Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

He laughed to himself, turning on the bike and revving the
engine.
“First thing’s first,” he called out.
We all pulled down our masks, gripped the handles, and
took off.
Damn straight.
It was the perfect setting.
Public space. No kids. Chaos and activity.
It seemed, in the past few years, that absence had made the
heart grow fonder, and the town of Thunder Bay decided to
institute some Mischief Night activities of their own,
apparently lamenting the loss of the horsemen.
Earlier in the evening there was a Halloween parade with a
carnival for the kids, but after ten, the curfew went into effect,
and anyone under sixteen had to be indoors.
To let the adults play.
Bands set up in a couple pubs, drinks were served on the
street, and the entire village square was like one dark, gothic
circus with vendors, games, artists, and performers.
Decorations hung from everything nailed down, people wore
costumes, and masks were heavily encouraged, rumors even of
naughtier get-togethers happening privately or by invitation
only. The event had even started to attract some people from
neighboring towns, too.
It was all very…cute.
Not bad if you wanted to hang out with some friends for a
beer, but this wasn’t the real Devil’s Night. These people wore
their black as a costume.
For us, the costume was coming off.