Sam was used to rough mornings. However that one was on her top list. All her muscles were sore, and she could barely move. The young woman felt something soft beneath her, at least something softer than a sharp asphalt. It was really quiet. Maybe that pipe because of which it sometimes was a headache to fall asleep was finally fixed. Sam couldn't help but smile. Yes, that was appreciated, she would thank whoever did it.

Then Sam slowly opened her lilac eyes. She realized that it wasn't her room. Not at all. The girl jumped into seating position, gasping in realization. The events of the yesterday caught up with her. It was painfully obvious that she was far from her home. The room she was in was not big, yet it wasn't small. Sam was sitting on a double bed positioned in the center of the room. Half of her body was covered by a thin blanket. The walls were covered in dark blue wallpapers, and one window was to the left of the bed. There was only one wardrobe, other than that the room was empty.

The young huntress was confused. All she could remember was that some guy cast off the ghosts who almost killed her. Maybe she was at that guy's house. But from what Sam could remember, he didn't sound exactly welcoming. At least he had a decency to give her a bed, that was a relief to a certain degree. Then Sam looked down and saw that some of her wounds had healed. In some places her skin was dry and she couldn't feel them. Something akin to getting a frostbite, when your nerves stop working as well. But that spots were small, for the rare exceptions, she should have been fine.

Suddenly Sam heard a sip. Her head darted towards the spot in the corner, the only thing she missed while observing. Wait, she didn't miss it. Nothing had been there. Well, now there was. A young man was sitting on a chair crosslegged, with a small plate and a cup in his hands. Sam did find him quite handsome at first, although the appearance was indeed unusual. His hair was messy and astonishingly white, so vibrant that it seemed to glow. Not to mention the eyes of a color of pure, unrefined ectoplasm. They held a look of certain amusement. The man was wearing dark shirt and blue jeans. He smirked once the huntress looked at him.

"I was starting to wonder if I'd have to bury you," the man commented, making another sip.

His voice was just as youthful as before Sam blacked out. The appearance confirmed her theory of the age. It was soft, but at the same time dry and ignorant tone partially ruined that softness.

"Well, I'm still alive, at least," Sam rubbed her forehead. "What happened?"

"You were reduced to a status of a bloody pulp, I came in and saved your pretty butt."

Sam wasn't sure how to take it. Everything depended on what exactly the stark haired man implied. She seemed to be too well brought up to inquire the details. A momentary silence settled, as the two watched each other.

"Thank you...I guess..."

The man let out a dry laughter, putting the cup on the nearest shelf. Sam was already familiar with it, but it didn't make her feel any better. A feeling of dread rose in her stomach and up her throat. There was simply something offsetting about him, which made her insides shiver.

"You were hit on the head probably too hard," the man rose to his feet. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"Yes...you were there," Sam rubbed her forehead again. "The ghosts...let you take me?"

"Alright, this part of that brains of yours has lived," the man crossed his hands, but not before tossing her some clothes. "Dress up. And better wash yourself, you stink."

Sam narrowed her eyes. Damn, was that guy an arrogant bastard. "Where are my clothes?"

"Burned them. Not much of use, anyway, with their condition."

The woman's eyes widened. There was a spare communicator inside. It made her suspicious. Did he know about the device he had destroyed? As if hearing her thoughts, the stark haired man smirked. Sam noticed that his teeth were sharper than that of average human.

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding a small device between the fingers after taking it from his pocket.

"I...give it back, please," Said Sam.

One scissors-like motion was enough to snap the little thing in half. She stared at the showoff. Part of her couldn't believe that he just snapped a piece of strong alloy like he had just bent a thin sheet of aluminum. Another part was just pissed.

"You asshole," she cursed. "How am I supposed..."

How quickly it had happened she did not know. She only felt a rough, extremely strong hand grabbing the lower part of her chin. Sam gasped involuntary out of surprise as the neon green eyes pierced through her skin and deep within her soul. They now glistened with anger. The huntress grabbed his hand, but all her already meager strength was not enough to force it away.

"Quite a mouth you have," he whispered. "Know that I won't tolerate insults from some pathetic mortal who is alive only because of me."

The man let go of Sam, before a realization of his words came down upon her. It was so damn obvious, how couldn't she realize it sooner?! Ghosts relented only before one thing - a ghost of superior power. That in turn meant that the one standing before her was an undead as well.

"You are...a ghost," she voiced her thoughts.

"Congratulations. Even your brains were able to realize that."

