It had been over a year since Lyra Rogers and her gang had been discovered living in the territory of the Slenderman Alliance. It was a musty spring day, but the sun was out, which was a relief after three days of rain. The forest floor was damp and muddy, and mosquitos buzzed about in the humid air. It was one of those days where the weather looked pleasant, but you still didn't want to go outside.

But in the main cabin, tension and nerves were abundant. Tim was pacing back and forth in his office, and Brian, Rouge, and Wilson watched him closely. Finally, Tim ceased his pacing.

"I just don't understand why you kept him alive, Wilson!" he blurted out at last. "He was an intruder!"

"It was gut instinct, man!" Wilson shot back. He raised his hands as if to defend himself. "I just had a feeling that I shouldn't do it. So I knocked him out and captured him instead. No harm in that, right?"

Tim groaned loudly and smacked his palm against his forehead. Was this going to be a repeat of the year before?

"Instincts aren't a bad thing, Tim." Rouge argued, defending her husband. "Who knows? Wilson must've had a good reason for keeping that man alive. Maybe we should simply keep him as a prisoner for a while."

"Thank you, sweetpea," Wilson told her.

Brian looked at Rouge, then looked at Tim, then shrugged.

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea, darlin'." he admitted.

Tim let out a long sigh.

"Fine, fine!" he snapped. "We'll just - we'll keep the fucker alive for a while. But if something goes wrong, I get to say, 'I told you so.'"

~

The interrogation room in the main cabin was small, dark, and gloomy, no bigger than a walk-in closet. In a corner, a foldable chair sat ready for a proxy to sit in. The smell of old wood hung in the air. There was only one tiny window, the only indication of the passing of time. A lightbulb hung from a wire fixed to the ceiling. In a corner of the room, a man in his late twenties sat with both his wrists and ankles bound by rope. Since waking up, it had taken a long time to calm himself down. This room was completely unfamiliar, and the fact that he was bound wasn't helping. All he remembered before he had been knocked out was a flash of brown and orange, a ski mask, and a surge of pain on the side of his head.

Suddenly, the door opened, and light flooded in from the hallway, blocked by a figure. The man tried to keep himself calm as a tall, muscular man with light brown hair walked in. He carried an apple in his hand. It was Brian.

"Good, you're awake." Brian said. He pulled a chain hanging from the ceiling, causing the lightbulb to flicker on. As the man blinked away the sudden brightness, Brian picked up the chair and placed it about a yard away from the man. He sat down in it and gazed down at him intensely.

The man had jet-black hair that reached to his shoulders and was styled in a wolfcut, with red tips. His figure was rather scrawny, and he had a thin waist. Indigo eyes peeked out from between his feathery bangs. His features were sharp, and he had a hooked nose. His skin was ghostly pale. Black clothes shielded his body, accompanied by silver accessories. A septum piercing stood out on his face. Even as he sat down, Brian could tell the man was quite tall. Something about his appearance was familiar, but Brian couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A tense silence fell over the room.

"These ropes aren't helping," the prisoner said at last. "I have a bondage kink."

Brian couldn't help but chuckle. He had to admire the man's snarkiness.

"My name's Brian," he said. He kept his tone calm and nonchalant, as if they were discussing their daily schedules. "What's your name?"

The prisoner glared at him. Brian could clearly see that the guy was horrified, but trying not to show it. He sighed.

"Look, pal," he said, "I'm sorry my friend kidnapped you. But you should consider yourself lucky: he could've killed you. He said the only thing that stopped him was gut instinct."

Once again, silence fell over the room. The two men stared each other down until the silence was broken.

"My name is Keith," the prisoner finally said quietly. He was avoiding eye contact. His accent was peculiar, maybe Russian? Something like that.

"And your last name?" Brian asked, raising his eyebrow.

Keith's jaw tensed.

"Harrison," he answered.

Brian noticed a pair of rings hanging by a chain around Keith's neck: he was married.

"Well, Mr. Harrison," Brian said, "you're gonna be kept here for quite a while. So I decided to bring you a snack in case you haven't eaten lately.

"I'm gonna unbind your wrists now so you can eat. But if you try anything," - His expression grew dark. - "I'll whoop your ass, ya hear?"

Keith gulped and nodded. Brian undid his binds, and his brown eyes widened when he saw the rope burn scars etched into Keith's wrists: those couldn't have been recent. He took a mental note and handed Keith the apple, which he took with caution. He frowned up at Brian.

"This isn't poisoned, is it?" he asked with an air of suspicion.

"You have my word that it's not," Brian promised.

Keith began to gingerly chomp into the apple. As he ate, Brian leaned back in his chair, stretching his back as he did so.

"How'd you end up in this forest, sonny?" he inquired. "It's a long way from the nearest town."

Keith hesitated again.

"I found an old house here about a week ago." he murmured. "It certainly seemed peaceful enough." he scoffed.

"Yeah, this place has a habit of playing tricks on people," Brian sighed. "You wouldn't be the first to get fooled by it."

Keith frowned once again. He didn't seem hostile this time, but instead, regretful.

Once Keith had finished the apple, Brian took the apple core. Once again, he wound the rope around Keith's wrists, tightly fastening it. Then he stood up from his chair and pushed it back.

"You better behave, bud," Brian said as he stretched his arms over his head. "'Cause if you don't, you're gonna face the consequences."

After that, Brian left, closing and locking the door behind him, leaving Keith in the dark once again. It was only when he left when Keith let himself cry.