CREEPY CRAWLY!"

In the echoing distance, a pine tree fell. Crows took to the twelve o'clock sky in a mad rush of cawing and flapping wings, alarmed by the disturbance of gnashing branches.

( caw! haw! haw! )

Haggard feathers, dipped in a witch's black brew, drifted and spiralled to the forest floor.

BEN's face met in a collision with one such feather.

"A-A... ACHOO!"

Smiley and Jeff simultaneously stuck out a leg each and caught his rolling form under their feet. The pebbles he'd disturbed along the way kept on going. The little elf grabbed Smiley's shoe and grovelled until he got his full, irritated attention.

"What seems to be the problem?" the not-so-good doctor asked nonchalantly, eyes glowing eerily in the shadow of his face when he looked down. Filled with distain for the pitiful creature he was.

"I think a spider bit me! It was right there on my arm and- and-"

Behind them, Smirky suggested, with unusually high spirit, to leave BEN behind and continue pressing onwards through the forest. Words which were, ultimately, ignored again.

"Did you experience the physical sensation of an arachnid's fangs piercing your skin?"

"N-No..."

"You'll survive. Tell me if you start feeling dizzy, nauseous, swollen or intelligent within the next-," Smiley checked an imaginary watch, "-three days."

"Okay, doc!" BEN picked himself up and saluted Smiley (splaying dirt and muck onto his white coat). Then he trooped back to his yum-yum pile.

__________

The jack-o-lantern proved to be an invaluable tool for guiding them through the forest. And with it lighting the way ahead, illusions flanking the group, they passed into enemy territory. Forest merged into mountain bestowed with flora and fauna. 

Cutting through the middle was the quickest way, along the path with a sheer drop into a mile-deep ravine, their unlikely guide claimed. No one believed him, but urgency soaked far deeper than doubt in the fabric of time.

When asked by a stunned BEN what it would feel like to fall in, the villainous illusionist politely asked the little elf if he'd like to find out. For some strange reason, the little elf became immensely interested in looking for resident woodland creatures instead.

More than once, the party had to stop for someone to shake a stone out of their shoe or boot. The path was treacherous and brimming with dangerous illusions – drops that looked solid from eye height, the occasional hazard of a tumbling rock followed by swirling, filthy dust and the very real threat of birds bursting from crevices, potentially startling someone to the teetering edge of the rocky path.

Unwelcome. They were glared at by every animal they passed, even the dead ones. Only Smirky seemed unfazed by it. He walked ahead, lantern in one arm, parcel tucked under the other.

So unfazed, in fact, that the others began to fall behind.

"Hurry up! This isn't a zebra crossing for preschoolers!" the illusionist barked over his shoulder.

BEN, riding on Jeff's shoulders, pulled the killer's hoodie hood over his own head as Jeff sped forward. It fit tight as a shower cap and pinned his pointy ears southwards.

"Co-Cold!"

All at once and without warning, Smirky made a sharp left turn and disappeared from sight. 

Smiley and Dark Link, who were still walking at their own pace, followed without a hitch. But Jeff – he stumbled right off the innocent-looking edge of a jutting cliff with BEN sitting astride his shoulders.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? Watch your step," Smirky commented with gentle, ominous emphasis on his last words, glancing over his shoulder as Jeff's panicked scream echoed down a long, long fall.

Smiley stood at the brink, holding the killer by his hoodie with both hands. Suspended, Jeff swung like a hung man, hands firmly in the muff of his hoodie. Gravity was pulling him out of the scruffy garment, slow but steady, slipping away centimetre by centimetre.

"Pull me up! Pull me up!" the killer was shrieking, his voice booming into the ravine.

Beads of snaking sweat glimmered down Smiley's neck. He wasn't moving. Twisty veins and tendons were taut along his arms, shadows shifting along their outline.

BEN clamoured up one of the doctor's strained arms and rolled to safety, gasping:

"Whew!"

Then, seeing Dark Link approaching fast with alarm, he added, "It's okay! I'm fine!"

