>You are Anonymous.
>As you reach out across the plain white desk in front of you and take your newly printed license from the clerk, you also become a Hunter.
>The card is hard plastic, much like a standard State ID.
>On it is your name, your face, a short list of qualifications, the date printed, and your specification.
“Hunter Sub Class,” you read off.
>The woman across from you smiles a little too wide as if it’s her job to look happier than everybody knows she isn’t.
>”Your name will be added to the pool shortly. When a mission comes up matching your qualifications, you’ll be attached to the Hunter leading it.”
“But I’ll get to fight?”
>She shrugs at you, and rather than responding, waves her hand to invite the next person into her little cubicle.
>You hold your hand up to the guy coming in and stare at the preppy woman.
“Pretty sure I asked you a question.”
>”It’s not up to me, sir. What you do on missions depends on what your superior wants you to do. You may fight, you may not. Those are decisions you’ll get to make if you ever spec-up to Standard Class.”
>Is that so?
>You roll your eyes and leave her alone now to do whatever it is clerks do when they’re not being assholes.
>So you leave the small, cramped building and head out to your slightly less cramped truck.
>She’s an old girl, but she came at a huge bargain so you’re willing to settle.
>The handle is icy cold now thanks to the fall air.
>Halloween is just around the corner, and you have reason to believe things are going to get a bit more busy in the world thanks to it.
>Your last Halloween was spent in the woods with the Director, but now you’ve got the training wheels off. Now you’re ready to go.
>You climb into the truck and sit there, staring at your phone intently.
>Minutes pass as you watch it, waiting for a call.
>Minutes turn to hours.
>The sun begins to dip below the horizon as you wait there, never taking your eyes off the screen.
>Come on, how can nobody need you?
>There has to be a monster out there somewhere that needs killing.
>You refuse to believe there’s nothing available.

>A long yawn breaks the silence in your cab, signaling your growing tiredness.
>You sigh and start up the truck, then pull out of the deserted parking lot of the admin center.
>There’s a McDougals down the road that you pull into. You give yourself a quick pat down to make sure you have all your emergency tools.
>A small wooden cross that you carved a few weeks ago fits nicely in your pocket.
>Inside your heavy canvas jacket, strapped to one of the inner pockets, is your revolver.
>The Director called you silly for taking a model as old as the 42, but you like the feel of it.
>She responds.
>You’re all set, so you hop out and lock the girl up before going inside.
>It’s warm in the restaurant thankfully, so you’re willing to put up with the garish colors screaming at your eyes.
>The pizza-faced kid at the desk greets you without any emotion past a general apathy.
>”Welcome to McDougals. I’m Enjoyin’ it. How can I help you?”
“You’re open twenty four hours, right?”
>”That’s what the sign says.”
“I’ll take a coffee.”
>When it’s ready, you grab your drink and go to sit down in the back, pulling out your phone again and setting it on the table. Much like before, you watch it for any signs of life.
>The hours tick away at the same rate as your cups of coffee do.
>Any time you feel a little tired, a fresh cup of joe helps you to keep your eyes open.
>Just as the sun finally begins to peek up and bring some light into the world, the phone rings.
>Before you can even read the caller ID, you flip it open and bring it up to your ear.
“Hello?”
>”Is this Anonymous?”
“It is.”
>”There’s a printer jam you’re needed for. Be at this address in an hour.”

>Fuck yeah!
>The man on the other end hangs up, and soon your phone buzzes with a new text message.
>You read it, memorizing the address, and grab another coffee before you go.
>It’s very sweet, almost like candy, thanks to all the cream and sugar you have them add. But hey, you need that sugar rush.
>Your truck whirrs through the streets as you arrive at the desired address, a small hovel of a house on a backroad.
>You down the rest of your drink and toss the empty cup onto the floor of the passenger side.
>Following another quick tool check, you hop out and go up to the odd, decrepit looking house.
>After a courteous few knocks, you stuff your freezing hands into your pockets and wait.
>The door opens up to reveal a man at least two heads taller than you and significantly wider.
>His clothes struggle to contain his rippling muscles, all of which are painted with pulsating veins that bulge through his thin skin.
>He seems angry and cold, staring at you with his round, golden eyes.
>”You here about the printer?” the man asks in a rough, intimidating voice.
“I am.”
>The blue man’s demeanor changes instantly. He smiles warmly and reaches out, grabbing your shoulder.
>”Well come on in, then!”
>You’re suddenly pulled inside, unable to resist the massive man’s strength.
>The door shuts loudly behind you and locks.
>In the next few seconds, you scan the entire area.
>It’s not nearly as run down as the outside would suggest.
>The interior is fairly spacious, save for an area in the back of what you believe to be the living room, which is filled with all varieties of workout equipment. 
>Every entrance is lined with salt as well.
>”You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”
“What’s the job?” you cut in, more interested in finally getting your hands on a monster than any small talk.
>”When I put in my preferences for a Sub Class, I figured I’d be getting someone,” he pauses, looking you over with a discerning eye. “Well, a bit bigger. You do have all those quals, right?”
“Those listed and more.”
>”How’d you manage that?”
“I trained. Look, do you have a job for me or not?”

