Halloween 2021: Choose Your Spooky Outcome: Chapter 10
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Without any idea what you’re facing, all of the suggestions have some merit, and you flit back and forth between the options, before finally settling on a choice. “Okay, hear me out. Everyone has their own specialties, we’d look to Victoria if we were facing some sort of spooky magic puzzle, or Jim if it was a drug-infused speed-chugging contest.”
That statement manages to yank your roommates’ head up from the popcorn bag, bringing along a spray of kernels with it. “Hell yeah, another of those?”
Pressing on without acknowledging Jim’s interruption, you continue. “My point is, right now we’re facing an unknown monster. And one of us seems to have had a lot of practice fighting their way through exactly this sort of situation.”
You look to Pumpkin, still holding her lighter, and even she looks surprised to be picked. “I have, and I stand by my assessment. Fire kills a ton of magical shit. It goes back to the Primal Light that was first ignited and blah blah blah what matters is supernatural or not, most enemies burn.”
“As do people,” Thad points out. “Of which there are a great deal now filling the stands and field.”
“I didn’t say we spray everyone down in napalm, just make some personal options for when shit inevitably goes wonky.” Pumpkin flinches as a football slams against the announcer box wall, bouncing through the stands back down to the players below. “Or wonkier, I guess.”
She motions to the pile of electronics and junk that occupy up the announcing table. “I can rig up some igniters and what-not out of this, but I’m going to need some of the booze Jim has got squirreled away.”
“Who-fuck-the-what now?” Jim stammers out, inching toward the door. Victoria is already there though, snagging Partyzilla by the giant lizard head.
“Don’t be a brat, I’ve seen you prepare for these nights; she wouldn’t need your entire supply even if we were spraying down the field.”
Thad is staring at the pile of announcing equipment, staring from it to Pumpkin. “No one is curious about how she can turn this into some sort of fire-shooting devices? That doesn’t seem weird? She’s not even wearing a MacGyver outfit.”
Everyone stares at Thad, but as his brother, it’s on you to lead him toward the obvious conclusion. “We’re all, um, kind of used to it.”
“She just joined, how would you be… oh. This is what it’s like to be around me, isn’t it?” Thad is no longer so intrigued by the sound equipment, his mind lost in unexpected self-reflection.
Having unloaded five bottles of alcohol from within Jim’s outfit, Pumpkin sets them on the floor, then motions for everyone to step back. “This will go faster without you all up in my space. Go out and start looking for this damn thing, that way we know what to burn once I’m ready.”
Shuffled out the door, the four of you wander down toward the field. A spiraling football whizzes for your head, second from impact when Thad’s meaty hand closes around it. Dazed or not, your big brother is keeping an eye out for you.
“Nice catch!” The speaker is on the field, presumably the man who made the terrible throw. “Come on out and get on our team.”
To your surprise, Thad nods, tucking the football under his arm. He pauses just long enough to whisper “I’ll go take a look at the field,” before he’s effortlessly jogging across it. Several men sweating through their dress shirts cheer at the sight of him, while others mutter darkly. The reactions alone pretty well mark the different teams.
“I’ll see what those along the cheerleading lines are up to, and scout for our little friend in the process.” Victoria glides over and effortlessly inserts herself into the conversation. There’s not as much cheering going on as there is drinking wine and occasional jumping, though one dedicated soul apparently dug out the Mr. Scary mascot costume and is dancing around.
“I’d take the snack bar but some totally cool party lizard already ate all the power-ups in there,” Jim says, flecks of telltale popcorn lodged around the face of his costume. “Want to come under the stands to smoke… out any potential monsters?”
If his verbal slip wasn’t telling enough, the enormous joint poking halfway out of his costume sleeve would give it away. “Just keep an eye out for the creature while you’re down there.” You’ve long ago learned that stopping Jim is a fool’s errand, and generally just ends in him becoming even less predictable.
He totters down the stairs to the bottom of the bleachers, passing several people screaming their heads off at what can barely be called a football game. Others are making out, and some are doing substantially more with only the slightest attempts at obfuscation.
The more you watch, the gladder you are not to be attempting any sort of coordination with these people. The football game is mostly bodies slapping into each other, now with Thad walking a few steps until he lets someone tackle him. Those making the hits were more likely to come away hurt, they really were playing like high schoolers, as if their bodies could bounce back from that sort of punishment. The group had no concept of consequences, and since they presumably can’t return from the dead, that’s a dangerous mindset to hold on Halloween.
No one is going harder than the mascot though, dancing and shaking, bounding and waving. You watch as it hops mercurially about, swinging those huge straw hands that always looked a bit too much like claws, stupid collar on its red shirt.
Except… wait. This one doesn’t have a collar. It was added to the mascot outfit during your sophomore year, after the old suit was burned during the senior prank. A horribly dated addition even at the time, the design choice was made to make Mr. Scary seem more hip and cool.
But this one doesn’t have a collar, he’s just like the one staring back from the hallway mural, the original design. A design that was first created in the eighties, according to Victoria. The exact decade someone just unearthed a time capsule from. The creature you were after was small though, a thought that gives you pause just as Mr. Scary takes another bold hop forward.
It ends with him mere inches from Victoria, putting her in potential swiping range. Her attention looks to be on the crowd of people she’s chatting up, everyone ignoring what they probably took for a drunk in a suit. Hell, that’s what it might be, but you’re just not certain.
They’re close enough that a sprint isn’t out of the question, even if you aren’t the athlete of the group. Then again, you could also just yell a warning to Victoria and assume she’ll handle things herself. It’s certainly not without precedent. Of course, you also have the option to walk over there and calmly investigate, seeing as you’re still not sure if there even is a threat yet. But Mr. Scary is still hopping around, so it’s time for you to jump to a decision.