[IC] Born in Brimstone

[T Risket]

"GAME OVER!!!"

The words flashed across the screen as two young men hunched over the old Mortal Kombat machine moaned-James, the slightly younger of the two, had almost yet again beaten the four armed Goro only to die in the final moments. Their exaggerated cries of defeat momentarily stood out amongst the several other noisy flashing arcade games within the darkened room they had spent the better part of the last hour and a half inside.

“Every. Freakin. Time!” Max hollered, making doubly sure to draw out each word as he practically clung to the player 2 controls for dear life. The fact that he himself hadn't been playing didn't seem to matter. In truth the defeat had mainly been so devastating because it had been the last quarter between the two.

His attitude seemed to change just as fast as the arcades often took his money. Slapping his buddy James on the back in a friendly manner he quickly added “Welp...I'm sure you'll get him next time.” Absent mindidly he checked the cheap hand me down watch he wore on his wrist, using the dim flashing arcade lights he could just make out the time was about 8 o clock.

Looking up from the watch he was briefly much more grim looking than he had been following the loss of the arcade fight. Just as fast though his signature toothy grin played across his face, those that knew him though could recognize it as forced. “Looks like its time to get goin anyways...we don't wana be late for the haunted house”

–

“So you think any of em will even show up?” Scotty Masterson, known as the local town screw up to most adults and 'the dealer' to most of his peers , asked the few others gathered around the outside of what was locally known as a haunted house. Years back the place had been seemingly abandoned overnight only to quickly fall into disrepair and just all around general creepiness, these days it was mostly used as a sort of 'right of passage' for the soon to be freshman. Scotty, a senior at Craft High, was gleefully looking forward to his final Fright Night and had been bragging how “This would really be one to remember.”

Right now Scotty was about as high as his hair was long-wich was to say extremely. Most people his age were dressing in the new wave of 80's fashion whereas Scotty looked like he had been straight out of the 60's: a large part of which was likely due to his hippy parents.

Popping the top off his third Paps he quickly took a drink-it didn't matter that he felt kinda queezy already, he had a reputation to up hold. If the beer itself wasn't so cheap and warm he wouldn't even be having this problem. He couldn't help but turn his attention to the large victorian esque modeled house that seemed to ominously loom over the small group that had gathered under the last streetlight before the end of the road. Suddenly something caught his eye; looking over the rounded glasses that hung precariously close to the edge of his nose he could have swore he'd seen something momentarily in one of the dirty windows on the vacant monster before him. Quickly he shook the thought from his head as in his distance he saw two of the neighborhood boys approaching on their bikes, the sparse street lamps lighting their way to the dead end that was the haunted house.

With a smirk Scotty reached into the open window of his beat up blue truck parked against the curb, quickly returning with your atypical dollar store non descript monster mask and a plastic knife. Bowing to his friends he said “I will see you all in a bit-don't forget to tug hard on that fishing wire I rigged to the door when they walk in. Totally gonna freak em out when it slams shut-then I come in!” he slashed wildly at the air with the fake knife. Without wasting any more time he ran off into the direction of the back of the house, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

[Default]

@T Risket
"Are. You. SERIOUS?" James almost screamed. Goro had taunted him for as long as he could remember, and this time he had really thought he would get him. "Welp...I'm sure you'll get him next time " Max said to him. "Yeah, probably." When Max looked at his watch, he shuddered. "Looks like its time to get goin anyways...we don't wana be late for the haunted house" Max grinned while saying this, but James knew it was forced. "Oh, right..." He stared off into space, before following Max out the door, and onto their bikes. All night he had been trying to forget about the inevitable visit to the haunted house. But now, as they glided towards it on their bikes, he felt a bit less apprehensive. The bikes soothed him. He was still terrified, but he could deal with terror. It was the uncertainty that got him. And the questions. Will I have an asthma attack? Will there be an accident? Will something go wrong? Will I die? Finally, they arrived. James shook at the building. "How did I get here?" He muttered to himself.

1 and a half hours earlier...

"DAAAAAAD!" James yelled from his upstairs bedroom. "Got any money?" He said as he practically sprinted down the stairs. James's father looked over his glasses, one eyebrow raised. "And why would you need this money, James?" James froze. Oh crap oh cra-"To get books!" He shrugged nervously. "Why else?" His mother gave her input from the kitchen. "As long as you and Max don't go to that 'Comic Cavern'." She used air quotation marks on this. James sighed exasperatedly. James's father handed him two dollars in quarters. James looked at the score in mock sadness. "I won't be able to get more than one book!" James's father looked suspicious, but he gave him another dollar. "Thanks dad! Bye, love you!" He said quickly while rushing out the door.
He practically leaped onto his bike, pedaling out of the driveway as fast as possible while a grin stretched across his face. "This is going to be so rad!" He rode as fast as he could to the Comic Cavern, and when he arrived he impatiently stored his bike and ran inside. He looked around, amazed by the sheer amount of joy all these arcade machines and comics could gift a kid like him. While he was waiting for Max, he browsed the machines, surprised by a new machine. "Polybius..." He read out loud to himself. He had never heard of it before, but hey, might be good. He was about to put some quarters in when he noticed a certain bike pulling towards the Comic Cavern. James began walking out to greet Max.

Present

"Are you sure this thing is up to code Max? It might, I dunno, fall on us! Or what happens if a bear is living in there? We'll get mauled!" He took a puff of his inhaler. "Just saying, man, we need to be safe about this." Max was his best friend. (And maybe his only.) Sometimes he rushed into situations that, may or may not be safe. He looked back at the imposing building. "We don't necessarily have to do this Max." Not even his sunglasses could hide the fear in James's eyes. "Never mind. Let's just get this over with. Then do you wanna go to my house and read some of the new comics I got?" He loved sharing his comics with Max. Even if they were less than impressive, and only mediocre, he had a massive collection.
Max was one of the few who understood James, and one of the even fewer to befriend him. It wasn't because James was hard to befriend. Nope, it was because it was hard for him to befriend someone. They had similar interests, unlike most of the boys in his class who loved sports and football and all the stuff James hated. The nerdiness of the two was a source for max teasing and even more shunning. However, James didn't mind it anymore, as long as he had Max on his side, he would be okay with things.

[MissCapnCrunch]

A yawn escaped the young girl's mouth as Scotty Materson asked the group whether or not the younger kids would show up. "They always show up." Molly said dryly. She lit a cigarette and placed it in the corner of her mouth as she placed the lighter into the back pocket of her jeans. "Hey, that's mine!" one of the other girls standing there exclaimed, as Molly rolled her eyes. "It's mine now spazz, or do you want to fight for it?" the girl shook her head. She knew Molly fought dirty both physically and mentally. "Exactly." Molly added just so the girl knew her place in the circle.

Watching Scotty douse himself in cheap beer and even cheaper weed, Molly couldn't help but smirk. He was an attractive man, but man was he an idiot. As he gave the commands once more, Molly nodded. She was in charge of getting the kids in the house whether it be by persuasion or by force. She hoped it was the first one, even though she had a harder exterior she wasn't for hurting kids. They didn't know any better after all. She often wish she had a younger sibling herself, someone to look after and show the way on how to be cool and shit.

