Chapter 264: A Prison and a Prison

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Sam, of course, had known something would happen. Something always happened. Heck, she couldn't go on a simple shopping trip without meeting someone's long-lost twin and running from a spy army. She didn't know if it would be a good thing (the president suddenly deciding to let all of the captured ghosts go out of the goodness of his heart) or a bad thing (terrorist attacks or being imprisoned themselves sprung to mind).

That was why only she, her mother, Jazz, Sojourn, Irving, and Dmitri had come on the trip. Everyone else had been left to mind the embassy and send word back to the Infinite Realms – and Danny – if they were unfortunately detained. Inky, especially, was important in this endeavor, because she could walk between back to the Ghost Zone, although it would take much longer than Sojourn's portals. It was a cat thing.

Anyway, all this to say that Sam wasn't exactly surprised when the containment devices started gushing steam-like clouds of ectoplasm, and sirens began to scream. Startled, maybe. A jump scare could startle even the most prepared, but not surprised.

Not like all the lawmakers, aides, and hangers-on in the president's retinue.

Her hands itched. She knew no one coming out of the tanks would hurt her, but she still wanted her weapons.

Had Dan decided to let everyone out now for maximum impact? Or were the containment units just failing now because of Murphy's Law?

(A recent conversation she had with Mar concerned ghost scientists who were trying to determine – with mixed results – whether or not Murphy's Law actually had a measurable effect.)

Or was this suspicious coincidence caused by enemy action?

But what enemy would want a bunch of ghosts running around?

She almost hit herself for even thinking such a stupid question. "Keep an eye out for Freakshow," she said, taking a step to the side so that her back was to her friends.

"Please tell us you didn't send him here," said Jazz, looking over at the president.

"What else was I supposed to do with him?" demanded the president from within his cocoon of secret service agents.

"I'm sure this is just a temporary malfunction," said the director, nervously, phone pressed hard against his ear. Sam could hear it ringing over the hiss of ectoplasm.

"I'm going to open a portal for you to go through," said Sojourn.

"For us to go through? What about you?" asked Jazz.

"I need to find Dmitri."

Fair enough, but in that case, "I'm not going to leave you here alone," said Sam.

"Uh, guys? I really don't think any of us should stay around pressurized tanks like these. I remember when the sauce reactor at the Nasty Burger almost blew. We could have lost a city block."

"Irving, dear," started Sam's mom.

She did not finish, because at that moment a great number of previously barely visible chalk lines flared into blinding phosphorescent brightness. Sam, by this time used to the flashes of her camera, did not blink, and therefore saw Freakshow walk into the room from a side door. But to everyone else, it must have seemed like he appeared from nowhere.

"Have you been hiding in a storage closet this whole time?" asked Irving.

Or maybe not. Ghosts did see things differently than humans.

Freakshow sneered. "Stop asking stupid questions," he snapped, twirling a metal rod, "and bring me the president."

"Uh," said Irving, his eyes going red and his mouth going slack. "Okay." He leapt at the secret service huddle, but at least one of them was wearing a specter deflector, because Irving fell back, stunned.

But Irving wasn't the only one. Small ghosts that had leaked out of the tanks were launching themselves at the presidential orb as well. It wouldn't be long before larger ones got out.

Was that the shaft of his stupid mind control staff? When did he get it back? How did he get it back?

Sojourn snagged Irving around the waist.

"Do you feel anything?" asked Jazz.

"No," said Sojourn, coldly. "And this has gone on for long enough."

One moment he was next to them, the next he was in front of Freakshow, almost casually swiping a hand through his body.

Which turned runny and suddenly reshaped itself into Amorpho. Amorpho, who was oddly silent and, against what Sam knew to be his nature, attempted to strike back at Sojourn.

"He has to be here somewhere," said Sam to Jazz.

Off to the side, the secret service donut with president filling was shuffling off towards an emergency exit, and Pamela was pulling the director out of a clump of hostile ghosts.

"I'll take that portal away," said Pamela. "I suspect the president will want one, too," she added, as the emergency exit turned out to be locked or barricaded. Several of the president's civilian companions clamored for a way out through a portal as well.

A ghost managed to pop the presidential bubble, however briefly, and dragged off an agent. The bubble closed again, and Sam waded in to rescue the unfortunate man with a few well-timed punched. Sure, ghosts could go intangible, but there were ways to get around that annoying defense mechanism if you knew what you were doing, and the ghosts weren't very smart.

Sam knew what she was doing.