The shade strode past him and crouched as close to the cliff as he dared to go.

"Jeff! Hold onto Smiley, not your pockets! If you slide through your hoodie, you'll die!"

"But my knives are in here! They'll fall out if I let go!" Jeff wailed, scared half out of his wits, but somehow finding the courage to sound indignant.

"I'll-I'll buy you a new set of knives!"

"When?"

Fatigued, Smiley tipped an inch forward. "Can't..." His hands were far too delicate, suited for the silky curve of a lightweight scalpel – not hauling the weight of a serial killer with a hoodie full of knives from the edge of a cliff. "... hold him..."

"Tomorrow!" Dark Link yelped, darting forward to share the weight with Smiley before the not-so-good doctor fell in himself.

"Will you also give back all that schoolgirl hentai manga you confiscated from me?" Jeff sounded hopeful. "Including the Zelda edition with you and Link in it?"

Smirky covered his mouth with a hand and turned away snickering. "A lovely bedtime story, I imagine. How accurate are the portrayals?"

"Like the real thing!" BEN piped up from the ground. "Ohh, the face on Dark Link when those three tentacles- it's really accurate to what you'd expect on the real deal, and I gotta give the artist respect for that!"

Smirky looked down at him as though he were a particularly unattractive piece of used bubblegum smushed into the pavement and commented no further.

Dark Like felt the lilac heat of embarrassment packing in his face. At that moment, he decided that, if no attack or abduction actually took place, Laughing Jack and BEN were going to be very, very sorry.

"Okay!"

"Sweet!"

Planting their feet firmly on solid ground, the two creepypastas began to pull. Jeff released his grip – all manner of blades and lethal weaponry spilling to the outcrop of spiky rocks below,  and held onto their arms with all his might.

At last, he was hauled over to safety.

Jeff rolled right on top of BEN, through he didn't know it at the time, and basked in the sensation of being alive. BEN freed his head with a pop, gasping for air underneath him.

Face flushed in righteous anger, Dark Link's hand flew to the hilt of his sword as he turned towards Smirky.

"You promised you wouldn't trick us!" he said fiercely.

The illusionist thoughtfully placed a finger on his chin. "I only told you I'd like to see you try to decapitate me if I led you into a trap. Besides, how could I have known about the cliff? I've never been here before."

His final words, which Dark Link perceived to be an outrageous lie mounted on a popsicle stick and dipped in a bowl of faux innocence, grated against Darkness's nerves as well as any taunt. A devilish desire manifested from his gut, an idle thought to trail his sword across the ground and decapitate the illusionist in a rain of sparks...

Messy.

Just the way he liked it.

The silvery beginnings of a sword being unsheathed reached his ears. The shade looked down and realized he, through no conscious means of his own, had been about to follow true to that longing.

Caught off-guard, Dark Link let its hilt slide through his fingers; the tarnished steel was swallowed back into darkness.

(had he been possessed by a fearsome demon of bloodlust?)

Fingertips of a chill stroked the nape of his neck. He didn't know what had come over him- especially with Smiley in eyeshot- he-

Craaack...

The earthly groan of rocks beginning to crumble snapped him back to his senses. All the sudden weight and force had weakened the cliff – it was starting to collapse!

No one heard the beginnings of the cliff breaking.  They were already to safety, with their pumpkin lantern floating some thirty yards away in the arms of a Smirky.

"Hurry up~!" he was saying cheerfully, never looking back. "I don't mind leaving some of you behind if you don't."

Darkness thought about calling for help. Luckily, he looked down first. Cracks had quietly crept under his feet; he couldn't move an inch before the ground beneath his boots caved in.

Opening his mouth to calmly ask for help could be the straw that broke the camel's back. He stood alone in the vast open while the ground slowly fell apart, breath sticking to his lungs

It was cold on the pinnacle of oblivion.

Chuckling, a rouge wind ghosted past his shoulder; remember me?

Involuntarily, the shade shivered.