>You can feel your finger itching at the thought of pumping some silver into whatever beastie you get to go up against.
>”Eager, huh? I like it! Go sit down on the couch, I’ll get us something to drink. Name’s Iron Will, by the way.”
“Anon,” you reply and do as told, moving into his well furnished living room and finding a seat.
>Iron Will comes back to you a few minutes later, producing a cup of gatorade.
>Really?
>He chugs his like there’s no tomorrow, yet doesn’t even make a dent in the massive bottle filled with the stuff.
>Finally he gets to the good stuff.
>It’s a witch coven that’s grown a bit braver in recent weeks.
>Children in the area are going missing with nothing turning up but their clothes.
>Nobody knows what’s going on. Nobody but a few well informed townsfolk who knew the right place to call.
>”I think they’re planning something big, but I don’t want to wait around and find out. That’s why I called in help. They’re probably going to be on guard around this time.”
“Gotcha. Let’s go.”
>”I like the enthusiasm! You’re small, but you’ve got a big heart!”
“Uh huh,” you mutter, setting your untouched glass of baby’s first sports juice down.
>”You can ride with me. I’ve got to pick up some supplies for the mission anyway, so you’ll get to see how a Standard Class operates and everything.”
“Can we just go now?”
>”Right on!”
>He throws his head back and downs the rest of his gatorade before throwing the bottle across the room and jumping out of his seat.
>The man leans forward and flexes his entire body, putting a little too much strain on the buttons holding his shirt together to the point where you think they might pop.
>”I like your motivation!”
>Iron Will grabs you again and pulls you off the couch, then marches outside to his car which you’re encouraged to get in.
>It matches his personality perfectly, you think.
>Big, over the top, flashy, and probably faster than it’ll ever need to be.
>It is, however, very comfortable inside.
>Unsettlingly so.
>As you sink into the soft seats, a wave of tired crashes against your body. Your eyes begin to burn as they try to close, but you force them to stay open.

>The two of you visit some out of the way curio shop in town.
>The owner, upon the mention of a few key words, brings you into the back of the store where she reveals a large assortment of weapons and gadgets.
>”What’s the mission?” she asks, pulling up a small book off her desk.
>”Witch coven.”
>”Authorized weapons load?”
>”Heavy.”
>”And how many of you are there?”
“Two,” you state plainly.
>That one shouldn’t have been hard to figure out.
>”You see Anon, you wouldn’t be able to buy anything here on your own. But since you’re with me, we can buy whatever we want. Well, as long as it pertains to witches.”
“I know how the system works. Subs tag along, Standards are on mission restriction, and Specials can do whatever the fuck they want.”
>”You’re motivated and you study! I like this kid,” he shouts with a big, dumb smile.
>He spends a little too long picking out all his favorite toys, even trying to explain a few of them to you, while you wait by the door.
>After almost an hour, Iron Will throws a heavy sac full of gear over his shoulder.
>He comes up to you with a satisfied grin.
>”Alright, now let’s head out. We’ve got a long drive.”
“Where’s the mission?”
>”Next state over.”
“Figures.”
>He bids the store owner goodbye and leads you back out to the car.
>At a few points on the long road, you two stop for some food.
>He doesn’t put anything in his body that doesn’t come packed with at least twenty grams of protein.
>Well, aside from gatorade which he guzzles by the gallon.
>You’re more content with a few candy bars and some coffee.
>”That stuff’ll kill you, you know.”
“I’m not that lucky,” you reply.
>”You should let me write you up a diet plan. You might be trying to hide yourself with that jacket, but I can tell what you’ve got going on under there. You’ve some amazing potential, kid.”
>He flexes, showing off his arms which you estimate to be probably twenty five inches.
>”You might even end up like me one day.”

>The sun is high in the sky when you two finally arrive in town.
>It’s a quaint little place.
>You can definitely see Stephen Bishop writing a book set here.
>It’s got that “small town that seems nice but really we’re all crazy” creep vibe to it.
>Iron Will is beside himself as he looks out the window.
>”Damn witches want to ruin this town? Fuck that, this place rocks.”
>Thanks to the abysmal speed limit, he has to slow down on some of the side streets.
>You spot a small cat blacker than tar walking alongside the vehicle.
>It looks over to you, meeting your eyes.
>They’re as blue as the sky, and you note that the pupils are round like plates. Like a normal human’s.
“Hey, Iron. What’s that look like to you?”
>You point to the cat while reaching for the gun in your jacket.
>The hulk of a man leans over, pressing against you as he peers out the window.
>”Looks like a cat to me, kid.”
“Look at the eyes.”
>”I am. What’s your point?”
>You glance back, seeing now that they cat’s eyes match a regular feline’s.
“What the fuck? They were blue just a second ago.”
>Iron Will pulls back and grabs your chin gently between his two fingers.
>He examines your face and a look of concern grows on his.
>”How much sleep have you been getting, kid?” he asks as you slap his hand away.
“That’s not important. I swear that cat looked just like a human for a second.”
>”You’re probably seeing things. You should hit the rack when we find a place for the night. I need you at the top of your game when we fight them.”
“I think it was the witches,” you say as he pulls into the parking lot of  a grimey looking motel.
>”Witches haven’t used familiars for hundreds of years because  they kept getting found out during the Trials. Trust me, I’m a specialized witch hunter.”
“I know what I saw.”
>”Look, kid, get some sleep tonight. We’ll talk about it later and if you see it again, we can look into it. For now, I’m going to get us a room and then we’ll go look around town.”
“Whatever.”
>You cross your arms and lean into the seat as he climbs out of the car and goes inside.
>Seeing things. Yeah right.
>The only time you saw things was when the doctors tried to drug you up.
>Then things got a little crazy.

