>"At least the garlic makes sense." 

>Mike folds his arms across his chest

>It was a little after 4 in the afternoon

>You're all back at the church now, except for Mike, who is watching from the front doors, which you've propped open with a few rocks

>Your heart flutters as you watch Alex and Jenna rip open plastic and cardboard boxes containing squirt guns and water pistols

>In fact, you pace unevenly up and down the aisles, constantly checking your phone

>You need a place to put your apprehension and anxiety

>The Spooktober Fest was in five hours

>You'll need to bring Sam and the red book with you deep into enemy territory, secure the Book of Wrath from Vanessa, and undo the ritual before midnight or EVERYONE, not just the 'normies' (as Vanessa might say) are fucked

>Before everyone goes mad with lust and hatred and evil, all at the behest of The Behemoth

>Oh, right

>Yeah, that hallucinatory dog-thing that's lurking somewhere in the school RIGHT NOW probably, uncontrollable by Vanessa since Sam fudged the ritual up about a week ago

>"But I don't get the water pistols. We've got an army of goths, vampires, an insane janitor and trans-dimensional monster to plow through, and you're bringing squirt guns?" Mike says

>Well put, Mike

>It's like he can read your mind or sense your anxiety

>You even complete each other's sentences sometimes, like an old married couple

>But this is no time for gay jokes

>"Quit being such a pessimist." Jenna stands up with a see-through pink water pistol in her hands. She trots past you, still in her bumblebee costume, to where the baptismal font is, near the entrance of the church

>Its waters are still with the powers of purification

>She dunks the pistol into the font, its surface shattering like fragile glass

>A few sputters and gurgles of air rise to the top as concentrated vampire repellent fills up the pistol's body

>She rips her arm from the font, pulling the pistol up with it in a spray not unlike that of waterfalls that cascade down mountain cliffs in forgotten jungles

>The last rays of light that pour in from the cross-shaped window at above the altar strike the water pistol so perfectly that it was like God himself was blessing that little $1 toy from China

>"Behold!" She announces. “A blessed water pistol!"

>You half expected a choir of angels to open up and shower you all in shimmering and airy harmonies

>Instead, Jenna spins on her heels and aims the gun at Mike

>"Hold still," she says, slamming one eye shut as she sights down the length of the 'weapon.'

>Mike takes a cautious step backwards. "Wait, hold on. We don't know what that-"

>He never finishes his sentence

>Instead, a pathetic piss-stream of water strikes him in the shoulder, though most of it is absorbed by his shirt

>And that's right about when he started yelling

>As if he were a smoldering blaze suddenly doused in an ice-bath, steam rises from his shoulder where he was struck

>He scrambles and struggles to wipe the holy stain from his shirt, but it only gets on his hands, causing him to scream louder

>Jenna throws down the water pistol and dashes to Mike's side

>In his panic (or out of contempt) he pushes her aside

>The fox goes stumbling down onto her ass, and lets out a panicked yelp

>"Holy FUCK!" Mike says, ripping his shirt off and whipping it to the side

>He looks even more pale now that he's bare-chested, his skin the sickly color of cream cheese

>You have to admit: when he first looked down at Jenna, who was sitting up on her palms, you thought Mike might kill her then and there

>Instead, he looks down at the burn mark on his shoulder

>The whole spectacle is a little…

>Gross?

>"That was fucking wild," he says. “I can't believe that worked so… so… so well!"

>Jenna hobbles to her feet

>Her bumblebee costume makes her look like a massive, striped marble, propped up on her two thin little legs

>"What?" She whispers under her breath

>Saying she was relieved and astonished would be an understatement

>She looks like someone just pulled her cub from the crumbling wreckage of a burning building

>The dark shadow of Mike falls upon Jenna as he turns to face her

>Mania burns in his eyes

>"That's brilliant. Do you know that?"

>Jenna can only stare on, slack-jawed

>Steam rises off Mike into the sky

>"I said, it's brilliant. The squirt guns. Filling them with holy water. Did you come up with that?"

>Jenna nods, her eyes still split wide and jaw slack

>You feel as if Mike's words are reaching her, but her concern has overridden everything else except primitive motion

>Mike turns his attention towards the remaining water pistols and the large water gun leaning near the baptismal font

>His eyes settle on its smooth, bulbous plastic form, painted green and purple (thanks doc)

>There's a huge reservoir in the back for water, and a gimmicky orange pump at the front for, well, pumping water

>"I want that one," he says dimly, like a child with his eyes on candy

>"Mike, wait," Jenna tries to stand between him and the water gun. “You can't."

>"And why not?" He says, a tinge of frustration in his voice

>Jenna motion towards his burnt shoulder. "You're lucky I only got you with a little bit."

