Quickly the students of Casper High filed out of the building as the three-o-clock bell sounded, releasing them from another day of education. Outside they gathered, some jumping into buses and cars and others conversing in small groups as they waited for their rides to arrive.
Danny, Sam and Tucker stayed back towards the school steps, their voices low and their manner unassuming as they spoke.
"Well, today's the day," Sam said cheerfully. "You ready, Danny?"
"…I don't know, Sam," Danny said glumly, slumping down against the wall. "I mean…why would Clockwork think I was the right person to stop this prophecy?"
"Hmm, let's see," Sam said, letting out an acted sigh. "You stopped him before, you stopped a jerky evil version of yourself and learned everything he wanted you to while you did that, and you always save Amity Park." She gave him a knowing smile.
"Yeah, but…" Sam sighed. Danny was as stubborn when he was unsure of something as he was when he thought he had the answers.
"Danny, we can't do anything about it. Clockwork's gone by now, and he won't be back for two months. Katou's already here, the bad guys are already trying to find Pariah's artefacts, and you're the guy who needs to stop him. So stop worrying so much," she patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine."
"Yeah!" Tucker added. "Now c'mon! You've got your first day of sword and kung fu samurai ghost training!"
---
"You're having him learn Chinese!?" Tucker gasped incredulously for the fifth time that day.
The foursome had gathered in the basement of Katou's quarters. The old samurai had wasted no time in setting training into motion. Danny and friends had just barely greeted the ghost when he ushered them downstairs to give Danny an idea of what he was in for. The image painted portrayed rigorous and varied work in the ghostly arts and ancient practices and koryu and all manners of swordplay, and that the old arts from his day would be the starting point. Due to the combination of the word "swordplay" and the teenaged boy's mind, Danny and Tucker became quite excited, despite the doubts of the former, and great indeed was their disappointment when they realised that the first lesson involved writing a complex language while Katou sat and meditated. And so he did, Sam and Tucker at his sides and Danny, in ghost form, at a desk across from them.
"What does this have to do with saving the world?" Danny groaned, having been studying and writing kanji for an hour.
"Calligraphy was of the highest of arts in ancient times," Katou said simply, not even opening his eyes from meditation. "Careful detail and concentration is required in all styles, and those are things you will need when facing Pariah. Once you can master them here, we will move on to the martial arts."
"This is so cool!" Sam grinned. "Once the threat of Doomsday is over and you don't have to teach Danny all this, do you think I could learn it?"
Danny continued to grumble, and losing his grip and leaving a long smear of ink across his paper did not help his mood. "Do you do this for all your students?" he asked.
"I am using a different approach with you," Katou said.
Sam, who had been sitting between Katou and Tucker during this time, looked over at the samurai. Yet again, he seemed uncomfortable about training Danny and about his past. Why would he be experimenting with training styles with Armageddon imminent? Did he have a problem with a former student?
"Is there a problem, Sam?" Katou asked, opening his eyes and turning toward her.
"No!" Sam said quickly. "No problem." She grinned sheepishly. "So…shouldn't we be worried about those artefacts?"
"Ah," Katou smiled. Reaching out with his right hand, he summoned towards him a roll of parchment and spread it out on the floor in front of them. A detailed and ornately illustrated map of The Ghost Zone had been drawn upon the scroll, detailing thousands of places all across the realm.
"Can we borrow this?" Tucker asked, his mouth hanging open. He and Sam gazed upon the map in awe – their own efforts to plot The Ghost Zone had nothing on this!
"Danny, take a break. You'll need to hear this," Katou said, beckoning for his pupil to join them. Danny nearly leapt from his chair and dashed over.
"Whoa!" he let out, bending down on his knees for a closer look. "That's some map!"
"Now," the samurai began, drawing out his tantō knife to point at locations. "In the days of the Order of Afterlife, the founding council sought to find Pariah's relics and hide them from the world, should The Ghost King ever return. However, these artefacts had been sent into the most remote regions of the realm, outside our boarders, and the Ancients faded away before we could ask for their help. With all else we had to do, in the end we only found the whereabouts of the balance and the sceptre.
