𝕰𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 2021_Day 02 [Treat]
~Original~
Category: Friendship, Suspense(?), mild Angst, Fluff.
Trigger warning: past deadly road/bike incident, War Veteran experience mention.
𝕯𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔: 𝕷𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍
Stiff Steve rode on his Harley Davidson alone, as he had done for the past three years.
A normal person wouldn't have come back on the roads after the incident that had killed all his buddies from the "Were Hyenas" motorcycle club, however Steve hadn't been normal since coming back from the war and all he knew now was his bike, the roads and the wind on his skin.
That was why, after healing, he had repaired his bike, had saddled up and had kept on riding in honor of his fallen brothers.
Their club had never been a gang: they had been just a group of people with no ties, who enjoyed the simple act of wandering around.
The name had been chosen by their leader, Ed the Ward, who had grown up hearing traditional stories from his West-African nanny, whom he had considered more his mother than the woman who had birthed him.
The tales narrated about chiefs capable of transforming into hyenas in order to protect their tribe, so they would do the same (after all, they only accepted war veterans with a pension, in order to cull any criminal temptation for money from the beginning).
The only times they travelled with a goal was when they heard of trials and hearings that involved abused minors and women (or anyone without a social support), so they would show up in order to passively intimidate the abusers by just sheer presence¹*.
Nowadays however, Stiff Steve just visited the people they had already helped if he happened nearby their neighbor. That was the only thing he could do, after all, being the last of the MC and alone: the intimidating effect didn't work as well anymore.
Moreover, he didn't feel like adding new members, first because he wasn't the Chief and second because the people who had died in that incident had been his road-brothers: he didn't want to "replace" them.
Thus, Stiff Steve rode his bike alone on the infinite roads of North America.
~OoO~
It was afternoon, almost evening, when Steve met a road sign indicating the next town on the road as "Amity Park". The distance was enough to make him consider stopping at a motel in its suburbs. Maybe even do the laundry at a Laundromat, if it was a cheap one.
Yeah, that was a good plan.
The man accelerated a bit, just enough to let him reach the town at sunset.
It was around 17 miles from his destination when he began hearing something other than the roar of the motor and the howl of the wind.
The man narrowed his eyes under the shades and paid more attention (you see, because of all the dangers of the road, bikers have to be attuned to all the noises around them and Steve had doubled his vigilance after the incident).
It seemed… Laughs? His phone didn't have that ringtone and he was alone on the road.
…Was he starting to hear things after all because of the self-imposed solitary, or was something else?
Uneasy, Steve upped the speed.
In the amber hues of the low sun and the crimson-orange tones of the fallen leaves on the sides of the road, the green sparkles flickering at the edge of his vision were pretty noticeable… but if he tried to turn his head lo look at them directly, there was nothing.
Maybe it was one of those mirages of the road he had heard of, where odd lights came out of nowhere?
…Or maybe he was just tired.
Steve started to take in consideration the last statement few miles later, when the flickering ceased only because the green light stabilized into twenty something "orbs" that flew alongside his bike. And he could see them even without turning his head.
The centaur eyed them warily, varying the speed to see if he could either outrun them or let them pass over, but without missing a step they always kept his pace.
…The laughter seemed louder, too.
Stiff Steve had to get off the road.
At 7 miles from the outskirts of the town, the orbs started to, for the lack of a better term, sprout legs that seemed to be already running on the asphalt.
As the sun set and the lights of the town started blinking on the horizon, the legged orbs gained more details, heads and tails first, then fur and patterns on it.
Ah, yes. That explains the laughter.
A pack of hyenas was flanking his bike, yipping, barking and snickering, as if they were having fun. The only reason Steve didn't (completely) freak out was that they didn't seem hostile, on the contrary they looked like they were escorting him.
The biggest of all ran on the lead and was the most scarred of them. It missed a whole chunk of its left ear and the spot on its right shoulder was shaped like a skull… a hyena skull. How did he know? Because Ed the Ward had had the same freaking tattoo in the same place. And because of a grenade, the Chief had lost half of his left ear, losing his hearing on that side as well.
…Was that why the big hyena was keeping Steve on his right side?
The centaur was reading too much into this hallucination, perhaps.
However, the more he looked, the more the pack shared similarities with his road-brothers: spots shaped like tattoos, scars, nervous tics of the head and laughs (that before resembled the ones of proper hyenas) now seemed more personalized and human-like.
…Were they the ghosts of his fallen friends?
Steve almost didn't register passing by the welcome sign to "Amity Park, the most haunted place of America", but when he did, his eyes widened behind his shades and the man searched for the nearest parking lot where he could fit all the hyenas.
There.
The "Nasty Burger" parking lot was half-empty since it as a weekday evening.
People on the walkways eyed warily the man and his pack, but the biker paid them no mind (as he had always done) and dismounted, ready to face the spirits… only to pause at the sight of them sprawled around with no care in the world, barely acknowledging him.