>"Bah, I'll be careful."

>"I'm serious! I don't want you doing anything crazy or dangerous!" She growls

>Mike is unperturbed. “This is coming from the woman that just shot me with holy water. Right."

>She assumes a defensive stance, barring her fangs and spreading her body wide, claws extended

>She's the fiercest looking bumblebee you've ever seen

>He brushes past her with ease, however, his shirt in hand, stopping only at the entrance of the church, as if held in place by an invisible hand

>Jenna stamps her feet

>"God damnit Mike!"

>Mike turns his attention to her. “Listen, Jenna, sweetie, babycakes, sugartits, I'm going to be okay."

>In turn, Jenna bows her head, hiding her face

>But from this angle, you can see it tighten up with frustration

>Her body starts trembling

>Oh shit

>This isn't about the water gun

>"You better be okay," she says, her voice struggling against the tightness of her throat

>When she looks up again there are tears stinging her eyes

>"You better not do anything stupid or dumb or crazy, you hear me Mike Sapone?"

>Mike doesn't say anything back

>His brows narrow together and slowly, he nods

>"I promise you," he says, turning to face all of you

>"You hear that? These motherfuckers took away my future. I don't want any of you doing something stupid — that's my job. I want my future back, or at least some fingers to break. And I need all of you to stay alive tonight, because if the world ends, I'm at least doing it in good company."

>You have to admit, the way he's looking around at everyone makes you think that he might attack any one of you at a moment's notice for saying the wrong thing

>Jenna scrubs her eyes with the back of her paws

>“If you get hurt I'll fucking kill you."

>Honestly, you're more surprised that she's swearing over the fact that she's crying

>Whatever, it's probably one of those emotional things that are super out of your range

>"You can kill me after I kick Vanessa and Lydia's dreary asses back to hell."

>Alex obediently hands Mike the squirt gun, which Mike hoists onto his shoulders

>You can't help but think back to Sam's drawings for you all

>He really is 'Slayer,' as unoriginal as that sounds

>You shrug. Guess they fit

>You all sit on the hood of your car and suck down on Dr. Beppers, cheap burgers and lukewarm beer

>You watch as the sun sets, washing everything in a thin orange haze

>Your heart hurls itself against your ribcage, even with Sam sitting next to you on the hood

>She seems to be in the same place you're at, mentally

>Or it's the caffeine?

>Her legs kick off against the front-end of the car, and her whole body shakes as she brings the can of Dr. Bepper to her lips

>You can feel The Book of Rite in your pocket, heavy and flat like Mike's sister

>Nobody says much as you watch the sun set, counting the minutes as they turn into hours

>Pretty soon darkness swallows you all, and the lights in the church flick on, as if God were home for the night

>Mike hops off the hood of the car, glowing white with anemia

>He's still holding the squirt gun

>He still seems pretty attached to it

>"Well," he says, his fiery-red gaze sweeping the group, and ending on you. “What's the time?"

“7:30," you say, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

>A smile forms on his lips, though its hard to see in the darkness

>"Shall we?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjTTB6yII4o&list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J&index=6

>You dunk a water pistol into the baptismal font whose waters never seem to run dry

>The pistol gurgles and sputters as it fills

>Just for safety reasons, you dunk Gloria's crucifix (still around your neck) in the font

>Sam, Jenna, and Alex string together garlic necklaces from the garlic bulbs Jenna 'paid for' on Tuesday

>You fill the other two water pistols up as your brain works your confidence over with a lead pipe

>Mike's words echo in your ears

>'We've got an army of goths, vampires, werewolves, an insane janitor and trans-dimensional monster to plow through, and you're bringing squirt guns?'

>Would this really be enough? Not to mention the general violence

>And

>The Behemoth

>A stream of water hits you in the face, shattering your anxious wanderings

>Mike is standing at the entrance of the church, pumping water at you

>"This thing has RANGE baby. You feel that?"

“Hey I'm not refilling that if you keep shooting it at me." You wipe your face down with your shirt

>"No worries my possibly bisexual friend, I'm just getting my range down."

“Right, well, don't do it with me."

>"C'mon, you know you like it when Mikey gets you all wet."