By the time she made it back to the main group, Jazz had her swords out and was using them very reluctantly. Sojourn had dumped a number of ghosts into the Ghost Zone through portals, including Irving, and the presidential patriotic protection unit was having an argument about the safety of the portals.

"Where's your office?" Jazz asked the director.

"What?"

"Your office. Based on Freakshow's psychological profile, that's where he'll be," said Jazz. Soulshredder sliced cleanly through the body of an unfortunate specter, and it vanished into Souldshredder's fear dimension with a whimper.

The director stammered through half an explanation but cut off at the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

The lights flickered. Then went out, leaving only gaseous ectoplasm and ghosts to illuminate their surroundings. Several things exploded in the dark.

Immediately, there was panic. Not that there hadn't been panic to begin with, mostly from the ordinary civilians in the president's group, but it had been a half-disbelieving sort of panic. Despite everything, Sam supposed, ghosts were still too unreal to them. Not to mention, the fight hadn't really been all that violent up until that point.

But. Darkness. Explosions.

Sam managed to keep herself from being crushed in the miniature stampede, and pushed her mother out of the way of a ghost's tackle – was that Klemper?

She was, however, unable to keep herself from being punched.

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A ghostly motorcycle tore through the stars and stripes squad, carrying the president away with it. Jazz caught a glimpse of dirty blonde hair, blank red eyes, and a downright demonic shadow.

It was her ex. Of course. Why not.

The president being kidnapped by ghosts would definitely be bad for their diplomatic efforts, no matter if the ghosts were mind controlled by an evil clown at the time.

She ran after him, down the path cleared of ghosts by the motorcycle. The concrete beneath her feet chipped and cracked, its luck failing with the passage of Johnny's Shadow.

Jazz slid to a halt at a corner and noticed that strands of her hair glowed blue in the dark as they fell over her face, propelled by momentum.

Liminality.

She wasn't liminal enough to be affected by Freakshow's mind control tricks. Was she?

Well, she was about to find out. More importantly, if there was enough ectoplasm in the air from the broken containment units…

Pale golden hands burst into being around her and propelled her forward, faster than she could run.

Unlike Johnny, however, Jazz had to stop for doors and break them down. No intangibility for her. Luckily, Calesvol could cut through anything, and was eager to do so, after Jazz had limited herself to using Soulshredder as the nonlethal option.

(Insofar as the word nonlethal could apply to ghosts.)

Johnny was not the only ghost in the halls. Jazz found herself using both her hands and her swords to keep them away. It wasn't enough. She couldn't keep her ectoplasmic hands that far away from her body for long, and when her hands dissipated, the ghosts they once held came at her again.

How was Freakshow controlling so many? Those lines on the containment units, maybe? Some of the symbols looked like things she'd seen in the 'spellbooks' she'd been given.

(Her gut impulse was that it was some kind of time-dependent magic, something that the longer it was in place, the longer it was in effect, would work better and better. That the staff was only a catalyst, only a boost necessary for ensnaring Irving. That, perhaps, Freakshow had meant to catch Sojourn as well.)

(How had he gotten the time to set this all up on his own?)

(Was he on his own?)

(But Jazz was not used to following gut impulses, and it hardly mattered at the present moment. Her actions would not change.)

She was well into office space territory by now. The kind with wooden doors and plaques with names and titles on them. Fancy, despite the aura of militarization present in the entire building. What had the director's name been again?

Oh, never mind. His office was probably that heavily guarded one at the end of the hall.

Jazz passed the swords off to two of her ectoplasmic hands and sent them out in front of her. Calesvol took the hinges off the door while Souldshredder made quick work of the guards. Jazz kicked the door in. Even if the president was standing right behind it, it was unlikely that the door falling on his head would kill him.

Luckily, he, Freakshow, Johnny, and a variety of other mind-controlled ghosts were gathered at the back of the large office. Despite the impressive décor, beyond the occupants, the only thing that really stood out to Jazz about the office was the strong smell of cleaning supplies.

"Give up," said Jazz, as Freakshow's face twisted in fury, "and maybe I won't send you to a hell dimension to live out your worst fears."

"You, too?" shouted Freakshow, jumping out of the cushy leather seat to stand on the top of the desk. "You, too? I can understand one freak accident, but you? YOU? How did you do it? Why do you get to have that, and not—"

Jazz drove Soulshredder through Freakshow's ribcage. His eyes went very wide, and then he vanished.

"What that hell," said the president, breathlessly.

"There's a time for psychology, and that wa—"

The ghosts in the room, despite Freakshow no longer being present, attacked.