Chapter Eleven
To the Slaughter
Sam's voice was little more than a scratchy whisper after all the times she'd yelled at the two ghosts—no, the two clones—standing impassively in the corner of the room. Her wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding. Her arms were steadily becoming numb. Her head was pounding, a thundering racket in her ears. It hurt to keep her eyes open, so she squeezed them closed. If she looked around the room anyway, her vision would just be a dull haze. The lack of food and water was taking its toll on her. If she gave in to the dizziness, if she let herself sink slowly into unconsciousness, there was no telling what the clones would do to her. They watched her like vultures, just waiting for the opportune moment to swoop down and devour their prey. She refused to give them that luxury.
Luckily, there had been no second shock of electricity. It was a relief, since she'd felt as though her insides had been burning up and her heart had lodged itself in her throat, but also disconcerting at the same time. Were they performing some kind of torture tactic? Wait until she nearly succumbed to sleep and then shock her back into hell? Could a human even survive that kind of continual voltage coursing through their body?
And how exactly did they expect to manipulate Phantom through her being chained to a wall? How would that, in any way, affect him? He was a homicidal maniac with a fetish for stalking human prey and watching their sanity crumble. If they asked her opinion, the lot of them were just making giant targets on their heads for Phantom to crush.
Her stomach made a loud, rumbling noise. She cringed and hunched over as far as she was able. She'd known how painful it was to be on an empty stomach, but never actually experienced it for herself. It was terrible feeling, like her stomach was beginning to gnaw at itself in desperation. She felt so weak. If it weren't for the chains holding her up, she would've collapsed on the floor. How long had she been hanging here? It felt like it had been days. But it couldn't have been more than a few hours. It was probably night time. Or maybe it was past midnight.
She wondered how Tucker and Danny were doing. She couldn't bear to think of what might've happened to them.
The sound of a door sliding open reached her ears. She glanced up and saw Plasmius's blurry form approaching her. He had something in his hands, though she couldn't make out what it was through the haze until he was directly in front of her. It was a tray of food. Bread and fruit and vegetables and water.
Was she dead or something?
Sam gaped up at Plasmius in disbelief. He had a smile on his face, though it seemed a little forced. "I was going to feed our guest to help him recover, but he demanded I feed you instead."
She stared at him for a moment more before rolling her eyes and lowering her head again. "You really think I'd just eat your food after you chained me up?" she muttered, voice raspy and rough. He leaned forward, bringing the tray back into her sight and she licked her dry lips. Everything looked so tempting. And she was incredibly hungry. Her throat was sore. Eating would give her strength, wouldn't it?
"It's got to be poisoned," she frowned, glaring up at him. "I'm not an idiot."
Plasmius sighed and popped one of the berries on the tray into his mouth. "I have no reason to kill you," he said while chewing. "And I need you alive anyway. I don't need nor want a rampaging madman on the loose, thank you very much." He lifted the tray closer to her. She turned her face away, but her eyes remained glued to it. He took note of it and smiled again, cordial, as if he was the epitome of a gentleman. "Apparently you don't eat anything with a face, so I hope this is to your liking."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"
"Phantom." His sharp teeth gleamed between his turquoise lips.
Sam shuddered, rattling her chains. Of course. Of course Phantom would know such a thing about her. After following her around. After keeping an eye on her in school. After watching her in her apartment. There was no respite from a ghost. "Phantom's here?" she whispered.
"Phantom's here," was the response.
So that cry from earlier, the one that had shocked Plasmius and Ten and sent them flying off to another part of the building, had been Phantom. He'd come here. For what purpose?
"What do you still need me for then?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "You wanted Phantom, right? You got him."
"Not that simple," Plasmius insisted, shaking his head. He lifted his hand and started counting off on his fingers. "Phantom needs to know where you are at all times. He has this sick pleasure of watching you. He wants to make sure I don't hurt you. Seeing you gives him a reason to stay here, since he'd like more than anything to break you out. You're the only reason he's keeping quiet at this moment. He's plotting. Trying to think of ways to escape his own cage and then release you from yours. If not, I'm sure I'd have a child having a tantrum in the other room." He chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the tray. He popped another berry into his mouth. "That boy," he mumbled. "Always such a hassle."
