"You! Move it!" a guard called gruffly as he pushed the cell door open.

Skulker, the ecto-pusses, and the vultures all sighed in unison. In perfect harmony they rose from the large cold slab that was Skulker's bed and stepped out into the halls.

Eight years had passed since they had been sold out at Central Supply. After Tony had disabled Skulker's weapon systems, they were in no position to offer real resistance against Walker. The warden had tried them, convicted them, and sentenced them to one million years of standard jail time. By Walker's definition, standard jail time was fairly mild and more a boring existence than a torturous one. But a few months of such monotony almost made the captives yearn for sentence with more labour – they would at least then have something to do.

In their years of captivity, not one of them had seen any sign of Vlad. The samurai whom he had been fighting that fateful night had been taken in with them, but he had been led away after conviction and hadn't been seen since. The vultures had offered a description of Vlad and the limited information they had on his assets – including the location of the Family's headquarters – in hope of getting a shortened sentence. But no trace of their boss could be found anywhere. The Family had moved and was still at large, and all of Vlad's other assets had disappeared. With no trace of Vlad's body anywhere, two possible conclusions had been drawn.

He had either retreated to Earth and abandoned his employers or had been destroyed by the samurai.

None of the captives thought of that as they were led through the long bleak corridors to Walker's office. It was a poorly lit, simple room, with three windows, a desk with a speaker and a rulebook on top of it, six chairs on one side, and Walker on the other. The warden sat stone-faced and still. Something in his eyes suggested he was not happy, a thought that made even Skulker sweat under his armour.

Without a command to prompt him, the guard shoved the six prisoners into the available chairs and left the room, leaving them to the mercy of Walker.

"Skulker," the hard-boiled cop began. "Vultures. Ecto-pusses. Eight years ago you were caught, tried, convicted, and sentenced for trespassing, industrial espionage, and attempting to make off with records vital to one of my cases. That's all against the rules. Your sentence? One million years! And I would make sure you served every one of 'em!"

To illustrate his point, he seized the rulebook on his desk and chucked at his audience, narrowly missing Skulker's head. The vultures shivered together in unison, and the ecto-pusses covered each other's eyes.

"I would make sure you served the sentence," the warden went on, "if things hadn't changed."

All six prisoners relaxed slightly. What did this mean?

"Seems someone wants you out of here and is willing to pay. I don't usually make deals like this, but this one's a special case."

"How much vere ve vorth?" one of the vultures quipped. He soon cowered behind his companions when Walker shot a look back at him.

"I don't take bail money," the cop snorted. "My weapons and equipment are getting old. And I don't have the resources to develop the real-world contraband I confiscate. But someone does, and they made an offer I couldn't refuse."

Skulker raised his head, intrigued. Someone who could develop real-world technology…

Could it be?

"And so," Walker concluded, "you're free to go. But I'm warning you: I see any of your faces again, you and I are gonna have a problem. Now, meet the man who set you free," he motioned towards the shadows in the back of the room.

A tall, well-built blue ghost floated out from the dark curtain, hands clasped behind his back. He had a vampiric look to him, with black hair swooped up like devil horns, sharp canines, pointed ears, and a well-defined goatee. His eyes were cruel and a solid glowing red. He stood with a confident manner and his stare was proud and cruel. What struck Skulker the most, though, was that he was dressed in a white two-piece hazmat lab suit with a black collar, black gloves, and black boots – just as he had seen Vlad wear eight years ago.

"Don't think this gets you off the hook for any offences you may commit in the future," Walker said as he marched over to his mysterious guest. He shoved a finger at the red-eyed ghost as a final guesture of warning.

The vampiric ghost chuckled darkly, clearly amused. With understated drama he drew his hands from behind his back and handed the warden a glowing green nightstick. Skulker recognised it immediately – eight years ago, he had built the first model of such a device based on a design of Vlad's.

Walker examined the device, aimed it at the speaker on his desk, and let off a blast. A green line of energy shaped like an ecto-cuff appeared around the base.

"But then again," the warden smiled, "I may be willing to be lenient."

---

Skulker let out a great sigh as he settled into the seat of a ghost-limousine. After eight years in the GZPD Incarceration Centre, he was free to hunt once more.

That was, if his liberator wasn't just another warden.

The vultures and the ecto-pusses sat back one level of the car, asleep. Free of the distraction they created, Skulker examined this mystery ghost sitting across from him hard and long. He was like no one the hunter had ever seen before, and he had yet to speak, but there was something so familiar about him…

"I thank you for releasing me to prowl again," Skulker said with enough gusto in his voice to appear intimidating in case this ghost was trouble. "Tell me…where did you acquire that lab suit?"

"Oh, this thing?" the ghost said in a familiar, smug voice with a slight accent. "It's standard lab wear. I've had suits like it for years."

Under his armour, Skulker's eyes bulged. The ghost grinned knowingly as the hunter tried to find words.

"Glad to see your eye is still sharp, Skulker," Vlad Masters said lightly. "So sorry to have left you in there so long, but I had some problems with this new form to master. And without you around, Technus was the only real mechanic I had for building your bail."

Skulker tried articulating any number of the things inside his mind – relief, intimidation, anger, confusion…and all he could manage was "Masters?"

"About that," Vlad yawned as he leaned back and crossed his legs. "After that incident, I decided to use this new form to my advantage. The Family hasn't seen me like this, and as long as I stay like this in The Ghost-Zone, they'll never find me. But that does me little good without a new name. So, from now on, you are to refer to me as…Plasmius."