Chapter CVII
Sam and Jazz had just stepped into the lab when the sound of the door bursting open echoed down to their ears. The steady thumping of heavy boots grew closer as the intruder made his way through the kitchen to the basement steps.
"Omigosh, omigosh, what are we gonna do?" Jazz looked around the room frantically, hoping for a solution to present itself. "What are we gonna do?!"
The heavy footsteps paused for a moment before the intruder began an ominously slow descent down the stairs.
"The Specter Speeder!" Sam blurted out. "We can use it to hide in the Ghost Zone!"
Jazz's fear turned into confusion. "Why on Earth would we want to do that? That thing is probably a ghost anyway! How much better off would we be in his dimension?"
"You have a better idea, princess?" Sam began to back away from the stairs. Her flashlight revealed nothing, but she knew the figure was only several steps away from illumination.
"N-no," the older teen admitted, "but we can't just leave! What about my mom?"
"You don't think she can hold her own against whatever that thing is?" Sam's heart rate sped up as a black boot stepped into view. "C'mon!"
The girls spun around – and came face to snout with the largest dog they had ever seen in their lives. It would have been terrifying enough if the pooch was alone, but another canine came into view alongside its brother. Both dogs were showing off their impressive teeth in a slobbery display of intimidation. Sam and Jazz backed away from the ghost dogs instinctively, but found that to be a mistake as they bumped into something cold, hard, and definitely not friendly.
"I would much rather prefer to let you two live," the synthesized voice of the intruder spoke. "My primary target is elsewhere in the house, and I can hardly consider either of you two as threats."
"Oh really?" Jazz asked.
Sam sensed that the gene responsible for making Fentons pick fights with superior opponents was coming into play and elbowed the girl in the ribs with an unnecessary amount of force. "Ix-nay on the ight-fay, azz-jay," the younger girl growled through clenched teeth.
The unseen head of the intruder turned to Sam. Several seconds of silence passed before he spoke. "What?"
The thought of explaining "Pig-Latin" to the ghost passed through Sam's mind, but it was replaced by an even cleverer one. "Azz-jay, ount-cay o-tay ee-thray and ock-shay the og-days, ok . . . ay?."
Jazz did the translation in her mind – Jazz, count to three and shock the dogs– and nodded in understanding. The intruder was still trying to process what the two females were saying when, three seconds later, the girls spun around and fired their tasers into the ghostly dogs. The amount of electrically-charged ectoplasm was just enough to KO the domesticated specters, but the process gave Skulker more than enough time to yank the females back, thus ending the surprise attack.
"Great plan," Jazz hissed, displaying her mastery over sarcasm. "Now what?!"
"Now, you die." The voice carried no emotion. It was as cold as the steel of the ghost itself.
Sam and Jazz exchanged petrified glances; this one was serious. "Wait!" Sam blurted out. "You don't want to kill us!"
"No, you don't me to kill you," the robot replied.
"Well, yeah," Sam replied softly, "but you said so yourself, we're not your primary targets! Why waste your time with us?"
"Why should I even waste another second arguing with you scrawny females? Accept your deaths. Escaping me is only prolonging the inevitable."
"Is that supposed to scare us?" Jazz barked angrily, momentarily forgetting that their captor was a massive robotic ghost with the strength of ten grizzly bears.
"No," Skulker hoisted them up off the ground by the backs of their shirts and turned them to face him. His Mohawk erupted into a flaming green existence, having previously been extinguished to conceal his form in the darkness. The green ectoplasmic fire lit up his demonic face with an eerie, ethereal light. His hollow, black eye stared into the girls' very souls. "THIS is supposed to scare you!"
Jazz opened her mouth to scream, but found her constricted throat was unable to even emit a simple gurgle. Sam, on the other hand, was too stunned to feel fear.
"Uncle Kaine?"
The robot dropped both girls and took a step back. So THAT waswhy the mercenary was presently occupying a stasis chamber. His affection for this girl, his niece, landed him in poor graces with Plasmius and she deemed him unfit for service.
"Samantha . . ." Saying the girl's name made the ghost uncomfortable, although Skulker couldn't begin to fathom why.