>Your eyes begin to close on you, so you step outside of the car.
>The cold air bites at your face and you feel yourself waking up already.
>If it weren’t for the gun in your jacket, you’d be buttoning up right now.
>That would be just your luck though to have your jacket closed up right when you need to draw.
>Instead you nut up and take the cold while you wait the five minutes for Iron Will to come back.
>He sees you impatiently tapping your foot and grins.
>”Eager to walk, huh? I like it!”
>He tries to pat you on the back, but you move away before his hand can land.
“Let’s go.”
>The both of you take off and walk through the town, taking the time to chat up anybody you meet on the sidewalk.
>They are all, of course, concerned about the missing children.
>With only clothes left behind, they fear that some child predator may be lurking about.
>A few even give you names of who they think it might be.
>A witch hunt, so to speak, though none of them get how ironic their phrasing is.
>There are then the more informed citizens of the town who know what goes bump in the night, and they’re all just as helpful as the blissfully ignorant.
>They know it’s witches, they just don’t know anything beyond that.
>Iron Will assures them that he’ll get to the bottom of it and the day will be saved.
>He’s done it a thousand times, after all. He’s a Standard class. He’s specialized in witch hunting.
>What a blowhard.
>Master of one means ass of the many, but you guess he never got that memo.
>Eventually, you two arrive at a bar right near the center of town.
>There are plenty of cars parked outside, so Iron Will decides to take a stroll in and see who he can get to talk.

>You follow and are floored by how cold it is inside.
“Jesus, doesn’t this place have any heat?”
>A strong shiver runs through you as you stuff your hands deep into your pockets.
>”Gas line’s busted,” says some drunkard at a table not too far from you.
“Busted?”
>”They tried to put one of those fancy pipelines in town a couple months back but somethin’ kept scarin’em off. Gas’s been leakin’ out in the woods ever since. State hasn’t come by to fix it yet.”
>That seems incredibly unethical.
>Sounds about right though, you suppose.
>Fuck this, by the way.
“Iron, I’ll be outside,” you shout to him when he sits down at the bar counter.
>He gives you a little wave and you head back out.
>It’s somehow warmer out than in the bar, which is nice, but what catches your attention isn’t the temperature shift.
>It’s the presence of another cat.
>This one is just as black as the last that you saw, but rather than having blue eyes, they seem to be hazel.
>It sits just one yard away from you on the curb, wagging its tail back and forth.
>You slowly reach into your jacket and wrap your hand around the grip of your revolver.
>The creature tilts its head and meows at you, then gets up and walks off.
>As it enters an alley, it almost seems to beckon you in with a little nod.
>This definitely isn’t a normal cat.
>A witch, maybe?
>You draw the gun and set your finger near the trigger as you approach the alleyway beside the bar.
>When you get there, you see that it’s chock full of cats.
>They all blend together into one onyx mass of fur, but each of them has different, shockingly human eyes.
>Blues, greens, browns, and everything else you’d see in a normal room.

>They meow in unison upon seeing you and begin to move, making a small path for you to walk through to the end of the alley.
>A large and very loud part of you wants to kill them all right now.
>The one thing stopping you is your lessons with the Director, or rather, lack thereof.
>He’d never mentioned witches changing their own forms.
>Well, not into cats, at least.
>A select few powerful witches once possessed the ability to turn into crows, but that hasn’t been seen in almost a thousand years now.
>Cautiously, you do what you think they’re hinting at.
>In the center of their little cat circle, there’s one empty plastic bottle sitting on the ground.
“What’s this?”
>You bend down and pick it up in your numbing hand.
>The water bottle is old and crinkled, and some of the wrapper is faded, but you can still make out the words on the back.
“Bottled at Our Town Lake?”
>Well that doesn’t seem sanitary at all.
>When you’re done reading, the group of curious felines disperses, disappearing in the street before you can question any of them.
>Why the fuck did they want you to see some dumb water bottle?
>You sigh and throw it over your shoulder, leaving the alley before anything else weird happens.
>Iron Will has exited the bar by then and waves you down.
>”What’s up, kid?”
“I saw more cats,” you reply while stuffing your gun back in your jacket.
>”More freaky ones?”
“What do you think?”
>”Alright, watch the attitude.”
“What fucking cats would I be talking about? Yes, more freaky ones.”
>”Kid, you need some damn sleep,” he snaps back, ushering you to follow. “Come on, we’re going back to the motel. I won’t learn anything else today.”
“We’re going back? But the witches are still out there. We’re in town, we should be looking for them.”
>”Witches don’t hide in towns, they hide in the woods. I for one do not want to be prowling around these woods at night looking for witches.”

>He raises a good point, you suppose.
>Still, the idea of sleeping in this town knowing there are monsters prowling around makes your skin crawl.
>You should be hunting them.
>Killing them.
>That’s your job, isn’t it?
>To search and destroy.
>He’s been doing this longer than you, though.
>He’s probably been in this situation before.
>Maybe you should be following his lead, keeping that in mind.
>You want to kill those monsters as much as the next guy, but you’ve also never fought a witch before.
>Taking a coven on at night might not be your best idea.
>God damn it.
>He spots the distress on your face and sighs, setting a hand on your shoulder.
>”I know how you feel, but trust me. This is the best way to operate. We’ll get up bright and early tomorrow and go find them, alright?”
>Bright and early.
>Maybe that’s the best you can do.
>Even so…
>You can’t avenge anybody if you’re killed by a few skanks in the woods because you decided to take them on at night.
>You resign to the man’s will and follow him back to the motel.
>By the time you get there, the sun has set and the world is cast into darkness.
>You shut the door and lock it behind you as Iron Will grabs a thing of salt out of the cabinet of the small kitchenette.
>While he seals the entrances with lines of salt, you look around the room.
>There’s a couch and a few chairs with a coffee table in the center of all that.
>In the front of the room is a large, old looking television that probably hasn’t gotten cable in years.
>Apart from a bed in the corner of the room, scooted to the left of a large window looking out at the moonlit parking lot, there’s not much else.

