Chapter 291: Not Actually a Heist Movie

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"I feel like I'm in a terrible heist movie," complained Jazz as she set up her presentation.

"That's because we are," said Sam. "One with Nick Cage in it."

"I don't know who that is."

"Lucky."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Obscure movie references aside—"

"So, you do know who it is," said Sam.

"It isn't obscure!" protested Wes. "It's a classic!"

"It came out two years ago, don't be dramatic."

"I said, obscure movie references aside, today we're just scouting. We will not be taking the anchor, yet, because we don't want to be tied back to it disappearing."

"I don't understand why we're going in the first place," grumbled Ex-Mayor Montez. "Wouldn't it be better for just the ghosts to go? You know, the ones who can be invisible and intangible?"

"I've disabled all the bugs I've found," said the Chef, "and taken care of laser listeners, but it will be noticed if all the ghosts, and only the ghosts disappear from here."

"Or even if only I disappear from here, most likely," said Sojourn.

"Can't you duplicate?"

"Yes. But please allow Jasmine to finish."

"There's more than one reason for us to do it this way. It's a PR move. We won't just be going to the National Archive building, either. There are plenty of other monuments around there. It'll be like a field trip. And… I think we all need some relaxation."

"On a spy mission?" asked Sam, skeptically.

"Look, I'm going to take what I can get. Are we all on board? I guess you could still go by yourself, Sojourn, maybe that would be the… tactically correct decision, but, listen, I need a break. A day where a bunch of guys three times my age aren't trying to connect with me by complimenting my hair or something equally asinine. Or I will lose my mind."

"I think that's fair enough," said Sojourn, "but in that case, wouldn't it be more productive for that day to contain something other than preparations for a theft?"

"You'd really think so," said Jazz. "You'd really think so, wouldn't you?"

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The internet was aflame.

Sure, a bunch of ghosts (and friends) were touring the national mall, and that would have been enough to kill it (ha) on any other day, considering the morbid and obsessed basement dwellers who generated most of its content, but more importantly, Jasmine Fenton was going to be there.

Jasmine Fenton.

The sword princess. The one who rescued the president from a horde of the undead (who were technically her countrymen. Details).

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"Oh my gosh," said Jazz. "Why are so many people filming me?"

Sam gestured first at Sojourn (incredibly tall, bald, and green, wearing white robes that billowed despite the lack of wind), at Dr. Iceclaw (a fanged, horned yeti), and then at Janet the It (resident sewer monster of Amity Park).

"Exactly," hissed Jazz. "So, why are they pointing their cameras at me?" Under other circumstances, she'd get it. She and Sojourn were the de-facto chief negotiators for the Ghost Zone side of things, and Pamela and Ernesto were in charge of fielding attempts to get Amity Park to break their front with the Ghost Zone and getting the best deals for the still-living residents of the Ghost Zone (disguised as just being for Amity Park and Elmerton). She was important politically. She was interesting as the 'adopted' sister of the Ghost Prince.

But that didn't mean that she was interesting to film next to Janet. Just look at it! Janet was terrifying! Appropriate for a sewer monster.

She pulled her much too fancy hat (Pamela had acquired the clothing for this outing) down over her eyes. "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"Over this?" asked Sam.

"Yes, over this," said Jazz. "Don't tell me it's the same thing I've been doing for weeks, because it isn't."

"I wasn't," said Sam.

"Are you okay?" asked Dmitri, peeking out from a fold of Sojourn's robes. "Maybe Sojourn can send you home."

"I'll be fine," said Jazz. "I'm just having a mental breakdown. Again. If I have a third, maybe I'll be able to publish a case study…" She looked up at the sky. The clouds were low and close. She looked down at the street.

Way too many cameras to relax.

"I hate being a celebrity."

"Yeah, it's so stupid how people can get…" Sam trailed off, thoughtful. "Hey, are there any ghosts that got that way from being Obsessed with a celebrity?"

"Oh no," said Jazz, before Sojourn could answer. "Now I really am going to be sick."

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They got home. Dmitri helpfully phased the rain off Jazz.

"I'm going to go to bed and sleep forever," she said.

"Don't say that where Nocturne can hear it," said Sojourn.

"Did you at least find the thing?" asked Jazz. "Please tell me you found the thing."

"Well…" said Sojourn.