Why were they doing that?
‒ Uh… Excuse me, mister? ‒ A young voice interjected suddenly, making Steve (and "Ed") look up. A white haired teenage apparition was floating between them and the Nasty Burger entrance. ‒ Is this pack of hyenas yours? ‒ The boy asked watchfully.
‒ …Maybe. But this is the first time I see them. ‒ Steve paused to look at the animals, who had all perked up at his words.
‒ How so? ‒ The spectral teen lowered his altitude, crossing his arms and tilting his head in curiosity.
Steve scratched his beard and lifted his shades. ‒ This is the first time in my life seeing ghosts. ‒ He paused, eyeing the pack again. ‒ They share certain traits with my friends who died three years ago, though. I'm still half-convinced that I'm hallucinating this whole thing, ya know.
‒ Oh. They're Stage 2²*, then. ‒ The teen murmured, before landing in front of the man with a sober expression. ‒ My condolences, sir… We are real, by the way. ‒ He stated, a bit awkwardly. ‒ Name's Phantom.
‒ Thanks boyo. I'm Steve. ‒ He offered a handshake without thinking, but found himself surprised at the solidity of the specter's hand. In the meanwhile, the biggest ghost hyena had reached them and was carefully observing the scene. ‒ Are they really my friends and still sentient?
The hyena yipped gruffly, yet softly at the teenager, who seemed to listen and nod in response.
‒ Well, usually most of us is sentient whatever form we assume. ‒ Phantom began. ‒ This one just told me that his name is Ed and he was the Chief of the "Were Hyenas". Does this mean anything to you?
‒ Ed, you son of a literal bitch! Look at you! ‒ Steve crouched down to be at eye level with the animal spirit. He slapped a palm on the tattooed shoulder, eliciting a row of snickers from the spectral crowd. ‒ You couldn't resist to keep the theme of the club, couldn't ya?
Ed threw his head back and cackled wildly, prompting Steve to belch³* a laugh of his own, giving he start to a wave of laughter from his dead companions. The man didn't know how long they kept on, but it felt good after so long.
~OoO~
Steve and the pack ended staying a few days in Amity to bond and adjust to the "new normalcy", while taking advantage of the temporary tangibility given by the town influence. It was also necessary to let the local inventors/ghost hunters prepare him a pair of custom shades that made him capable of seeing his friends even outside the perimeter of Amity.
The Fentons were a nice couple of oddballs, but they did get why keeping beloved people nearby after a trauma was important. Moreover, after hearing what the Were Hyenas had used to do for the community, they had insisted to design (free of charge) a device to temporarily let the pack manifest at the hearings, if they ever decided to give it a try again.
So, even if a chunk of the compensation for the incident would go to the new shades, it didn't matter.
At the moment he could just lay sprawled on his motel bedroom, "buried" under a pile of his friends (now pack) and not feel alone anymore.
¹* The inspiration for this came from the BACA (Bikers Against Child Abuse). Their mission is really noble, so it fit with the chivalry of the WereHyenas.
²* Headcanon Time: Ghost have three Stages of manifestation based on both their and the ambient energy.
Stage 1: the spirit of the dead is too weak to manifest in any shape or form sans some of the "traditional" ways of haunting, e.g. odd shadows, whispering wails, electromagnetic statics through telephones and/or TV, flickering lights, crackling woods, etc.
Stage 2: the energy held by the spirit is just enough to regain its original shape and can interact with the living world more than in Stage One, e.g. move small objects, relay messages through simple media (mobile messages, e-mail or sometimes voicemails), some light overshadowing (influence moods or ideas), etc. Unfortunately however, they are visible only to other ghosts (or half of it) or through specifically designed Visors.
Stage 3: canonical ghosts in the Danny Phantom show.
[Extract from one of my Haunted Drabbles on FFnet]
³* I mean what I wrote.No further explanations. ヽ(≧∇≦)ﾉ
A/N. This theme was suuuper hard! ( ≧Д≦)
When I told a friend of mine my self-imposed guidelines for this Ectober, beside the official ones (a "tiny" ghost animal & one or more civilians involved for each drabble), he immediately suggested the "Laugh" prompt and use the hyenas.
But beyond that I didn't know where to bang my head!
So on 23rd September, I asked in my RL friends' chat-room if they had any ideas.
One (who was sick and self-admitted being on low brain energy) only answered with a belch.
…Yes, as you can imagine, that was enough to trigger my muse, above all when another friend added to make the protagonist belch a laugh. It's their fault. And I regret nothing! ꒰( ｀꒳´)꒱
That being said, I also remembered a Tumblr post on the BACA and that helped me find an appropriate development for Steve and his boys. Hope you didn't found it too sugary, I thought that they deserved a happy ending after all the misfortunes I threw at them. (シ_ _)シ
Hope you liked this, type ya tomorrow!
Will Day 03 be Mutant or Cryptind? Check in "Domestic Phantoms" and you'll find out!