He would never get the chance to – at least not in the Fenton household. A foreign object collided with his back and sent the robot sprawling to the ground. Jazz and Sam, who had sidestepped in the nick of time, sighed in relief at the sight of Maddie Fenton perched atop the stunned mechanoid.
"Girls! Run!" The girls did as they were told and sprinted up the stairs as fast as their feet would carry them. Once they were safely out of the way, the woman retrieved a small firearm from her belt. "As for you-"
Her sentence was left unfinished as the robot rolled over and swatted her off his metal back like an insect. "That was a mistake," he grumbled. "A very big mistake."
Undaunted, Maddie grabbed a cylindrical object from her belt and tapped an activation button. Two solid beams of ectoplasm winked to life at either end of the weapon and held it in an attack position in front of her body.
A scratchy, static noise reverberated from Skulker's vocabulator as the ghost laughed. "You humans are truly pathetic. I can't begin to fathom how you evolved as the only sentient species on your planet." Two blades slid down from the robot's wrists. "Perhaps someday I will be able to rectify that inequity. But in the meantime . . ."
Maddie took advantage of the massive specter's monologue and attacked, striking him in his right wrist and shattering the retractable blade. Her follow-up attack to destroy the other weapon was deflected and she was kicked into the far wall of the laboratory. With speed surprising for something of his size, Skulker threw himself at his prey, curling his fingers with the intent to cleave Maddie's head from her shoulders with his claws.
His attack would have succeeded, but Maddie was much more resourceful than any other ordinary woman. Her double-bladed weapon struck the mechanical ghost square in his optical targeting visor. The speed of her thrust, when met with Skulker's momentum, shattered the narrow optical shield and shredded some of the delicate circuitry hidden beneath. It also popped Maddie's shoulder out of place.
"RRRAAHHHHHH!" Skulker stumbled back, clutching the sparking wound that had blinded him. "Miserable WRETCH! I shall end you!"
"Not today," came the confident retort from Sam.
Spinning toward the direction of the sound, Skulker didn't have to see the young woman to know where she was and, based on his previous observation, knew exactly where to angle his demonic cranium to appear as though he could see her.
"Would you really strike me down in my wounded and highly vulnerable state, Samantha?"
The aforementioned teen cringed at the ghost's use of her name, but stood her ground. "I don't have to."
Sam took two quiet steps back, leaving plenty of room in her wake for Jazz to intangibly burst up from the floor in the Fenton Ecto Suit and land a metal-denting punch into Skulker's midsection. Caught entirely off guard, Skulker had no time to compensate for the surprise attack and felt his body explode through not one, but two levels of the house and crumple in an almost deactivated state on the floor.
WARNING, the message flared through his internal audio receptors, MASSIVE DAMAGE SUSTAINED. RISK OF DEACTIVATION: EXTREME. INITIATE TACTICAL RETREAT BEFORE POWER RESERVES REACH CRITICAL LOW.
Skulker heeded the computer's warning and braced himself against the floor in an attempt to hoist himself up. His right hand, where his retractable blade had been destroyed, rested on something unusual. He slowly plucked it from the floor and explored its design through touch.
WEAPON OF UNKNOWN CLASSIFICATION, his computer replied when prompted to scan the object. PROABILITY OF CUSTOM ORIGIN: 85.9.
Slowly, Skulker placed the weapon on his belt and allowed the magnetic clamp to seal it in place. Then, with the last of his strength, the massive robot rose to his feet and hurled himself from the Fenton household. He didn't know where he would land and, as long as it wasn't in the path of another ghost hunter, he didn't care. The attack had caught him off guard. Plasmius never played up the Fenton woman to be a skilled combatant and he hadn't been prepared. Under any other circumstances, he would have stayed and fought. With stubborn resignation, however, the robot recognized the human's prowess. She was even his equal in combat. That, and his hounds had been placed in danger. Another scan of the house revealed that two of his canines had escaped into the Ghost Zone while the third escaped from the house and fled. They would find their way back home, they were resourceful beasts. Raising a hand to his shattered eye, Skulker grunted in mild amusement. How ironic that he would be the one needing aid.
"Are we there yet?"