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"Where did Freakshow even find thirty identical vases? Urns. Whatever." demanded Sam. "He was in GIW max security black site off-the-books secret prison, wasn't he?" Which was a super evil thing to do to a person, but given how stupidly evil Freakshow was, almost understandable. If not for the GIW also being stupidly evil.

"I'm unsure," said Sojourn. "It sounds like something you'd have to ask him."

"They were probably part of the regular decorations and Freakshow co-opted one."

Inky meowed at Sojourn.

"She says- Oh, why am I even doing this? You know what she's saying," grumbled Wes.

Inky meowed again.

"Okay, okay, I get it, not everyone does. She wants to know if they were really identical, and if you felt anything from them."

"When I say identical, I do mean it," said Sojourn.

"Danny was positive he recognized it just by looking at a picture of it," said Sam. "Are you sure you don't feel anything, I don't know, evil from any of these?"

"Nothing," said Sojourn. "But then, Daniel is the prince. He has access to abilities that even I do not."

Sam sighed. "So, what, we have to grab all of them?"

"More than that," said Pamela, "if there's no sign that one of them is the anchor we're looking for, we have to assume it isn't. What?" she asked when everyone paused, looking at her. "I might not be familiar with all this magic nonsense, but I can use basic logic. It's like the theft-and-forgery auction scam."

"Mom," said Sam, "why do you even know about that?"

"You say that like you think I've never dabbled in the black market, dear."

"Well, yeah, that's exactly what I thought."

"Someone has to get stolen artworks back to their rightful owners," said Pamela, with a sniff. "It isn't as if those people were interested in giving back their ill-gotten goods."

"We're going to unpack that later," said Jazz.

"Wait, no," said Sam, leaning forward, "I kind of want to unpack Mom ripping off Nazis on the stolen art black market now."

"It isn't the appropriate time, dear."

"I swear, if you're making this up—"

"Anyway!" exclaimed Jazz. "The point is, we still don't know for sure where the actual anchor is, and stealing thirty-odd decorative ceramic urns—"

"I believe they are, in fact, porcelain."

"Fine. Porcelain urns is a lot more noticeable than making off with one. Is this what's going on right now?"

"Yes, I believe that is a fair assessment of the situation."

Jazz sighed deeply. "I can't do this right now, I'm going to bed."

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Despite repeated threats, Jazz had not yet gone to bed an hour later. Clearly, this was because she hated herself. Or because Danny's curse had rubbed off on her.

(She made a mental note to check if he was cursed. She'd seen so much weirder at this point.)

(On reflection, she should probably get that written on real note, or else she'd forget.)

"Okay, if Danny could tell that the pot in Sam's picture was the one, then he should be able to do it with a normal picture, right? That would be reasonable."

"Sam's picture is, like, a magic ghost picture, though, isn't it?" said Wes, rubbing his lower lip. "Or is it her witch powers making the pictures?"

"Sam isn't a witch." Why was Wes the only one still working on this with her right now? Wes was insane. "We've been over this before."

"She's taking magic pictures from another dimension," said Wes, "and you're telling me she isn't a witch?"

"That's not what we're talking about." She jabbed her finger at the doodles of urns she'd made on her legal pad. "Do you think it would work?"

"I don't know what your brother can or can't do," said Wes. "But, sure, I guess. We'd only know for sure if we got a positive, though, otherwise we're still uncertain, right?"

"Yeah," said Jazz. "We can put 'send photos to Danny' on the idea list, though."

"Dinner time!" called the Chef. "Last call!"

Oh. So that's why everyone else had left.

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Jazz barely glanced up when Dmitri landed on her shoulder. "Are you still working on it?"

"I don't want this hanging over our heads anymore," said Jazz.

"Okay… but you said you were going to sleep, so…" He fidgeted with a strand of her hair. "I'm still not sure how much normal humans need sleep."

"Eight hours or longer is preferable for people our age."

"Really? Are you sure?"

Well, that made Jazz feel like a hypocrite. What was she always telling Danny? Something something, bad for your health, something something.

"Can you feel that this is a malevolent vase?" she asked, tilting Sam's photograph at Dmitri.

"What does malevolent mean?" asked Dmitri.

"Threatening and evil."

"Maybe? It's at a really weird angle." He tilted his head. "I haven't really looked at a lot of photographs."

"So, you wouldn't know."

"I guess." He looked at it again. "It makes my eyes feel itchy? Does that count for anything?"

"Does your chest hurt?" asked Jazz.