>Once done, he puts the seasoning away. You note a small coffee maker on the table below the cabinet.
>The man lets out a mighty yawn and begins to strip down to his tighty-whiteys.
>They are certainly tight, but not very white anymore.
>”I’m hitting the rack. You should go to bed soon too,” he states as he climbs onto the bed, moving as close to the wall as he can in a likely attempt to leave room for you. “See you in the morning, kid.”
>Yeah, morning.
>Iron Will is knocked out fast, and soon enough you can hear his snoring.
>You sit on the table in front of the tv and turn it on.
>There’s static on every channel you flip to.
>Even the DVDs in the rack are so scratched up they don’t play.
>This room better have not been more than fifty bucks.
>You toss the remote onto the couch and stand up to pace around the room for a little bit.
>Witches.
>Cats.
>Water bottles.
>What’s the damn connection here?
>There’s something. You know there is.
>What are you missing?
>You head to the window and gaze out of it, staring at nothing in particular.
>As Iron Will’s snoring drones on, becoming almost a metronome, your thoughts begin to blend together.
>You lean forward, pressing your forehead against the frigid glass.
>What connection...are you not...
>Your eyes begin to close before you can finish the sentence.
>In that split second, you see her face.
>It flashes before your eyes brighter than any light has ever shined.
>Those eyes. Those horrible, soulless eyes as red as blood.
>You shout and jump away from the window, almost tripping over yourself.

>Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it in your ears.
>Your breathing is hard to get under control, and you soon feel lightheaded from trying.
>As you regain your bearing, you dig your fingers into your burning, tired eyes.
>They feel wet.
>Pulling your hand away, you see tears dotting the fingertips.
>Without wasting any more time, you go over to the coffee maker and start a pot.
>The minutes tick away slowly as it fills up.
>As soon as there’s enough for a cup, you pour it out and begin to drink, not even bothered by the bitter blackness of it.
>Caffeine runs through your veins, perking you and bringing some sharpness back to your mind.
>Man, how long has it been?
>Two....three days?
>You don’t know. It all seems to meld together sometimes.
>One chunk of time can feel like a day, others can seem unending.
>It’s all just one day after another strung together by short naps in between.
>And that’s how it’s going to stay as long as you have anything to say about it.
>You march back over to the window, leaving the coffee to brew, and stand post.
>Iron Will continues to enjoy his slumber, snoring up a storm while you keep an eye on the world outside.
>Cup by cup, you wait out the night until the morning sun finally peeks over the horizon.
>As if on cue, Iron Will wakes up and stretches out his mighty muscles.
>The man sits up and rubs his eyes gently, looking over at you as you finish your...eighth? No, ninth cup of coffee.
>”An early riser, huh?”
>His words take a few seconds to register to you, but you give him a slight nod when they do.
“Morning.”
>”I like it.”
>Iron Will climbs out of bed and dresses himself back in the clothes he wore yesterday.
>”Already made coffee too, huh? You’re pretty efficient, kid!”
“Mmhm,” you mutter.

>You sway back and forth on your heels, trying and almost failing several times to keep your balance as you stare blankly out the window.
>Iron Will makes some noise behind you as he does whatever the fuck it is he’s doing.
>After a short while, the noise dies down and he comes up, standing beside you with a cup in his hand.
>”Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
>Your tone isn’t as motivated as he would probably like it to be.
>The man looks at you and grabs you by the shoulder so he can face you towards himself.
>”Jesus, kid. You look like shit! Did you even sleep last night?”
>You yank your shoulder out of his grip and stumble back.
>Your legs get all tangled up in each other and you fall down on your ass.
>The ceramic mug flies from your hand and smashes into the carpet, but thankfully it doesn’t break on the impact.
>Fucking asshole would have been in a world of hurt if it did.
>You grunt and snatch it up off the floor before standing and rubbing your eyes.
>”You need to lay down.”
“The sun is up and there are witches to hunt. I’ll be fine. What, are you afraid you can’t keep up?”
>Once you drain the remains of the coffee pot into your mug and consume it, you feel another quick burst of energy.
“The day is dying. We need to get a move on.”
>”Anon, I don’t--”
“It’s none of your business,” you snap back before he can finish his sentence.
>”Alright, alright. Calm down, will you?”
>Iron Will sighs and runs a hand through his short, cropped hair.
>”Are you up to this?”
>You nod fervently, taking the opportunity to shake your head and wake yourself up a bit.
“I’m good to go.”
>”You sure?”
“As sure as I am that there are monsters out there that need killing.”
>Your index finger begins to twitch, scratching against the counter before you pull away and steady yourself upright.