Jack cringed at those four words as if they each gnawed at his ears with venomous little teeth. It was a phrase Jack had learned to tolerate during Jazz and Danny's toddler years, but he had assumed that his children were older now, more mature. That was apparently not the case; at least not with Danny.
"If we were there" Jack began patiently, "then you wouldn't need to ask that question, now would you?"
"Well then I guess I'm gonna keep on asking it, then," Danny retorted with more than enough sarcasm to match his father. "Hey Dad! Are we there yet?!"
An exasperated sigh forced itself from Jacks lungs and the man slouched. His pace slowed ever so slightly and he began to mumble. "God . . . kids 'n their . . . stations an the . . .hip-hop and . . . Celine Dion . . . Snoop Dogg . . . Tim Burton . . . Super Bad . . ."
"You're mumbling," Danny warned his father in a sing-song voice. "Mom says not to do that!"
"Mom also says to stop annoying your father. I guess neither of us take what your mother says to heart."
The pair trudged on in silence through the forest. Danny kept his eyes on the ground, barely paying any attention to where he was going. His pace was halted when he ran face first into a giant orange wall. "Why'd you stop?"
"We're there!" Jack exclaimed.
Danny's head snapped up and he gasped at the sight of the mansion. Although it was clearly designed with the forest in mind, it looked like a forest went into making the structure. For a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, it was ridiculously expansive. And that sent an uncomfortable sensation through the boy's body.
You guys know who lives here.
Quite the contrary. We have no idea who lives in that grotesquely lavish mountain home.
We have a pretty good idea, though.
It's number one on your list.
Well crap.
Yes. "Crap" indeed.
What does she want this time?
How are we supposed to know?
You knew we were in Colorado, didn't you?
Simple mathematics and measurements.
For you, maybe.
Perhaps not "simple", then. That's not the point. We can only do what you have the ability to do. If you had the power to read the future, then we would have used it to plan your attack long ago.
Yeah, right. You would've said something cryptic and completely unhelpful and then disappeared.
Remember the Alamo . . .
That's exactly what I'm talking about!
It was no surprise to the fourteen-year-old that his voices had vanished again, but it still made him angry. His anger increased when, from the massive double doors, walked a familiar figure. Dressed in black cargo pants and boots to match, with nothing but a sleeveless white t-shirt on top, Danny could only guess what her intentions might be. As if he even had to guess. If blood could boil, Danny's could've cooked soup for an army. Vanessa Masters gasped in mock astonishment and sprinted the distance from her mansion to the two Fenton men.
"Oh my God!" She shouted convincingly. "What on Earth are you two doing out here?!"
"Something tells me Earth had nothing to do with it," Danny muttered under his breath.
"You're not going to believe what happened!" Jack exclaimed. "We-"
"Let's get you two inside, first," Vanessa interrupted, "You look like you spent a night in a cave!"
"Funny story, actually," Jack rubbed the back of his neck.
Vanessa laughed what sounded like a genuine laugh to Danny as she and Jack headed inside. Danny took a grudging step after them, but froze as another familiar woman rose from the ground. Plasmius – or a duplicate of Vanessa in ghost form – hovered in front of Danny with a grin that looked almost too evil.
"I thought I might find you here," Danny sneered.
"You think it was coincidence that dropped you on my doorstep? No, I have plans, Daniel. Great plans for you and me."
"Oh really? Mind sharing with the rest of the class?"
Plasmius' toothy smile faded to a casual grin. She floated closer to the boy and stopped centimeters from his face. "What's wrong?" She moved closer to Danny's ear. "Danny, what's wrong?"
Danny gasped as something slimy pressed against his ear and swung at the ghost woman once he realized it was her tongue. But Plasmius was gone, and so was her saliva on his lobe. His vision cleared, and Vanessa Masters was standing next to Jack Fenton, both adults looking at the young man with concern.
"Danny? What's wrong?" Jack asked his son.
"Nothing," Danny said quietly after several seconds. "I just, uh, zoned out there for a minute."
Vanessa smirked at Danny and turned to lead Jack into her cabin. Danny rubbed his head and, deciding to figure out what had happened later, followed them. He was unaware of the two red eyes that followed him, and was even more unaware of the glowing red sphere that shone from the highest window.