>You flip off Mike and return to your task

>Everywhere there's motion

>Garlic necklaces laced around necks (and any extras go into pockets)

>Water pistols passed out to Alex and Jenna

>And more importantly, beers

>Sam totters off to your car, its doors open and headlights on, 

>They blast against the peeling white paint of the church

>She comes sprinting back at break-neck speed, her garlic necklace bouncing against her hoodie

>But you see she's not empty-handed when she returns

>She's got a length of rope and…

>Ah shit

>Her brother's bat, in her right hand

>"H-H-Hey A-Anon. I-I need some help wi-with this." She offers up the rope and the baseball bat

>You stuff your water pistol into a belt loop under your robes (which really completes the whole 'priest' look) and tie the baseball bat around her shoulders and under her arms, securing it to her back

>She ties the red bandanna around her snout and throws her hood over her head, shoving her ears through the holes you so graciously cut at the top of her hoodie

>She looks up at you, her amber eyes shrouded in shadow, peering up at you from the darkness like two lights in a tunnel

>"H-H-H-How do I look?" She says cautiously

>You crouch down to her height

“You look great, but you're missing something."

>She yanks down her bandanna

>"W-W-What?"

You plant a quick kiss on her lips

>Just a short one, but long enough so that your taste lingers on her tongue

“My luck." Your voice drops to a whisper

>Sam lets out a shy squeak

>In an instant, her head is pointed to her shoes

>"Y-Y-Your costume is so nice," she says evasively

>Your heart sinks

>Maybe that was too soon

“Thanks. I like it too, I gues-"

>She jumps forward and plants a clumsy kiss on your lips, and lingers there, pressed against you, for far too long

>You said it once, you'll say it again: why do you always attract the weirdos?

>When you at last pull apart, she looks distraught, her brows sloping up and her mouth curled down into a frown, slight distress pressed into her features

>"S-Sorry."

>…

“For what?"

>"I c-c-couldn't think of a-a-anything clever to s-s-say."

>You want to spend forever with her, here, in this crummy old church, shooting water pistols at Mike's feet, shivering as a breeze sweeps the leaves by like handfuls of confetti thrown to the wind

>But forever isn't in the cards for you tonight

>The hours roll by, and your reserve stock of fortifying beer and Dr. Beppers runs dry as you chill by the front doors with Mike

>He looks especially manic today, chugging his beer and howling at the moon, which has grown alarmingly fat and red in the sky

>He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, catching the last drops of beer

>"God, I don't even care how close to oblivion we all are. I'm just ready to get some revenge and break some knees."

>Jenna appears beside him with a Dr. Bepper

>"Here. Try and sober up a little bit. You're no good to us drunk."

>"Drunk?" He stumbles backwards in one small inebriated step. “Listen, let me tell you something. I fight better when I'm a little bit loaded."

>"S-So d-d-did my d-d-dad," Sam says to nobody in particular

>Mike pauses in his swagger

>The cringe on his face says it all

>"I didn't mean it like that," Mike says, a foreign shame creeping into his whispering tone

>"O-Oh!" Sam shakes her head. “N-Neither d-d-did I. S-S-Sorry. I'm just th-thinking about some o-other stuff."

>Right

>'Other stuff.'

>The taste of Sam still lingering on your lips offers some insight as to what she's probably thinking about

>You didn't want the moment to end either

>Kissing her feels… right… like how a fish was born to swim, you know?

>You stare up at the moon in silence and take a hearty slug of your beer

>Liquid courage

>And you're going to need it

>Like a pair of well-meaning school shooters, you opt not to park your shit heap car in the now crowded parking lot, but in the teacher's lot out front

>It'll be a longer haul to the gym versus the student lot, but that's okay

>You might need to make an escape later, and you don't want to be caught in traffic

>Wouldn't it be bad ass if you guys had a car chase? Like damn, that-

>"Anon." Alex shakes the back of your seat. “Are you ready comrade?"

>You cut the engine

"You're freaking me out man, I feel like I'm about to go shoot up the school or something."

>"Don't get cold feet on us right now, bunny-boy. We need you to get to that altar with Sam," Mike says, now more sober than before. “What time you got?"

>Jenna checks her phone. "10:45. We're cutting it close."

>"Cut it too soon and we're going to show up before show time and get caught," Alex offers, one of the few intelligent statements he's made. “Too late and… well…"

>"So, front doors, guns blazing?" Mike says, pumping on his over-sized squirt gun. He rests his hand on the door handle, eager to get moving

“If you can control yourself, I was thinking stealth. We really only need to worry about the vampires"

>As you rattle off a list of potential foes, your stomach sinks further and further

>"…The goths, Lydia, Vanessa, whatever they did to Gloria… The Behemoth…"

>If you weren't nervous before, you were now

>Your feet beat into the shitty, carpeted floor of the rustbucket

>Sam, picking up on your nerves, wrings her ears like she was trying to squeeze the blood out of them

>"A-A-And what d-d-do we do?" She asks, staring dead ahead at the school

>Ordinarily you'd say the school was looming in the darkness, but it's not dark

>Not at all

>Above the school the moon is pinned low into the sky, glowing a near scarlet red

>You're reminded of the moon in Majora's Mask, when the celestial body would get closer and closer each day 

>Publications called it a 'harvest moon'

>You and your friends knew better

“W-When we get into the s-school-"

>Shit, did you stutter?