"The sanctuary of the Order was destroyed some years ago," Katou shivered at the memory, "but some of our writings may have survived. A drawing and map to the balance lies there…"
With those words, Sam stopped listen for but a moment and remembered back to what Clockwork had said:
Vlad knows how to find the bow and the chest – and the balance, too.
Vlad had known at least a few things about Pariah and the Fright Knight without ever being with them before, and seemed to have ghostly alliances all over the place. He could easily have learned of the Order without being with them. But could he have known that they had a map to the balance with such ease?
Katou was still speaking, so she diverted her attention yet again towards him.
"…But, before we move to claim that, I feel that we should go for the sceptre."
"Why?" Danny asked.
"The sceptre is in the hands of the ghost of Chinese explorer Zheng He. It's difficult to get in touch with him, but tomorrow night, we will have an opening. He and I were on good terms last we met, so I should be able to barter the sceptre from him."
"What do we have to trade?" Tucker asked.
"My bottles and vases are filled with many things," Katou answered, motioning about the room. He did indeed have quite the collection.
"How come we'll be able to get in touch with him tomorrow night?" Sam asked.
"Every year, on that night, there is a ghostly ball at eight o' clock in a haunted mansion. Zheng He attends every year. The rest of the time, he's off exploring The Ghost Zone, so you can't pin him down. All ghosts are welcome."
"How many usually go?" Danny said.
"In my day, all of them. I see no reason for that to have changed."
Danny gulped. "I'm not exactly on good terms with a lot of ghosts…"
"Don't worry," Katou smiled. "Animosity is put aside during the ball. The peace isn't held as firmly as the Christmas Pact, but they do their best, and often succeed. We should get in without a problem."
"What about us?" Tucker said. "We're no ghosts."
"You want to come?" Katou asked.
"Where Danny goes, we go," Sam said.
"Then leave that problem to me," Katou bowed. "Once we get the sceptre, we'll have to work fast to get the rest of the artefacts. I wouldn't be surprised at all if Pariah had his henchmen coming The Ghost Zone at this very moment for them."
---
"Pull up those bed sheets!" Youngblood barked.
"That's 'hoist sail,'" his skeletal parrot pet grumbled.
"Oh, right."
Captain Youngblood's ship sailed across the ether of The Ghost Zone, the crew hard at work manning the ship. Yet there was a celebratory atmosphere on board – the ghostly crew of buccaneers had just taken a cargo ship and made off with pound upon pound of booty. Riches untold rested below deck, and chests beyond worth sat in the captain's quarters.
Onward they pressed, singing many a jolly song, when the vessel made a fearful lurch forward. Wood could be heard snapping at the bow, and discomforting sounds came from the bottom of the masts. Youngblood and much of his crew fell flat on their faces, and had to stagger to their feet as the ship ceased to move.
"Arrgh!" the would-be captain cried. "What did we hit?"
"Nothing!" the lookout called.
"What?" Youngblood piped. "That's impossible! We had to hit something! I mean, it's not like anything could have wrapped around the ship and forced it to stop."
He had no sooner uttered these words when two snaking green coils of ecto-energy swarmed around the masts and pulled hard, snapping them as though they were toothpicks. The lookout flew from the crow's nests down to the deck as the masts and the sails fell off the sides of the ship and down into the never-ending void of The Ghost Zone. The two serpentine ropes were joined by eight fellows, and they all fled down into the gun ports. Cannons were ripped out from the deck and flung out in all directions. Not content with disarming the ship, the ecto-ropes ran throughout the ship, dragging away crewmen and smashing at everything in sight.
From a distance away, Phantom wore a malicious grin. The slightest gesture of any of his ten fingers sent one of the ecto-ropes into a manic frenzy of destruction. Each snap of wood and each pirate's scream sent a rush through his body, and the rush grew with each new injury inflicted. Did it ever feel to be free of that thermos!