"I can't believe that! Your plane was sabotaged?!" Vanessa's voice carried up from the living room below.
Danny rolled his eyes and stepped into the shower. He had been apprehensive at first, but Vanessa hadn't done anything else . . . unusual since his initial encounter. She even had a spare set of clothes for him and his dad "in case they ever came out to visit" she had said. Bull. But it was welcome bull. The hot water washed away the grime and muck from the forest, purifying his body and allowing his mind to wander.
It didn't get far before the water came to an abrupt halt. Danny opened one eye and glanced down at the hot water tap. It had been turned off. The boy looked out from behind the shower curtain, keeping his brow furrowed and staying alert. He grabbed his towel from the rack and wrapped it around his midsection before taking a tentative step out. Nothing about the lavish bathroom looked out of place, but something caught his eye in the mirror. Danny slowly approached it, noticing that the steam from the shower still lingered and made it slightly difficult to see. After what seemed like an unnecessary amount of time, the wall-mounted glass rectangle was right in front of his face. His hand reached up, as if on its own accord, and began to wipe the condensation away. A large enough patch of the mirror became visible and Danny was able to see behind him. Still, nothing.
Maybe I didn't have the water turned on all the way, he thought. It was Vanessa Master's mansion, who knew if these showers were even supposed to work. Danny noticed the temperature in the bathroom suddenly dropped. With a shiver, the boy decided to try his luck with the faulty faucet again. He turned – and came face-to-face with Plasmius.
"I think it's time you came out, Danny." The ghost woman whispered.
Danny noticed that, like him, Plasmius was covered by only a towel. Her clawed hands tugged playfully at the tiny bit of the corner that kept the fabric snug around her body before they moved from her towel in favor of Danny's cheeks. Her face swiftly rushed for his, her lips loosely pursed but slightly agape, giving the stupefied teen a brief glimpse of her fangs before his eyes began to drift shut.
With a jolt, Danny's eyes snapped back open. Only, he wasn't standing with his back to a mirror. There was no grown woman pressing her ghostly lips to his. He was still in the shower, and the water was still on, pounding into his back like so many little waterfalls.
"Danny!" Vanessa called out from the hall. "I think it's time you came out! You've been in there far too long!"
With a scowl, Danny turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He stomped over to the door, wrapping his towel around his body (for real this time), and cracked it open. "I don't know what your problem is, but that is NOT funny. That's sick."
Vanessa, who was still standing outside the door, only smiled. "You seem to be enjoying it."
"You seem to like the idea of being a registered sex offender," Danny spat back. "Seriously, I knew you were a fruitloop before, but this is a whole new level of wrong."
"Even if I was doing . . . what I think you're insinuating, I doubt you'd take any legal action. I'm very good at whatever I do, and others often have little to complain about." Vanessa winked. "Although, if you are interested, I suppose there's always a first time for everything."
Danny growled and allowed his eyes to flare green. "You slu-!"
Vanessa blasted Danny with a beam of energy to his chest, sending him crashing into the porcelain toilet at the far end of the room. Dull pink smoke wafted from his charred torso, and his unconscious body lay limp on the mound of rubble. "That mouth of yours is so unbecoming of a boy your age." Without another word, she turned and strode down the hallway.
A strangled gasp managed its way out of Frederick's mouth. Vanessa Masters was a woman of surprising strength. So surprising, in fact, that the man almost forgot she was half ghost. Common sense eventually kicked in, however. Honestly, how else could she be holding him in the air by his neck?
"I told you I have no control over the staff's effects!"
"And I told YOU what I wanted," Vanessa tossed him onto a wooden table that buckled under the force of the impact. "Does the staff have a mind of its own?"
"I don't know! You used it! What else could you have possibly meant when you told it to make Daniel want you?!"
Vanessa growled, but remained where she stood. "Fix it."
"I can't! Either you keep using it and hope the staff correctly interprets your meaning, or stop." Frederick pushed himself up from the splintered remains of the table. "There's nothing I can do."
"Your staff clearly has no useful effect on Daniel. I had hoped for an easier solution to my problem, but I suppose we can test its power another way."
