Act 3. Delinquents
Bubbles and Squeak were about four years older than Finch. They were both high school dropouts who made a career of tormenting anyone younger than them. Bubbles, or Spike as he liked to be called, was a tall frightening figure. His black hair was always dirty, sticking out wildly from his hood. His mouth was crowded with long yellow teeth that looked so jagged and rotted you'd wonder how he even chewed with them. All in all, he was a sight, and his personality matched. Along side him at all times, was his one and only friend, Squeak, who was more like a parrot than a person. He served nearly no purpose but to repeat every sentence that Bubbles said, a constant echo. He was short and round like a pumpkin and he rarely wore clothes that actually fit, his large stomach was almost always peaking out from his shirt. His loyalty to Bubbles was boarder line demented. If anyone was to ever speak out against his king he would jump them like a rabid dog and beat on them until Bubbles, usually embarrassed by this uncalled for behavior, would yank him off.
Finch tried to avoid them whenever possible.
"So, who wants to die tonight?" Yelled Bubbles as he slammed his car door. "Show yer'self, you little shit!"
"Yeah, show yer'self!" Squeak echoed, circling around the car to join Bubbles by his side.
Devil Lad and Finch stiffened, not daring to even breathe. They both knew what the other was silently thinking- 'Stay quiet and pray these two morons go off looking in the wrong direction.'
Suddenly, as if fate were truly against them, a single marble squeezed itself from the torn paper bag, not missing a single branch as it fell. The two felt themselves cringe at every little noise it made on its way down until it finally landed at the feet of the enemy. Bubbles and Squeak raised their heads in unison and their four eyes locked with those in the tree.
"Fuck this."
Devil Lad jumped from the tree and headed for the woods without skipping a beat. Finch followed in suite, hitting the rock solid ground with a thud and darting after him.
"Yer gonna to pay for this, you little fucks! When we catch up with you, yer gonna WISH you hadn't come out tonight! C'mon Squeak, hurry!"
Bubbles launched into the woods, Squeak struggled to keep up behind him, cursed by his weight.
"Now what?" asked Devil Lad between huffing as he ran.
"This way." Finch nodded to the right, "There's an old shed out here we can hide in."
They ran as fast as they could, desperately trying to get enough space between them and the two giving chase so that they could duck off and not be seen. Behind them, the sounds of angry growling and branches snapping grew fainter as they pulled ahead just in time.
"Here!" Finch yelled in a whisper.
He grabbed Devil Lad by the sleeve and yanked him aside into some brush. They knelt down and watched for a moment as their hunters rushed by still yowling and cursing them, completely unaware.
"C'mon…"
Finch led the way just a few steps more to a dark, abandoned shed house. The rotting wood was overgrown with weeds and vines and was well hidden behind an overgrowth of bushes. This was Finch's favorite place to store his forest-finds.
He pulled open the door gently, so not to make a sound, and the two hunted hurried inside, shutting the door behind them and sitting down against the wall. A busted out window just above their heads allowed for a stream of pale moonlight to fill up the otherwise dark room. It illuminated the cobwebs, rusted tools, and bits of animal skeleton that hung from walls and it reflected from broken glass, shimmering on the dirt floor.
It seemed like tonight was filled with awkward silences, or at least Finch thought so. In reality, neither Finch nor Devil Lad were big talkers, but the tenseness of this Halloween evening added emphasis on every quiet moment between them. Finch felt the moments drag on for what seemed like an eternity; meanwhile, Devil Lad didn't seem the least bit phased. But how could Finch know anyway? The plastic red mask was as blank and emotionless as a taxidermy deer. Even if his demonic friend was tense as well, there would be no way of knowing.
"…So…?"
"Sorry…I don't know what came o-"
"Don't worry about it, Finch. Right now, we should just focus on getting out of here without any broken bones."
Finch nodded and dropped the subject. He sat thinking, plotting. They could just sneak out now and run as fast as they could back to his neighborhood- but that was too easy. In fact, Finch didn't want to run at all. Every year these two imbeciles haunted Halloween night, it was about time they were the ones who were tricked. Finch stuck his hands in his sweatshirt pocket mindlessly to keep them from the biting cold. Inside his pocket, his fingers discovered the three last shooter marbles, still waiting to mark a victim. He couldn't help but to chuckle to himself as a plan slowly began to form.
Devil Lad leaned in, "You're putting something together, aren't you?"
"Well, of course."