>”Fuck it, I guess. Come on, kid. Let’s see how far you go before you need a nap.”
>Nap.
>There’s plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead.
>You leave with him and head out to the woods.
>According to Iron Will, witches always hide in the woods.
>There hasn’t been a witch yet who took refuge in the cities.
>He’s very determined to find them out there, which is why as the hours tick on and the sun moves from just over the horizon to high over head, his spirits never fail.
>”They’re just around the corner, I know it!”
>He cheers himself on as he hops out from behind a tree and grabs the flare gun on his belt.
>Much to his surprise, though not to yours, he’s faced with another vast expanse of forest.
>No witch huts in sight.
>”What the hell?”
“Let me guess. You were sure this time?”
>”I was!”
>You roll your eyes and look around the general area.
>Crisp leaves made of fire and gold crunch underneath your boot as you meander about.
>No sign of witches.
>No sign of anything.
>They’re out here somewhere.
>You can feel it in your bones.
>Somewhere in this forest, there’s something you need to kill.
>Some monster, some walking disease that’s lived a little too long and needs to be taken out.
>If this idiot can’t find them, you will.
>There’s a hint somewhere in this forest.
>Nobody is so clever that they’re untraceable.

>You’re just missing something.
>Something…
>You’re just…
>Tired.
>Really, really…
>Anon!
>You shake your head and slap yourself across the face loud enough that the sound of it rings in your ears afterward.
“Fucking shit!”
>”Kid, are you alright?!”
>Iron Will rushes up to you, flexing out of his shirt now and wielding an oversized flare gun in either hand.
>You squint from the pain and stare at the ground.
>For the briefest of seconds, you swear you can see a water bottle lying in a pile of leaves.
>You bend down and reach for it, shuffling the decaying plant life around, and end up finding nothing but dirt and a few motivated ants.
>Are you seeing things already?
>Although, now that you think about it, that water bottle does ring a bell.
>You’ve seen one before. 
>In the hot, dizzy fog of your exhausted mind, you sift through all the scattered memories of the last few days to find anything matching what you just saw.
“Cats!”
>”Cats?”
“The cats! They showed me!”
>”Showed you what? Kid, you’re talking crazy.”
“Iron, I don’t think this coven is in the middle of the woods. There’s a lake nearby that this town bottles all its water at.”
>”And the cats told you this?”
“Yes. I mean, no. They didn’t say anything. They’re cats.”
>”Kid, let me stop you there.”
>He holsters one of the guns and uses his now free hand to pat your shoulder reassuringly.
>”If you’re going to tell me the witches built their hut near a lake because some crazy cats whispered it to you, skip it.”
“It’s a fair lead.”
>”It’s crazy. Even putting aside your hallucinations--”
>The man’s face pales from your glare and pulls his hand away quickly as he steps back.
>”Er, I mean, maybe they weren’t hallucinations?”
“I know what I saw.”
>”Yeah, well, either way, witches don’t do the whole water thing. They don’t swim too good. There’s no way they’d build their hideout near a lake.”

>No way, huh?
“What are you willing to bet on it?”
>”I don’t make bets with stuff this important.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Me? I’m willing to bet my life that you’re chasing this down the wrong road.”
>”Heavy stakes.”
“It’s worth a look, at least.”
>Iron Will shakes his head and turns away from you, scanning the nearby area once more.
>”You’ve got to trust me on this, kid. I know what I’m doing. I’m a specialized witch hunter, after all.”
“So you’ve said.”
>The man continues his fruitless search for another few hours, putting the sun near the other end of the horizon.
>Darkness begins to descend and you have a feeling that he’s going to call it quits soon.
>You’ve had just about enough of this shit.
>All day you’ve played along hoping that he would see reason, but it’s just been one big disappointment on your part.
>Fuck it. Fuck him.
>You turn on your heels and begin walking in the other direction.
>”And what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“My job.”
>”It’s getting dark. We should be heading back to town so we can start fresh tomorrow.”
“Uh huh.”
>Now where is this damned lake?
>A map would be helpful right about now.
>Although, it seems you might not need a map for this.
>A little ball of pitch black fur peeks out at you from behind a tree.
>The cat meows and begins walking through the woods, its little padded paws totally silent on the leaves as it practically sails over them.
>”Hey, get back here. That’s an order!”
“Shove it up your ass, Iron,” you call back without bothering to look at him.
>”Kid!”

>The seasoned hunter’s hefty footsteps catch up to you soon.
>He trods close behind you, casting a long shadow over your body.
>”You’re going to get yourself killed walking around out here all alone.”
“Is that a fact?”
>”Damn right it is.”
“Don’t worry, Iron. I’ll keep you safe.”
>You reach for your jacket and pull the revolver out, wrapping your finger around the trigger and keeping it ready to go.
>”Trigger discipline, kid.”
>He’s quiet for the next blissful few minutes.
>The cat has, for it’s part, done a fine job of leading you along.
>The moon has since replaced the sun as the ruler of the sky, but you’ve at last reached the lake.
>The water shimmers peacefully in the pale light of the full moon.
>It looks as if nothing bad could ever happen out here. That is, until you see two things that break the picturesque scene.
>Your feline guide scampers away into the night, leaving you to examine two buildings on opposite ends of the lake from each other.
>One is a large bottling facility. You’re willing to venture a guess that it’s where Our Town gets its happy little water bottles from.
>On the other side, nestled more neatly behind a thin tree line, is a wood hut.
“What was that about witches never building near lakes?”
>”I can’t believe it. This is definitely a first.”
“What it is is an opportunity.”
>”Exactly. Now that we know where they are, we can come back tomorrow and grab them in the morning.”
“Or I could go kill them now.”
>”What? Oh, hell no. We’re not fighting witches at night.”
“Go back to the motel and hide, then. I’ll do it myself.”
>Without waiting for his reply, you head off toward the hut.