Molly took a drag of her cigarette as two young boys approached. "You boys ready for tonight?" Molly said, approaching. She very quickly noticed the boy's inhaler, she raised her eyebrows and took one more puff before tossing the lit stick into the street. "My bad. I don't want you to die BEFORE you get into the house little dude." she gave a suggestive smile before laughing loudly. She was a bitch, but it was mostly for show. She leaned in to the two and spoke quietly for no one else to be able to hear, "It's not as bad as it seems. I did it when I was your age and here I am. It's all magic tricks and games. You nerds like that stuff don't you? Imagine it as a real life creepy Super Mario Bros or something. Watch the door after you, it's going to slam." She smiled before turning her tone into something more loud so her peers wouldn't think she was helping out the kids.

"No I'm not going to go with you! Don't be babies!" she exclaimed giving the boys a wink as she led them to the front porch.

[T Risket]

Max genuinely listened to his friends outlandish concerns as they made their way through the night, each turn of the pedal bringing them bringing them ever closer to the old abandoned house. Unlike most he didn't laugh or point out the ridiculousness of Jame's paranoia but instead, like always, he listened with his full attention until his friends frantic thoughts came full circle.

“Don't you worry bud-My big sis told me that this house isn't really haunted. Heck, she actually said when she was our age she even knew the family that lived there.” He let his words hang in the air momentarily before he spoke up again. “And besides, if there is a bear in there I'll punch em right in his big furry snout!” He threw a right hook with his long gangly arm mid bike ride, an act which made him momentarily swerve and almost crash. Luckily for Max he righted himself at the last moment and kept on riding as if nothing had happened.

Max had just finished telling James that he definitely wanted to come over and check out those new comics of his when they finally rode up upon the upper class kids that had been waiting their arrival. Max would quickly come to regret the next few moments.

--

Fright Night, as the local kids called it, was a special day each year when the more often than not troubled teenage youth of Craft High gathered for what had over the years become a fond hazing ritual for the next years freshmen. How successful each year was varied: some nights were remembered famously while others were completely forgotten-the one thing that never changed though was that the end goal was to completely terrify what few brave souls showed up. For those being hazed it was a chance to prove their bravery and get a leg up on the social ladder at highschool as well as a promised invitation to the first “party” of the year.

Max himself was here for both genuine curiosity and due to the hopeful belief that maybe doing this would lead to a better school experience for himself and James; if he were being honest though potentially going to a party felt more like a punishment than a reward...the abandoned house was scary but the thought of being around all those older kids doing who knows what, well, that was just terrifying.

Max had to remind himself that he was in fact one of those older kids now as he rode his well taken care of Schwinn bicycle up to the small group gathered beside a rusted old blue ford truck that he immediately recognized as his neighbor Scotty's. Molly, a girl Max also recognized from town, had just flicked her cigarette to the ground as the boys skidded to a halt. Looking at her crazy style and hair from behind the handle bars of his bike immediately made him want her to like him. The insults she slung his way were nothing-a life with an older sibling having long ago hardened him from most verbal attacks. That was until she got to the “You nerds like that stuff don't you?” part. Before he could object or defend himself she was already off speaking again. "No I'm not going to go with you! Don't be babies!"

Max felt his cheeks flush and quickly found himself hoping the night still hid his features, opening his mouth he quickly retorted though without hesitation “Pfffft.” He exaggerated the noise with a wave of his hand at Molly as the three made their way up the creaky ancient steps of the house. “We wouldn't want you to come with us anyways, right James?” Folding his right arm into a wing he nudged his buddy in the side, their unspoken code for go along with what I am saying.

[Default]

“And don't you worry bud-My big sis told me that this house isn't really haunted. Heck, she actually said when she was our age she even knew the family that lived there.” James looked at Max. “Besides, if there is a bear in there I'll punch em right in his big furry snout!” James laughed when Max almost comically crashed. "Yeah, you're probably right. These guys might just jump out and try and get us to scream." James went silent. "The only problem is, I probably will. After all, I am the Germ, right?"

The nickname had originated after his constant germophobia in elementary and middle. To be fair, he must have been annoying, constantly saying: "Do you know how many germs are on that?" Or "You're gonna catch something!" . However, the volume people used it in bothered him to an extent that he had never been bothered to before. For a week or two in elementary, he faked sick just to avoid the insults and the teasing. However, once he met Max, he began to stop caring. Max had a way of looking at things. Like it was all just a big adventure. And when James started hanging out with Max, he started to feel that way as well.

After a senior named Molly informed them it was fake, he felt a bit better about the 'haunted' house. When Max nudged him with his elbow, he looked up. "OH yeah, we don't need anybody!" He said, trying to make himself as nonchalant as possible and miserably failing. He looked to Max. "Alright...Let's do this. Can't be that bad, right?" James took a deep puff from his inhaler, then walked into the belly of the beast. After the Molly's warning, he didn't react much to the door slamming, with only a slight jump. "Max? Maybe we should just find the closest exit? The party will probably be lame anyways! We can just go to the arcade! Maybe I'll beat Goro!" He pleaded with his friend, before falling silent after looking around the mansion's interior. The graffiti and busted furniture didn't catch his attention, no, the corn shucks and footprints did. He almost immediately went into 'puzzle mode'. "These footprints are recent. As are these." He said while gesturing to the footprints and corn shucks. "Alright, this is starting to freak me out Max!" He said, his breathing quickening.

As long as James had been alive, he had asthma attacks. Eventually they became routine for him and his parents, but they didn't fail to make him panic from time to time. "Max. I'm having," He wheezed. "An asthma attack." He pulled out his inhaler. "Son of a bitch!" He yelled after it fell between his shaking fingers. He bent down and picked it up, and took a deep breath. "Holy shit. Holy shit." He said as his lungs started to clear, cradling his inhaler like the holy grail.

[Stitches]

“Thanks Kate, I'll see you soon.”

The glare of the sun made the road shimmer upon the horizon. It was shortly after noon in Brimstone, Kansas, and for the umpteenth time Abigail considered where the town got its name from. She wasn't wearing much - nobody did, at this time of day - just a tank top and some shorts. It had to be brimstone, thought Abigail, because of the heat. She thought this every summer; every winter it was the reeking sulphur that made her change her mind. Regardless of the tiny village's namesake, Abigail was one of its unfortunate captives today and she had to make the most out of it. She was headed at a leisurely pace towards the farm, clutching two plastic cups slick with condensation whilst her backpack clunked every time it hit the base of her spine. As she neared the rustling corn field a figure emerged from the heatwave, materialising into a man in full uniform stooped over the side of the road.

“You'd think a guy your age wouldn't have any problems finding pussy, but here we are,” Abigail commented snidely. She held out one of the iced coffees to the first and only deputy of Brimstone, Brooks Lockwood. “I brought sandwiches. Tuna sweet corn. Just in case, y’know...cat might smell it and come home.” With her free hand, Abigail guided the straw into her mouth and slurped noisily.

