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Chapter 267: Didn't Know What I Expected
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Dan came back to a forest of rapidly multiplying ghost plants. Recognizing some of the plants, he was now doubtful that this was solely Sam's fault. One of the captured ghosts must have brought seeds with them to fight the GIW or something.
Large portions of the building were completely wrecked, both by plants and sundry other ghost powers. Dan could hear the whine of cheap, GIW-sourced ectoguns from inside, meaning that at least some humans were alive and uncaptured in there.
Now, would Sam be around there, or somewhere else? And should he go see if he could pick up Dmitri first, before looking for her?
Dmitri first. He knew where he was, after all.
Dan flew up, to the altitude at which he'd left his smallest… relative. Cousin? Could Dan rightly call him a cousin?
Dmitri was not there.
In hindsight, that was extremely predictable. Dmitri was also a Phantom.
Dan twisted, surveying the chaos on the ground. Seeing that Dmitri was a Phantom… Well. He'd most likely be wherever the chaos was greatest.
Dan plummeted.
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The president didn't know what he expected the afterlife, the Ghost Zone, to look like. No, that was untrue. Despite the colorful representatives sent to DC, he'd expected it be drab. Lifeless. Echoing. Full of dust and ruin.
In his defense, the place he first saw, the place he was currently, was, in fact, a dusty ruin. Even if it was anything but drab in color. The bright purples and greens would take some getting used to.
According to a brief statement from the Regency Council Chairman, a creature like Dr. Iceclaw only much larger and more muscular, this was where the Regency Council met… and also where Ambassador Sojourn had decided to drop many, if not most, of the ghosts that had escaped from the holding tanks and attacked.
Judging by the way unconscious ghosts littered the floor, they had been violent here as well.
An important skill in politics was the ability to recognize when you were wrong. Another important skill was the ability to recognize when to admit you were wrong.
He had been incorrect about his initial, split-second, assumption that the escaping ghosts were part of a plan on the part of the ghostly ambassadors. This had been clear once he'd seen enough to realize the escaped ghosts were attacking indiscriminately. Then, he'd believed that the ghosts had been planning an escape but hadn't recognized the ambassadors. But Showenhower had been very clear about what he had done, and the president had no real reason to doubt him.
Neither of these were things the president would mention. There was no way the ghosts would know about his shortly held erroneous beliefs. Bringing them up would only put him in a bad light. Hence, there was no reason to apologize for them.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," murmured a blue-skinned ghost with a long white beard and purple robe.
The president blinked. Did that ghost read his mind?
"Do you think it would be appropriate to send reinforcements now?" asked the prince, clearly addressing the question to his regents. "It would have to be only people strong enough to resist whatever Freakshow's done."
"I wouldn't worry too much about Freakshow in particular," said Jasmine, raising one of her swords. "I got him with Soulshredder. Also, I'm not sure how to let the ghosts I got with it out. Help?"
"I can help with that," said the ghost wearing medieval armor. "May I see, your highness?"
"It is your sword," said Jasmine, offering the hilt to him.
The knight nodded, took the sword, shook it once, and several dozen ghosts popped into being around him.
"Hm," he said. "Are you sure you struck Freakshow?"
"Positive."
"There is no one else trapped in the Nightmare Dimension," said the knight. "He must have escaped."
"That's possible?" asked Jasmine.
"He is a sorcerer. They're slippery."
"Great."
"That would explain why these guys didn't snap out of it," said the prince, "but this does seem to be a bit… large scale for Freakshow, if you know what I mean."
"What do you mean?" asked the president.
The prince turned to him.
The president had known what the prince looked like. Once they'd heard he was the same Phantom that was considered a local hero in Amity Park, his team had scoured the internet for pictures. Then, the Amity Park video had gone up, and Phantom had been featured in many of the clips, including the one of the missile strike.
None of those images, still or moving, had done him justice.
White haired Phantom might have been, but he was still obviously a child, only barely a teenager. His frame was slender, his face rounded, his eyes large in his face. His voice was light and wavered on occasion, as if about to crack.
None of this detracted from the eerie aura of sheer power emanating from him. In fact, it only emphasized the unsettling nature of what Phantom was.
With those green eyes fixed on his, the president swallowed. Phantom was dead, the ghost of a child, and had been for a long time.
"I think Freakshow had help," said the prince, crisply, "and not his usual ally. We have her." He looked around at the ghosts on the ground and bit his lip. "If these guys are going to go on the attack as soon as they get up, we need to find a place to keep them until we can fix this."
"Walker can do it," said a ghost who had been picking coins up off the floor.
The prince's nose wrinkled. "Walker? Really?"
"Libra isn't made for this many prisoners – no offense meant, Themis – and Walker is willing to be paid for it."
"Alright, fine. But that still leaves Freakshow. When Skulker's back from getting those secret service guys put away—"
An immense blue and white tiger on the other side of the room, one that the president had taken for an eccentric decoration, began to rumble. Everyone else in the room seemed unalarmed and gave the tiger the same attention they had to the ghost picking up coins.