Frederick grinned. "Proximus?"
Vanessa nodded. "Call him. I shall distract Jack."
Phantom, not Daniel, traversed the halls of Plasmius' mountain estate. He knew he probably wouldn't find her. Chances were that she'd find him first. Or some sensual hallucination would pop out of the wall.
It almost made sense, in some perverse way, that this was happening. From the very beginning of his "adventures", his life had become more and more depressing. There were the inevitable insecurities about his parents and how they would react if they ever found out about his other half, but what teenager in his situation wouldn't think about those things? Then came the startling sense of responsibility. Was it his affinity for comic book heroes that drove him into action so quickly? Was it something ghostly in nature, or perhaps something even more than that?
That sense of duty to people he deemed innocent had landed him in more predicaments than he thought were possible in the span of a school year. His body had recovered after being beaten beyond the point of death. His heart had been abused more than he had even though possible, even more so for a boy his age. So much had been dumped on him, him, and all because of a button in a machine that wasn't supposed to work.
And now, with voices talking in his head, a murderous son from the future, his latest offspring kidnapped and missing, his mind must be projecting images into his mind; something he subconsciously must have wanted to happen. But why would he subconsciously want Vanessa Masters to come onto him? Was it easier for his mind to formulate these images because of her proximity? He knew he would never consciously state he was attracted to the woman. Sure she was attractive, especially in human form, but Danny knew of someone he would much rather fantasize about.
And that brought about a new wave of thought. Sam? Why in the world would he want to fantasize about his best friend? The girl who he had been inseparable from since before memory, the girl who stood up to bullies twice Danny's size and often took them down, the girl who had grown with Danny as they entered high school, the young woman who had been so afraid to see him go into the portal all those months ago, the very one who embraced him upon his emergence from its activation despite the risks, his best friend . . . did she feel the same way?
You know she does.
HA! I was RIGHT!
Whether you were "right" or not is immaterial. We've known all along that Daniel has felt this way. Besides, the way you fawn over Paulina and her perfect curvature, I thought you'd try to seize control over the boy and kill him.
Why didn't you guys say anything?!
Independence. How are you supposed to be able to function without us if you cannot even decide for yourself whether or not you have feelings for a girl?
He is right. As much as I would have loved to initiate the mating ritual earlier, it seems as though this will work out best for both of you in the long run.
She likes me too?
I cannot say for certain, but I have been monitoring her reactions to your presence and have analyzed several thousand specific memories in which she is involved. If assumption and guesstimation are accurate tools of predicting possible outcomes of pseudo-romantic relationship, then . . . well I'm not sure how to say this to you in layman's terms.
You're in for some great sex.
YOU SAVAGE!
What? This seems like a sexually themed chapter, I thought I'd roll with it!
What?
Never mind.
So what do you think I should do?
What do you think you should do?
I . . . should do something.
Bravo.
Sarcasm isn't needed from you! How do you think you should act, Danny?
I dunno, ask her out?
That might be too direct of an approach . . .
It's PERFECT! As soon as we get back to Amity Park, we-
Hang on, something's happening.
A strange tingling sensation formed at the back of his mind. Danny thought another image, another hallucination, was about to start, and spun around in preparation. The feeling worked to the front of his head and clouded his vision. Again, the boy pivoted, but there was nothing. A wave of pressure shot down his nasal cavities and the familiar green mist of his ghost sense drifted into the air in front of his eyes.
He knew there was no hallucination. He knew Plasmius was not about to materialize out of nowhere and advance on him. With a pang of regret, he knew Sam was not going to appear in a similar fashion. He also knew that he was immobile, for the most part, in his unconscious reveries. Something was pushing him, and it wouldn't make any sense if he was being tackled by some ghostly woman. Whatever was pushing him now was very real, and very dangerous. Then, as if being drawn out of a deep hypnosis, Danny became very aware of smashing through the window he had been gazing out of. He became very aware of the painful dagger-like fangs digging into his shoulder, and he became very aware of the cold night air as Proximus carried him out into the darkness.
"Is everyone ok?"
"Mom! Where are you?! I can't see!"