Brooks felt miserable. The heat glared down on him as he found himself stuck looking for the upteenth pet that had run away. He was sweaty, grimy from all the shrubbery and tall grass he'd be scouring through, and couldn't care less if the next thing he found was a dead, sun boiled, cat. Either everyone in the town decided to start abusing their animals, inviting them to run away, or there was some mass migration that they all collectively agreed upon. Either way the constant stream of calls of worried elderly and miserable adults complaining about their beloved pets running away -forced- the station to at least act like they cared, brooks being the unlucky singular deputy to show everyone that they did in fact at least -try-.

Waving at Abigail from the distance as she approached him, her comment caused him to stare at her with an incredibly disapproving and frustratingly disheveled, sweat patched look. He was not in the mood. With a deep, chest heaving sigh, Brooks slowly shook his head and gave the field another gaze-over, shaking his head directed at Abigail. “Are you headin’ home?”

Abigail thrust the other iced coffee into Brooks’ palm whilst she sat cross-legged on the dry grass, patting it invitingly with her other hand. She rummaged in her backpack and brought out a Tupperware box. “Not if I can help it,” responded Abigail. “It's 'fright night’ tonight...some sorta hazing ritual for the new kids. I'm going to the abandoned house in a bit to waste time until the others show up.” She started munching on a tuna sweetcorn sandwich thoughtfully. “It could be the sulphur,” she mused. “I remember it fucking reeked of sulphur last year. Maybe we got used to it but it got worse and worse, an’ now all the pets decided they'd rather starve in the wilderness than stay in a flimsy suburban house and have to put up with the stench. Sit down, your sandwich is getting warm.”

Brooks took a long, yearning slurp of the iced coffee and let out a refreshing sigh before seating himself down with a groan. “If they're gone they're gone. They'll either come back to those they actually miss or run to the nearest diners for scraps, bein’ hungry and all.” He looked at the sandwich being offered and gladly accepted it. Sitting there beside her, iced coffee in one hand and sandwich in the other he remained content. “I'll be milling about the station if you need anything, yeah?” He took a mouthful, staring forward as he spoke.

“Mmn,” grunted Abigail. For a while they munched on their sandwiches in silence. “...if I see them, though, I'll grab 'em. You look so grumpy, wandering around the heat on your own.” Another pause. “I heard that uh, dear Scotty Masterson is orchestrating it.” She frowned distastefully. Brooks knew full well what Abigail thought about that. “at least Molly is gonna be there though.”

Brooks took another mouthful, washing it down with another large slurp of his drink, all the while giving Abigail a long pregnant stare. He continued to look at her in silence, as if expecting something. “Who?” He broke the silence, keeping his deadpan stare up for a solid few seconds before cracking a smile. “Yeah, you'll have fun one way or another no doubt.”

Abigail let loose a wheezy chuckle, tucking a few sticky strands of hair behind her ear. “Alright, yeah,” Abigail stood up and dusted her legs off. “Good luck with your-...wild goose chase?” she ventured, squinting out across the corn fields. “I’ll try to be back before midnight.” She stuffed the box into her backpack and wandered down the road once more, headed towards the shade of the forest and the long abandoned house at the end of the street.

Abigail had arrived long, long before the others. She had to admit, the old creaky building gave her the chills, even in broad daylight; but that was why she arrived in the first place. She wanted to get over any residual tremors of fear before anyone else caught on to the fact she was scared. There was, in her humble opinion, only one way to do it; romp around the building, explore every nook and cranny and clamber around the rubble until she felt confident enough to call it home. What followed was the best part of an afternoon getting splinters and scraped knees, peeking through dusty cabinets, accidentally disturbing spider nests and discovering as much about the old building as she possibly could. She hopped past rotted stairs and used the rickety lead piping to reach windowsills of floors that were either inaccessible or too difficult to get to through the narrow corridors. She conquered the kitchen, braved the bathroom and ascended into the attic with ease until the sun hung low over the forest canopy and Abigail thought it best to get down onto the ground before she was stuck in the dark.

That was where they found her, sat cross-legged in the overgrown garden, idly plucking a splinter out from one of her scarred knuckles whilst her scabby knees oozed blood where the wounds split open. Scotty came first. Abigail didn’t say much. He seemed impatient to begin and Abigail carefully watched him inhale beer like a workhorse. Every so often one of his lackeys would ask Abigail what’s up, and she brushed them off with idle excuses like boredom or that blasted splinter that was becoming increasingly difficult to remove in the filtering dusk.

When Molly arrived, Abigail hopped up onto her feet and ran a hand through her hair. “Thank fuck,” she mumbled under her breath when her friend was in hearing range. She folded her arms whilst Molly lit a cigarette with one of the girls’ lighters and rolled her eyes in turn as Molly issued out an empty threat. She had better things to bitch about; giving Molly a little nudge in the ribs, Abigail gestured to the increasingly intoxicated Scotty swaying a few metres ahead of them. “The most exciting part of tonight is seeing whether this sorry fuck gets his stomach pumped,” she whispered into Molly’s ear with a cheeky grin.

Abigail didn’t...really have a job so to say. She was just along for the ride. She didn’t want to take part in the first place; peer pressure goaded her into going out but it couldn’t cross the threshold into making Abigail participate. Instead, she decided to creep around the halls and watch the children from above. She crossed the corner of the house and used some of the crumbling mortar as handholds to shimmy up to the first floor window, entering a decrepit bedroom.

The key was ambiance. Abigail didn’t need to rush, she didn’t even need to be quiet; the house would do the work for her. Her footsteps fell deliberately on warped floorboards, producing slow and lengthy creaks and groans that reverberated through the halls. There were other teens hidden in alcoves and around corners; most of them shot her flighty looks, no doubt a little on edge from her wandering. She just smiled and waved her way past them and their costumes towards the end of a hallway, where she squatted down and peered through the peeling plaster towards the children below.

The turnout was pitiful. Only two kids? It only put the whole night into perspective. It was outdated, abandoned; much like the house, Fright Night was rapidly becoming a dying trend and it made the ones running it look...desperate. Needy. In fact, Abigail was just in the middle of wondering whether or not she should go home or to the station when she realised that she could probably be seen if either of them decided to look up.

And if they did, they’d probably get a real fright by accident; after all, washout kids in monster masks were one kind of scary; a pale, bony thing crouched by a hole in the ceiling, glowering down at you with its bloody shins, its grimy clothes and scarred flesh, the sheet of lank blonde hair partially covering its hollow gaze...that wasn’t something you’d want to spot in a fake house, even if the reality was that it was just another dirty, scraped-up teen who wasn’t actually looking at you but trying to decide where to bail to.

[BubblegumQueen]

“Burgers and fries for each OR do you want to jus' share a plate o' cheese fries, kid?”

As the sun shone outside, siblings Lilith and John sat in their usual destination for anything edible: Kate's Kitchen. They even sat in their usual booth right by the door with John sitting on one side and Lilith on the other side. As John spoke to Lilith, Lilith instead stared around the diner lazily, her right hand tugging at the fishnets covering her legs as the other absently scratched at the chipping paint on the table that separated the siblings.

When Lilith didn't respond, John's eyebrows furrowed together. He then loudly and very pointedly cleared his throat. This made Lilith's eyes quickly move to him, a bit wider than usual betraying her surprise. John sighed at her expression but repeated himself.

“Burgers or Cheesy Fries?”