Moss-streaked stone broke away from the base and tumbled into fog-shrouded oblivion, cracking against each other with a sound like colliding marbles.

Sparks of hope ignited in Dark Link's uneasy heartbeat as Smirky sharply raised his head, tilting it dramatically to listen through his right ear.

Look this way... please, look this way...

The shade internally pleaded to the illusionist whom he had almost murdered a minute before, helplessness wringing out his nerves more than any of his dishonest words. Trapped, cornered like an animal, on the crumbling cliff at the heart of Devil's Night, adrenaline quietly coursing sharp pulses through his neck.

Afraid? No. He wasn't afraid of dying; he'd done it so many times before.

He didn't want the sight of that unnatural, grinning golden moon to be the last thing he ever saw before the spikes and knives ripped his shadowy body to bloodied liquid shreds.

Flinching, he shut his eyes. In heart-stopping clarity, he heard the cackle in the vengeful wind as it blasted him dead in the chest and a final crack. The fragile ground had given way beneath.

Weightless, he felt his footing slip as the cliff broke apart like a jigsaw puzzle. Wind, rushing past his face, leaving him behind. Don't open your eyes... don't open your eyes...

A hand closed around his collar, firm and flexible. Gravity took hold as he was thrown in a crescent towards safety, a dynamic switch of positions.

With no time to perform a roll, he gasped as the shock of landing on solid, slippery ground rattled his teeth in his skull. Nails sinking into lush moss and dirt, he hasted to sit upright in a fit of desperation to help whomever had switched places with him.

They're a goner...!

Heartbeats later, he realized he needn't have bothered. Having already clawed himself back onto the cliff, Smirky was resting on his elbows with his head dipped back, panting.

Flushed, his fingers were marred with sore-looking cuts, and his torn nails were leaking blood, from what Dark Link guessed was an intensive battle of dragging them against pure stone to brake before he fell, but the illusionist didn't appear fazed by any of it. If anything, he was simply annoyed that he'd done something good.

"You... saved me," Dark Link said numbly, barely registering that Smiley was checking him over for signs of trauma and asking him a question.

The illusionist disinterestedly dusted rubble off his sleeve.

"It was a freak accident, I assure you."

"You could've died."

"Accidents don't discriminate."

"Darkness!" Smiley clicked his fingers in front of his face.

The shade's eyes came back into focus. "H-huh?"

"Do you remember seeing who pushed you through the fog?" The not-so-good doctor looked concerned.

"No one pushed me; it was just the wind. The cliff crumbled away – surely you saw?" Dark Link blinked, finally realising something was off. "Fog? What fog?"

Smiley checked for fever. The shade swatted his hand away and asked again, with more urgency. "What fog?"

"Didn't you see what happened?" Jeff piped in. The killer, sitting cross-legged on a flat piece of stone with the lantern on his lap, beamed. "It was really dramatic."

"The moment after Smirky said those things, to wind you up," Smiley sounded most disapproving about his brother's conduct, "fog came rolling in and blanketed the entire mountain."

BEN jumped in, eager to get his moment of spotlight.

"It was so freaky! So then, Smirky said he heard someone say, "remember me?", and- oh, then you said, "please please look this way," or something. So we did, and we all saw this massive dark figure-thing shove you off the cliff – it disappeared right after. Then, ooh, it was awesome! Smirky jumped from the edge to throw you back to safety-"

"My illusions wouldn't work in the fog," Smirky cut in sharply. "I wouldn't have gone after you myself if I had the choice. Don't dwell on it too much."

"He's lying," Smiley whispered, "I saw him toss the lantern to Jeff just before he made the leap, and an illusion caught it when he dropped it."

BEN continued, oblivious. "Then there was this weird red static and when it went away, you were lying unconscious on the ground and Smirky was clawing his way back up the cliff," he concluded.

Speechless, Dark Link's elvish ears flattened and drooped.

Wiggling his fingers in anticipation, BEN casually stuck his hand in the deflated Dorito packet, groping arm-deep for leftovers even as Jeff reluctantly picked him up for another ride on the killer express.

