In the dark streets of New York city, a lone figure roams across the pavement, walking in and out of back alleys. As the street lights illuminate the dark hours, the stranger's white blood stained hoodie can barely be seen until he fades into the shadows again.

He continues on his walk until he glances up in an alley. A faint light flickers out of a window a few stories up. Easily accessed with a fire escape. Smiling an unnaturally wide grin from under his hoodie, he silently makes his way up the rusty ladder. Making it to the specified window, he looks through the glass and sees his prey.

He sees someone sitting in a chair with their back to him. The t.v. spewing out light, resulting in a silhouette to be made on the occupant. Grasping on the window, the hooded figure finds out it is not locked. His smile widens.

Being as careful as he can, he silently opens the window and climbs inside the room and stands to his full height. The light from the television soon washing over him. Revealing his bloodied white hoodie, long black hair, wide beady eyes, bone white skin, and a grotesque smile that could only have been made with a knife.

The figure is revealed to be Jeff the Killer.

He pulls out a knife from the pocket of his hoodie. After a moment of nothing, Jeff lunges for the poor soul in the seat from behind. Without hesitation, he grabs their head back and forces the knife up to their throat. With a raspy voice, he whispers to them.

Jeff: Go to sleep.

Before he could drag the knife across, you suddenly place your sawed off directly to the back of his neck.

(Y/n): Nighty night.

*BANG*

Emptying both barrels point blank, you completely destroy the poor bastards neck almost to the point of decapitation. The body launches forward into the back of the chair. Knocking over the mannequin that was previously seated. The body topples to the floor as blood begins to accumulate around it.

With only minutes left before someone calls the cops on the gunshot, you quickly move over to the body. Not before giving yourself a little stretch after sitting in a dark corner for several hours. Once you arrive to the body, you lean down and grab Jeff's greasy hair. Pulling up, you try to lift up the head... only for the hair to follow your hand. Revealing it to be a wig.

(Y/n):........ A fucking copycat! Are you kidding me?!

Tossing the wig half hazardly to the side, you look down to the faker's real hair. Bright curly red hair covering his scalp. Quickly standing up, you pull one of your legs back and swing it at the head. As your foot makes contact, the head is torn from what little flesh is left connecting it to the body and flies into a wall. It collides against the wall with a hefty thud, leaving behind a blood splatter as it falls to the floor. You just stand where you are with a facepalm.

(Y/n): Uuuurrrgh, I wasted so much time on this!

Mood completely ruined, you just holster your shotgun and prepare to leave. Grabbing your mannequin, you make your way to the window and down the fire escape. Not even caring for the body left behind. As you make it down to the alley, you walk a little further until you make it to what appears to be a rusty old van. Walking to the back, you open the vehicle up and toss the mannequin inside. Climbing in as well, you close the doors behind you and shuffle your way to the driver's seat and start the van.

As you make your way out of the alley, you take your leave from the street and drive to a more busy part of the city. Stopping by a drive-thru, you take refuge in a parking lot and start chowing down as you pull out some papers from the back. Within these papers are hand written documents, photos, and murder reports. Shuffling through them, you come across the one related to the area you're in. Basically completing that task not long ago, you use the piece of paper as a napkin and toss it in the back.

(Y/n): Well, that was kind of a bust. I was really hoping to get the real one. Oh well, what else we got?

Flipping through the papers again, you come across a report on a string of murders South of the states. Something about missing homeless people showing up dead with deep cut marks and missing organs. Possible use of a scalpel.

Picking that, you finish your food and prepare for yet another road trip to hunt down another Pasta. Very exciting.

[Location: Slender mansion]

Within the halls of the decrepit yet well kept manor, two Pastas share a small conversation about rescent events. The pair being Eyeless Jack and Ticci Toby.

Toby: Th-th-this is g-g-g-getting bad, Jack. Real b-b-bad.

Jack: I know, Toby. This is the third of us this month just gone.

Toby: What-t's even getting us? A-a-another Pasta? Zalg-go?

Jack: I don't have a goddamn clue. If Slendy doesn't even know, this just complicates it even more.

Toby: Ben, R-Red, Son-n-nic, P-P-Painter, even Masky a-and Hoodie. Ju-j-just dead.

Jack: If Slenderman doesn't come up with something soon, this is just gonna get worse.

Continuing their conversation, another Pasta just strolls up behind them and swings his arms around both of them.

Jeff: Sup, fags.

Startled, the two look to the bleach burnt face of the real Jeff the Killer.

Jeff: So, what are we talking about?

Jack: Where the hell have you been? You missed two meetings. Two VERY important meetings.

Jeff: If it's like the dozen other very important meetings, then I really didn't miss much. Respect your comrades, listen to Slendy, take a bath, and all that crap.

Toby: Y-y-you haven't-t heard?

Jeff: Heard what, studders?

Jack: We're being hunted, Jeff. Someone, or something, is killing us off one by one. And nobody knows who.

Jeff: Oh... Whatever.

Letting go of them, Jeff walks down the hall as the two are confused by his response.

Jack/Toby: What?/W-what?

Jeff: Like I care! If they're weak enough to let some random fuck kill them, then they deserved it. Plus, if this is the same douche that's been killing off those copycats of me, then they're doing me a favor. Those little assholes were messing up my image.

Before either of the two could make a response, all three of them suddenly feel a familiar presence in the back of their minds.

Jack: Slender's calling another meeting.

Jeff: "groan" I thought I missed this meeting too!

The three make their way further into the mansion. Several other Pastas soon following suit to Slenderman's presence.

Meanwhile, you begin your search for a Pasta somewhere in Southern Virginia. Regretting not getting your radio fixed along the whole drive.

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A/n: Seriously, making love stories about Pastas is like making fan fiction of Ted Bundy with a vagina. Also, thank you once again for the 500 followers! This will be the last time I say that, so see you all at 1000.