"Don't look at me like that. No one forced you back into the Ghost Zone, this time."

Technus folded his arms and glowered. "No, I just got tricked by my own offspring! Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Whose side have I ever been on?" Kat retaliated, her own arms crossed in unintentional mimicry. "You take over the world, and the world can say goodbye to theater. I know you, pops; first thing you'd do is drain the lights off Broadway."

"Ha! That is where you are wrong! I would drain Las Vegas first. Then Broadway."

Kat stuck her tongue out; the situation seemed to warrant it. "Whatever. Either way, I'm on the side of whoever is going to protect my stage." She sniffed arrogantly. "Besides, you should thank me. Phantom would have kicked your butt even harder if I hadn't stepped in."

Technus laughed sharply. "That square can't defeat me, for I am Technus! And don't you even start, young lady!"

His daughter, who was just about to start ticking his various defeats off on her fingers, smiled indulgently and shook her head. "Yes, well," she muttered. "I have to go."

"What? Already?"

"Yeah, I promised Ghost Writer I'd play the main character in this modern-day Scarlet Letter he's trying to write."

"Oh, yeah," Technus laughed maliciously. "The bet."

"Bite me, pops. Cheerio!"

A man poked his head into the darkened alleyway and looked around cautiously. Seeing only oddly shaped shadows, he motioned to his comrades within the jewelry store's back room and stepped out to stand guard while they moved out laden with stolen goods. The last man out carefully closed the door and started to reset the electronic lock before it could set off the alarm.

Suddenly, the close brick confines echoed with a deafening roar and a single beam of light lit up the crime scene. "Well, well, well," Angel called over the motor's rumbling. "The dog goes on vacation for a few days, and the sheep think they can graze wherever they want. Let's remind them who's in charge here, shall we, Sweetheart?"

Two of the men dropped their burdens in favor of their pistols; they woke up several hours later in a holding cell, along with eight of their other comrades. Three got away, but only one made it with any merchandise. The last, a young man that had recently joined the gang, ran until he was cornered. He made a valiant effort to destroy her, but a knife is little good against a speeding motorcycle.

He was knocked to the ground hard, and something sat on top of him before he could get up. His vision cleared just as Angel grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up slightly with one hand and ripped his ski mask off with the other. "Listen, boy, and listen good," she murmured. "Are you listening?"

He nodded frantically.

"Good. Tell Roho Ebony Angel sends her regards. And tell him he can have his trash back." She pulled a large ruby ring out of her pocket and dropped it on her captive's chest. His eyes widened as he recognized it. It was Roho's symbol of power, which she had taken when last they met as a metaphor for taking his actual power. That she was giving it back now implied that she considered him worthless. It would be a great blow to his reputation; even greater than taking it in the first place.

She mounted Sweetheart and rode away, laughing joyously.

He stood in a misty void, looking around in confusion. It was a place he had visited often in his dreams of late, but something was different. The buzzing, the crying, was louder. The haze, usually darkened, had brightened to a pale grey…or silver.

It was impossible; she was dead. He knew she was dead because he had killed her himself. Granted, he hadn't meant to. It had been a complete accident. But his ectoplasmic energy blast didn't work well enough, and she was about to kill his mom. He hadn't even paid attention to where he aimed her colt…

…The Mongoose…

It was an accident, but it didn't change the facts. Silver was dead. She had to be.

So why was she standing before him, ghostly silver blood leaking from her wrist and a knowing smile on her face. "Buenos diaz amante," she whispered. "Have you missed me?"

A/N: Next up, the sequel to Hounds and Hunters. As you can see, I'm leading right into it.For those of you just tuning it, read that one and it's prequel Cat and Mouse, or you'll have no idea what's going on. While the first two were based off of the mature-themed horror duology, The Suffering, Black and White will not be. Why, you ask? There's no third game. So, yes. Just about everything you read will be dredged up from the darkest parts of my mind. I can only hope it stands up to the other two.