Very familiar with the two options, Lilith raised her left hand, making a peace sign with a small smirk. John then nodded, pleased. “Cheesy fries it is.” He then began glancing around, most likely looking for Allison who was a friend of John's whilst her brother, Max, was considered a friend to Lilith.

“You've been having nightmares...” Lilith muttered quietly to John, staring at him until he met her eyes. They narrowed for a few seconds and her left eyebrow rose, clearly questioning him.

John was well-aware of the fact that Lilith rarely spoke, he had no problem with it. As far as he was concerned, she could do whatever she wants, as long as it wasn't getting pregnant or killing anybody. But, even he had to admit that he missed her voice. He nearly smiled but then remembered what she'd asked him and frowned slightly, leaning forward a little as if discussing something conspiratorial.

“How do you know about that?”

Lilith raised her right hand, this time tapping on her ear with a somewhat mocking/teasing expression. John gave a near silent sigh of exasperation, muttering under his breath, “Right, right. Always knew you had the ears of a fuckin' bat or some shit.”

But, at Lilith's glare, he figured he'd go ahead and stop avoiding the subject. After all, she'd be more likely to throw her shoe at his face than leave it alone. And say whatever you want, but a converse to the face would hurt ANYONE.

“Fine, fine... I've been havin' these weird dreams this past week or so. This kinda... kinda dark hole but it has eyes and a mouth and... I've been trying to draw it but I can't ever seem to get it right...” His voice trailed off as he thought more on it, eyebrows clenching together, betraying his annoyance and confusion on the manner.

Lilith stared at him without blinking for about a minute before leaning forward and flicking his forehead with all the force she could muster. And just like expected, he immediately reared back with an 'Ow!'

“What the hell was that for?” John questioned his sister, rubbing his forehead although he was laughing a little bit at just the randomness of the action.

Lilith in response crossed her arms and gave a very cocky smirk. John narrowed his eyes at her although there was no real annoyance or anything behind the action. “You expect me to thank you or somethin'?”

Lilith gave one nod.

“For you flicking me on the forehead?”

Another nod.

“Seriously?”

Slow nod. Narrowed eyes.

“Well, considering you look like you're going to kill me with that napkin dispenser, I'm just gonna say 'Thank you, you're the bestest sister a man could ever hope to have' and hope that you don't? Kill me, that is.”

The siblings stared each other down resolutely, one more nervous than the other. But, after a long minute, Lilith gave a pleased little hum before reclining in the booth, hands in her lap. John gave an over-exaggerated sigh of relief, going limp in the booth, head meeting the table. Lilith giggled a little at his playfulness and John laughed a bit with her, although not moving from his place. He was awful tired and was just gonna wait to be serviced anyway so... might as well try to catch a few Z's... OW!

“Alright, alright, I'm up, I'm up,” John muttered quickly, rubbing at his sore ankle.

“Would've been better off joining a soccer team or something, damn.”

[T Risket]

Max had been inspecting one of the corn shucks as he listened to James go from freaking out to playing detective. Being smart enough to know James was the brighter of the two Max made sure to pay close attention. Max himself took note that none of the corn remnants had bite marks or scratches, as if whatever had done this had indeed cleanly pealed their food as opposed to eating it like an animal. Max was about to inform James of this realization when something truly scary actually happened as his best friend's breathe audibly began to quicken only to be followed by the familiar wheezing sound Max immediately recognized as serious.

Luckily, as was the usual case, the episode was short and James had been able to stop his inner monster with a quick pull from his trusty inhaler. Nonetheless Max could tell his friend was shaken up and suddenly Max couldn't help but feel bad for bringing James into such an old and dusty place-he knew that was bad for his condition. Doing his best to take James attention off of what had just happened Max spoke up, an uneasy grin on his face as he looked at James somewhat worriedly.

“You ok bud? You sound better, thanks to Darth Vader there.” He nodded to the black inhaler James clung to for life. Long ago he'd given it the nickname after seeing one of their favorite movies. “How about we go ahead and just...check out the kitchen for a couple minutes? That should be good enough for everybody outside...I mean, its not like there is even a time limit or anything, right?” Max found himself asking, clearly trying to self rationalize. He was wanting to leave for the sake of James...that and the place was actually kind of creepy.

Regardless of the stressful moment that had just passed Max found himself still feeling curious about who or what was behind the kitchen pantry door, suddenly before he knew it his feet were following the set of footprints across the creaking dust covered floor and into the ramshackle remnants of a kitchen.

The whole time he had no idea he was being watched from above by Abigail-just like Abigail didn't know about the set of eyes watching her from behind.

--

The throaty, drawn out, loud and annoying laughter Brooks heard more often than he probably cared too crackled over the Deputies radio. It was immediately recognizable as the man that was somehow technically his superior, Sheriff Ted Carter. Locals just called him Carter. Despite the fact that both men were inside the same extremely small building that consisted of little more than a single jail cell, a front desk, and a tiny back office Carter had deemed it necessary to use his radio. To be fair just one look at the large portly white mustachioed sheriff and one could safely assume why he tried to leave his office as little as possible.

“How's da witch hunt for em animals goin, boy?” His speech was broken by a loud hacking spit you could almost hear splash in his seemingly ever present spit cup. “Jus got me a call from Mr. Owens claimin some fool was out making a mess of his Corn fields earlier today. Thought I'd just radio in and let you know, thought maybe my best detective could solve the case.” His hysterics started up again-it was safe to assume he purposefully left the radio on for Brooks to hear every single stupid bit of his laughing. Usually a man of few words the only time Carter seemed to really get talkative was during moments like these where he could give Brooks a hard time.

Radio silence finally followed for a moment before crackling back to life, Carter had turned it on just in time to for Brooks to hear the tail end of a loud sigh that he recognized as the sheriff having finally just finished his laughing fit. “But in all seriousness, just wanted to let ya know I am goin to be callin it an early night. A big city cop like you should be able to handle things here alone, right?”

–

“I don't mean to interrupt, but are ya'll finally ready or are you just gonna keep taken up one of my tables?”

The voice was partially playful with the usual hint of sarcasm regular customers received; each word accented with a rarely seen sort of genuine kindness that seemed to come from her effortlessly. It came from what every local recognized as a friendly face, Allison Marryson. Like every waitress in Kate's she wore a blue apron over her casual attire which more often than not was a nice fitting pair of jeans and a plain bright T shirt. As always she wore a clean white smile and kept her long brown hair fashioned into a tight small bun behind her head with a healthy portion of bangs left hanging just above her eyes. A pencil she never used for anything except chewing was tucked behind her right ear.

After mentally taking their orders Allison briefly left to place them with the chef, Kate's husband Larry, but she was quick to return and fill up both John and Lillith's cups. This time she made no effort to leave, instead slightly leaning in to the table as she often did when actually talking to customers. She spoke to both of them but mostly kept her gaze on John.

“So the mystery continues. He still hasn't ordered any food but keeps getting the coffee and putting salt in it. The other day I just thought he put the salt in on accident and drank it out of pride, you know, like you stupid boys do.” She gave Lillith a wink with one of her long eyelashes. “But today he did it again-there's no way he made that mistake twice, right? Right?” She visibly had to stop herself from looking over he left shoulder where the man in question sat alone atop one of the many bar stools that surrounded the black island counter top in the middle of the diner-currently Kate herself was working behind said counter with Allison picking up the booth customers like usual.

