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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/adorabletapeworm on 2025-02-05 00:29:33+00:00.
I know it’s been awhile since yinz last heard from me. Rest assured, there is a very good reason for that.
Remember that chairman that Victor and Briar terrorized? He disappeared a couple of days after the Avalon’s indefinite postponement was announced.
(If you’re not familiar with what Orion Pest Control’s services are, it may help to start here.)
Naturally, our first thought was that the Hunters were responsible. It would only make sense, considering the development’s board has been on the Hunt’s shitlist thanks to all of the deforestation that they’re responsible for. But then later that week, another man vanished, leaving his wife and three kids without a trace. And it didn’t end there.
Over the span of two weeks, a total of five different men from five completely unrelated backgrounds had gone missing.
To narrow things down, I thought it best to confirm any possible involvement with the Hunt directly with the mechanic.
Due to the polar vortex, we’ve had to change up where our training sessions take place. For those who haven’t been affected by this extreme winter weather, I’ll summarize by saying that temperatures dropped to the point of being unsafe to be outside for any extended period of time.
To my chagrin, our new, temporary arena was below the Mounds. As yinz could probably imagine, I did not appreciate this suggested change. At all.
“It ain’t gonna be like the last time,” He’d been annoyed by my reluctance. “For one thing, you’ll be armed. For another, I’m the one bringin’ you there. I wouldn’t throw ya to the malwr. Though, gotta say, on some days, that idea is mighty temptin’.”
Feeling extra stupid as I got into his truck to get some relief from the terrible weather, I asked with my teeth chattering, “What’s the malwr?”
He wasn’t tolerating the cold much better than I was. I wondered if he was cold-blooded, considering that he looked similar to an insect beneath his disguise. It was safe to assume that his physiology worked the same way. But then again, one would think that he would’ve been instantly frozen within a few hours of the winter storm coming in, if that were the case.
Thankfully, that old truck’s heater gets warm quickly, despite its vintage status. Iolo set his hands on either vent closest to him, presumably to dethaw his fingers. The backs of his hands were bright red, the skin looking chapped, between his work and the weather.
“That serpent ya loved so much,” He said with a snicker. “It woulda loved you even more!”
Suppressing a shudder at the memory of an amputated arm falling between the huge snake’s scales, I retorted, “You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me that this isn’t a horrible idea.”
Wordlessly, he briefly took one hand off the vent and with the click of a button, the truck’s locks sank into the doors.
Giving him a harsh stare, I delivered what had to have been ground-breaking news to him, “You know, you won’t die if you stop being a psychopath for five minutes.”
He cheerfully responded, “Yeah, but why risk it?”
Fucking jagoff.
However, he did unlock the truck. Then he simply watched, waiting to see what I’d do. In the end, I told Victor where we were going and what was happening in case something went wrong. If he didn’t hear from me in the next hour, there’d be a search party dispatched.
While I still don’t trust the mechanic, I could at least trust that his possessiveness would keep him from allowing anything else below the Mounds to harm me. And like he’d pointed out, I was going to have Ratcatcher with me this time and, most importantly, I would be adequately clothed.
“Fine, let’s go.” I muttered, wondering how long it was going to take for me to regret this decision.
As it turns out, not long. When he reached over me into the glovebox, I eyeballed him suspiciously, prepared to fight him both physically and verbally if he attempted to sedate me.
The proximity of the glove compartment put him uncomfortably close to me as Iolo gave me a withering look, “Relax. Just a blindfold this time. We ain’t goin’ to the cabin. This is just ‘cause the journey to the other side can be a bit… let’s say, discombobulatin’, for mortals.”
Even though I hated this idea, it was considerably better than getting dosed again. And after my encounter with the Replacement, I was inclined to believe him about the journey being strenuous for humans. With incredible reluctance, I sat still as he tied what felt like a bandana over my eyes while somehow managing not to get any of my hair caught in the knot.