Plasimus brought the two clones over to him with a flick of his wrist. "A table and chairs, if you please."
They returned moments later, setting a long, narrow table a few feet in front of her. Two burgundy velvet chairs were placed at each end. Plasmius sat down in the chair to her left, flicking his cape out behind him. "If you're not going to eat, then I am," he told her. His glowing red eyes were locked on hers as he bit into the bread. He was doing that on purpose, a snake tempting her with her desires.
She licked her lips again, watching him try a little bit of everything on the tray with his eyes still fixed on hers. If she said she wanted to eat, they would have to release her. She could clear her mind, gather her strength, try to come up with some way to escape on her own. Just being able to lower her arms would be a welcome change.
"Get me down from here," she grumbled, yanking on the chains. She grimaced as the shackles rubbed against her open wounds, sending a fresh trickle of blood down her arms.
Plasmius stopped eating and smiled at her. "Hmm?"
She scowled. "That food is for me, isn't it?"
He laughed and stood up from his chair. "Yes, it is," he said, coming to stand at her side. He fiddled with the chains, releasing one arm and then the other. The cuffs were still attached to her wrists. Most likely as a warning. The electric shock could still be used even when she wasn't chained to the wall. He released her ankles and then gestured to the chair. "Please sit. Make yourself comfortable."
"Because having shackles on my wrists is so comfortable," she scoffed, but did as he said anyway. He had to keep his hand on her shoulder to steady her, something she detested, but accepted nonetheless. As soon as she was seated, she swallowed down a large gulp of the water, shivering as it traveled down her burning throat. She let out a sigh of relief. If it was poisoned, she didn't even care at this point.
Plasmius sat in the chair opposite her down the table. He propped his elbows up and rested his chin on his hands. "Phantom will be pleased to see this," he informed her, still with a smile on his face.
"I highly doubt that," she retorted. Her voice was louder and clearer now, though her arms and legs still trembled and her head continued to throb. She tore off a large chunk of bread with her teeth, swallowing it down with another gulp of water.
Plasmius looked amused by her answer. "You underestimate the depth of Phantom's fascination with you."
Sam nearly choked on the bread. "Some fascination!" she yelped in-between fits of coughing. She took a sip of water to regain her composure. "I only have one thing to ask Phantom and that would be what in the world did he do to Danny? Actually, no. Two things. I would ask him to leave me the hell alone."
"I see. Well, I'll give him your regards."
"Huh?" She heard the scrape of his chair being pushed back and glanced up at him. He bowed before her, one arm in front of him and one behind as if he was a noble gentleman. It was a familiar action. Only one other person had bowed to her like that in her entire life, the mayor.
Plasmius smirked and straightened once again. "Once you're finished, Eight and Ten will guide you to your room. You'll be able to rest there and you'll also be able to abandon all thoughts of escape." At her gaping stare, he winked. "Ghosts have no use for doors," he said smugly. He spun on his heel, cape flaring out around him, and headed for the exit. He lifted his hand and waved at her over his shoulder. "Good night, Miss Manson," he called out.
She narrowed her eyes at his retreating form and tore off another piece of bread. Odd. She didn't recall sharing her last name with him. But then, he was a ghost and he'd been speaking to Phantom. It shouldn't surprise her that he knew more than she expected him to. In fact, nothing should've surprised her anymore.
She glanced at the two clones. They'd drifted closer to her over the course of her conversation with Plasmius. It sent goosebumps rippling up her arms.
"I take it you two are clones of Plasmius then?" she said questioningly, nodding her head at them. What better way to distract herself from fear than by talking to the two creeps who were causing it?
Ten was the one who answered her, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Not quite," he confessed. "Though a part of us is."
"Hmm." Sam shifted her eyes to the other one, Eight. The combination of his black hair and dazzling blue eyes almost reminded her of Danny.
Odd. Very odd, indeed.
Phantom's smile was both arrogant and relieved as he watched Sam eat. After drifting aimlessly in cool, comforting darkness for a few hours, he'd returned to the land of the living, and re-living, feeling, if not revived, at least much better than he had before. Although, much better was still a bit of an exaggeration. Plasmius had immediately walked in—he'd been waiting impatiently outside the door, most likely—and announced that they would be leaving shortly to go heaven knows where. He'd never mentioned a name. But Phantom, of course, being one for reckless decisions when it concerned something he cared for, turned the tables on Plasmius, demanding that he feed Sam and treat her with some respect before he blasted the cage to bits and used his face as target practice.