He was quite excited from his fun when a sword severed his ecto-ropes, and the master of that sword landed a sharp kick to his chest.
"Fool!" the Fright Knight yelled. "Lord Pariah's chest is on that ship! What were you trying to do, destroy it?"
"Yes," Phantom snarled.
"You forget your place, Phantom!" a large black dragon sneered. "You serve Lord Pariah now, and you will do his bidding!"
"He has three of you kissing up to him already," Phantom shot back. "He'll get his chest. Why can't I have my fun?"
"Your life may be a reason!" Aragon snarled.
"Enough!" Plasmius flew up behind his three colleagues. "Fright Knight, come with me onboard."
"How dare you give the orders!" Aragon snapped. "I am heir to Pariah's throne!"
"Yes, and you're doing a fine job at 'keeping us in line' as your master ordered," Plasmius sneered. "Knight, with me!" And the half-ghost and the Knight soared down towards the ruined ship before the prince could say another word.
The deck was a terrible mess when Plasmius landed upon it. It was riddled with holes caused by Phantom's work, and dust and loose wood was scattered everywhere. There were but two souls left on this ghost of a ghost-ship; the youthful captain and his parrot.
"Ah," Plasmius called cordially. "Hello, my good boy! You recently looted a certain ship we had been tracking. There was a small golden chest on board. We would like to have it."
The boy seemed timid at first, but slowly regained some edge to his voice. "And…and what if I chose to fight ye for it?" he demanded, raising up his hooked hand.
Plasmius glanced over towards the Knight, and his friend pointed the Soul Shredder at the child's throat.
"One chest, coming up!" the boy laughed nervously, dashing off towards his cabin. He soon returned with a small, gleaming, golden chest, marked on the lock with a ghostly skull capped off with a flaming crown.
"Pariah's chest!" the Knight cried in triumph. "With the throne, that makes two."
"And soon to be three," Plasmius chuckled. He pulled back his glove to hit a button on his communicator watch. "Skulker," he said into the timepiece. "We have the chest. How is your quest coming?"
"I have the map in my hands, and I'm on the hunt as we speak," the predator ghost said through the other line. "You're sure things will go according to your plan?"
Plasmius and the Knight exchanged another glance.
"I am sure, Skulker. Find the bow and bring it to me. Plasmius out," he shut off his watch and turned to his flaming friend. "Let's go." The two took off, heading back towards Aragon and Phantom. Once they reached their comrades, Phantom let two great ecto-orbs fly from his hands towards the ship. The vessel was completely disintegrated, the child and his pet just barely managing to flee the flaming wreckage.
"Was that really necessary?" Plasmius sighed in distaste.
"No," Phantom smirked.
"Let's get this chest back to the Keep and head for the Order's lair," Plasmius said. "A map there leads to the balance."
"Now I will give orders," Aragon said defiantly. "I've heard tales of a ghost of a man from the Orient who holds the sceptre in his possession. The only time he can be found is at the ghostly ball tomorrow night. Your ruins will be there for ages, but this ghost can never be found after the ball is over."
Plasmius stroked his beard in thought. In his days with Katou, he had heard of this figure – the ghost of Zheng He. He had not heard that the explorer possessed the sceptre of Pariah. Perhaps they hadn't known. But in any event, Aragon did make sense in this instance. And his own agendas had the chance to be served. Katou was on the run from Walker, but a fairly consistent peace was kept at the ball. Plasmius knew from experience - he had attended the ball twice before, once with Katou and once with the Family, and was amazed at the peace between the warring parties of The Ghost Zone.
The old samurai could very well appear at the ball, hoping to find some old friends who could offer him help. And breaking the peace tomorrow night would not result in lost ties, as breaking the Christmas Pact would.
"Very well, Aragon," he smiled. "Tomorrow night it is, then."