>Iron Will races ahead of you and pleads for you to stop, but you absolutely refuse to do so.
>They’re within reach now. Why would you leave them to live?
>He finally seems to understand your resolution and drops the subject.
>Sadly, that doesn’t mean he leaves you alone.
>No, he instead decides to “lead the way,” as he put it.
>Again, what a blowhard.
>After about five minutes of walking, you come up to the hut that you two have been looking for all day.
>It’s bigger than you thought it would be.
>Much bigger, actually. It’s only one story high, and a short one story at that, but it is incredibly wide.
>So wide, in fact, that the circular home meshes into nearby trees, becoming one with them in certain spots.
>Branches sprout out from the roof, connecting the home more to the forest.
>Various leaves grow out on the walls, clinging to them. 
>A stiff autumn breeze takes a few of the warmly colored leaves off and sending them to the ground to join the large piles that cover the ground.
>”They’re in there,” the hunter whispers, ushering you to follow him behind a bush.
>He points to a milky looking window with a few cracks in the corners.
>Its view inside is blocked by some thick red curtains, but you both can make out candlelight from beyond it.
>”Alright, we have the element of surprise.”
>Iron Will takes the flare guns off his belt again and hands you one.
>”Aim for the heart.”
“I know.”
>You stuff your revolver back in your jacket and take his offer.
>Now armed with your own flare gun, you’ll fare a bit better in there.
>He lifts his arm and aims at the hut carefully.

“What are you doing?”
>”I’m going to shoot a flare out and burn the place down. You keep a watch on the door and torch anyone who runs out.”
“Wow, hell no. We can’t just burn the place down.”
>”Why not? Do you want to get in a fight with those things?”
“We don’t even know what’s inside. Witches, sure, but what if there are humans in there too?”
>”There won’t be.”
“And what if there are?”
>”Anon, trust me. I’m a specializ--”
“Save it.”
>You stand up and walk out from behind the bush.
>Burn the place down with a bunch of kids inside.
>Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
>You march forward, the leaves crunching underneath your boots with every step as you near their door.
>”Damn you!”
>Iron Will hops up as well and charges ahead of you.
>He raises his foot and kicks the doorknob, shattering the wood around it and sending the oak looking plank flying.
>Looks like that’s your cue.
>You raise your flare gun and rush in after him.
>”Yeah! Get some, witches!”
>He shoots a few flares wildly as you make it inside.
>They’re frozen in midair until their bright scarlet flames die out and do nothing but smoke.
>Once extinguished, they drop onto the creaky, dusty floor with hollow clunks.
>”Um…”
>You spot three figures moving across the room, each one with their own specific color scheme.
>How cliche.

>”Look what we have here, ladies.”
>”Intruders!”
>”Toys!”
>Oh hell no.
>They all step forward so that you can better see them.
>The middle is shorter than you by a good head.
>She’s wearing a long blue and gold cloak that looks like she pulled it out of a bad medieval fair.
>”What do we do with them, Colgate?” asks the yellow one from the side.
>That one’s red hair is pulled up into some truly atrocious attempt at what you think is a beehive from the mid 50s.
>”I have a great idea, Moondancer,” chuckles Colgate as she aims her index finger at Iron Will.
>”You have tormented this town long enough, witches. Release the children!”
>”Ye who enter, thy fate hath sewed. Bear ye now, form of toad!”
>From her blue fingertip shoots a bright light that guns straight for Iron Will.
>As it strikes his body, he shouts in pain and drops his gun.
>The sound of his bones cracking and snapping fill the room as his body twists and contorts, rearranging itself in new and exotic ways that you’ve never seen a man bend before.
>He begins to shrink as well.
>Iron Will’s muscles fade away, leaving his increasingly shiny and slimy skin to hang loosely off his deforming body.
>Soon, his voice fades away.
>He vanishes from your sight, lost inside the mess of his own clothes as he shrinks beyond even them.
>After a few more seconds, the light dissipates.
>There’s a slight shifting in the pile of clothes on the floor.
>From the once strained fabric that stretched itself across Iron Will’s body emerges a small toad no larger than your cell phone.

>”Ooh, how adorable! I could just eat him up!”
>”Shut up, Twinkleshine,” barks Colgate. “No more eating the familiars. We agreed on this!”
>”But look at him,” the pink-haired witch cries, her lip quivering as she shakily points to the meal she’d been denied.
>”Forget the toad. Look at him,” coos Moondancer.
>The yellowed woman waggles her enormous, bushy eyebrows at you.
>Plan B.
>Wait, there wasn’t even a Plan A here.
>You toss the flare gun down at the floor and hold your hands up.
“Hey now, no need to go turning anybody else into toads. Can’t we talk?”
>You dart your eyes to each of the women, taking little peeks around the hut as you do so.
>There’s a great abundance of candles stuck on top of various tables or mounted on walls.
>A few windows lead to the outside, though they’re covered by the thick curtains that from your best guess are some cotton or wool mix.
>”Oh, then what animal would you like to be?” asks Colgate.
>She saunters forward, her hips swaying with every step.
>”Make him a lamb! I haven’t had lamb in a while!”
>”We don’t eat familiars!”
>Moondancer and Twinkleshine find themselves in a heated argument over what the best use of a strapping young familiar is while Colgate closes the distance between you.
>She stands a couple yards away now and stops her advances, preferring to lean against one of the many book-covered tables in the stuffy hut.
>No matter where you look, you can’t find any sign of life other than them.
>No humans.
>Good. That makes this easier.
“Well actually, I’d prefer to not be an animal at all.”
>”I’m afraid that’s not an option, hun. You see, you’ve stumbled into our hut, which means you’re going to become of use to us one way or another. You can live the rest of your life in servitude as our familiar, or you can become ingredients for our spells.”
“And here I thought witches didn’t use familiars anymore.”
>”And that’s when witches began to fade from the history books. We intend to change that. Once our plan is finished, we’ll put witches back on the front page!”

