A car was speeding away just as I appeared by Raz's side. I mock scowled at him; my eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Scaring the locals again, diabolo?" I asked, laughingly.
"Something better," Raz grinned, "Supernatural Humans."
I drew in such a sharp breath that I started to cough uncontrollably. Once they'd died down a bit I peered into his face and asked a calmly as I could, "Are you mad?"
"Maybe," Raz replied with shrug, "Why?"
"We may be the Misfit Unit who doesn't give a damn about this war but they don't know that," I scolded, "What if they'd attacked you instead of fleeing?"
"They wouldn't have because it would have been disrespectful to whomever's grave they were visiting," Raz gestured to the graveyard.
I eyed him doubtfully. "You sure they wouldn't?"
He just looked at me with his cheeky grin. I sighed: I really was a bad influence on my crew.
At first I was totally dedicated to the war; I honestly believed that the Supernatural Humans were injust by trying to eradicate us. Then I watched my friends and family die one by one but not only mine: I saw the Humans lose their loved ones too in this pointless never ending war.
Then it just didn't seem to matter so much. We were in the wrong just as much as them. So I stopped fighting. I found other Supernatural Creatures who felt the same and the Misfit Unit was founded. We treated the whole thing as a joke as we found it so ridiculous. We enjoy stirring up trouble amongst Creatures and Humans alike. I particularly enjoy making them think about the whole point - or lack of - of the war.
Then some Humans joined the Misfit Unit. Some Humans are even my closest friends and we started wondering: if we can manage to live in peace why can't the rest of them? Could we make this war end?
I'm not saying we don't enjoy the odd mischeivious trouble, just we became a little more serious.
"Which grave?" I demanded. Raz looked surprised but led me over. I read the names. A jolt of recognition flashed through me but I carefully controlled my face and body. Casually I gave a wave of my hand and a bouquet of flowers appeared. I laid them on the grave and bowed my head respectfully.
I reread the line at the base of the headstone: 'Loving and loved parents and sister'.
"Did you see the girl?" I glanced at Raz who nodded.
"Yeah," he answered, "Not well though. They moved fast."
My gaze wet back to the stone, "Do you think she'd join our cause?"
"Doubt it," Raz shrugged, "The older woman has clearly got War Fever and she's probably given it to the kids."
'War Fever' was what we called it when people were so adamantly fighting for the war that they refused to be open minded about other possibilities. Say... like peace.
I sighed. It was a shame if the children were more like their guardian than their parents. Maybe, though, if I ran into them I could talk to them, persuade them...
"Come on, Monny," Raz tugged my arm, "Let's go back to camp."
I nodded absently and, with one last glance towards the grave, followed Raz out of the cemetary.