Needless to say, it took very little for Plasmius to grudgingly agree.
Whatever Vlad wanted, it was definitely something big. Something that required Phantom's willing participation, though he couldn't even begin to fathom what that something was.
Phantom took a deep breath and slowly heaved himself up into a sitting position. It took a fair amount of wincing and groaning, but he managed to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands resting in his lap. His more minor wounds had healed up nicely, leaving only a dull ache and a throbbing that presented itself when he shifted his limbs. His hands, however, were still rather torn up and scarred, the gash on his chest looked absolutely revolting, and he didn't even want to know what his back currently looked like if how it felt was any indication. Sitting hunched over as he was made it feel like the wound on his back was re-opening. He let out another groan and curled back on his side. It really was better for him to just lie down. He wasn't ready for anything even remotely physically strenuous. Vlad's assumption that it would be simple to just get up and go as soon as he awoke was completely ludicrous. There was no where he'd be capable of moving freely in this state.
The door flew open with a bang. As if sensing he'd been on Phantom's mind, Plasimus stormed into the room, seething. "Are you satisfied now, you insufferable brat?" he sneered and crossed the room to tower above the cage, teeth gnashing and eyes practically searing a hole into Phantom's skull. "She's unchained. She's fed. She's getting a nice, comfy bed to sleep in without Eight and Ten's prying eyes. I just bought her special food as if she was my pet dog! Is this more suitable for your delicate little toy?"
Phantom eyed him wearily from his position on the ground and scoffed. "Better."
Plasmius growled and began pacing in front of the cage. "You seem to be under this notion that I'll do anything you say simply because you said it," he ranted.
"Isn't that what you've been doing?" Phantom snickered, though Plasmius either didn't hear the remark or was making a conscious effort to pretend he didn't. It was definitely the latter, since the older ghost started stomping his feet even as he paced.
"But the only reason I'm doing any of this for you—an irritable child who thinks having city-wide temper tantrums will solve all of his problems—stems from the honor and dignity befitting a gentleman, such as myself." He stamped his feet in place and loomed above Phantom again. Instead of a contemptuous scowl, a smirk graced his features. "These are your last requests, so I've done my duty in upholding them," he said cryptically.
"Last requests?" Phantom mumbled, looking back to the monitor where Sam was. Last requests meaning he would never see her again? His jaw snapped shut. His eyes narrowed, flashing a vivid shade of green, and he glared up at Plasmius. Last requests? The fool was begging to be killed if he was talking like that.
"What are you planning, Vlad?" he hissed.
The aforementioned ghost just continued to smirk and refused to divulge any more information. "Are you ready to leave now?"
"Do I look like I'm ready?" Phantom barked.
"If you have enough energy to quarrel with me, then yes."
Green eyes drifted to the monitor again, to Sam and those shackles on her wrists and the streaks of blood on her arms. "You're going to hurt her," he accused. "Why can't you just let her go? I'm here, aren't I?"
Plasmius rolled his eyes and sighed in a patronizing manner. "And give you a reason to escape? I think not. Besides…" he trailed off, grinning again. He turned and gazed sideways at the monitor, watching as Sam carried on a conversation with the two clones. His grin widened. "You were told not to get involved with her, weren't you?" he murmured slyly. At the sound of Phantom's sharp inhale, Plasmius chuckled. "You wouldn't want anyone else to try to take her away as a means of atonement, now would you?" he said with a wink, shifting his gaze back to Phantom's. Abruptly, his red eyes narrowed and his smile turned sinister. The expression on his face was one of pure malice. A look that encompassed all those moments of deliberation, self-control, nefarious plotting, and unwavering patience. "You should know better than to disobey your elders," he chided with a bitter, mocking edge to his voice. "And you should also know that I'm not one for killing women."
