Ben was hanging from the ceiling of the old castle. As soon as they'd fallen into the heart of the once-grand underground home, Lady Transyl had Ben suspended from the chandelier by Kuphulu, one of her slightly-more-favoured henchmen.

"So, uh, tell me, Lady Transyl," he struggled in vain against the gauze that had bound his arms around his chest like a straight jacket that smelled of damp, "how are you finding ruling a horse of mindless slaves? Must be kinda boring."

"No, not really." She shrugged, wiping off the dust from her old throne before sitting down neatly. "It makes things simple. It makes things easy. It makes everyone do exactly as I please." She smiled sweetly at Ben. Kuphulu had tied the end of the gauze binding Ben to a broken lever by Lady Transyl's throne. She undid it, holding her end tight like a dog leash, before lowering Ben down slowly. "Though I do understand where you're coming from – the unpredictability of rebels can be somewhat exciting." She ran a claw down Ben's cheek. "I must say, when Zs'Skayr told me about you, I was expecting someone much more… unflattering."

"Well, that's typical Ghostfreak for you. Always a diva." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Zs'Skayr growled, waving his fist as he began a retort, but nothing could be heard over the viscously haughty laugh that bubbled out of Lady Transyl's mouth. "'GHOSTFREAK'?! Oh, that is SO QUAINT! I might have to start calling you that!"

"Don't even think about it!"

Lady Transyl smiled to herself, ignoring Zs'Skayr as she circled Ben, running her tongue over her fangs like she was watching her next meal being prepared. "So," she began, running a long claw down Ben's cheek. He had to suppress the urge to shiver at her icy touch, "what would such a sweet little morsel like you be doing in the Anur System? Hm?"

"Eh, you know, just seeing the sights, making memories, trying not to die." He shrugged.

"Oh, how quaint. And what about your friends? The wolf and the…." She frowned for a moment, "the tall… blue… one?"

"Uh, same as me?"

She stared at Ben for a very long time, tilting her head slowly to the side in thought. "Why do I not believe you?"

"The boy lies. He always lies." Zs'Skayr growled, floating around Ben like a bad smell.

"Hm. No matter. They will be ours one way or another," she smiled sickeningly, "and you… I think I'll keep you very close. It's not often we get visitors that aren't… well, repulsive."

"You're not suggesting that you're gonna keep me as some, what, some lapdog?" Ben frowned, "Yeah, that's not happening."

Lady Transyl smiled, making a gesture at Zs'Skayr; the ghostly being crept around Ben, grabbing his head and holding him in place. He clutched him so tightly, his claws cut into the sides of Ben's face.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" He tried to squirm as the stinging rippled through his cheeks, which only made Zs'Skayr grip him tighter. "What're you -?!"

"Hold still now." She ordered, before hacking and coughing violently. A bat flew out of her mouth and clung onto Ben's forehead, and he yelped, squinting all three eyes shut.

But then… the bat slid off Ben's face and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. The room was silent as the little bat shivered, twitched, and then turned to ashes. Lady Transyl's face, once calm and confident, now contorted to flat out rage. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" she shook Ben's shoulders.

"ME?! I didn't do anything!" He yelled back.

She let out a frustrated roar, shoving the boy away from her. "I will find a way to make you mine. Just you wait." She spat, turning sharply and leaving. Zs'Scayr stared at Ben in confusion, grimacing, before leaving with Lady Transyl.

And so, Ben was left alone in the decrepit throne room. He grumbled to himself, looking around the large room which smelled of damp and dust. At least I'm not one of her gross slave things, he stared down at the bat as its smouldering remains let off a disgusting smell. He wrinkled his nose, squinting at something caught his eye in the remains of the creature. The bat's body mostly consisted of its eye, but at the centre of the fleshy mass appeared to be a blade of some kind. The closer Ben looked, the more he realised it was in fact some kind of syringe-razor blade… thing. "We definitely don't have those on Earth." He mumbled.

What was important was that it was sharp. He took a breath, and began to concentrate. He normally used his new powers through his hands, but seeing as they were tied up…

He gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes. All he could see was darkness… and the blade. It seemed to glow under his eyelids, and within moments he felt it lift up as though he was plucking it from the ground himself. He took a deep breath, planning on slowly pulling the blade close to him. He meant to drag it slowly up the gauze covering his chest, so he could wriggle his arms free and do the rest himself.