For the better part of a week now the salt drinking man had been in town-naturally, being a small town, the locals immediately began gossiping about just who he was and why he was here. No one knowing anything caused the rumors to range from mundane to the outright ludicrous, Allison herself believing the somewhat popular idea that he was some sort of secret agent. He did look the part somewhat-his seemingly endless supply of clean black suits, permanently affixed sunglasses, and immaculately leveled military style crew cut practically screaming stereotypical government employee to those making up stories in their heads.

“Well, What do you guys think?”

[DinoNuts]

Brooks shot a deathly glare at the radio, its static adding insult to injury as the sheriff made fun of his plight. He could hear the sheriff's booming hyena cackle through the device, adding a tinge of annoyance to the whole situation that was eventually enhanced by the star-badged man's hysteria. He shifted his gaze up at the ceiling, almost rolling his eyes back in his head, remaining painfully silent as the sheriff's laughter dragged on and on.

“But in all seriousness, just wanted to let ya know I am goin to be callin it an early night. A big city cop like you should be able to handle things here alone, right?”

Just to humour the sheriff he picked the radio up and replied, keeping it short and sweet: “Sure thing, sheriff.”

‘Big city cop’ he thought. He could put up with the sheriff's attitude, gruelling tasks and public humiliations. He was his superior and brooks learnt to deal with horrible bosses years ago. It was that specific string of words that just got him every time though. It reminded him of when he felt like in the right place, doing the right things. Now it made him feel washed out, downgraded. But it didn't matter, he moved here for reasons. Life goes on.

He sighed, going back to paperwork about those missing pets, just to have something to kill the upcoming lonesome shift.

[Stitches]

Abigail was internally playing ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ as she tried, in vain, to figure out whether or not it was worth squatting in a mouldering old mansion for the best part of her evening watching kids get scared by slightly older kids. Her legs hurt. Her elbows itched. It was starting to cool off in the dark so her skin felt clammy with sweat. She was half-wondering where Lilith had wandered off to; she was a solitary type, but could hold a silent conversation for hours on end...a skill that Abigail unfortunately lacked, but would have been very useful to practice up here. She had to crane her neck a little to watch the two boys shuffle awkwardly down the hall and huffed a dull sigh at the sight of it.

Then there was a tightening in her abdomen and a very unpleasant feeling rose up from her chest, one that really did make the hairs on the back of Abi’s neck stand on end. When you grow up in the conditions that she did, you harboured a sort of...unshakable instinct. It was like riding a bike; difficult to forget, impossible to explain. The scary part was that these thoughts didn’t tend to show up in Brimstone. They belonged to a previous chapter in her life and she was not okay with feeling the way she did in a place that she knew was incapable of matching up to her childhood.

It told her something was watching her. Abigail glanced over her shoulder briefly and saw nothing. She looked down the corridor and found nothing else of interest, save for a few spotty teens in last year’s Halloween costumes. There was no reason to feel so tense, but her gut never lied. Deciding that she had quite enough cheap thrills and barely containing the urge to get the hell out, she padded down the corridor and skirted the stairs towards the front door-...only to freeze in place, staring at the backs of James and Max incredulously. They were right in front of the pantry door...

[BubblegumQueen]

Lilith and John stared at Allison with identical arched eyebrows after hearing her explain the weirdness of the new arrival in town. The siblings traded looks before, in rather comedic unison, looked over Allison's left shoulder to see said man. They took in everything from the black suit to the sunglasses (Indoors like a complete asshole. Come on, try and name one person who wears sunglasses indoors who isn't blind and who isn't a complete dick.) to the government-esc haircut he was sporting.

The siblings once again traded glances before straightening up in their seats as Allison questioned them for their opinions once more.

John cleared his throat before speaking.

“He's definitely an alien.”

“100% alien.” Lilith added casually, taking a sip of her water as she looked around, once again seeming uncaring of the situation, although she was listening regardless.

John then took over. “I mean, come on, him being an alien makes perfect sense! Perhaps he can't even taste human foods and drinks or maybe he just doesn't like any human food. Maybe he just gets coffee to keep up appearances but has no idea about human customs, eh?” He spoke in a somewhat hushed tone, waving his hands about as he talked, a more visual speaker as he got into his theorizing.

Tap, tap.

John's eyes flickered to Lilith, who eyed him with an expectant expression over her glass of water. This made the older man sigh before he continued, in a somewhat lackluster tone.

“Of course, he could just be an ordinary human man who happens to have very odd taste in coffee. But, it's definitely less likely than the whole alien theory, if you ask me.” John finished with a shrug, taking a sip of his own coffee. (Kept black, thank you very much.)

[Default]

“You ok bud? You sound better, thanks to Darth Vader there.” James smiled. "Who knew a dark lord could come through when I need him?" It never failed to make James smile. “How about we go ahead and just...check out the kitchen for a couple minutes? That should be good enough for everybody outside...I mean, it's not like there is even a time limit or anything, right?” James stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, on one hand, I want to go home. On the other hand, I'll do this anyways." He crept into the kitchen with Max. Max sometimes jumped headfirst into things like these.

James carefully reached for the mysterious cupboard, and opened it. A man jumped out at him in a mask, waving a knife like a crazy person. "OH SWEET JESUS!" James yelled, falling back. He scampered back and quickly stood back, his eyes wide open. His mind calmly rationalized it must have been another high schooler, but the rest of him said, 'RUN AWAY!'. He was fighting a battle between the two.

James had a history of being scared. His first halloween alone was a good example of that. He was walking alone (at this point in time he wasn't lucky enough to have Max by his side) and a bunch of high schoolers thought it would be cool to chase after him. Unfortunately, during the chase, he dropped all his candy. Twas a dark day for children everywhere. Wait, no, just for James. Then, there was the time at the Comic Cavern, where an old guy had followed him in and just...kept staring. It felt unnatural and James hurried home after that.

Point is, people liked to scare James. Because they always got a reaction out of him. It wasn't like he could control it. It wasn't like he was somehow better to scare than someone else who scared easily. People just found him to be...in reach. He wasn't guarded by three bodyguards. He didn't have a humvee. He had an old bike. So people found ways to get him. He tried to stop it, but they were like forces of nature.

[T Risket]

Max was actually surprised to see his friend be the one to reach for the cupboard handle-his brief feeling of genuine pride in his friends bravery was immediately replaced by sheer terror. He had actually been so wrapped up in James just opening the door itself that he'd forgotten that there might be something on the other side.

The monster that had sprung out before them was actually just his neighbor in a mask howling and slashing about with a knife Max himself very much thought was real. Usually the braver of the two boys Max found himself frozen to the spot, his legs turning to lead as he could feel his eyes go wide. The adrenaline surged as Max watched the maniac's knife coming down in a motion that he believed would be the last thing he saw.