As he did so, he muttered, “You’ll thank me when you still have your mind.”
On a related note, I had not gotten much control over the second sight by that point. And to be honest, I still don’t. At least the migraine and fever have subsided, though I have been getting headaches more often than usual. When it came to my current predicament, I was morbidly curious about if my newfound curse/blessing would alter the way that I experienced the Mounds compared to my last unwilling visit.
Once Iolo was assured that I couldn’t see anything, I felt the truck beginning to move. Not having much better to do while my eyes were covered, that was when I chose to bring up the chairperson’s disappearance.
When he responded, he sounded somewhere between amused and embittered, “Someone else had more claim on him than we did. Shame, too. Woulda been somethin’ to turn him inside out.”
That was not a pleasant mental image.
While visions of exposed organs danced in my head, I almost asked a stupid question, “Who would- Oh. The Wood Maiden.”
It made sense. The chairperson was one of those responsible for attempting to destroy her home, after all. Meanwhile, he hadn’t caused any direct harm to the Hunters. Claims are held in high regard to the Neighbors, and even the mechanic has to accommodate that. A fact that has saved my life on more than one occasion.
When it came to the disappearances, local law enforcement had ended up calling Orion after they found peculiar moss growing in each of the missing men’s homes. As such, Wes and Reyna had been tasked to aid the sheriff’s department in their search for the missing people. But that was before I got to speak to the mechanic.
Now that I had more information, I formulated a plan to search the woods by the Avalon construction site the day following this dubious training session. Even though I doubted that any of these poor souls were still alive, if someone I cared about were to go missing, I wouldn’t want anyone responsible for finding them to give up on them. It was worth a try, at the very least. I would love to be wrong about those men being dead.
Morbidly speaking, I suppose I was. But I’ll get to that. And before I could entertain the idea of finding any of them, I had to deal with the banjo bastard on his home turf first.
Once the blindfold was removed, I discovered that the truck was parked in a field of purple flowers. The exact same ones that shielded me while I was lost down there. The petals were soft against my fingers as I delicately touched one. At the same time, I tilted my chin up, watching as those strange lights twinkled above me in the din.
Even though being below the Mounds again made me intensely uneasy, I will admit that it was nice to be somewhere that was warm enough that I could take my heavy coat off. I can’t emphasize enough that Pennsylvania had been a frozen hellscape for the past week. And as dangerous and horrifying as the Mounds could be, their world really is breathtaking.
“What are they?” I asked curiously. “The things that look like stars?”
Tossing his own coat off to lay it on the side of the truck’s bed, Iolo knelt on to his tailgate to retrieve the wooden sword, telling me ominously, “As far as you’re concerned, they’re just that: stars.”
Excellent. I love it here.
Before he’d leapt back out of the truck, it occurred to me that his back was turned. As such, I took a page out of his book, making the split-second decision to turn the tables on him and strike first. Disappointingly, he simply ducked away, moving further into the bed while giving me yet another annoyed look.
I held Ratcatcher up towards him, ready for his retaliation.
“The fuck was that?” He demanded.
It was hard to tell if my answer amused him or irritated him further. Probably a combination of both. “Just keeping you on your toes.”
He shook his head at me with a short laugh that sounded more like a warning than anything else. “Okie dokie, then.”
He had to jump over the side of his truck’s bed when I went for him again. It wasn’t often that I went on the offensive with him, and I’m irked to say that it showed. Most of the time, the majority of my training sessions were spent defending myself against an onslaught by him or one of his colleagues. I was definitely out of my element, which the banjo bastard did not hesitate to point out after the way I dared to pester him.
“What’s wrong, Fiona?” He asked snidely, stepping away from another horizontal slash that I’d aimed towards his nose. “Is it that much harder to go at someone when their back ain’t turned?”
“You should’ve known better than to leave yourself so open.” I told him petulantly, blocking a strike that probably would’ve given me a concussion if I’d been even a second later.
The mechan…
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