Before the crazy killer could take a single step, he was forced to surrender the grinning pumpkin back to Smirky. The illusionist took it in his blood-streaked hands and whipped around, trooping at a much slower pace than before, but still managing to hurl just as many insults over his shoulder.

"For God's sake! My grandmother can hobble faster than you lot – and she died before I was born!"

In fact, he seemed to be doing it more than ever to make up for his moment of heroism.

Any gratitude Dark Link may have felt towards him had long since washed away by the time Smirky got around to suggesting he might start walking faster if he took off his dress and stopped wearing ballet tights.

"It's called a tunic," he muttered behind Smirky's back, silently fuming. "And ballet tights are much thinner than this, not to mention made out of completely different material..."

Smirky didn't play any other cruel tricks; directing skin-crawling insults towards everyone else was enough for him, it seemed. 

Their guards went up anyhow, wary as the mountain trail declined back into smooth forest path, and a crow's black silhouette glided past the giant golden moon.

_______

Daylight bulbs blazed from the high domed ceiling. Dark Link blew out the jack-o-lantern's candle. The flame leant back, flapping wildly and then it was gone; a wispy plume of smoke rising in the air, airily carrying the smell of burning wax.

Losing its glow, the sinister pumpkin turned back into just that; a pumpkin.

At first it had felt as though the walls were closing in from all sides, suffocating. So much space, yet they stayed so close together. No mistaking it; they were trespassing in the lair of a devil.

But between BEN chewing from a tin of processed cheese he'd snatched from said devil's larder on the way over, and the oddly bright hall, the effect distilled fairly quickly.

At the end of the passage awaited an unmarked door, unassumingly ajar. Evil emanated from every crack in the ash-coloured wood, evil with a touch of dry wine.

Motioning unnecessarily for them not to follow him – for no one particularly wanted to be in the presence of the demon without an 'I-won't-murder-you clause' - Smirky walked to the door and raised a curled hand to knock.

Before his knuckle touched the wood, a bored voice snapped: "What do you want, Smirky?"

"A favour," the illusionist replied, not batting an eye.

"... If I don't like what you have to say, I'll flay you alive. Enter."

Smirky breezed in without a single hesitation. He had no knife, no viable weapon aside from whatever was inside the mysterious package to defend himself if the prince of darkness did decide to follow up on his threat.

"He was bluffing about flaying him alive, right?" murmured Smiley worriedly.

"No," admitted Dark Link, who'd heard plenty of stories.

Gulping, Jeff and BEN began to back away. Their way was blocked by the other two, who reminded the cowardly creepypastas that L.J was counting on them.

"B-But what if he's not- what if we're risking our necks for nothing?" Jeff whimpered.

"Do it for those knives," Dark Link urged. "The ones who sacrificed themselves for you."

"Right," the killer nodded. "For Jessica, and Stanley, and Roberto, and little James, and Maisy, and Roland, and Oswald and..."

Jeff began fondly reciting the names of his lost knives. Dark Link sighed and uncrossed his arms, pretending to listen. Next to him, Smiley had assumed a firm stance to block BEN from making a bid for freedom and/or the larder. "You're not going anywhere."

"Lemme  go! Lemme go!" the little elf sobbed, banging his fists on the not-so-good doctor's knees. "Smirky's gonna get us all killed!"

"I trust his judgment."

"Well, I don't!"

_______

Standing in the heart of the surveillance room, his travelling companions' voices faded to faint whispers, indistinguishable beyond the hum of machines at work.

Beneath his feet, the new navy blue carpet gave off a harsh smell that made his senses burn. Chemicals. Probably came from a cheap knockoff brand. To combat this odour, windows were wide open and exhaust fans whirled busily on either side of the walls, the latter adding to the symphony of artificial murmurs.

Paying no heed to the problem – it wasn't the first time the carpets had reeked of something unpleasant, cat sick being the worst  – Smirky let his eyes wander to the computer chair, situated at the center of immense wings on the walls made by black and white monitors.