Then Scotty learned to fly. Atleast that's how it briefly looked from Max's point of view until, the way his body cleanly jerked backwards and up into the air reminding Max of something out of a play. The whole thing actually came close to making Max think this very well might be some elaborate joke-that was until the still masked Scottys flying body smashed violently into the wall above the now open cupboard. Dust and splinters reigned from above as Scotty's invisible wires were cut, his now limp body falling a good few feet to the floor in a violent heap followed by the sickening snap of what was probably a bone. Through all the chaos the fake monster mask had proven it was totally worth the money by not falling off in the slightest, although now instead of wild screams all Scotty uttered from behind the thin plastic was a low grunting moan of pain.

Before Max knew it he found his legs moveing on their own accord-instinctively he had turned around in an attempt to flee. Instead he was shocked to see another girl from town, and just like everyone in town Max recognized her face but in the adrenaline filled moment he couldn't quite remember her name. He didn't spend much time on trying to remember either, instead his attention had been quickly drawn to the creature behind the girl.

At first Max thought it was another person dressed as a monster but quickly realized it was just the filthiest person he had ever seen. Adding to her disgusting appearance was the long greasy black hair that had begun to naturally turn into sick looking clumps. Size wise she was virtually a skeleton but that didn't make the feral look in her eyes any less frightening; Max might have found the jedi pose she was in funny had it not been for the fresh pile of Scotty on the floor.

Time seemed frozen for a moment as everyone stared at the strange looking girl who returned their looks with her own defiant look. Then she shattered the silence with what sounded like a whaling cry mixed with a hoarse scream “GET OUT!”

At this point Max had hit his threshold for weirdness and found himself yelling the words his friend had been thinking moments before “Run away!” The words were obviously intended for, well, everyone-as well as a clear signal that Max himself had every intention of running.

Quickly making sure James was following Max took off in a dead sprint practically barreling through the shabby remnants of the front door upon reaching them and running down the porch he made his way into the street. Acting completely out of character due to the fear he didn't stop to talk to Molly or any of the other teenagers that had began cheering and booing upon their exit of the house, instead his mind being transfixed on the single idea of RUN. Picking up his bike Max hopped on and started riding.

--

About five minutes after speaking on the radio Brooks was greeted to his nightly show of watching Sheriff Carter try and squeeze his rather rotund frame out of the extremely small building-to Carter's credit though this night his large belly only knocked a single empty coffee cup from atop the front desk as he tried pass in between the Brook's work space and the filing cabinets. Truth was if he got much bigger he'd wind up a prisoner in his own police station. When he was finally clear of his last obstacle (the two “lobby” chairs), he stood in the doorway and turned back to face Brooks and said “Well I'll be seein ya tomorrow, boy. You try an stay out of trouble now. And make double sure not to be callin me tonight, it's me and the Mrs.'s anniversary.” With a spit in his cup and a tip of his hat he didn't wait for a reply, instead turning and heading out the door.

A typical night in the Brimstone Police Department was rather uneventful-oftentimes the most exciting moment being the rare paper cut. That's why it was odd when the phone in the sheriff's office started ringing; technically the phone was for police business but more often than not it was used for Carter's personal calls. The fact that the phone in front of Brooks wasn't also ringing as a normal emergency call would made it seem even more like this was just a personal call Carter was going to miss.

[Stitches]

Yeah, Abigail was certain that she hadn’t seen that girl when she came in - but the end result was worth it, so she was willing to look over that minor inconvenience. She watched as Scotty came tearing out of the pantry, giving it as much as his middle-school drama classes had managed to muster up within him, with a look of mild curiosity. She slapped both hands over her mouth when Scotty was lifted into the air and there was a brief moment - the calm before the storm - before his body connected with the wall in an audible crunch. The kids were frozen in fear; all save for the little girl. Abigail was transfixed by the scene…

...Then she burst into loud, rippling peals of laughter.

She laughed so loud that she felt her ribs twinge in pain and doubled over, simply unable to contain herself. She gestured vaguely towards the little girl, who was wearing some pretty spectacular make-up and special effects compared to Scotty’s cheapy monster mask, and once she regained enough breath to speak she clapped her hands together and shook her head. “Well FUCKING done. Seriously, good show. Molly! Molly, geddafuck in here! Scotty just got his ass handed to him!” she hollered, shaking her head incredulously, a big grin plastered on her features. One of the kids shoved past her and made a beeline for the door. Abigail, on the flip side, knew that it was just a simple prank; that some kid put the wires on Scotty and rigged the whole thing up days in advance. It was the most well-thought out and spectacularly executed ‘fuck-you’ that Abigail had ever seen.

That’s why she approached the grimy little kid. “Hey bud, who set you up with this? You should be...like, an actor!” she said appreciatively, reaching out to give the unknown girl a hearty pat on the back.

[MissCapnCrunch]

After burning through another cigarette, Molly found herself picking at the hang nail that was barely attached to her thumb. She was focused in on the tag of skin. Only two fucking kids had showed up this year. When she had been there age, it was seven kids at least and every one had such a fun time that afterwards you felt like a whole new person. You became a big shot over the span of twenty minutes and no one could stop you after that. That is Molly had felt after her first fright night after all.

Suddenly A slam on the side of the house brought Molly back to full attention as she watched the two boys come through the door and dash to their bikes. "Hey!" she called off after them. Both paid no attention as they took off like bats out of hell, each of them honestly scared for their lives.

"Damn, didn't expect that." Molly's eyebrows raised in surprise.

Dumb ass Scotty had done it after all.

Shortly after Molly could hear her name being called from inside the house from Abigail. She didn't quite hear what the girl was saying, but knew if her name was being called that is was something. Opening the door and walking in, Molly announced, "I can't believe those two barely made it a few minu-" Molly cut herself off when she saw Scotty's lifeless body against the wall. "Don't tell me he od'd or something man, my mom will kill me." she started before turning towards Abigal.

A startled scream came from Molly's lips as she saw the kid with Abigail. Molly's foot raised up as if she were to kick out at a cockroach or a mouse, but instead she put it down gently. Looking to Abigail, she gave her one of those looks as if to say 'don't tell anyone about this or I'll kill you'.

"Fuck kid!" Molly exclaimed, genuinely confused on who this was and what they were doing here. Maybe it was one of the older kid's sibling or an odd cousin that no one knew anything about. It wasn't hard to know everyone in town though. Molly cleared her throat, "You want a cigarette or something kid?" she pulled out the pack and placed one in her mouth, dropping the almost empty box down to the grime ball. Molly then walked over to Scotty and used the toe of her shoe to nudge the boy in the back.

"What happened Ab?" Molly turned and asked when Scotty wasn't responding to any touch.

[T Risket]

Alisson gently bit her bottom lip as a pouty frown spread over her face. She wouldn't say it out loud but she had clearly wanted Lilith and her brother to agree with her-John's final lackluster conclusion having been especially frustrating to her on a personal level.

“Yeah...I s'pose your probably right. Chance's are hes just another normally weird person...but still, isn't it fun to think about? I mean nothin ever happens here...its sooo boring.” Suddenly Alisson stood up a little straighter as if just now hearing herself, her work face smile slid back on almost effortlessly. “But ya'll never mind that, you didn't come here to listen to me gossip. Ill go check on your food-Lou should have it ready any minute.”

