Possession
Dedicated to rainy-chan


Bounding down the stairwell, thoughts rattled through Ash's brain. Some
bidden, others fragments of his stream-of-consciousness, he analyzed them in
turn.

His office. Or home. Whatever you wanted to call it. What was the
fastest way to get there? Sticking to well-traveled walkways would be the
safest idea, of course, but that was also the slowest way -- and he needed
to be there as soon as humanly possible.

There, not only did he have access to a far more ranged selection of
weapons, but he could also safely discharge them without worrying about
injuring bystanders. In a suitably reckless fashion, even.

It appeared that taking the alleyways back was the fastest bet -- he'd
just have to risk getting messily devoured on the way there. Ah well. Ash
had done stupider things and gotten away scratchless, so why would this be
an exception? Heh, on second thought, perhaps that was a question better
left unanswered.

Ash sighed relievedly. It had been at least ten seconds now, and no
sound of the possessed-Misty thing. That had to be what it was, as it
was obviously beyond the bounds of human capacity for pain -- plus it could
regenerate its extremities. Then again, that might be a very bad thing.
Not knowing where she was probably worse than having her breathing down
his neck again.

The whole case was just a little too creepy... wait, that probably wasn't
the problem. The whole case was just a little too personal for his tastes.
Personal in several ways.

First, he was hired by a certain Misty Waterflower -- an old companion.
She was having repeated troubles with a disembodied spirit occupying her
newly-acquired apartment. It was a nice apartment, he couldn't see any
reason why it in particular would be infested or anything; evidently there
was something else going on. Cross-referencing the previous resident of
said apartment with some dated obituaries -- couldn't get anything out of
the management or staff of the building -- Ash found that the last person to
live there was a certain Duplica Imite.

And also that she had committed suicide for unknown reasons. He had
actually been wondering himself how Duplica was holding up lately; a few
weeks before Misty contacted him, Ash had even tried calling her. Of course,
he was informed by the man on the other end of the line that she was long
gone. That was relatively stupid, in retrospect: actors like Ms. Imite
tended to move a lot. In any case, she evidently was doing a hell of a lot
worse than he had ever imagined.

According to the record, she had jammed the barrel of a handgun into her
mouth and eviscerated a sizeable chunk of her brain tissue -- ending her
life instantly. A decidedly un-feminine way of ending her life, but that
was how she finished it off. She left no note, had no family or friends to
carry out any wishes she may have had. Only record of her erasure from
reality was a tiny paragraph in the back of the daily paper -- which Ash
never read.

It was rather sad. He wished he at least knew why. Why she had wasted
the near-boundless potential she had, potential to become a successful
actress. But he'd never find out. Never know why.

The personality of the whole thing bothered him deeply, but for the past
few days he reminded himself that it wasn't his job to worry about other
peoples' problems, just to rid them of things that went 'bump' in the night.

Something clicked just as he reached the third floor. It made sense
now. A really twisted kind of sense, really, but it did make sense.

Actually it made so much sense he felt like a mentally-challenged simian
for not realizing it earlier. Misty had started behaving rather oddly after
passing out momentarily... she had been giving him yet another run-down on
where and how the disturbances occurred. Duh. It all fit together now.
Well, now he knew why Misty had been acting rather differently.

Why the spirit of a dead friend would inhabit the body of a living
friend, hit on him, then attempt to kill him when he declined her, was still
beyond him though.

But since Duplica was currently possessing Misty, he couldn't just blow
her away. This made things a great deal more complicated, to say the
least. Somehow, he'd have to get Misty/Duplica to his house, and attempt to
work out the problem that was preventing her from passing peacefully on to
wherever it was you went after you died. And also find out why she had
tried to kill him repeatedly.

This would result in a slight change of plan, of course. Now he'd want
to take the long route home, and make as big an attraction of himself as
possible. Ash now needed to lure Duplica back to his house, and try to
resolve the whole messy issue there.

Pausing at the stairwell exit, Ash took a brief moment to wonder how the
hell he could pull the whole thing off. Shrugging, he decided to just wing
it and see how it went along. Worked every other time...

Singing softly to himself, he carefully picked his way through the
lobby, ignoring the people staring at his bloody, ragged appearance.
Using both arms to shove open a pair of double doors, Ash deliberately
swaggered down the street, attempting to draw as much attention to himself
as possible. Not that he really needed to try -- people shrank away to both
sides of him, avoiding the scary blood-soaked black-haired man.

High above him, perched on the chain-link fence surrounding the edge of
the building, Duplica watched him depart -- through Misty's eyes. Hissing
softly between her teeth, she saw him making his way down the street in an
irritatedly jaunty fashion. Almost as if he wanted her to follow him...

"What is wrong with him?!?"


Hopping lightly to her feet, Duplica ran swiftly down the edge of the
fence, following the direction Ash took. When she reached the end of the
expansive building, she took it in stride, leaping with catlike agility
toward the next, thankfully shorter, structure. She just barely made it --
a few inches shy and she would have made a spectacular mess upon the
sidewalk below.

So went several city blocks, Ash shoving people out of his path and
causing fisticuffs to break out, Duplica hopping agilely from rooftop to
rooftop in relaxed persuit.

