Pits
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria
Page 9
"Danny."
I paced back and forth in that dreamscape arena, almost snarling at that annoying replica of myself that always seemed to be here. At least he wasn't trying to imitate Ember at the moment; that was a plus. "Leave me alone," I snapped back.
"No. We need to talk." His eyes… my eyes… appeared right in front of me, swirling with concern. "Stop pacing."
"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, turning away from him. I didn't even want to think about what had just happened, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it with some crazy version of myself that wouldn't leave me alone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered from behind me.
"What?" I whirled around on him, staring in his direction, my mind screaming at me to let it drop instead of push it.
"I'm sorry you woke up – I didn't mean for that to happen." He sounded weird when he said that last bit, gazing at the ground with his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
Wrinkling my forehead, I watched him while my head scrambled to try and figure out why he sounded so… off. He was me, after all, so I should be able to figure this… "You're lying to me," I said as it suddenly clicked. I've never been a good liar.
Green, guilty eyes flickered up to meet my own before finding their way to the ground again.
"You wanted me to do that?" I took a few steps nearer as anger colored my voice. "You wanted me to know I killed that innocent man?"
His eyes shot up from the ground to focus on mine, this time narrowed with determination. "I'm sorry, but you have to know. You have got to deal with this. You can't just ignore these fights or you'll go crazy!"
"I'm not trying to ignore them, I can't remember them!" I retorted.
"Yes, actually, you could," he muttered, crossing his arms. "You just have to want to. It's you doing it, after all."
I turned away, storming across the pit. "Leave me alone."
Behind me, Phantom was talking to himself and shaking his head in sad annoyance. "Sooner or later you'll have to care, you'll have to remember. Someday soon you will have to accept what you did."
Spinning on one heel to pace in a new direction, something flickered through my mind. A few more steps and it happened again: a picture of a young girl, clinging to my leg, not noticing the descending blade that would end her life. I shivered, picking up the pace a bit. Another flicker: the man from the last fight with his blades raised in a futile attempt to stop his death. "No!" I hissed, "I didn't want to kill them."
"No, you didn't want to," Phantom said softly, suddenly appearing in front of me again and grabbing my shoulders. He stared into my eyes, concern and anger warring in his gaze. "But you survived, Danny. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I killed them! That's wrong. That's evil!" My voice wasn't coming out anywhere near as forceful as I had hoped and my eyes were beginning to burn.
A cold voice chuckled from the shadowed recesses and Phantom tensed, his green eyes focusing off to the side. When it actually spoke, the voice was dripping with suppressed rage, "I agree with you Danny. What you did was wrong."
I twisted towards the familiar voice before flinching away from the sight of my evil counterpart. Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I closed my eyes and sank to the ground. I don't want to think about it. I'm not evil…
"Fine!" Phantom simmered, "killing is wrong. But you still can't be blamed for it! This is Walker's fault."
"It's my fault," I whispered.
"You will never leave the Pits if you can't accept what Walker is forcing us to do." Fabric rustled and the next time I heard his odd, echoing voice it sounded like he was right next to me. "You need to see that this is not your fault. This isn't our fault." A chill hand touched my shoulder. "We can escape this, you know. We can be free."
"Free?" I hissed, my eyes popping open. "How can I ever be free? I'm a monster! I'm no better than him!" I gestured wildly at Dan as Phantom backed away from me. "I like fighting… and I want to kill. Deep inside my I want to destroy Walker. I want to kill him!" I really didn't care that I was screaming by this point, tears leaking down my face, completely out of control. "Even if I get free of this place, how can I ever go home? I'm a murderer."
"No," Phantom murmured, shaking his head, "you're not. We're not. We've survived."
"Leave me alone," I whispered.
"Danny…"
"Please. Just go away."
Phantom was standing there, hands at his sides, a lost look on his face. He opened his mouth to talk but Dan beat him to it. Chuckling softly under his breath, he walked up to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Yeah," he snickered, "just go away."
The world dissolved around me, twisting and shifting back into my familiar cell, but that clammy, frozen hand remained on my shoulder. Before that lingering phantom feeling faded completely away, it almost felt like the hand had shifted subtly to curl around my neck.
The monster of my worst nightmares had me, quite literally, by the throat.
I ended up lying on my cot some time later, staring up at the ghost lights that spun and twirled on the ceiling. I now had a total of five: three flickering green lights and two blue ones. They seemed to be having a slow-speed chase around the border of my cell, suddenly jumping into fast forward at various times, before falling back into the more solemn walk. "What's wrong with me?" I asked them.
The lights didn't answer – they didn't even seem to notice my presence. They just continued their slow-fast race. They did… nothing.
"So you think nothing is wrong with me?" I raised an eyebrow, lacing my fingers behind my head and propping one foot on top of the other. Laughing softly at the fact that I was talking to the strange lights, I continued to watch them play. More and more, I was viewing these lights like little children and fellow inmates than just strange, ghostly lights - especially after what happened with Muerto.
"You remember Muerto?" I thought aloud. "He liked poetry and, for some reason, dressed like the Grim Reaper." One of the green lights seemed to hesitate, stopping the odd game the flickers had going. "After I…" I drifted off, but shook my head and started over. "After I killed him, a ghost light appeared. There's got to be some kind of connection, right?"
The hovering green light continued to hold still for a few moments after I finished talking. Then, for less time than it takes to blink, the light changed. I stared at the light, back to normal, as it started to play with the others again. "What was that?" I waited, but the light didn't repeat its weirdness. It had happened so fast I wasn't sure exactly what I had seen.