Dmitri stopped rubbing it. "No," he said. "I guess… I just feel uneasy. And I don't like that this doesn't really have an explanation."

"You can say that again," said Jazz.

"I don't like that this doesn't have an explanation."

"Oh, sorry. Figure of speech."

"Oh, okay, I was wondering."

"It doesn't make you feel bad or anything?"

"Everything about this makes me feel bad. I just…" His shoulders slumped and he hugged himself, but Jazz could detect the slight tremor.

"You're worried about being controlled again?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Probably," murmured Jazz. "Danny had a hard time with it, apparently?"

"Apparently?"

"It was before he knew that I knew he was a ghost. I didn't know it was happening, at the time. If I had…" She shook her head. "I hope I could have helped him."

Dmitri shifted to look at her. "That's confusing."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I remember it from his perspective. What happened." He looked back at the picture. "So, Sojourn is going to go back to take pictures of the jars to send to Danny."

"So, that's what we're doing after all."

"Yeah."

"It just seems really inefficient. Especially if they get moved."

"Wasn't that a risk before, too? You said we were just going to scout it out, then take it later."

"I know, but then we'd know where it was, what it looked like, be able to get a replacement…"

"We still know what it looks like," pointed out Dmitri.

"Sort of," said Jazz, glaring at the picture. She should have had Sojourn take a camera with him this first time. This was ridiculous.

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"Oh," said Dmitri. "So, this is what pictures are supposed to feel like."

"We really need to come up with a plan to get you some more l- experiences," said Jazz, cutting off 'life' before she could say it. She wasn't sure if Dmitri would be sensitive about it or not. Another thing they'd have to fix.

"Yeah," said Dmitri. "Danny's childhood is so weird, especially compared to what I've read about or what's on the TV, it's basically worthless for establishing a baseline for what things are supposed to be like."

"When did you have time to watch the TV?" asked Wes. "Aren't you like, a month old or something? Haven't you been here for most of that?"

"My age is complicated, and I remember Danny watching the TV."

"Okay. So, the TV isn't really accurate when it comes to people's lives, either… something I tried to tell Danny," Jazz continued under her breath.

"Yeah, I think that's where Danny got his popularity fixation," said Sam, nodding.

"No, that was backlash against being the 'weird kid,'" said Jazz. "I went through that phase, too."

Dmitri tapped the digital camera button to make it go forward, paging through the pictures Sojourn had taken. He stopped.

"Oh," he said. "That vase is evil."

"You can tell! Excellent!" said Sojourn, leaning down, close to the table to he could see what Dmitri was looking at. "Which one is it in the bunch?"

"This one," said Dmitri, pointing.

"Excellent. I will be back in but a moment."

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"No, this isn't the evil jar," said Dmitri.

"I took the one you pointed out," said Sojourn.

"No, you didn't. The one I pointed at was evil." Dmitri looked down. "Unless I wasn't right and can't tell… Or the picture was evil… Maybe you should send it to Danny."

Jazz glared at Sojourn, far over Dmitri's head.

"I will," said Sojourn, "but I will also go back and take some more pictures."

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Danny squinted at the vase. "Why did Sojourn dump a totally normal vase on my desk?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Tucker. "Ow!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think I might need some real help on this stuff," said Tucker, before sticking a finger in his mouth and glaring at the… okay, Danny had no idea what the machine in his lap was. "I'm better at the programming stuff… which is interesting considering what Egyptian magic is like… I think I'm going to need a consult for the hardware end of things before we have anything like an internet over here."

"No one is expecting you to single-handedly build an internet overnight."

"Don't say that when I'm suffering extreme internet withdrawal. I love Egypt but imagine how much better it'll be with internet."

"Yeah… It would be nice… Huh. You know what, I think this almost looks like that picture of the anchor."

"A duplicate or a mockup?"

"Maybe? It would be nice if they left some kind of note…" He scratched his head, then wrote 'not evil' on a scrap of paper and taped it to the jar. "I'm going to take a break and go find Wulf so we can send this back."

"Aren't you working on portals now that we aren't fighting for our lives against anything?"

"It… isn't going great," admitted Danny. "But! Break! You with me?"

"Yeah," said Tucker, "that does sound good. Hey, when is Walker getting here, anyway?"

"Soon, hopefully."

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"None of these are evil," said Dmitri, frowning.

Jazz pulled away the camera and started counting vases, her heart sinking. "One's missing."