>It's either nerves, or that Sam is rubbing off on you

>Or both

>You swallow hard and feel for the The Book of Rite tucked into your pocket

>It feels loose, so you push deeper down in there

>Don't need it flying out

>It takes a few earth-spinning seconds, but you finally put your thoughts together like the broken puzzle pieces that they are

>Remember, Anonymous: you've changed. People are capable of change and growth

>You and your friends are living examples

>And yet, here you are, wishing to be anywhere else in the world, wishing to slink away and let someone else handle it

>But you are 'someone else'

>Alex shakes your seat again

>"Comrade, are you alright?"

>You wave your wrist in a dismissive fashion

>If only to try and dismiss the nerves

“I'm a-alright. What I was saying was: when we get in there, we'll need cover from all of you in getting to the gym. Vanessa knows that I know there's a way to stop this. I imagine it's going to be heavily guarded by Vanessa's thugs, and whatever supernatural spookery she can concoct."

>"And you know how to stop it?" Jenna says

>You turn to face her, which is a struggle considering you're still wearing your seatbelt

“Both books brought to the altar, and Sam's freshly drawn blood ought to banish The Behemoth and put an end to this whole thing."

>"H-How fresh?" Sam squeaks at you, her body still shaking

>You flash a grim look at her

>"Like, straight from your wrists fresh, since it was your blood that ruined the ritual the first time. I found a banishing ritual when I was browsing through The Book a few days ago."

>Sam's anxious foot-pounding is so loud that even Jenna tries to get her to calm down

>Deep breaths, everyone

>Remember all that you've learned

“So you'll need to go up there with me," you continue. “And we'll need cover from the rest of you, whatever that looks like."

>"So like I said, guns blazing," Mike adds

>He seems about the only one excited for this

>Or, rather, he seems mad

>Which for him often looks like the same thing

>You won't lie, the dark and edgy looks he's been flashing ever since you were gearing up in the church have been concerning you

>You exhale slowly, trying to remember what your therapist told you about anxiety and fear

>'Take all of your fear and worry and put it into a little ball that-'

>Bah, fuck it

>Your therapist can't help you at the end of the world

>Only you can

>"I'm tired of waiting. I'm ready to light this candle," Mike says

>"As am I," Alex concurs. “The revolution has come to its climax. Once more, friends, to the barricades again!"

>"Everyone, just be safe." Jenna pops open her side door and steps out into the cool air. “Especially you, Mike. I don't want you doing anything stupid."

>"I'm going to do what I have to do, but I promise I'll try not to get anyone hurt," he says in reply

>Though you can't see them, you can tell just by the tone of Jenna's voice that she's worried. Their conversation continues, but you can't hear anything, because Alex is humming the Soviet anthem loudly

>He pauses

>"Everything be okey, komrade."

>GOD his accents are bad

>He sounds like a Bond villain

>Still humming the Soviet anthem, Alex exits the vehicle, leaving only you and Sam, and the mutual sound of your feet pounding into the floor

>Focus on the moon, dude

>Just… chill

>You're a lot stronger now than you were before

>Still, what's with this feeling in your gut?

>This otherworldly anxiety as you watch the sky get swallowed by the moon

>It dominates the whole skyline, and you swear you can almost feel its gravitational tug, like it could rip you out of this car and suck you into orbit

>A shaking, fuzzy hand finds your own

>It's Sam

>She's no longer pulling at her ears, but she still wears all the signs of nervousness as plain as the bandanna tied around her neck

>Kicking legs, trembling features, quivering lips flush with blood

>Yet her eye contact is impeccable — something you're pleased that she's learned

>You drink in her glowing amber eyes, searching for courage

>"W-W-We're g-gonna b-b-b-be okay r-r-right?"

>You swallow and nod

>"R-Right. We've all come so far. We'll be okay. And l-like I said, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

>She breathes out a held breath and squeezes her eyes shut

>She tries putting on a brave smile

>"Y-Yeah. I-I'm a lot s-s-stronger than I-I was. I'll d-d-do my best to t-t-take care of m-myself i-in there."

>Mike slaps the hood of the car, causing you both to jump

>You'd have hit the ceiling were it not for your seatbelt

>His voice is muffled, but you hear him well enough. "LET'S GO LADIES."

>You and Sam share one last look

“Ready?"

>"R-Ready," she says

>You unbuckle your seatbelt

>Ready