A dark moonlight befell the lonely street, few scraps of light illuminating the dark and decrepitated brick houses that occupy either side of the stone road. Green banners hung from street lamps and building walls, pictures of a middle-aged man, with a stern look, forehead furrowed, eyebrows sharpened and eyes narrow. Green hair flowing down the back of his head, uncontrolled.
Two people in green uniforms patrolled down the street, the slight burn of a cigarette illuminated in the quiet night.
The one on the right let out a deep sigh, cool smoke escaping his mouth. "It's a cold one tonight, can't wait to get back to the barracks for a nap," he exclaimed, nuzzling his chin into the uniforms neck colour.
The one on the left, a woman, didn't respond. She took in another puff of her cig before flicking it on the ground and crushing it with her foot.
The man glanced at the cigarette, "You know those things can kill you," he stated.
"Yep, and walking down this road, no matter how quiet doesn't exactly mean we're safe from danger either." She retorted flatly, her face bored and tired.
"Who in their bright mind would break curfew," The man joked, flinging the rifle from his back to his hands.
The two went on in silence approaching a curve in the road. Suddenly a bright light sprayed across the street, inches from the two strolling in the middle of the road. A truck gunned towards them, the beam of light intensifying as it rapidly grew close, blinding the two.
"Fuckin stop!" The man cried, one hand covering his eye's, his other planting the gun at his hip. The truck was moments away from crashing into him, fear etched into the corners of his mind, doubt swirling at the possibility that the truck would slam into him.
He suddenly felt a strong tug at his sleeve, chucking him out of the course of the truck, planting him on the rocky road. He looked up to see his partner standing above him. "Now that wasn't very safe was it?"
The truck screamed on, the occupants in the back grabbing tightly onto whatever they can to save themselves from the bouncing and shifty movements. Yossarian held tightly onto the back gate of the truck, his hairy, chiselled face exposed to the cool night air. His eye's darted across the dark night, holding his glance on the people they had just passed for a moment.
"Do you see anything yet," Alfie cried, stumbling from the truck's sudden movements.
"Nothin yet, are you sure it was a bird?" He shouted back, his eye's straining to see something in the mucky and dark air.
"It should be, but keep looking out for anything else just in case," Alfie ordered, firmly planting himself on the floor. He looked back at the other two, Aart and Greg, who were shifting the dozen wooden crates to the back of the truck.
Alfie took in a deep breath, left hand reaching into his back pocket for a white crayon. He started drawing a large circle on the wooden floor, the circle's shape distorting for every bump from the wheels of the truck.
"Aart, could you please tell your brother to bloody control his driving. Look how ridiculous this is," He complained, indicating to the cruddy circle he drew. "I need the circle to be as perfect as possible if I'm going to pull off this spell quickly."
Aart nodded his head and shouted to his brother. Greg moved closer to Alfie slowly to control his balance. "So how is this mumbo jumbo supposed to work? I thought you always said spells take time and patience to be pulled off," Greg asked.
"They typically do, however in such circumstances, we don't have either. Lucky for you, I'm experienced enough of a witch to be able to pull something off in these dire times." Alfie responded, drawing smaller circles and shapes within the larger circle. "And done! Not bad I must say for such shit conditions," He remarked, standing up to admire his work.
"Now I need you two to sit down on the circle here and here," He instructed Aart and Greg. He moved over to Yossarian, who was still straining for any signs in the bland streets. "Yoss, take this," Alfie ordered, handing a pistol over to Yossarian.
Yossarian narrowed his eyes on the pistol, flicking his gaze into Alfie's stern eyes. "You know how I feel about guns," He grunted scornfully.
"I know. But I also know that if you did see a familiar tracking us, there's no bow and arrow or throwing knives for you to use to get rid of it. So here," Alfie stated, shoving the pistol into Yossarian.
Yossarian didn't reach out for it, still looking at it with protest. Alfie sighed, rolling his eye's before speaking to him again. "Listen, I know you have your reasons, and I wish I can respect them right now, however we can't. If we don't get rid of that familiar that Celeres is going to find us, and when he does we are screwed. So please, I'm not asking for you to shoot a person." He pleaded to Yossarian. Alfie placed the gun in his hands, before walking back to the middle of the circle.
Yossarian looked at the pistol in his hands, resentment and grief welling up inside of him. He forced his feelings, back, knowing he had to be practical, yet he couldn't help but feel his mind call him weak.
He glanced back to the dark night, his jade eye's once again straining for any movement. He uttered a curse, his attempts being useless. He lifted the side of his coat, hands straining for a few silver chains that dangled there, fingers feeling around the different chains before pulling hard on one and whipping out a molecule.
He placed it on his right eye, closing his left eye for greater clarity. His vision exploded into different colours, the gloomy bland street spreading out before him illuminating into different auras of colour. He once again looked into the murky night, and that's when he noticed a deep purple colour flying behind them, a couple of metres away.
A smirk crawled on his face. His hands tightly gripped the pistol in his hands, feeling the weight of its metal and the weight of its power. He took in a deep breath before lifting it up, his right eye aiming the small crosshair on the pistol onto the purple aura.
His index finger slowly pulled down on the stiff trigger before tightening his muscles. He quickly squeezed down, the pistol jolting in his hands, a loud blast shooting into the quiet night, light igniting at the barrel.
He suddenly saw the purple colour drop, a faint cry of a woman heard in its direction. Yossarian put on a smile, a familiar was soul bound with their master, meaning for a witch to use their senses, such as sight, they must also share others. Like pain, Yossarian remembered in his mind, a cruel satisfaction grew in his mind.
He dropped the gun in his, feeling its weight slip from his hands.
"Would you stop fidgeting Greg!" Alfie cried. Aart, Alfie and Greg sat crossed legged, in a pyramid formation, their hands held together. The three had their eye's closed, a cluster of crystals and totems sat in the middle of them.
"Sorry that I'm not very good at this meditation shit and connecting with my thingys," Greg retorted, shifting his weight, his forehead deeply furrowed and eyes shut.
"It's chakras, and that's why we practise lessons, if only you showed up for them," Alfie muttered back, trying not to let his anger grow. "Listen just focus on your breathing, I'll send a bit of my will inside of you. Jumpstart your connection to your inner flow in a way."
"Why can't Yoyo do this, he's trained in this whole witchcraft bullshit," Greg grumbled.
"Because he's busy," Alfie shouted back. His mind knowing truly why. Yossarian didn't tell him why, but he explained when they first met that he had, for private reasons forbid himself from following the craft.
Alfie sensing the three of them sort of connecting, started uttering words, the language foreign to the other two. Alfie felt the items in front of him thrum, their power directing the external forces around them towards the trio. Alfie felt the thrumming grow, his words spat out quicker, the force in the three of them seemingly dissipating into the air.
Suddenly the truck came to a crashing halt, sending the four of them flying into the wooden crates in the back and into each other.
"What fucking happened!" Greg hoarsely cried, his body winded from Yossarian's back slamming into his stomach. The four of them slowly got up, their minds either groggy or bodies aching from the crash. Straw and small black stones were scattered on the floor around them, some of the wooden crates cracked, unloading their contents.
Yossarian picked up one of the black stones, a strong heat emitting from its touch, red veins scatted around its surface. He chucked it into a pocket in his coat before jumping out of the truck with the others.
They made their way to the front, each one stopping before the other upon seeing a large man standing in front of the truck. A massive dent was crushed into the truck's cab, glass spattered all over the ground around him.
"Ah, so you must be the troublemakers!" He stated in a deep calm voice.