Turning Alisson made her way down the black and white checkered floor that covered the whole of the building, lifting part of the countertop that doubled as a door she made her way past Kate and through the door leading to the kitchen.

Like most nights Kates had a handful of regulars, most of which chose to sit in booths, but when compared to any real restaurant the place was virtually empty. It was the type of diner that you could always leave a bar stool between you and the next person looking for a seat-a place where you rarely felt like you were ever in anyone elses personal space. All that however was only part of what made the fact that the aforementioned government agent/alien/coffee aficionado was now locked eye to sunglasses with John. Technically you couldn't prove he was staring at John because of the impenetrable dark shades covering his eyes but...it was a fairly safe bet. Casually sipping away at his presumably salty coffee he continued on staring well after it was obvious that he'd been noticed staring.

–

Before Abigail was able to lay a hand on what she assumed was a fellow prankster the grime covered girl recoiled like a wild animal, shrinking into the nearest dark corner with her arms defensively over her face. She was clearly shocked by Abigails sudden friendly nonchalant manner and for a brief moment looked as though she might actually say something, tears welling up in the large brown eyes that stood out beneath her greasy hair.

Then Molly entered the house.

A look of betrayal flashed across the young girls face for a brief moment before being replaced with complete rage. Just as she had done before she spoke in what was more a hoarse whaling scream, this time clearly talking to Abigail specifically. “I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As she screamed she clawed her left hand violently across the air in Abigails direction; and although a few feet away Abigails body suddenly lurched sideways through the air as if being pulled by a giant invisible hand. Luckily for Abigail the front window she had just been thrown out had already been shattered for years.

Ignoring Molly the wild girl turned and fled deeper into the house. The clatter of doors and windows slamming shut could be heard for a few seconds followed by complete silence. The eerie quite however was abruptly broken by a painful moan at Molly's feat "uh..oh man...I think I broke my-" Suddenly Scotty, now sitting slightly sitting up, screamed in pain as he stupidly tried to move what he thought was a broken arm-based on his agonizing cries he was probably right. Through it all he still hadn't removed the cheap ugly mask.

[DinoNuts]

The phone kept ringing for a solid 3 minutes before Brooks’ attention was shifted towards the mysterious and persistent caller just into his night shift. Three minutes is a long time when you're sat alone in a small office in the dark. He continued to glare at it, irritation turning to disbelief as the ringing persisted. It was only a matter of time before every ring, and appropriately timed pause of silence before the next one, caused him to physically flinch from frustration. It was the Sheriff's -personal- phone, and the last thing he wanted to do was butt into the guy's private affairs. Was it an emergency? Did something happen to the sheriff and his own number was the only thing he had time to call?

Brooks, being the irritable man that he was, could only stand it for so long. He stood up in a seething fit of annoyance and stomped his way angrily towards the device, picking it up with equal harshness and almost barking down the other end.

“Sheriff Cart-” was all he'd manage to get out before being interrupted by a deep voice from the other end.

“Missing? Look we got an actual police line for this, if it's the sheriff you're lookin’ for he's not in till tomorrow.”
Brooks stood in the dark and in silence as the muffled noise of the callers voice filled the sheriff's office room, replying to him.

“Right. Ahuh. Okay. Can I have your name please? Thank you. I'll be there in thirty, please wait patiently.”
He shut the phone back in its place, sighed audibly and left the sheriff's office, closing the door behind him and snatching his jacket off the hanger by the door. He had strict orders not to do this exact thing but he was feeling defiant, and just didn't care enough about consequences for something potentially interesting to happen, it -had- been a while.

Just as Brooks was about to leave the door his line started ringing, with furrowed brows he approached it cautiously before lifting it up to his ear.

“Hello? Deputy Lockwood speaking.” He paused, listening carefully.

“Oh hey sweetheart. Everything alright?” He eased up, glad it was just Abigail instead of another surprise.

“Oh dear… alright we'll talk about it tomorrow morning if you're heading to sleep. And check behind the mirror In my bath we got a small kit there you can use.”

“Yeah, sorry sweetie. I won't be home for a few more hours. Same old same old.” he put the phone down as soon as Abigail ended her call.

The car ride towards the hotel was filled with curiosity, his mind racing ahead of itself before reeling back into reality, and assuming the outcome to be as realistic as possible. Even with the “ban” on the hotel and the seemingly calm and collected voice of caller, this was Kansas. He had gotten used to mundane issues.

With another deep sigh Brooks exited his patrol car, slamming his door shut and approaching and entering the front door of the suddenly suspicious looking hotel.

[Stitches]

“...Did you just offer this bitch a cigarette,” Abigail asked flatly, staring at Molly in quiet disapproval. “And did you just call me Ab?” She was briefly distracted from the girl and when she looked back the kid was curled up in the corner, teary-eyed and vulnerable. Abigail’s brows furrowed in confusion. She turned to chastise Molly a bit more for spooking the girl (despite the fact she was obviously at fault here) when everything suddenly happened really fast. The first thing Abigail picked up on was that distinct wrongness in her gut - a split second later, an odd tugging sensation in her navel. The haunted house suddenly shifted underneath her and whirred past her vision, then she felt a burning sensation in her arm, and then she felt her body collide with a bunch of weeds and the sun-baked dirt of backwater Kansas. Abigail took a moment to register what happened. She stared up at the twilit sky in quiet contemplation, more stunned than winded, surrounded by little ants and beetles that scurried in the overgrowth. Her ribs hurt, and so did her arm, but neither of them were as bad as Scotty’s wailing made his wounds out to be. In fact, it was Scotty’s incessant screaming that snapped Abigail out of her reverie.

Everyone in town knew Abigail came from New Orleans, but not many could pick up on the accent, and only a special few had the honour of hearing her speak French - because she never said anything nice when she spoke French. As a result, it might’ve been a bit of a shock to Scotty (but not to Molly, who was never the recipient but often the witness) when Abigail’s head popped out of the bushes outside and she barked “Ta gueule, je m’en fous!” out of instinct. Moments later she hissed and grabbed her arm, hissing in pain, mumbling darkly under her breath - things like “fille chiante” and “putain de sorcière” were given extreme emphasis. She climbed back through the window with a long but shallow cut on her arm and a thunderous scowl. “Make him stop FUCKING crying, please, jesus, Molly I cannot deal with this right now,” Abigail groaned as she walked right past Scotty, right past Molly and out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

That was when she started to freak out. Her breath came out in short, sharp puffs. She paced the decrepit driveway until coherent thought started to filter in. It could’ve been an elaborate prank at first - everyone who saw it would’ve thought it was just a joke, just some wires hooked up in the kitchen - but Abigail was flung out of the window. It was impromptu acting too. There was no way Abigail could’ve been hooked up to anything in the brief moments between her standing at the front door to her approaching the girl. Not for a move as complex as that - there were no magnets, wires, mirrors...nothing that could’ve plausibly been set up for that specific action. It had to be real.