Sam glared at him, the answer had been a straightforward insult. Moreover, the man turned out to be a being she despised above all else. The feeling was mutual at the seems of it, but she was nevertheless at loss about what to do. Fright Knight's servants were far from being weak, and for them to tremble at the mere sight of that smug bastard, he had to be completely out of her league. Sam guessed it would be better not to make that psychotic man angry at her.

"Can I go to the shower?"

Her captor snorted and started walking out of the door. "Second door on the right. And no funny business."

"Same to you," she mumbled.

Even if Sam had decided not to provoke him, it didn't mean she would let him do whatever he pleased.

The ghost rolled his eyes and went out. Once Sam made sure that he was in another room, she carefully got up from the bed. She was still able to walk normally, which meant none of her bones was broken. Sam noticed that she only had her underwear. She didn't want to waste her effort to be angry again and again. Even if that ghost was looking at her all that time. And where was the guarantee that he didn't go further?

Sighing, Sam entered the bathroom. As she was starting the routine, the young woman couldn't understand the situation she got herself in. That ghost was toying with her, he knew about his superiority in the current situation and exploited it to his desire and pleasure. The woman also noticed the oddity of the place. She was not in the Ghost Zone, she had clearly seen the light going through the curtains. Why would and how could he remain in the Human world? The ghosts couldn't stay there for a large amount of time, they became weaker, for they couldn't survive without enough ectoplasm, especially if they exhausted their power. Although that time could last for weeks, months and even years. And that guy got himself a seemingly nice apartment. Even despite the warm water running down her body Sam shivered at the thought of what he had done to its owners.

Finally she exited the bathroom. Sam felt fresher after washing herself, but wearing obviously male shirt was not what she had in mind. The huntress was unsure about how to proceed, she only saw a light in one of the rooms. Hoping that it wasn't some kind of a torture room, Sam decided to take a peek inside. Her concerns turned out to be misplaced, as that was simply a living room, even if quite posh. There were several bookshelves, armchairs and small coffee tables. The windows were closed, hid behind dark curtains. Damn, there was even a fireplace in a multistory building, although Sam guessed she shouldn't be surprised. She doubted that the ghost asked anyone. Speaking of whom, he was sitting on one of the chairs, with his back turned towards the entrance.

"Finally," the man grumbled at hearing her soft steps on a wooden floor. He didn't even look back. "Left anything there for me or am I going to wash myself in a pond?"

"Relax, nothing would wash away that stench of yours, ghost."

"I don't recall leaving 'my stench' on you."

Sam could feel the smirk on his hidden face. It was weird how the ghost reacted so differently to each word she said. Actually, she had never seen a ghost who was actually talking to people, not just gloating in its superiority. In this case, there were both. Sam could try to take advantage from the precedent situation she found herself in.

"Are you going to take a seat or just stare at the beautiful chair I'm sitting on?" He snapped her out of her observations.

The huntress decided to comply. She moved forward and sat in front of the man, yet again noticing some unique traits of his. Sam had never met a ghost who looked so...human. Hence why she hadn't realized he was an undead in the first place. His skin wasn't green, blue, or of some other odd color, no, it was simply tanned. Ghosts usually radiated glow, yet around him it was rather small, only in such dim lit room was she able to see it.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, seeking an answer to the dreaded question.

"I let you go."

The woman froze, disbelieving what she had just heard. She must have misheard the meaning of his words, was he really going to free her? It's so ridiculous on so many levels. Sam had already come up with many ideas of what to expect, but it wasn't on her list. Then it clicked.

"You want to track me to our vault," she narrowed her eyes.

Yet again the ghost let out a chilling laughter and smirked. "You mean the one beneath the building at 7, Palm street?"

To describe Sam's horror there would be no words. He knew where all her comrades in arms were hiding...

"Relax," the man snapped her out of observation. "His Majesty doesn't know this yet."

If only she had a gun on herself. But it was probably lying around at the place where that fight had occurred. Another thing came to Sam's mind. Why didn't he tell Pariah about this? He was a tyrant not seen before, but he could and he did reward those who served him well. And if there was something the ghosts craved was power. Why wasn't he showing that ambition? That ghost sitting next to her was an anomaly. After all, why would he lie about this, if her knowing wouldn't make any difference?

"Why didn't you tell?"

"Multiple reasons," he leaned back in the armchair. "First of all, you humans make this rotting hole you call home interesting. All that petty Rebellions of yours make my afterlife more satisfying. And with you gone I'll die again from boredom."