A growl forced its way out from the back of Phantom's throat. He'd underestimated Vlad. In that split second when he'd held Sam's fate in his hands, he'd imagined how easily it would be to steal her back and make her captors suffer. In that split second, he'd closed the door to his own coffin. He was too weak to escape the cage. Bluffing only went so far. He would have to do whatever it was Vlad wanted of him, just to keep Sam's excruciating screams at bay. And that meddlesome Clockwork wasn't helping either. He would have to pay a visit to the Master of Time's clocktower to settle whatever issues had arisen between them whenever he got the chance. If he got the chance. Vlad was talking as if death lurked around the corner.
Phantom glowered at the monitor. He wouldn't let that happen. He would see Sam again. "Those two clones have been eyeing her like a piece of meat," he grumbled, doubt once again rising to the surface. Vlad really wasn't one for murder. But, like the nobleman he claimed to be, he would rather have others execute his underhanded deeds while he pulled the strings safely in the background. That meant the clones might have been given further instructions on how to deal with their latest guest.
Plasmius only laughed. "A piece of meat? You mean like the way you look at her? They do share half of their DNA with you."
"Shut up."
Plasmius laughed again and stepped closer to the cage. "Ready to leave now, boy?" he asked, peering down at him as if he was some sort of circus attraction. "If so, put this on." He dropped something between the metal bars right on to Phantom's head, blinked in surprise, and then guffawed at the comic genius of it all. "If only you could see how pitiful you look!" he exclaimed, gloating.
Phantom squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of Vlad's laughter before his anger got the best of him. "Why would I listen to you?" he snarled, grabbing the offending item and clenching his hand into a fist around it. He'd destroy the stupid thing!
"Ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Poor little Sam would be devastated to know you're the cause of her pain."
Phantom spat out a curse and opened his eyes. "Fine!" he snapped. "And I hope your plan backfires like usual!" He forced himself up on one elbow and glared at the thing in his hand. It was a collar. A freaking iron collar! It made him laugh. "You really are a perverted old man," he said dryly, shaking his head.
"That's what the girl said about me too," Plasmius recalled with a chuckle, absently stroking the close-shaven beard on his chin. He gestured to the iron collar Phantom was clicking into place around his neck. "That's to protect you, as well as to keep tabs on you. It gives you my ecto-signature, so that I can teleport to where you are at any time. You won't be able to escape from me with that on and no other ghosts will be able to touch you either. It also weakens your powers. But seeing as you're already weak, you won't feel much different in that aspect."
Phantom winced at the constricting feel of the collar and lay back down on the floor of the cage. "Yippee," he drawled.
"Oh, and one more thing," Plasmius chirped, spinning on his heel. He approached the computer console beneath the monitor where Sam was being led off-screen by the two clones. He pressed a few buttons, changing the image displayed from that of the now empty laboratory to a carpeted room with a king-sized canopy bed, a dresser, an ornately decorated mirror, and a door leading into what Phantom assumed to be a bathroom. Plasmius looked at Phantom over his shoulder and pointed to his own neck. "If you try to remove the collar on your own, it'll release a series of ecto-electric shocks that will inevitably kill you if you persist."
Phantom gasped, eyes widening like saucers, lips parting. He held his neck, fingers clawing at the iron. He'd done it again. He'd underestimated him again! "You—"
"Don't swear, Daniel. It's not becoming."
A scream tore out of his throat as he pried at the iron collar. The electricity sparked to life almost immediately, ravaging his insides. He screamed again, a tortured, anguished scream that brought tears to his eyes. He would rather die than let Vlad manipulate him like this! He brought both hands to the collar and yanked on it viciously, trying to rip it apart. His screams burned his throat, but he couldn't stop himself from crying out as the electricity charged through him. Every part of him was ablaze, smoldering, filling him with such an intense pain that he couldn't even remember where he was or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to get that piece of junk off his neck.
All of a sudden, he heard Sam's voice speaking above his own. He froze and lay trembling on the ground, teeth chattering, eyes twitching, breathing erratically. He wasn't coherent enough to understand anything she was saying. He only knew that it was her voice. Looking up to the monitor, he saw her alone in the carpeted room. She shouted something, glaring off to the side. Her voice was muted then.
"Excellent. They were right on time. It's nice to have minions so precise," Plasmius said with a nod. He clapped his hands together and headed for the exit. "I'll be back momentarily. Try not to hurt yourself again. You wouldn't want to leave Sam all by herself, hmm? Pity your weakness had to be something so banal. And your lack of subtlety was utterly astounding. But I digress. Be ready to leave when I return," he called out, waving nonchalantly from the door.