"You're holding a flashlight, Jazz."
"Oh, right."
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!
"Not that button! Not that button!"
"Oh crap! Stupid . . . thing . . ."
Ping!
"Wow, that was close."
"Oh God, what is that smell?!"
"Jazz, honey, I think you just incinerated the laundry basket."
"Ewww!"
"Hang on, I'll try to go find something brighter."
"Try to get something that won't burn down the house too."
"Sam, stop doing that!"
"Doing what?"
"Being sarcastic to my mom!"
"I'm not trying to, Jazz, it just happens when I'm under a lot of stress."
"Why can't you act scared like normal people?"
"Have you seen how I dress?"
"I can't see ANYTHING!"
As if to apologize to Jazz, the kitchen lights winked into existence. The girls gasped in surprise; the kitchen was a wreck. The door that led down to the laboratory had been ripped off the frame. The girls turned around and saw that the foyer was covered in splinters. The coffee table had been broken clean in half. A giant boot print could be seen imprinted in the floor. The laundry basket was almost comically out of place amongst the carnage. The charred clothes smoked angrily, as if wondering why they had been spared destruction only to be the victim of an accident.
"The power's back!" Sam exclaimed.
"Gee, you think so?" Maddie called down from the second floor.
The girl's pale cheeks tinged pink. Jazz giggled. "What goes around comes around."
Sam opened her mouth to fire back with her own witty comment, but froze. "Do you . . . feel something?"
A small vibration began to reverberate through the house. Normally, such tremors would be expected with all the gear sitting in the Fenton laboratory, but this one was different. The machinery was like a sleeping animal. It would occasionally rear it head and yawn, but then it would turn over and fall back asleep. This tremor quickly grew into a quake – this animal was a beast. It wasn't yawning, it was roaring.
"Come on girls!" Mrs. Fenton shouted as she flew down the stairs. "We have to-" But Sam was already running out the door. "Where are you going?!" the older woman shrieked.
Without a reply, Sam bolted out into the street, looking for something – anything. She knew what an earthquake felt like. This was something different, a whole other creature. Looking down the road she had stumbled out into, the teenage girl froze in her tracks before falling to her knees.
Amity Park was one of the largest cities in the United States. Being such made it a prime target for acts of terrorism, but never in a million years did anyone ever think that their city would be targeted for any sort of aggression. It was human nature to deny such things. Thousands of scenarios ran through Sam's mind. She hardly acknowledged the presence of Jazz or Mrs. Fenton as they hurried out into the street after her. She didn't feel this new creature's roar subside as the quake lessened and disappeared. All she could see was the center of town, and the giant blossom of fire and smoke that engulfed the Terror Tower.
Phantom was quick to free himself from Proximus and swung the man bat over his shoulder with more force than necessary. Several of the creature's teeth were dislodged from its gums and remained embedded in Phantom's shoulder.
"What are you doing here, Elliot," the ghost boy spat.
"I'm ending you," the creature howled as it circled around. "I'm finishing our fight."
"What about that stuff you were telling me before? My miracle DNA?"
The response he was given was a blast of Proximus' aptly named ghostly wail. Phantom struggled to remain airborne, but found that the wind had been knocked out of him by Proximus' cranium. The ghosts tumbled through the air, coming closer and closer to the tree line. Phantom grabbed Proximus by the throat and shoved him back. With horrified realization, he saw that the ghost creature had torn open his stomach. His entrails were slowly pushing their way out of the wound.
"Were this a children's cartoon, I'm sure I'd make a clichéd joke right about now," Proximus taunted. "But I just don't have the-"
Phantom's eyes flooded with green energy and he let it explode from his pupils. Twin beams of ectoplasm slammed into Proximus' chest. He found his anger rising and, instead of focusing on regeneration, Phantom's slowly diminishing logic presented another idea. He slammed a fist into his open wound and yanked out what was likely his small intestine. The organic cord was still connected to the inside of his body. Ignoring the indescribable pain (literally) in his abdomen, the ghost boy flung himself at Proximus and managed to wrap his entrails around the creature's neck.
"No more talking!" Phantom growled as he struggled to force the life out of his foe. "No more!"