Sam glared at him. "We are not toys for you to play with. We want to be free, to make everything as it had been before you, monsters, came in and ruined everything!"

"You may not agree but that's what you are. A theater without director," he kept his smirk, despite her outburst in the end. "Strong thrive, weak die. Isn't it what the laws of nature dictate?"

"You are not a part of it to make such claims," she responded.

"Perhaps. Doesn't change the fact that you are at our mercy, and, by the extension, mine. I don't hear gratitude, actually."

"For what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, I did save you."

"I doubt it was because of altruistic ideals."

"True. I just wanted to make fun of Fright's goons. Again, I was bored. Flames, I hate this world," he muttered in the end and rubbed his temples.

"Then why be here in the first place?"

"Because my father ordered me to. Apparently, Fright Knight's constant failures didn't do him any good."

Sam raised her eyebrow. "You say it like he is your enemy."

"Rival at the Royal Court, obviously."

"Uhm...excuse me, sir."

Sam's head snapped towards the entrance and she almost jumped. There was a green skeleton, dressed in a torn tuxedo at the entrance. She wondered if it was actually what she saw. The owner of the place had a weird sense of humor.

"Yes?" The stark haired ghost asked calmly.

"Shall I bring the breakfast?"

"You may," His Master responded without even looking back.

"What...was that?" Sam asked as the skeleton bowed and left the room.

"My butler. I could bring at least something here, thankfully."

Sam saw a glass of water on a coffee table. Seeing no reaction, she started drinking, as she suddenly felt really thirsty.

"Living posh, aren't you?" The woman deadpanned.

The man snorted. "Did you really expect Daniel Phantom, son of the High King Pariah Dark live in a roach filled room such as yours?"

Sam coughed the water and almost dropped the glass out of her complete and utter shock. No damn way she could have expected THAT one coming. Her mind was racing on rapid speed as she could only stare at 'Phantom'. Whoever gave birth to that one had to be Buddha reincarnated. Sam did see Pariah on the images, and that giant looked nothing like Phantom. Probably took after his mother, whoever she was. No one even knew of his existence until he decided to reveal himself! What for, was another mystery to solve, but that big unknown made Sam uneasy. Since that man was a Prince, and thus possessed some of his father's power, she really was a goner if he decided to do something.

Phantom meanwhile crossed his legs, as the skeleton butler returned, putting the food on the coffee table. It wasn't before the stark haired ghost snapped his fingers and the fire in the fireplace burst brighter, Sam had snapped out of her confusion. The smell from the food was so wonderful, thought a girl who had spent her entire life eating some sub-products. It was something which didn't go unnoticed.

"Enjoy while you can," the ghost said almost pitying. "You probably won't get another chance."

He was teasing her, Sam knew it. Instead of looking at fresh eggs, sausages and toasts, she turned to him.

"The people are starving out there. And you are enjoying this feast in a middle of blight."

"Compared to what my father has this is hounds' food," Phantom deadpanned. "It's their problem and I have no moral obligations before them."

"This is why everyone hates you," Sam hissed. "You are just..."

A raised finger stopped her from doing something she could regret. The man smirked. She learned her place quickly.

"Hating us won't fill their stomachs," the ghost responded with amusement, taking a piece of bacon in his mouth.

Silence settled after that. Sam only observed. She noticed the manners he had, something on the level of reflexes. He ate according to the rules of eating etiquette. Funny that the ghosts had the same ones.

"Do you actually need to eat?" Sam suddenly asked.

"One can enjoy the taste despite the need. Are you going to eat up or not?"

The woman shook her head and crossed her hands. "I'm not taking anything from you, ghost."

Phantom's neon eyes looked up from his food. "Admirable. This I cannot deny, Ms. Manson."

"You know my name?"

"You carry name tags within your clothes. Dangerous practice, if you have a family, that is."

"I don't..."

"Well, then you don't have any factor to be threatened with."

"Thanks a lot," Sam said dryly and crossed her hands.

"You are welcome," Phantom responded with an innocent smile, ignoring the sarcasm.

Sam leaned back in her seat, taking another look around the room. Yes, the furniture was clearly something unaffordable for most, but the ghosts' aristocracy certainly could have that and even more. And also someone to clean up the place. It disgusted her how they enjoyed themselves to the fullest extent, to their filthy cores' content, while the people around were dying from starvation and poverty. They were nothing but horrid beasts which destroyed everything on their wake.