Phantom writhed in the cage, gritting his teeth and covering his face with his hands to keep himself from crying out in pain. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He wasn't thinking straight anymore. He should've known exactly what would happen as soon as he was sucked up in the thermos. He should've known better than to let fury control him. He should've been plotting the second he'd been released and realized Vlad was behind it all. So stupid!
But what was he supposed to do? Sam was here, subject to the whim of the two powerful clones and the ghost who'd been his enemy for years. He couldn't just sit there and watch her suffer when he knew he could prevent it.
He would have to start planning. He'd done all that Vlad asked. He'd go to wherever it was Vlad wanted to take him. But from then on, the game belonged to him. He'd start manipulating the board then.
Phantom lay there in the bottom of the cage, motionless, staring vacantly at the monitor where Sam moved about and examined the room. She rifled through all the drawers, peeked under the bed, ran her hands over all the walls as though searching for a secret exit. Finally, her exhaustion must have overcome her. She went to the bed and pulled the drapes surrounding it, hiding herself from his sight. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off into sleep. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Plasmius finally walked back into the room, only that the ache in his body had worsened.
"Good morning!" Plasmius beamed, practically skipping into the room. He was so ridiculously happy. "You'll have to excuse my tardiness. Surprisingly, my other guest wasn't on time." He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it simply couldn't be helped even though Phantom was positive the waiting had severely pissed him off.
No more was said after that, at least, nothing that Phantom paid any attention to. Being dragged by the legs out of the cage was like being dragged through a field of jagged-edge knives. For someone who'd never been known to cry, he was getting awfully watery-eyed. And he planned to escape like this? Well, he'd never claimed to be rational, only stubborn.
Once Plasmius inferred that it would only waste time trying to get him to stand, he hefted Phantom onto his back—after manacling his wrists together—and carried him out into the hallway. "How like a child," he grunted. "If you hadn't tried to take off the collar, you would be fine. What a nuisance."
"You're the one who's in a hurry," Phantom scoffed from his position against Plasmius's shoulder. "Where to, Speedy?"
"The future," Plasmius said with an eager grin.
Phantom rolled his eyes. "And we'll be in the future five minutes from now too. Answer the question."
"I did."
Light drifted down the hallway, casting green shadows along the walls. Phantom slowly lifted his head, hardly believing that what he saw was really there. Plasmius slipped a medallion on over his head and gave a similar one to Phantom. Without saying anything else, he jumped into the air with Phantom still on his back and flew straight towards the sphere of light where the hazy image of ruins could be seen.
Desolate. Dreary. Sickening.
Those were the only words that came to mind when faced with gray skies, toppled skyscrapers, torn up streets, bare fields, and motionless bodies burnt to a crisp amidst ash and debris on the ground. The only scent in the air was that of death.
Bile rose up in Phantom's throat. He put his hands on Plasimus's shoulder and reared back, twisting his body to the side to throw up. Only a little ectoplasm dribbled down his chin, yet his body persisted, as if trying to rid itself of the contaminated air. He continued dry-heaving violently, eyes frantically moving side to side to take in all the destruction around him.
Plasmius let out a sigh. "Child," he whispered bitterly. "Come along. No time for sight-seeing."
They passed over the ruins. Phantom squeezed his eyes shut, but the images still haunted his thoughts. All those bodies… "Sam!" he gasped suddenly, hysterically. "Where's Sam?"
"Your Sam is safe. Now hush," Plasmius ordered. He glanced around the uninhabited area, brows furrowed in concentration. "That portal should be nearby. Though he wouldn't use it, there's certainly no way he could destroy it. So where is it?" he mused. He lowered himself down amongst the rubble and hovered through the ruins, still searching. "Ah! There it is. As I said, your lack of subtlety is astounding. Hiding it underneath the biggest pile of debris. Oh, wait. Those are corpses. Hmph. How morbid." Plasmius shot a ghost ray out in front of him, clearing the way.
Phantom risked a peek and saw one of the natural ghost portals creating a rift in the air. "You do realize that might not take you where you want to go," he rasped in warning, though he didn't really care where they went at this point. He just wanted to be away from this dismal atmosphere.