>”Chaika on the front page,” cheers Twinkleshine.
>They want to do things the old way, huh?
>That is fantastic fucking news.
>Witches from pre-Trials times operate as a subcategory of demons.
>If these girls are anything like their ancestors, then they won’t be able to resist this.
>”Well, what’ll it be, hun? I do hope you pick servitude.”
“I think it’d be a bit more fun if we left that up to a game.”
>Everyone zeroes in on you, becoming visibly more attentive.
>”A game?”
“Yeah. I see you have a lot of candles around here. What if we saw who could light this room up the fastest? If I win, you don’t turn me into anything.”
>”And if we win?”
“I don’t know. You get my soul, I guess?”
>Colgate’s grin stretches across her face.
>”Hear that, girls?”
>”A real soul?”
>”Wow, I’ve never had one of those before!”
>”Yes you did. You sold it, idiot.”
>”Oh yeah.”
>Colgate picks herself up off the table and walks up to you, extending her hand.
>”You’ve got a deal.”
>You reach out and grab hold, sealing the demon’s contract.
>Suddenly, the blue witch pulls away.
>”First to light the hut up wins,” she proclaims before waving her hands, suddenly killing every candle and robbing them of their flames.
>You dive for the floor and grab the two discarded flare guns.
>You aim them at each end of the room right where you remember the windows being and fire.
>The guns burst and send their fiery payload out.
>”What?!”
>The intense, almost pink flames burn brightly, illuminating the entire hut with their heat.
>The flame spitting out from each canister catches the curtains on fire.
>The wild flames spread along the walls, soon engulfing the inside of the hut.
“Guess I win! Nice playing with you, ladies.”
>You throw the guns down and grab Iron Will’s toadish body off the floor before bolting out of the hut and whizzing back into the thick treeline.

>You trip over your own feet as you zip behind a tall standing tree.
>It’s wider than your shoulders, so you crawl behind it and stand back up to catch your breath.
>Behind you, the wild crackling and roaring of the fire lets you know that hut is soon going to be no more.
>If you’re lucky, they’ll follow suite.
>You look at the toad still clenched in your hand and sigh.
“Figures it wouldn’t be that easy, huh?”
>Alright, so they’re not dead.
>Elsewise Iron Will would be back to normal.
>Are they fire resistant or something?
>No, that’s absurd. They probably just ran out before they could catch.
>You could try to drown them.
>Yeah, Anon. They’re just going to dive into the water when you ask them to.
>You’d have to drag them in in that case, but something tells you they wouldn’t make that easy.
>Hell, if you already had your hands on them, you could probably just take their heads off and call it a night.
>The tree begins to creak from behind you, shifting against your back.
>Fuck!
>You lunge forward to get away from the tree just as a pair of wooden arms stretch out from it, wrapping around your chest.
>They pull you back, slamming your body against the tree hard enough that you drop the toad.
>Iron Will begins to hop away excitedly.
>The tree shifts again, producing a womanly head which hangs just over your left shoulder.
>”You’re quite a bit of trouble, hun. Do you know how far you’ve set us back?”
>You struggle against the wooden arms, but you can’t muster the strength to force them open.
>Maybe you’re just too tired to move like that or maybe her magic is too strong.
>Either way, it looks like you’re stuck here unless you can think of something else.

>”That’s alright, though. We’ve waited decades, we can wait a little longer. You haven’t stopped us. In fact, you’ve only helped us.”
>The tree woman produces a long, ugly tongue covered in sap that she runs up your neck and face.
>A shiver runs down your spine from the slimy feeling working into your skin.
>She giggles and moves, her head extending out of the tree on a branch and twisting around to look you in the eyes.
>”You won our game by technicality so we can’t turn you into an animal. I can still chop you up and make some nice ingredients for a stew though. A boy with your spirit will make the purest, most potent brews. So really, thank you for delivering yourself to our doorstep!”
“What can I say?”
>You pry against the branch and free enough of your jacket to slip your hand inside.
“I aim to please.”
>You whip your gun out and press the barrell against her chin.
>With a pull of the trigger, the wooden head explodes.
>The deafening sound of the gun splits your ears and dizzies you.
>As the ringing drones on following the blast, you push off the tree and free yourself from the now lifeless arms.
>That didn’t kill her, but at least you’ve got a shot to run for now.
>Which is exactly what you do.
>The darkness makes it tough to see where you’re going, but at least the adrenaline pumping through your veins sharpens your vision even if just a little.
>You bob and weave through various branches and roots as you cut through the thick forest, putting as much distance between them and you as you can.
>When you think you’re far enough away, you take refuge behind a  tall standing bush.
>Ducking down behind it, you drop to your knees and pants.
>Ok, think.
>Think, think.