Abigail opened the door again, leant on the door-frame, ran a hand through her hair and stared at Molly, knowing full well that her friend was thinking the same thing. “Okay. That wasn’t-...yeah.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Her mind couldn’t wrap around the concept, let alone its execution. She rubbed her hands together and sighed. “Right. Fuck.” Abigail pushed off the doorframe and wandered back into the kitchen, shouting over Scotty’s wails of agony. “Molly, make sure he doesn’t move that fucking arm any more than he already has! Rest of you lousy fucks go get his mom or something - don’t just hide up there, show’s over!” She leant in and said, quieter, “I need to make a call. I’ll be back in a bit,” before jogging off out of the house.

Brimstone was despairingly deprived of forms of entertainment, but at least they had the common sense to ensure that there were enough payphones scattered across the road. Abigail wandered down the side of the tarmac in a daze, unable to really focus on anything. Her fingers fished into the pockets of her shorts to pull out a half-finished pack of gum, a paperclip-turned-lockpick, some lint and a couple of quarters. Even in the dusk, the payphone box was a veritable greenhouse and it was stiflingly warm inside of it. She pushed the coins into the slot and punched in a few numbers.

“Hey, Brooks. It’s me.” Her voice was hollow with shock. “Y-yeah, uh...everything’s fine. There was a bit of a…” she couldn’t say it. She didn’t want to say it. “...problem, at the fright night thing. I’m just letting you know that I’m going home early. Could you pick up some antiseptic wipes or something on your way home tonight?” Another pause. “You’re on night shift again?” she sighed irritably. “Fine.” She hung up.

Ten minutes later Abigail slammed the door open again. God, she looked a wreck - covered in grime, dirt and sweat, scabs on her knees, bruises on her arms and legs - she had her tank top raised up a little and was poking experimentally at a rapidly blossoming dark purple patch on her ribs, probably the biggest and most impressive bruise she had accumulated today. Not to mention that there was still this shallow gash on her arm that was half-heartedly dribbling blood down to her elbow. “I need a shower, Christ…” Abigail groaned, approaching Molly. “How is he? How are you?”

[Default]

As the boys rode back home, James was silent, in shock of the events that had unfolded. It suddenly occurred to him he had seen that girl before. Max and James had been shocked to see her in the arcade a couple of times. They had always been too nervous to introduce themselves. Especially James. However, he had been able to gather that her name was Emma from people around town. He hadn't told Max, mostly because he didn't want to creep Max out.
When the James pulled up into the driveway of his house, he looked at Max. "I thought that she moved away. Because becoming a hobo who can throw people into the air is definetly not my definition of moving away." He pulled off his sunglasses, sticking them into his coat pocket. "Let's just go inside." He walked up to his room, ignoring his parents when they asked how the library was. When he entered his room, he started pacing.
"Things are happening in this town. Things that defy the natural order of reality itself. Hobo girls flinging people into the air? And then there’s the pets that just suddenly disappear. That doesn’t happen. Max, something has happened to our town. And I aim to figure it out. I have no doubt it’ll be dangerous, and we might even get caught up in something we shouldn’t be a part of. But we might just be able to find something out.
“This world has natural laws. And because of...whatever came to this town, those laws are being broken. And think about it. Those pets going missing? Soon it might be people. Or even one of us. I can’t let that happen. Now, are you going to help me find out what’s wrong with our town or not?"

[MissCapnCrunch]

“...Did you just offer this bitch a cigarette?”

"First of all.." Molly started, wondering herself why she had did that. She wasn't going to let it seem that way though, everything she did was on purpose, even when it wasn't. Molly ignored the other question, knowing that Abigail wasn't the biggest fan of nicknames like that, but truthfully Molly was just lazy and just hadn't felt like saying the girl's full name in that moment. Molly watched the interaction between Abigail and the young girl when the house suddenly filled with the girl's hoarse yelling voice.

“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!”

"What a fucking spaz.." Molly thought to herself before Abigail was picked up and thrown out the window. If this had been a Saturday morning cartoon- Molly's jaw would have been on the floor. Instead, her mouth parted in shock as her cancer stick fell onto the floor silently. For the first time in a long time Mo was speechless. The wild girl turned and sprinted away as the house shook with the sound of doors and windows slamming all over the place.

"Uh..oh man...I think I broke my-"

Scotty's groan's underneath Molly's feet almost caused her to stomp the boy to dust. She had completely forgotten about him in that moment. She hadn't cared. She was more concerned with the well being of Abigail- not the douche bag squirming at her boots. As soon as he sat up with the ugly mask on, Molly could see his arm was completely deformed bent in ways that it was not meant to be bent. Scotty began screaming deliriously. Molly snatched the stupid Halloween mask off his face, unable to stand looking at it anymore as she looked him in the eye.

He was crying.

Scotty Masterson was crying.

What the fuck was going on with this day?

Between Scotty's wails Molly could hear Abigail's distinct slew of french coming from outside. She was alive. Molly in what felt like hours exhaled. As she watched Abigail climb through the window she wanted to go over and embrace her, kiss her, ANYTHING, but knew it wasn't for the best. Molly looked to her to say anything, and was met with a scowl.

“Make him stop FUCKING crying, please, Jesus, Molly I cannot deal with this right now.”

Molly turned to Scotty almost instantaneously, "Shut the fuck up Scotty! Shut! The! Fuck! Up!" she yelled as Scotty's wailing turned into a whimper. He was really pathetic when it came down to it. Molly felt bad for a moment, but honestly- get a grip man. Abigail went out the front door without another word and Molly stood idle for a moment. She was lost as what to do next. Scrambling to the floor she picked up her dropped cigarette and placed the dirty thing into her mouth and fumbled for the lighter she had stole earlier. She lit it and took heavy puffs of it, her back hunched slightly as she stared between Scotty's chicken wing arm and the broken window she had just watched her friend get thrown through by a garbage pail kid's poster child.

Abigail returned quick as the two returned a steady eye contact. They both couldn't really explain what was happening but the two were thinking the exact same thing. Scotty began wailing again as Abigail started to yell at the other teens to get out of the house. Some of them were already crowded around because of Scotty's screaming, but others were clueless to what was going on. As Abigail left the house again, to make a phone call- Molly got on her knees next to Scotty.

"I'm sorry I screamed at you, but you need to be quiet. I don't fucking know what is going on, and if that girl comes back we're both dead. Okay?" She shoved the cigarette from her mouth in between his lips. He took shallow breaths as his crying had tired him out. Like a toddler after a tantrum. Looking at his arm, "Jesus you got fucked up. Don't move it." He seemed to calm down, almost falling asleep as he sat up against the wall he was bashed against. "Stay with me Scotty, don't fall asleep." Molly begged, she knew that in all the movies she had seen, once someone fell asleep they usually didn't wake up.

“How is he? How are you?”

Molly hadn't even heard Abigail come back in due to her thoughts in her head being so loud. "He needs help." Molly admitted as she looked up to Abigail. She stood up and brushed the dust and debris off her knees. Not even caring she had knelt on broken glass in the moment. "How am I?" Molly let out a noise mixed of laughter and of distress as if that alone was enough to describe the events of the evening. "How are YOU? Are you okay? You look like shit." Molly's honesty was meant with the dearest sincerity. She had been scared that her friend was truly hurt, and was thankful it just seemed to a few bruises, cuts, and worry. Molly lowered her voice for just Abigail to hear her, "I'm scared Abigail." she admitted. She would never admit that to anyone else, but in this very moment she had to say it.