Writing from Youngblood's perspective was easier than I thought it would be...
Thank you for your reviews. :)
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Chapter 4
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Youngblood was bored. Super bored. Mega bored. Ginormously bored. Bored to infinity. So bored that even Bones couldn't un-bore him. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. He didn't like being bored.
So he decided to go bother Phantom.
Phantom was a lot older than him (or a lot younger than him, depending on how he counted), and could be kind of weird sometimes (though Youngblood understood that was because he was a halfa, and therefore kind of sick, like Youngblood used to be), but he was good for a game or two, or a laugh, or a straight-up fight. It really depended on how polite Youngblood was feeling, and how patient Phantom was feeling. Or, from another angle, how bratty Youngblood was, and how territorial Phantom was. No matter which way it played out, Phantom was never boring. Unlike some people.
Youngblood flew to Phantom's portal, giggling madly, already planning out his next game. Giggling madly. Like a mad scientist. Ooh, that was a good idea. He could be a mad scientist and Bones could be Frankenstein! Or maybe Bones would be Igor, and they could make a Frankenstein!
"Hey, Bones, do you think you're more a Frankenstein or an Igor?"
Bones sighed, already shifting into a bony hunchback. "I assume you're speaking of Frakenstein's monster, so I would have to say Igor, master."
"Isn't Frankenstein the monster?"
"No, Frankenstein was the scientist, master. The monster wasn't named."
"Well, that's stupid," complained Youngblood. "Why didn't anyone ever name him? He was the coolest ever! Or he should have named himself, like ghosts do!"
"That's part of the book," started Bones.
"The book!? Boring!"
They had reached the portal. Phantom's portal itself wasn't safe to go through. His parents had sealed it tight, and had stuck a lot of guns and junk onto it. Not to mention the house itself. On the other hand, smaller, temporary, natural portals to Amity Park spawned near it literally all the time. Bones and Youngblood didn't have to wait long for one to appear.
"Maybe I won't be a mad scientist," said Youngblood, after they had gone through. "Maybe I'll paint on the walls. I always wanted to be an artist, you know." Youngblood had always wanted to be lots of things. He vaguely remembered wanting to be a dinosaur when he grew up, but growing up was for losers. "But the adults didn't recognize my genius. Whenever I drew they were all like 'oh, no, you can't draw on the walls!'"
"I see," said Bones, returning to his favorite parrot shape.
Two cans of spray paint popped into Youngblood's hands, his outfit transmuting into a childish image of an artist, complete with a beret. A too-wide, too sharp smile spread over Youngblood's face. He couldn't wait until Phantom showed up, so that he could spray the teenager in the face. He could just imagine the look on Phantom's face. It would be hilarious.
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Two hours later, and Phantom still hadn't shown up. Neither had his weirdo parents, or his friends. Which was weird, and also bleh. Boring. He'd entertained himself with painting for a while, and with avoiding the coppers, who couldn't see him, and that red girl with the hoverboard who also couldn't see him even though she was obviously a teenager, but those games had limited utility.
He wanted to play with Phantom. That's why he had come in the first place.
He floated in the air over a building that was now tastefully decorated in dinosaurs and superheros, pouting. There had been fewer policemen than there usually were, too, and the red girl had seemed especially upset (and incompetent), now that he thought about it. His eyes narrowed. Youngblood might have been immature, but he wasn't stupid.
He floated higher, scanning the town.
"Hey, Bones, help me find where all the police are."
"The police?" asked the skeletal parrot. "Aye aye, captain." He spiraled up even further than Youngblood, his circles growing ever wider as Youngblood spun beneath.
"Thar she is!" said Bones.
"You don't have to do that," said Youngblood, flying in the indicated direction. "We're not playing pirates right now."
"If you say so," said Bones, swooping down alongside Youngblood.
They reached the part of the town that had the tallest and fanciest buildings. Police and cameramen were swarming all over them. There was yellow tape everywhere, especially in front of a stately building with columns.
It was very exciting.
But it wasn't terribly informative. Most of the police officers and detectives were only talking about what was going on right then, about what they were doing, or what they had found. They weren't talking about what had happened, which was what Youngblood was interested in. Because this had to be related to why Phantom wasn't showing up. It didn't look like it had been a ghost fight, at least not a typical one. There wasn't enough damage, and Youngblood remembered enough about the human world to know that its buildings and structures didn't repair themselves. In fact, as far as Youngblood could tell, there wasn't any damage at all. But then, what ghost fight was typical, especially when Phantom was involved? When was anything involving Phantom typical? He was a weirdo from a family of weirdos in a town of weirdos.
What a weirdo.
"Perhaps we should listen in on one of the reporters," suggested Bones.
"What? You think that they'd know something the cops don't?"
"Unlikely, but they will be talking about what they do know. That's their job, after all."
"Ooh. Good idea!"