"Don't worry. It will," Plasmius said assuredly. "I have time on my side." Then he took off into the portal just as before, flooding the world around them with a blinding light.
Phantom blinked. And blinked again. Was he seeing this correctly? Green misty patterns wafting around them like a fog. Scattered doors hovering in the air. Islands and strips of land floating in the distance. "The Ghost Zone."
But why?
Plasmius set him down on the island the portal had led them to and kept a steadying hand on his shoulder. Phantom heard gasps and murmurs behind him and slowly turned around. The first thing that caught his eye was the huge red castle looming above him with towers branching out from the sides capped with sharp, jagged spires. Its doors were tall and wide with the image of demon, a devilish fiend, waiting to swallow him whole.
"Pariah," he gasped. They were at Pariah's Keep.
His gaze shifted down. There was a crowd gathering in front of the castle, with their beady eyes locked on him. It was a crowd made up of some ghosts he recognized all too well, though their appearances had been altered. "Johnny 13? Kitty? Ember? Box Ghost?" They all glared at him, amassing such a murderous intent that Phantom felt a shiver run through his body. All of them starting shouting curses at him with vengeance in their eyes and sneers on their faces. Energy flared to life around them. Bewildered, he took a step back into Plasmius's chest. The older ghost stepped in front of him and threw out his arms in greeting.
"My, how time flies!" Plasmius exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "What a pleasure it is to be here. I do hope you'll deliver a much warmer welcome than this." His voice dropped an octave by the end of the sentence. His own pink ecto-energy swirled in front of his chest, creating a shield to block the incoming attacks from the crowd. He duplicated himself. A second, then a third Vlad copy split out of his sides, making a total of three shields to protect the cowering Phantom behind him. "He's my prey right now!" Plasmius hollered above the din. "But I'll give him to you soon enough."
Silence steadily rippled through the crowd.
"Well, well, well." The hulking Box Ghost elbowed his way to the front, easily parting the crowd with his massive arms. His single red eye narrowed. "All this time we thought you were dead, Vlad Plasmius. And here you are, bringing us presents."
"Never let it be said of me that I don't know how to treat a host," Plasmius smirked. "Where is he, by the way?"
The Box Ghost matched his grin. "He'll be coming. He has trouble moving around these days."
"Hmm, I see." Plasmius stroked his chin thoughtfully, then chuckled. "The eye-patch is lovely, by the way. As well as the heart tattoo on your arm."
"Never let it be said of me I don't know how to treat a lady."
"A lunch lady, I heard."
The Box Ghost's grin widened. "He's coming."
"MOVE!" a voice bellowed in the distance. Immediately, the crowd parted to make way for the newcomer. Phantom caught a glimpse of the approaching figure from between the body shield of Plasmius duplicates. Broad shoulders, a massive chest, long green hair, ivory skin, broken horns curving up from the sides of a red helmet, skeleton head clasps connected to a long black and red cape, a green mace. All telltale signs of Pariah Dark, the King of all Ghosts. But this figure was different from the Ghost King he knew, the one he'd had to lock up in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. Instead of a single green eye staring mercilessly ahead, there was a black blindfold. The green sword that was supposed to be strapped to his belt was missing, as was the arm that should have brandished the sword. His legs looked thinner, frail, easily broken. His bare feet were colored a sickly bluish-purple hue. He was being pushed up to the front of the crowd in a wheelchair by one of his skeleton soldiers garbed in Roman gladiator dress. The Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire were nowhere to be seen.
"Who dares disturb my castle?!" Pariah shouted, craning his neck upwards as though glaring at them. He slammed the end of his mace on the ground.
Plasmius remained unruffled by the absurd show of power coming from such a feeble ghost. One of his duplicates leaned forward, bringing his face close to Pariah's. "I'd heard you'd been laid low, but I honestly hadn't believed it until now," he jeered.
Pariah snarled and swung his mace, striking the duplicate's shoulder and causing him to dissipate into the air. "Plasmius," he spat the word out bitterly. "You were killed in this lifetime. So how have you come to be?"
"I've already died once. And I'm not someone to be fooled twice, so to speak," Plasmius said with a shrug. "I'm very curious as to what happened to you though."
"Silence!" Pariah roared, slamming his mace down again. "You know very well what happened. Where is the child?"
