The Bearfriender - Dark Pals in Real Life 4

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📓 D.A.R.K. Blog - The Sweetlake Dossier (Episode 4 Summary)
Author: Walter Vex
Subject: The Bearfriender & The Tape
Date: [REDACTED]

Winston and I bedded down to rest. You can't keep exploring these woods running on empty, no matter how much the static tells you otherwise. So we found a spot, took turns on watch, and I let myself sleep. That was a mistake. Because last night, the dark reached into my head and pulled out the one thing I've spent thirty years running toward.

I dreamed about the Bearfriender.
Most of you don't know this, but that thing and I go way back. I was just a kid when it tore my world apart. Purple and yellow, a neck stretched too long, a grin full of teeth that never belonged on any animal. And let me tell you, those teeth are pristine. Big, white, and somehow spotless out here in a rotting forest where the rest of us are lucky to find clean water. Thirty years I've hated this thing, and a small part of me still wants to know who its dentist is. Whoever you are, you do excellent work under impossible conditions.

Its eyes floated in those black sockets, and they were fixed on me, like they remembered me too. After all these years, my arch nemesis finally looked me in the face again. Even if it was only behind my own eyes. It spoke to me about friendship. It told me if I gathered more friends and brought them close, then we could finally become one. The two of us, stitched together, the way it likes. It made it sound gentle. It made it sound like a homecoming. And here's the part that scares me more than any monster has in years: for a moment in there, I wanted it. This thing took my home and made everyone call me crazy, and in the dream, I almost said yes.

There was a television in its stomach. A CRT with an old VCR built in, glowing soft in the dark. It wanted me to watch. It wanted me to head into the forest. I woke up drenched, heart slamming against my ribs. Winston was still asleep beside me, none the wiser. And lying right next to me, where nothing had been before, was a tape. A standard VHS, except for the label, that cartoony little drawing of its grinning head staring up at me. It got close enough to set it beside me while I slept. Close enough to touch us both. That's what I can't shake. After thirty years of chasing it, it walked right up to me in the dark and left a gift. It knows I'm here. It's known the whole time.
I've been waiting my whole life to face this thing. And it knows that too. That's exactly why it's whispering.

Our mission: Document. Survive. Repeat. Trust no one but the Division.
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