>Your flares are back at the hut.
>You don’t have any iron.
>Maybe you could cut your jacket up and make some kind of rope.
>Then you could tie it ot the witches along with a heavy rock.
>Let the weight of that drag them to the bottom of the lake.
>How are you going to get close enough to them to manage that, though?
>Interrupting your thoughts, a loud and shrill buzzing rings out through the night.
>Your phone!
>You stuff your hands in your pockets and desperately search for it.
>You grab the ringing shitter and flip it open.
>”Hello, my boy! I’ve got a job for you.”
“Busy,” you whisper back.
>”There he is!”
>”Behind the bush!”
>Oh god damn it!
>You jump up and sprint again.
>”Too busy for me? I think not! You do remember our deal, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember the deal,” you shout between breaths. “I’ll do it later! I’m busy right now! Like actually fucking bus--”
>You dig your heels into the dirt, skidding along the wet leaves as you come to a forceful halt.
>A burst of yellow magic lands on the ground just a foot ahead of you.
>From it sprouts huge vines that whip around in the air and try to grab onto you.
>”I don’t like your attitude,” says the Director calmly.
>You throw yourself back, narrowly dodging a flying vine that grabs at the air where you just were.
>”Oh come on,” cry the witches.
>You scramble back up to your feet and dart off in the other direction.
“I’m in the middle of a contract, asshole!”
>”Oh, well why didn’t you just say so? That’s perfectly fine. I’ll just text you the details later then. Have a good night, my boy! I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and make sure to stop by the clerk office tomorrow. Have them add the contract to your profile. And don’t forget to shower! You always get so dirty on your jobs. Wash behind your ears, my boy. Oh, and--”
>You shut the phone and jam it back in your pocket. 

>”Twinkleshine, where’s your familiar? The tiger one?”
>”I ate him yesterday.”
>”You what?! We agreed!”
>”He looked so meaty!”
>Tigers?
>Jesus fuck. What else do these bitches have up their sleeve?
>You can’t keep running forever.
>Hell, you can’t keep running at all.
>Your body screams for you to stop.
>Your fevered pace slows to almost a crawl.
>When you can’t manage to walk anymore, your knees shake and threaten to give out on you.
>Your eyes burn from exhaustion.
>They cry for you to shut them, to lay down and go to sleep.
>Can’t sleep though. Can’t sleep.
>Not now.
>You rub them hard until you see stars.
>Got to stay awake.
>You pant, becoming more disgusted by them smell entering your nose and lungs.
>God, what is that?
>This place smells awful. Like...eggs.
>Wait a second, you know that smell.
>That’s gas.
>Gas!
>The pipeline that never got finished!
>Two and two click in your head.
>You follow the smell until you come to a massive concrete tunnel jutting out the side of a tall hill.
>It extends deep enough until you can’t see anymore, but you can definitely make out the scent of gas in there.
>Thank god for corrupt politicians.
>You crouch down beside it and pop open the chamber, pulling one round out before shutting and cocking it again.
>There’s a bush nearby that you climb into, disguising your form until the witches near you again.
>”Where is he?”
>”Did he die?”
>”He better not have.”
>”What a waste of a man.”
>”Ingredients, Moondancer. Ingredients.”
>”That too.”
>You flip the round in your hand and toss it as hard as you can, sending it into the tunnel.
>It clinks on the concrete and rolls around a little.
>The witches jerk their heads toward the noise and grin wickedly.
>”Trying to hide in there, hun? Looks like you’ve found a dead end.”
>Ha. Dead end.
>Get it?

>They slink inside the tunnel, paying no attention to you as you slide out of the bush.
>You take long, painfully careful steps toward them to silent your feet.
>They reach the edge of your vision in the tunnel before you come up to it.
>At that point, you throw caution to the wind and aim down at the gleaming silver round at their feet.
>”What is this?”
>”A bullet?”
>”Where’s the boy?”
“You know, I think I’ve taken a liking to magic. Let me try out one of those spells of yours.”
>”No!”
“Bibbidi bobbidi boom.”
>Bang.
>Your gun erupts with passion as you fire a bullet right into the tunnel.
>It collides with the round on the ground, sparking on contact.
>That spark is enough to ignite the ambient gas in the tunnel.
>The witches disappear in a cloud of fire that they can’t possibly escape.
>You don’t get to stick around and watch them, though.
>The ball of fire is hungry for more and it races outside of the tunnel.
>You run as fast as you can the other way, but you’re not fast enough to escape the force of the explosion as it picks you up off your feet and throws you a dozen yards away.
>You collide with a tree, crumbling against it and falling unceremoniously onto the leafy dirt below.
>Ow.
>Yeah, you’re going to feel that one in the morning.
>Fuck the morning. You feel it now.
>You groan and push up off the dirt, careful for your chest which throbs in pain with every little movement.
>As you put your feet underneath you and stand, you note another sharp ache in your ankle.
>All in all, not a bad pay off for tonight.
>With the witches gone, all their magic should be lifted too, which means you’ll probably find a naked and afraid Iron Will around here somewhere.
>As you limp off, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
>You reach in and fish it out, flipping it open to find a new text message.
>It’s from the Director and it includes all the details on the next job he wants you to take.
>Ooh, this one looks fun.
>A little trip to Transylmaneia, huh?
>Your parents always wanted you to travel…
>You shake the thoughts from your head and send him your compliance.
>Better get a move on, Anon. There are things to do and monsters to kill, and miles to go before you sleep. Miles to go before you sleep.
>After all, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.

THE END