"Why, can't you see him?"
"I said SILENCE!"
Plasmius chuckled and grabbed the chain shackling Phantom's wrists together. The remaining duplicate rejoined him as he took a step forward. "He's here next to me. But!" he said suddenly, yanking Phantom closer to his side as Pariah released the mace and tried to snatch Phantom away with his only hand. "Unfortunately, you can't lay a hand on him. Only I can at the moment. It was the only way I could protect him, you see."
The ex-Ghost King snorted. "How like you, Plasmius. Only thinking of yourself."
"Didn't you in the past?"
Pariah's lips curled up in a sneer. "What is it that you desire? Before I lose my patience."
"It's not what I desire, it's what I'm going to get," Plasmius said arrogantly. He lifted his head, scanning the air around him as though looking for something. "You'll see soon enough. I'm sure he's on his way," he murmured, a menacing smile curling the corners of his turquoise mouth and revealing those sharp fanged teeth.
Pariah's jaw dropped. His shoulders tensed up and reached blindly for his mace, which his skeleton solider retrieved for him. Anxious murmurs rose up in the crowd behind him. "You imbecile… What have you done, you fool?!" Pariah shouted. "You underestimate him! He has both the Ring and the Crown!"
"And I'll have them once the day is through."
"No. We must kill the child now!"
The crowd rose up in shouts once more, debating the situation. Phantom was thrown behind Plasmius as he tried to assuage the crowd and convince them to go along with whatever his plan was. Phantom couldn't bring himself to listen. There were too many things he didn't know, too many things he didn't understand, too many things he didn't think he wanted to understand. This future, this terrible nightmare, all centered around him. Images of the demolished city appeared before his mindseye. The bodies. Those blackened, empty eye sockets all bore into him, creeping inside him, smothering him. Sam. His Sam was safe. But what of the future Sam? Did she lie amongst those in the rubble?
The bile rose up in his throat. Sam. His Sam. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. He didn't want to lose what he'd just found for the sake of a future that wouldn't necessarily come to pass. What was this? This was probably far beyond his time, far beyond when his human life would end. It wasn't about him. It couldn't be about him. He would never do anything of this magnitude…
Not without proper incentive.
The crowd of ghosts around him had come to a consensus, it seemed, since Plasmius began calmly walking past Pariah with Phantom in tow. He stopped in the middle of the crowd and gave Phantom a bone-chilling smile. "I'm not one for farewells," he mumbled, poorly feigning a guilt-ridden expression. "So I'll only say that you should have known better, Daniel."
"Vlad, what's going on here?" Phantom demanded in a low voice, warily eyeing the ghosts that surrounded him. "What do I have to do with anything?"
The vampiric ghost looked taken aback. "You haven't guessed?"
Phantom narrowed his eyes, not willing to believe any of the thoughts roiling through his mind. "My guesses must be wrong," he muttered.
Plasmius's smile returned. "Or perhaps they're right," he whispered. He lifted his head, gazing up at the sharp spires of the castle's towers. A light shone above the castle, a rift in the air just like the portal they'd entered. The smile on Plasmius's face widened. He looked back down at Phantom, eyes glowing red with hatred, pride, sick and twisted glee. "Say hello to your future, Daniel. And also, say goodbye." Plasmius jumped up, splitting into four duplicates as he rocketed towards the rift in the air.
Phantom didn't have time to see what it was Plasmius was aiming for. The crowd closed in around him with the same sick and twisted look in their eyes. Bloodthirsty. Homicidal. The Box Ghost stepped forward, holding a cube of crackling blue energy in his hand. "Welcome to your doom, kid," he said.
Phantom glared at him ruthlessly, throwing all his anger and hatred into making a sphere of green energy in his hands. He threw it out at the crowd, but Ember swatted it away with her guitar.
She cackled wildly, her overweight body jiggling as she did. "Say my name, dipstick," she jeered.
He was too weak. He had no power here. He planted his feet solidly on the ground, since it was all he could do to not look pathetic in front of his enemies. He saw Pariah being wheeled up to him from the corner of his eye, grinning madly with his mace held high.
The Box Ghost started chuckling. Another cube of energy appeared in his other hand. "Beware," he hissed just before he put his hands together and fired.