Proximus' glowing red eyes widened. As a ghost, he didn't need oxygen, but the pressure of Phantom's boot in the back of his neck coupled with the strangulating application of force to his throat threatened to pop his cranium like a melon filled with dynamite. Lashing out with his feet, the ghost struck Phantom in the shin. The temporary loosening in his grip allowed Proximus to wriggle free. Using the sharpened, bony edges of his wings, Proximus slashed the intestinal noose in half before making a B-line for the trees.
The pain from Proximus' attack almost knocked Phantom out, but he held onto consciousness as his body fell from the sky. He lazily shoved his torn and tattered innards back through the wound, which quickly sealed.
We shall mend this most disturbing wound.
Try to keep a medium range between you and him. Don't get too close, don't go too far.
Please try to keep your bowels in your body from now on.
And watch out for that tree.
Phantom's head smacked off the trunk of said tree. He slid down the rough bark, scraping his body and smashing through smaller branches on his way down. Finally, his body made contact with the loamy forest floor where it rolled over and rested half in a thorn bush.
I guess I should have said something earlier. My bad.
You . . . helping now?
We have just learned of some very disturbing news.
It appears as though you are being manipulated by an unseen force. It is the same one responsible for your . . . sensual visions.
It is also goading Proximus into attacking you. The only way you are going to leave this forest is by killing him.
I've already killed enough people, thanks. I'll think of something else.
That is not the disturbing news I spoke of.
I can't imagine it gets much more disturbing than that.
An unknown attacker has leveled the Terror Tower in Amity Park. Several more bomb threats have been received from all over the city.
Phantom rose to his feet, all fatigue gone from his person. "How do you know this?"
The force that is manipulating you is, in turn, being controlled by someone else. We were able to follow the signal back to his mind.
"And?"
He is working for the man responsible for the attack on Amity Park. It was difficult to read his mind, as if it wasn't all there . . .
We know the attacker plans to hold the city hostage.
"For what? What in Amity Park could possibly be worth that?"
You. He is going to attempt to have you killed. He will demand it, or more people will die.
Phantom lowered his head. "Then I have to get out of here."
There is only one way out. You know what you must do.
We will aid you in this battle, but only because so much is at stake. You must win
Phantom flooded his hands with electroplasm. The crackling energy melted the gloves from his hands and began to vaporize the rest of his suit. His boots joined his gloves as a puddle of white ooze on the forest floor. The black of his shirt began to turn to smoke and was carried away in the breeze. Green was the color of the lightning that danced across his body. Green was the color of his ghostly aura. Green was the color of his eyes. Green was the color of the ecto-pulse that exploded from beneath his feet and spread out in a massive radius. Green was the color of the leaves on the trees before they were turned to smoldering ash. Green was the color of the ferns, the bushes, the grass, the vines, all of it, before it was returned to the earth from where it came. The only green now was the fire that raged through the valley. It was the color of the lone figure at the center of it all. Green was power, and it was alive.
Green eyes looked up to the sky. The pale figure of Proximus was easily discernable from the night sky above, even when his wings folded back against his body to reduce air friction as he sped down into the chaos below. Phantom flung himself bodily into the air to meet him. His fist, still burning with energy, slammed into the creature's stomach. Dark red blood flitted from between his teeth before disappearing into the darkness. Phantom grabbed his adversary with his free hand and charged at the ground. He slammed the creature into the heart of the crater he had made and followed up with repeated blasts of super-heated ectoplasm.
The familiar sonic vibration of Proximus' ghostly wail greeted his ears. No matter how many times he would hear the attack, he would not be ready for it. Phantom clutched his now-bleeding lobes and slowly floated back to the ground in agony. The attack broke off and Proximus dragged his body out from the earth.
"Fool," he hissed. "You cannot defeat me, even in your anger! And while you struggle to discover a means to attain victory, your world comes crashing down around you!"
Phantoms felt his fists shaking. Proximus was right.
He is NOT right. You can defeat him!
How? Every time I hit him, he hits back twice as hard!
Then perhaps it is time you used your power to its full potential. Allow our influence to flow through you. Let your arms be our vessels.