Instead, the blade shot forward, slicing through not only the gauze but Ben's shirt as well, before implanting itself into the high ceiling. Ben cried out before dropping to the floor, the hot stinging in his chest confirming that the blade had not only sliced through his shirt, but through his skin as well. Ben grimaced, staggering to his feet as his torn shirt became soaked in blood. He jumped up, ripping handfuls of the gauze away before darting to hide next to the impressive throne. He did his best to bandage himself up, before moving to stand up. He pressed his hand on an engraved skull on the side of the throne, and the panel sunk into the chair. A latch opened up in front of the throne, leading to a dark staircase.

Ben hesitated; he'd seen movies with castles full of secret passages. The hero would always be able to navigate their way out in a matter of minutes, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind he also remembered how Gwen would scoff at the movies, going on annoying tangents about how unrealistic it was. 'There's no way they'd know how to get out!' 'Castles in real life don't have stuff like that!'

Ben was snapped back to his senses as the sound of voices approached the throne room once again. Either way, he was screwed. At least he might have a chance of getting out if he went down the stairs…

And so, he darted down into the depths of Castle Transyl.


Rook hissed as he wrapped the bandages around his thigh. The gauze was laced with a numbing agent, as well as a healing remedy "of Scout's own invention" (needless to say, Rook was concerned. Had he any other choice in the matter, he would have declined). Though to his surprise, the insufferable stinging from his wound soon began to subside, but with that most feeling in his leg slipped away. He grumbled, sitting in the empty locker room of the Plumber Base, and began the long process of getting back into his Proto-Armour.

Rook looked around as he limped out of the locker room, at the black that had began to creep down the corners of the metal walls. The lockers themselves were old-fashioned, like ones he'd seen in the base on Earth. But everything seemed so… bland. It saddened him, actually. If this is what the Plumber Base looked like on this planet… He couldn't imagine where Ben was. Where was he? Rook had been annoyed at him for running off without a care in the world – after all, how was Rook meant to be his bodyguard if he kept running headfirst into danger? – but now he was just worried.

"This base seems so rundown," he limped into the main area where Scout had set up his work station.

"It was built years ago," Scout shrugged, mixing up more of the strange garlic-liquid formula. He picked up an adjustable metal structure, which looked like a fusion between a leg brace and a garter belt, a silver ring to go around the wearer's waist and a few connected loops around the afflicted leg. He held it out to Rook, looking up at him, "back then, they all thought there'd be plenty of potential Plumbers from this system. Turns out they were wrong."

Rook took the brace, thanking Scout, before locking it around it around his waist and leg. He took a few wobbly steps forward, testing out the device. "What is going on here?" He looked to Scout as he paced.

Scout sighed, his ears drooping with weariness. "It's a long story."

"Then tell me the short version."

"Basically… the Vladats are back. At least, Lady Transyl is back – somehow. Everyone in the local area is under her control, but not willingly. Definitely not willingly."

Rook grimaced, adjusting the brace. "She has taken my friend. I can not let her get away with that."

"Friend, huh? I thought he said you were his bodyguard." Scout smirked a little, reloading his gun.

Rook grumbled to himself, folding his arms over his chest. "However you may see it, he is my responsibility."

"Is that all he is to you?" He grinned then, passing Rook a rifle. Rook raised an eyebrow at Scout, who shrugged, "come on, man, I know your type. What's that saying? 'Tiny but mighty'?"

"This is nonsense." He huffed, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "We are wasting time."

"You used to be fun." Scout hid his pistols on the holders stuck to his thighs, before moving to the doors. "What happened to you?"

"My emotions should not be connected to my work." His tone was clipped, "I cannot risk making that mistake again."

Scout grimaced, "Still a touchy subject. Sorry."

Rook's shoulders slumped a little at that, and the two remained silent after that, heading out of the safety of the base.

After a while, Scout piped up, "so how is she now? She recovered?"

Rook kept his eyes in front. "…I have not been home since then. I doubt my presence would be welcomed."

"…dude, they can't hold a grudge forever. Your dad can't stay mad at you for this long."

"You do not know my father like I do." He looked at Scout sadly.

Scout opened his mouth to speak, to try and give his friend some form of comfort, but no words came out, so once again, the pair became silent as they prowled the streets of Anur Transyl.