They zoomed over to a nearby reporter, whose crew was just starting to get ready to film. They waited impatiently. At least, Youngblood did. He jiggled and bounced and made faces at the reporter.
"Hello!" said the reporter, finally. "I'm Harriet Chin for Amity News, reporting from the site of the attempted assassination of our own mayor, Vlad Masters by a sniper in one of these buildings. Mr Masters was not hit, thanks to the swift and heroic actions of Daniel Fenton, who had been receiving a scholarship from Mr Masters at the time. Mr Fenton, however, was shot, and brought to South Mercy Hospital. We are currently waiting for word on his condition..."
Youngblood floated off, no longer particularly interested in what the reporter had to say. No longer wanting to hear what the reporter had to say. She had said the forbidden, most hated word. Hospital. Youngblood hated hospitals. He wasn't scared of them, he had spent too much time in them to be scared, but he hated them.
And Phantom had been sent to one? He'd been hurt that badly?
Youngblood barred his teeth. He didn't like that, didn't like the idea of that. But it couldn't be that bad, right? He had to see.
South Mercy. He knew where South was, right?
"Come on!" he said, zooming away.
The hospital, to Youngblood's dismay, was surrounded by minor and not-so-minor ghosts shrouded by low-level invisibility. Phantom must really be hurt, for them to be acting like this. There weren't any children among the ghosts that he could see, though, so it wasn't like he could just ask what was going on. No one would be able to see him, and he wasn't interested in talking to humans right now.
Flying through the crowd of ghosts was like flying through a sea of whispers. They were angry. No, they were furious.
"Their lord has been wounded," said Bones, voice low.
"Their lord?" asked Youngblood, curling his lip. "Phantom's a lord?"
"It's a technical term. He is the lord, and they are the vassals, although they might call themselves something else. It's a relationship, not entirely unlike what you and I have." Bones settled on Youngblood's shoulder. "He protects them, lets them stay in his haunt. There are certain obligations that go along with that, even if Phantom does not demand them."
"Obligations?"
"Duties, commitments."
"Heh, you said 'duty.'"
They located the room around which the most ghosts were located, and slipped in. Phantom was there, in a bed, trapped beneath tubes and wires, just like-
Youngblood fled the hospital. It wasn't because he was scared. It wasn't. But he couldn't be there anymore. He had to leave. He had to.
He didn't know what to do. He had to talk to someone about this. Someone other than Bones.
Ember. He'd talk to Ember.
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The ghosts of Amity Park swirled around the hospital in a ghostly analogue of human pacing. There were all kinds of ghosts there. Blobs and will-o-the-wisps. Ghosts of dogs, cats, birds, tigers, rats, foxes, bats. Ghosts of men and women. Ghosts that had been born ghosts, or who had never been born at all. Little goblins. Pixie people. Elves and fae things. Monsters of myth and legend. None of them were particularly strong on their own. In fact, most of them were on the weak side for ghosts. Even the very strongest was only on par with the Box Ghost. Many of them struggled to make themselves seen or felt by humans. That's why they had sought protection from Phantom in the first place, why they chose to reside in Amity Park.
But that wasn't why they loved him. They loved him because he cared. Because he loved them first. Because he deserved it. Because he was precious, and soft, and lovely. Because he needed love. Because he belonged to them, as much as he belonged to the humans of Amity Park.
That someone hurt him... That someone here hurt him... Hurt him this badly, and not even in a proper fight...
It didn't just make them furious. It made them incandescent.
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One of Vlad's duplicates glanced out a window, and all of him froze.
He had known of the other ghosts that called Amity Park home. Being one of them, how could he not? He usually paid little attention to them. They were weak. Nonentities, like the Dairy King, who nonetheless managed to avoid Vlad's attempts to evict him. Annoyances. True, Vlad could have put them to use, great use, had they been loyal to him, and he was the most powerful ghost in Amity Park, but they favored Daniel for some incomprehensible reason.
Well, maybe not so incomprehensible. Daniel had never understood power, had never bothered to learn how to exert it, how to use it for his benefit. Daniel never asked anything from them, despite the traditional obligations he was owed.
But just because Daniel didn't ask, didn't mean he didn't receive. Vlad, unlike Daniel, was very aware of what had happened to the missing GIW agents. Weak these ghosts might be on their own, but when they acted together...
Vlad's mouth felt very dry. Surely, they wouldn't blame him for this. He had been the intended victim! He would have stopped this if he had known!
He shook himself. He had nothing to fear. Even together, these ghosts wouldn't be able to hurt him. Still.
But perhaps... Perhaps he could use this. Yes. The ghosts circling angrily around the hospital were out for blood, yes, but the blood of the ones responsible for Daniel's injury. Not Vlad's. Well, as it so happened, Vlad had a bone to pick with the perpetrator himself, and he doubtless had more information than the pathetic specters outside.
A thin smile spread across his face.