Damn. Damn! I can't...get out...of this stupid thermos!
I finally just stop trying. It's not my strength I've exhausted; it's my patience. I was always lacking in that department.
For now, though, I consider the recent battle with my younger self.
Little Danny Fenton. Do you think you're rid of me? That you've completely purged from yourself all possibility of me?
Can you rid yourself of...yourself? I am still part of you; there is still something in you which is capable of my acts. Else, how could I have come from you?
But you're still flawed, little phantom. You are who you've chosen to be...and you've chosen to be weak...to be human.
Fool.
I know I am stronger without my useless humanity; perhaps you would too, if you had seen it cry and heard it beg and whimper while I crushed its throat, little by little.
Yes...perhaps you would...
Or perhaps you would succumb to your human emotions and try to stop me. After all, it was those same emotions that caused you to reject the one thing every human and every ghost strives for, whether he knows it or not; whether he'll admit it or not.
Power.
And you, little phantom, promised to give it up.
Weakling.
And yet, as much as it infuriates me to think of, you defeated me, and sealed me in this blasted tube.
Luck. It couldn't be anything else.
I will not accept defeat.
I'll just have to wait for my chance. And there will come a chance. This thermos can't last forever.
Nothing lasts forever, little phantom, not even a promise.