Just a heads up: I may wind up taking a short hiatus sometime in the next couple of weeks. I have been... somewhat stressed. I'm sure you all have been too! It's just... yeah... 2020, am I right? In other news, I've been furiously grading papers until 5 minutes ago, because my time management skill seems to have yeeted itself into the void sometime in the last six months. Haha. My buffer is dying.
If I don't post next week, I'm not dead, just resting.
.
.
.
Chapter 223: A Call To Arms
.
After waiting a few hours and cutting across the city to be safe, Lydia started tracking her tattoos. Surely, the two GIW agents would lead her to the GIW's hideout, headquarters, secret prison, or wherever they were keeping Freakshow.
Well. Maybe they would have if they hadn't been arrested by the FBI.
As it was, the agents were bound for the nearest federal prison.
This was unfortunate in a number of ways. Partially because Lydia had, in life, rather enjoyed conspiracy theories, thrillers, and paranormal mysteries. In her mind, it was quite reasonable to expect a secret government agency, like the GIW, to have a secret base beneath a federal prison. She also thought it reasonable for one government agency to disguise itself as an entirely different government agency.
Lydia did not, sadly, know that the GIW was not a government agency at all, but rather a group of rogue contractors. Wanted rogue contractors. Perhaps if she did, she would not have attacked a federal prison.
On the other hand, even in life she hadn't been a fan of the government. Who was to say what she would or would not have done?
.
.
.
"What."
"Er, a tattooed ghost attacked a federal prison in—"
"No, no," said the president, sitting down and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I heard what you said. Just… Why?"
"We aren't sure. According to witness, she didn't say anything. She did seem to be after the two GIW agents that had just been arrested, however."
"The two GIW who escaped."
"Yes, sir."
"You don't think she was there to rescue them, do you?"
"Er, from the footage I saw? No."
"How many of the other prisoners escaped."
"Over a hundred," said the advisor, wincing.
"Great," said the president. "Anything else about this particular disaster?"
"Well, the destruction had the side effect of uncovering a drug lab being run out of the basement of the prison."
"You're joking."
"Sorry, sir. I'm not."
The president sighed. "You know what? I'm going to put that on a backburner for now. Let's focus on the ghosts. A senator claims he was defenestrated by one a few days ago?"
"The city police say they think it was a suicide attempt, but they haven't, er, released any details. A few other people claim to have seen a 'muscular grim reaper' and a woman with 'disappearing skin,' in places people shouldn't have been able to get into. But, well, considering some of the targets, I personally put my money on a prank."
"Alright," said the president. "For now, we'll consider it a prank." Something inside told the president he would regret this decision. However, the president was skilled at ignoring such inner voices. It was how he had gotten so far in politics. "Any updates on Amity Park?"
"The national guard has set up a perimeter a mile back from the bubble, sir. We haven't seen anyone come out, yet, but a small RC drone exited the bubble near the north point, took a 30 second flight, then re-entered."
"It was let by?"
"Yes, sir. The… Amity Parkers?"
The president winced. He needed to get his PR team to come up with a better demonym for people from Amity Park. Soon. 'Amity Parkers' was terrifyingly awkward. But it couldn't be too cool of a name, or otherwise it would be hard to, well, backtrack if it turned out the town and its ghosts were somehow in the wrong.
True, the town would have had to be planning something truly horrific to justify dropping a bomb on them, and the president did not believe that was the case, but the supernatural was already unbelievable. He had to be able to pivot if it became necessary.
Not that he intended to. Not on something like this.
They'd dropped a bomb on an American city.
Oh, maybe he'd have to, if the ghosts (or whatever was going on in that city) decided to attack the rest of the country, but for now…
"Use that term for now," said the president.
"The Amity Parkers must have some extra understanding of the phenomenon, or the drone had some technology ours do not possess," said the advisor.
"Or there's something else going on that we don't understand," said the president.
"Jack and Madeline Fenton did submit designs for inventions that supposedly could produce similar effects to the patent office," said the scientific liaison, who the president had been talking to before the advisor came in. "We haven't gotten any of them to work, yet, but it isn't unbelievable that Amity Park did this all on their own. Without 'ghosts.'" The scientific liaison was a dedicated skeptic. He was of the opinion that the whole 'ghost' thing was simply a ruse to distract people from the truth.
"Regardless," said the president. "Even with those designs, there are things we don't understand. Otherwise, we could replicate them." He sighed. "I need to talk to DHS and the security team about the prison break. In the meantime, you two at least should get some rest. I'm sure Amity Park will have new surprises for us soon enough."
.
.
.
"Yeah, so, with the drone, we can't get signal through the shield. I had to poke the antenna through to get it back in," said Wes, rubbing his eyes. Even for him, there was a limit to how long he could comfortably stare at a computer screen. "I don't think anyone noticed that, because we made sure to stay behind some bushes, but I looked back over the drone footage, and they definitely noticed the drone itself."