Shapes and figures like shadowfolk moved across the screens, which were split into grids and displayed dates and timestamps. They were live feed from security cameras all around the lair, the mansion, and the local Mac Donald's.

There he was at the middle of it all. His master. Back facing towards Smirky, the deactivated computer monitor reflecting every detail on his face. He was wide awake, albeit not at all enthused, elbows resting on the tabletop.

"I suppose it's only natural for a free-wandering pet to bring gifts to the doorstep in the dead of night," Zalgo sighed, his head sinking lower. "Unwanted as they may be."

His tail, curled around the back of the chair leg, leisurely unwound like a spade-headed snake awaking from a deep slumber. Smirky eyed it wearily. It was often a better indicator of the demon's mood than his face or his words.

It trailed towards the floor in a manner reminiscent of pooling silk. Zalgo wasn't as vexed as his tone of voice seemed to imply. Had he anticipated their arrival ahead of time?

"You aren't particularly fond of the idea of entertaining guests today, my Lord?" Smirky questioned politely, scarlet gaze flashing back to eye level.

"Is Dark Link amongst them? I've always wanted to try experimenting on a shadow. And that little blonde midget who keeps stealing my cheese - I should like to use him to further my research into electronic manipulation..."

"I'm afraid they aren't the payment. I have something even more appealing to offer you in return for your cooperation."

The illusionist let the paper bag rustle to pique his interest before he revealed it.

He was pleased to see Zalgo sit a little higher.

"My full attention is yours."

Smirky had been careful to avoid the mansion's cameras when he retrieved its contents and, as a result of his caution, the demon had no clue what was in it.  And he knew, from plenty of past experience, nothing could drive Zalgo crazy like unsatisfied curiosity.

If his hunch was correct, the demon had plenty of time to ponder over his mysterious gift, and would want him to skip to the unveiling as fast as a pebble skimming over rippling lake water.

"Are you aware of the unexplainable apparitions, and the mysterious circumstances surrounding Jack's disappearance?"

"Naturally." Eyes on the bag.

"Do you know who took him, and how we can get him back?"

"I do." Monosyllabic answers. Impatience. Good.

"Care to tell?'

"Show me what you've brought!" Zalgo's voice came out far more accusatory than he'd meant for it to; he immediately switched to a softer tone, "If I like it, I'll help you. If I don't... you'll all regret wasting my precious time."

Smirky's reflection in the monitor seemed blurred and fuzzy, like an incomplete drawing. Animated. Obediently opening the paper bag, delving a hand in...

(now watch as our illusionist pulls a rabbit out of a hat)

Grasping the lidded neck, a square-edged bottle rose to sights with a melodramatic flourish. No bigger than his fist, it was made of polished glass and featured an old-timey label; a realistic bunny bearing the pattern of the Union Jack curled around a detailed four-leaf clover.

1801's Lucky Rabbit's Union Brew

It was filled to the brim with shimmering whisky that was golden as the moon, halos of tinted light glimmering behind the glass. It was something special.

Zalgo's slitted eyes widened.

A deliciously wicked smirk spread over his face, and he slowly ran his delighted tongue over his sharp canines.

"From the union of Ireland and Britain after the rebellion... I lost a bottle just like it in a dance battle against the Grim Reaper a century ago. Is this...?"

"The one and the same? Of course. You described it quite fondly to me during one of your drunken tirades, and I just happened to remember seeing it somewhere before. Now, are you satisfied? If not..." Smirky deliberately lowered the whiskey back into its bag.

"Give me that bottle!" thundered the demon, abandoning all pretence of self-control as he sprang to his feet, hands planted firmly on the desktop. "A deal with the devil is a deal nonetheless!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Don't you dare toy with me any further!"

Spying through the keyhole, Dark Link was so impressed about Zalgo being won over by such a tiny bottle, he didn't even pause to consider that Smirky might have broken into Slenderman's private safe to get it.

(Today, May 2, is my dog's birthday! Why did you need to know this? You didn't. But it's too late now!)