Phantom held his arms out to his sides. His left arm jerked toward the sky. The right one pointed to the ground. Nothing happened. A raindrop landed on his cheek. Still, nothing happened. More followed the first, but Proximus still stood before him. The rain had picked up considerably. The breeze now came in more powerful gusts. Lightning flashed on and off overhead.
"What is this?" Proximus raised his bestial head to the sky. "Rain?"
Before Phantom could offer an answer, Proximus cried out surprise. A vine had sprung from the ground and was winding its way around Proximus' wings. More were pushing out of the soil and had begun to anchor the creature down. Phantom's hands both snapped up to the sky and spread apart. To his disbelief, the clouds began to descend from the sky, slowly spiraling toward him. Lightning bounced from one side of the funnel to the other as it sped its rotation and hurried down closer as Phantom's arms pointed out to his sides. The tornado, which is the only thing Phantom could think to call it, tried to haul Proximus into itself, but the vines held the creature to the earth. Electricity slammed into the ghost with enough force to send him sprawling on the ground. The wind tunnel pulled him back off the forest floor and struck him again. And again. And again.
You did not want to kill him? Very well. There is another way to end his threat to you.
The knowledge was transmitted to him even without words. With his hands firmly planted to his sides, Phantom hovered over to Proximus. The hurricane-level winds only rustled the hair on his head. Once within reach of the creature, Phantom relaxed his arms. The vines loosened their grip, and the tornado spun itself apart with nothing to keep it in place. Before Proximus could collapse to the ground, Phantom's right arm snapped out and grabbed him by the mouth. And everything went dark.
What was that? What happened?
We helped you.
How?
It would take too long to explain. And for once we're not just trying to make you more independent.
Time is a premium, and it is running out.
What am I doing now?
Remember that soul eating power we talked about?
No way . . .
But you won't always have us, and it will be years, possibly decades before you will ever be to repeat the process.
So what do I do?
Imagine the power of the ghostly wail. Imagine all its destructive capabilities. Imagine how it could evolve, how powerful it could be. Imagine the truth of the ghostly wail. It is unstoppable. It is unbeatable. There is no defense against it.
And now you must image that power in your own body. Imagine the raw power pumping through your veins. Imagine every molecule, every atom infused with this ability; each one able to open its mouth and scream together with you. You are the ghostly wail, it is you; the embodiment of power.
Ok, now what?
Inhale.
To Be Continued
A/N: I don't want to hear anything from you guys in regards to my absence. I'm at college. College equals work. Work does not equal time to write my story. So college does not equal time to write my story. I'll still do what I can. No promises. But this more than makes up for all the lost time. I know it, my lovely beta reader Cordria knows it, And you probably knew it when you saw how small the scroll bar was. SIXTEEN pages in Word. And I don't write these little blurbs until I get the document onto this site. So the story by itself is that long.
Some things you may have noticed. Danny finally realized his feelings for Sam! That would be good, but you may have also noticed that Amity Park is under attack. I don't think he'll be able to make a move when he gets back. His hands will be pretty full. And Danny's others kicked some ass, didn't they? He's a force of nature with them at his side.
What will happen to Proximus/Elliot? I think I've kept him around longer than he was ever intended to be. I just liked the idea of Danny essentially fighting himself. Of course, it didn't really feel like an even fight. Freakshow will definitely put up more of a fight. You might be wondering "How?". Well so far, you've only seen Frederick Issak Showenhower. You haven't been introduced to Freakshow.
I think I basically said everything about upcoming chapters in a previous A/N, so you can look back at those italicized snippets if you forgot anything. As far as I know, nothing has changed.
Reviews! Thank you so much, everyone. It means a lot to me. Special thanks goes to phantoms-allie, Bloxham, darkbunny92, General Razgriz, alienphantom, inukagome15, Billy D., Hero.Of.The.Hazard, and cdunn2010.
For more information, go visit my DeviantArt page, which can be located in my bio. My latest journal entry goes into greater detail about what I talked about.
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN HIGH AS F#?K - song of the same name. I found it on youtube, but the guy who sings it has his own website, so it's probably better quality there . . . aren't these supposed to at least try to be funny?