Ishiyama fiddled with the edge of her blouse. "Could you tell who they were?" The subject and identity of the army slowly surrounding the city had been the focus of much anxiety.
"They were wearing camo, mostly, with some other uniforms mixed in," said Wes. "Maybe someone with a military background could tell you more? Military conspiracies aren't my forte, and they were pretty far away." He handed over a flash drive. "Good thing the power plant is still working, right? I can't imagine doing this without tech."
"Wes, you were an enjoyable student to have in class, but if you jinx the electricity, you'd better hope you come back as a ghost."
"Oh, speaking of, have you seen Mr. Falluca?" He'd been the robotics club advisor a few times, and Wes wanted to ask him a few things.
If the man was feeling up to it. He had died.
"You'll have to visit him at home, I'm afraid," said Ishiyama, raising an eyebrow. "He's been calling in dead. Not that he hasn't been doing work, it's just…" She waved a hand. "Tell him being dead isn't a good enough excuse anymore."
"Yeah. I'll do that. Later. I just want to go home and pass out."
"Good idea. You never know when you'll get to sleep next." She glared at a piece of yellow legal pad paper in front of her. "Or eat," she grumbled. "We're not even paying taxes anymore. What is the world coming to? Death and taxes, they say. Undeath and taxes, but we aren't paying taxes. Worthless green paper, we're going to have to do tithes or something… food distribution… Would tithes count as taxes?"
"Right. Well. I'm going to show myself out."
.
.
.
Brianna Marburry held up a sign with her sister's face on it. Ashley. That was her name. Ashley.
She still couldn't get over the fact that she had a sister.
A sister who could be dead. A sister who had been missing even before the 'Amity Bubble' went up. A sister who, according to a GIW dossier that had been leaked just hours ago, had been labeled expendable. A sister who had classmates marked for death.
A sister she could help in this stupid, small way.
The protesters took a step forward.
.
.
.
Vlad Masters leaned back and sipped tea. He was no Tucker Foley (the child lacked polish, but he was a truly gifted hacker) but then he didn't have to be.
Stealing a few of the child's pre-made programs had been the game of a few hours. Of course, it had taken much longer to determine which of the tools were traps, which were toys, and which were genuinely useful, but Vlad had people for that.
Then, too, he had placed certain stepping-stones for this or a similar eventuality, way back when he was still donating to the GIW. Strange, how people so often failed to look past free money and equipment to the strings attached. True, he'd never had any true control of the GIW, or this travesty would never have happened, but that was precisely why a back door was necessary in the first place.
Leaking a select few of the GIW's records was oddly satisfying. Watching the results was even better. There had been protests before.
With luck and patience, by the time Danny took the shield down, the world would once again be a favorable environment for Amity Park.
He frowned at one of the pieces of data he had yet to release: the location of the GIW's primary headquarters. Vlad was quite sure the government already knew where it was, and the ethics of throwing a bunch of angry civilian protestors and press members at an entrenched paramilitary encampment seemed… gray. Even to Vlad. So. To post, or not to post, that was the question.
Or, perhaps, he could give the information to ghosts. Plenty of them were angry enough at the GIW. Yes… and maybe leak the location to the press after the ghosts were already on their way. That might have a good effect.
Decision made; Vlad returned to the Ghost Zone.
.
.
.
"Well," said Skulker. "The head of the GIW would be a challenge, don't you think?"
Ember hummed in agreement. "Better his than Phantom's really. That kid is too scrawny, babe. Wouldn't look any good next to all of these." She gestured to Skulker's extensive trophy wall. "I'm in, too. If all those reporters really are there, this'll be my second chance at a worldwide debut."
.
.
.
"You could simply wish them away, Plasmius," said Desiree, regarding him through long, painted eyelashes. "I have the power."
Vlad snorted. "Not to that degree. Besides, as much as Daniel may insist otherwise, I'm not stupid."
Desiree tsked. "It was worth a shot," she said. "But just so you know, I've never heard Phantom call you stupid. Any other wishes I could tempt you with? Perhaps ones involving a certain half-ghost?"
"… No."
.
.
.
"A paramilitary organization operating within US borders? That's against the rules!"
"I'm glad you agree. Now, if you don't mind, I must be on my way—"
"And where do you think you're going? We've got a warrant out for you, Plasmius."
Vlad raised an eyebrow. "I'd been hoping you'd overlook it, in light of the information I just brought you."
Walker snorted. Considering that he had no nose, the effect was interesting. "That'd be against the rules."
"Well. I suppose I have time for a fight."
.
.
.
Danny stood in front of Themis' office door, feeling nervous and nauseous. Hemlock and Clockwork stood next to him, his friends down the hall. They gave him an encouraging set of thumbs-ups.
Right. Well. If he stalled any longer, they'd be late. He knocked on the door.