Finally, Ash turned, heading toward the Vermilion seaport. What the
hell he proposed to do there was not evident, but Duplica followed him.
Dropping down to the pavement, she melted into the shadows and made her way
through the maze of warehouses, never venturing far from the darkness.

Standing with one hand on the door, Ash sneaked a quick glance over his
shoulder, Ash noting with pleasure that Misty/Duplica was still hot on his
trail. He fumbled for a second with the lock, then flung the door wide and
shambled in. Smirking to himself, Ash groped his way through the
pitch-black warehouse, searching for a certain box. No, he wouldn't turn
the lights on... as much as it would aid his search, darkness was his
friend right now. Ash knew his way around the building in the dark; Duplica
didn't.

"Where the hell is that damn case?!?!"

Seconds later, he found it -- with his shins. Cursing a few times, Ash
snapped the catches on the front with his boot's toe, then kicked the case
open.

A silhouette filled the doorway. Though his back was facing her, he
could clearly see her shadow projected onto the wall directly in front of
him.

For the third time this day, Ash found himself appreciating Misty's
skinny yet shapely form. Feeling Duplica's gaze prodding his back, he
brushed such thoughts away. Ash watched attentively as she slunk into the
shadows, the door creaking half-shut of its own accord.

Inhaling deeply, Ash readied himself.

Kicking the case violently, he catapulted its contents into his waiting
hands, then did a neat hop over the box. With a swift flick of his heel, he
sent the case flying toward the door, diving toward the switch on the wall.
Counting softly to himself, "Thousand one... thousand two..." He snapped
the switch on, then whipped the Thompson sub-machinegun to face the near
left corner of the building.

The warehouse lights slowly flickered on, the case arced into the
half-open door, slamming it closed with a resounding crash.

Shrieking in a fashion most inhuman, Misty/Duplica shrank even further
into the corner, trying to shield herself from the noise and light -- the
sudden stimulus put her in an almost-feral defense mode.

"I know who you are, and I'm not afraid..."

Smiling in spite of her fear, Duplica managed to squeeze a hoarse
response from her dry throat. Staring down the business end of a tommy-gun
would give you a bit of a speech impediment, now and then.

"Really..."

"Yes, Duplica, really. I want to help you. I don't want to hurt you... if
I had only known it was you earlier, this would have been a hell of a lot
different."

"Really, Ash... do you really think so? Or are you just telling yourself
that so you don't feel guilty about hurting Misty? I think it's just
remorse for hurting your precious little girlie-friend... but don't worry.
She's fine. For now."

"She's not mine, Duplica. And you're the important one here. You're the
tortured soul, not her."

She continued as if she didn't even hear him.

"... But you know, I am sorry. I'm truly sorry for trying to hurt you.
After you've been a wandering soul, even for a short time... you start
losing what made you yourself... you begin to... to... to..."

"I know. I know what happens. You start to hunger..."

"NO!! NO!! You don't know!! You don't know how awful you feel..."

Collapsing into a sitting position, Duplica buried Misty's face in her
hands.

"... so... dirty. Hellish. Wrong... you were so selfish as to take your
own life because you couldn't handle it..."

Ash leaned back against the wall, slowly sighing. He let the tommy-gun
and its belt of ammunition slide to the ground; content to listen to her
story.

"... and now you're starting to lose what made you... you. You turn into
something worse than anything... nothing. It's a damned half-life.
Damned... damned... You don't even deserve the eternal rest. You're first
doomed to walk the mortal plane, torturing its citizens with your wailing..."

Duplica began sobbing, then slowly, reservedly, Ash began to make his
way over toward her corner.

"Then things get... bad. You start to lose your humanity, lose yourself in
the hate for this world. Your hate overwhelms you, your hate becomes your
personality. Living... to cause pain. Cause pain to others, because of
what you think they did to you. After a while... I know... you don't even
feel remorse. You hate everything."

Reaching her collapsed form, Ash extended a hand down to the piteous
form on the filthy floor. Duplica gratefully accepted it, letting Ash pull
her to a fully-upright position.

"You're just an embodiment of hate. Pure hate and malice. Seeking only to
try to damn others to a fate worse than your own."

"I'm sorry. Really I am."

"NO!! I don't want your pity. I don't want anyone's pity. I just want
out. Maybe some tortured bastard would want what I have right now, but I
don't. I want it to stop. Help me. Please."

Ash looked her straight in the eyes. Staring deep into the crystal-blue
eyes of the tortured soul, he answered her completely truthfully.

"I will do anything I can to help you. I'd even kill myself if I
even thought it would help you in the least."

"... Ash?"

"Yeah?"

"... promise me, promise me that whatever happens, whatever you do...
please, please don't do that. Don't ever do it... if only for my sake.
Please."

"... I promise. I won't. Ever."

Duplica twisted Misty's face into a crooked smile through the tears that
bathed her face.

"Thanks for promising. You don't know how much that means to me..."

"... I think I might have an inkling."

"Yeah, maybe..."

Tugging at her wrist, Ash directed her toward the corner.

"I've got a bed over there, but not much other furniture... if you wanna sit
down..."


Duplica tried to blink her tears away, speaking in a still shaky tone.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"... I think you know what you need me to do so you can move on..."

Her answer was just a hollow echo of a word.

"Yeah..."