The president was not so sanguine.
(Another important skill in politics was not letting the other side know you were terrified.)
"What do you mean we shouldn't?" asked the prince, plaintively.
The tiger continued to 'speak.'
"I agree," said a tall Arabic-looking woman with wings. "My Feathers often arbitrate between different Realms. The kind of thing you are suggesting may be considered a trespass, and further damage your efforts at diplomacy. You would need permission."
"Permission…" The prince's eyes snapped back to the president. "You could give permission."
"Permission that doesn't look coerced," said the purple robed ghost.
The prince's face went carefully blank. "Right," he said. He blinked hard once, twice. "Then you or Nephthys will have to get the president a portal back to Washington DC."
"Is that going to be safe?" asked Jasmine, frowning. "Considering how fast ghosts can go…"
"I guess it depends on whether Freakshow and his new friend are going for brute force or subtlety," said the prince. "I mean, if this is a GIW remnant, they'll want to swing public opinion again, back to ghosts being evil. Especially if they want to be in charge at the end of the day. There shouldn't be enough captive ghosts for them to establish direct control. But Freakshow would be okay with carving out a little kingdom for himself, rather than the whole country. At least at first, I think. But the president being a witness would be a problem for both of them…"
"If this isn't going to spiral out of control," said the president, as if it hadn't already, "I need to get back to DC as soon as possible."
"Right," said the prince, eyes focused unblinking on the president, "and you'll give permission for us to intervene."
"I can't guarantee that," said the president. He looked over at the tiger. "We prefer to deal with internal issues internally." He also still didn't have a full picture of what was happening.
"I understand that," said the prince, "but this is no longer an internal issue. Our citizens have also been affected. Including my sister. And you do not have the resources to deal with it."
"Perhaps we can visit this once I've returned to, ah, Earth," said the president.
"I will be returning with you in that case," said the prince.
The tall, blindfolded woman cleared her throat. "The trials of the GIW have not been completed."
"If there's no one to trade them for, there's not anything preventing the trial from finishing," said the prince.
"Wait," said the president, "what does that mean? No one left to trade them for?"
"You are no longer holding any ghosts prisoner," said another ghost. "The hold on the execution of the war criminals was entirely contingent on them being traded for our people. You are now unable to follow through on your end of the deal. Ergo…" She waved a hand, as if to suggest exasperation at having to spell things out.
"I, well, I—Perhaps I can no longer directly exchange them, but you, er…"
No matter how good a person was at politics, there was always a point at which one had to admit they were in over their head.
"Wouldn't it be dangerous for you to come? Considering the, ah… Was it mind control? For ghosts?"
"I'll be fine," said the prince. "Although you're certainly welcome to argue with Lady Themis regarding whether or not the execution of GIW members should go through based on your offer to let us intervene in the matter of the ghosts currently under Freakshow's control."
"I would allow an argument," said the blindfolded woman. "A man in your position must be a least generally capable of passable rhetoric."
The president… wasn't all too sure about that, actually.
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"Were you able to give Dmitri his present?" asked Danny, once he was able to pull Jazz to one side.
"Yes," said Jazz. "What was in it, anyway? Something that will help?"
"Uh," said Danny, "maybe? I'm not sure." It wasn't like it was a weapon or anything, but it might jog Dmitri out of mind control, like seeing Sam and Tucker had done for him.
"And are you really okay with the Guys in White being executed?"
"Not really," said Danny. "But what am I supposed to do about it? I just- I just want to get our people back. Do you think Sam is okay?"
Jazz flattened her lips. "There was a lot of fighting," she said, "but Sam is good at that, and Dan is… Well, he's there."
"I feel the need to remind you that he tried to kill all of you the first time he ran into you."
"So, like you, but backwards."
"I hate that that makes sense," said Danny.
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Let it be known, Alicia hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the First Lady. Honestly, it shouldn't have even been possible, what with all the extra security after the president fell out of communication. But Alicia had felt the need for an out of the way place, and the First Lady had, evidently, beaten her to the singular one available.
"Sissy," she hissed into her cellphone, "what are you doing?" There was a pause. "I've supported you all through this, through your job problems, but… This is too far." Another pause. "This wasn't something I- Yes, I understand that, but- Sissy. Sissy. You've… my husband is missing. You're- Alright. We could spin it like that, if you have the- Right. If you have- You don't? Why don't you? Just- What did mother always say about creepy little men? It isn't worth it!" A gasp. "He's the president, that's entirely different!"
Alicia backed away slowly. That was incredibly suspicious, and she had no idea who to go to about it.
The ghosts, for all they had brought seconds-early warning about the planned attack, weren't really an option, and her word versus the word of the First Lady wasn't something that would go over well.
This really wasn't Alicia's year.