The curtains were closed, so Sam didn't see what was outside, or where she was to begin with. Something told her that it had been done with that same purpose. He didn't want his place to be found. The situation was truly unbelievable. She was having breakfast, actually just watched him do that, with the Prince of Ghosts of all people. Or not people, called that for the lack of terms.

"Why...do you let me go?" Sam asked.

"Because I want to," Phantom shrugged. "If you die too quickly it won't be much fun. I am hoping you would put as much as resistance as others before you, because so far you humans are far behind my expectations."

"Before us?"

"Of course," the man snorted. "You aren't the first, neither you will be the last. My job is solving the problems. Squishing the rebellions. But I am always up for a challenge."

"Then fight Pariah," Sam said sarcastically. "Or is he out of your league?"

Phantom's eyes flashed brightly. "Your jokes are misplaced. Father is out of anyone's league," he leaned back. "Besides, I'm not interested in usurpation. Again, I solve problems. He receives them, you create them. I'd prefer to be in this part of this closed chain."

"Because otherwise it is boring," Sam said dryly.

"You are catching up," the man said with amusement. "Good human."

How quickly his mood changed. Sam's glare meanwhile could burn a wall. It pissed her off that she couldn't do anything and that bastard was using his invincibility to the extent. Calling her like she was some kind of dog. Phantom only smirked in amusement and put a hand on his chin. Yes, like a dog barking at a lion. He then rose to his feet and walked to the shelf. Sam was yet again confused, ghosts usually preferred to float, without touching the ground, yet the Prince was doing it so casually. He was so human like, incredibly so for a ghost, yet his disdain for the mortal race was as high as any other's. Phantom took a book from there.

"I think it is time you took your leave," he said, turning around. "Your friends probably think you are dead."

"How long was I unconscious?" Sam asked.

Phantom took a silvery pocket watch and flipped it open. "Thirteen hours," he answered curtly.

The woman couldn't help but agree. Everyone had obviously freaked out by then. A pang of guilt happened in her chest, it was because of her recklessness she got into that mess. Sam was ashamed of herself for doing so despite the warnings. And if she returned everyone would also get pissed, if not relieved. Sam hoped that the information she had gathered from that conversation was enough for the others to forgive her act of misbehavior. Phantom suddenly coughed and got her attention.

"If your friends kick you out, I might spare you," he smirked. "Make sure that the story you are going to tell them is believable."

Sam wondered if the ghost knew everything all along. And because of that the conversation had even taken place.

"I'd have liked to continue our most peculiar conversation, but I'm having visitors soon, and they won't take you as lightly as I have."

"How am I going to get to the hideout?" She asked.

"Simple," the ghost grinned, before putting a cold hand on her shoulder.

Suddenly Sam felt all air kicked out of her guts. She felt the ground beneath her as she fell on her knees. Phantom was standing near her, dusting his clothes. The woman finally took a look around, and saw that she was in an alley, somewhere in town. Her eyes widened in surprise. So he could teleport, alright. At least some of his powers were known now. Sam got up on her legs, facing the ever smirking Ghost Prince.

"So...what now?" She asked.

"I'll be honest. Next time we meet I'll probably have to kill you," Phantom examined his fingers nonchalantly. "For you will have outlived your usefulness and foolishly try to destroy me. I want your friends to know about me, that's also why you are still alive. And better change your location. It was too simple to find."

"You are going to break in."

"If I wanted, I would have done so already," the ghost raised his pale eyebrow. "I'm going to play more fairly."

"Play? Is that all just a game to you?" Sam muttered.

She didn't know why she was asking this. It was too obvious that the man in front of her was hardly the gentlest person around. Yet, unlike the other ghosts he almost...pitied the humans, maybe, even if he wouldn't admit it. His willingness to act more tolerable could tell that. No, Sam decided. It was a simple illusion, created by her mind out of surprise at such behavior of the ghostly heir.

Suddenly her stomach growled, as the lack of breakfast caught up to her. Sam reddened, and she heard a laughter. This time it didn't sound that malicious. Phantom tossed her something, what the woman caught. Sam looked in her hand and saw a chocolate bar. She had never seen one before.

"Take this at least," The Prince chuckled. "You aren't much of a fighter on that pseudo food of yours."

With that Phantom turned around and vanished in the darkness of the alley. Sam looked down at the bar and sighed, putting it in the pocket. She went off in direction of the vault.

The Prince meanwhile smirked. "Maybe staying here won't be that boring, father."

That pesky rebellion would be fun to crush. He just needed to play that game as he always did. As the King's most useful servant.