"Is that your way of telling me I'm right?" I asked sarcastically, not expecting a response. I just sighed and sat up. "Oh, there's something wrong with me alright. I'm trying to have a conversation with a sentient light bulb."
"We can add that to the other things I've been talking to lately; weird, alternate pieces of myself, hallucinations, and rats." Chuckling softly, I rolled my eyes and let my eyes travel around my small cell. Thick bricks, mortar, the slightly singed door – nothing new to look at. Nothing new to think about; nothing except the latest being to die at my hand. Nothing to keep myself from contemplating death and my slow and seemingly inescapable descent into evilness. "This is boring," I muttered darkly.
I could be thinking of an escape plan.
Biting my lip, I focused down on the wood grain of the cot. I wasn't entirely sure that thought had been… mine… But then who's could it be?
How many different ways could I kill Walker? What kind of death does he deserve for all the torture he has put me through?
I shivered. There was no denying that, deep down, I wanted to get some kind of revenge against Walker. On some level, I even wanted to destroy him for what he had done to so many people. But these thoughts that were drifting through my head were dripping with blood and murder. They didn't sound like me.
If he could be caught alive, he could be thrown into the Pits. Walker versus his goons – that'd be a match to watch.
"Stop it," I whispered. "I'm not going to kill Walker."
But I want to…
"I'm better than Walker!" I snapped. "I'm not going to kill him. I won't sink to his level." Blinking when I found myself suddenly in ghost mode, frigid energy flowing around me in a tiny whirlpool, and I waited for the thoughts to resurface. My fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the cot and my toes curled in the slipper-like shoes. A few breaths later and I slowly relaxed, taking a deep breath.
Do you really think you can escape without killing him?
"Go away." The fact that the voice had suddenly switched from first person to second person was chilling. It almost felt like there was someone else in my head.
It's going to be you or him. You'll have to choose.
"I'm not going to be the next Walker. I'm not going to kill on purpose."
Good luck. The voice vanished in a low chuckle, leaving me with a shiver running down my back.
"I'll find a way around it," I murmured, but my voice was soft and wavering. I narrowed my eyes, turning one of my hands into a tight fist. "I'm not doing that. I promise."
"Promise what?"
Eyes widening in surprise, I looked up. Former was standing in the doorway, looking at me with an odd look in his caramel eyes. I blinked at him for the longest time. "Where…?"
"Didn't notice the door open?" he asked with a small grin.
I shook my head. "Um… hi?"
"Hi." We were silent for a few moments before he took a step into the cell and the door swung shut behind him. "We didn't really get to finish our talk yesterday…"
"Talk?" I was still a little off balance from the weird thoughts that had been coursing through my head. Furrowing my eyebrows, our last chat filtered into my mind: Walker's ability to 'control' everybody with some sort of subliminal rules. "Oh yeah. We weren't done?"
Former just stood there, shifting from foot to foot. "Not quite."
Watching him act so nervous, a question popped into my head. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"That's it?" I floated off the cot, tipping my head to the side. "I thought you were older."
He shook his head and wandered over to the bed. Settling back down on the hard surface next to him, I was silent and waited for him to say something. I was just about to try and figure out what to say to break the awkward silence when he spoke. "I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I'm sorry about you having to fight Neilson. Walker didn't give me many choices." Former fiddled with the small book that he had brought with him, an odd note in his voice.
"It's not your fault."
He looked up at me, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "Thanks. But I am sorry."
"Me too," I whispered as a picture of the young man I'd killed flittered through my mind.
Silence descended on the small cell until Former cleared his throat and started to talk. "Yesterday I told you this place is like a lair. See, I wanted to tell you that there's a set of doors in the Ghost Zone that leads to the Pits… just like any other lair." Former opened up the green book and flipped through it for a second before showing me a pencil sketch of a set of fancy, oak doors that were covered in odd-looking swirls.
I grabbed the book, wrinkling my forehead and pushing the thoughts of 'Neilson' out of my head. "They don't look like the kind of doors that would lead to a pit of doom and destruction."
Chuckling, Former leaned back on the cot. "No, they really don't."
"So? What's the point? It's a lair with a door."
He reached over and turned the page to a sketch of the Ghost Zone. "Ever wonder where you go when you walk through one of the doors? Ghost lairs are actually outside the Ghost Zone just a tiny bit – they each have their own, little dimension. Think… if the Ghost Zone is dimension 1, this lair," he pointed to a random door, "would be dimension 1.01 and this lair," he pointed to another door, "might be dimension 1.84 or something. Each door leads to its own 'micro-dimension'."
"Okay…" I was kind of following this odd discussion, but I still had no idea where it was going.
"But, remember, the Pits used to be part of the human world."
I blinked, floating up off the cot a bit. "Yeah. There used to be a whole hybrid city… and this is just what was left of it after the portal closed."
"The story goes that there're two doors in the Pits because of that. One door is the one that leads to the Ghost Zone that all the patrons come through. The other – so the rumor goes – was discovered about twenty years ago and leads to the human world."
Escape… Time seemed to stop for a moment, the world narrowing around me as my mind focused on that one word. If I could find that door, then I could go home.
"The Pits becomes more like a conduit," he continued, "a half-way point between the human world and the Ghost Zone." He shrugged, taking the book out of my numb fingers. "If the Ghost Zone was dimension 1 and the human world was dimension 2, then the Pits would be dimension 1.5 – somewhere right in between."
"Where is this door?"
He just shrugged again, sending me a small smile. "Nobody knows. I've looked for during my breaks for a few years and I haven't seen any sign of a door like that."
"Then how do you know it really exists?"
Closing his eyes, a small smile appeared on his face. "When we… I was 'adopted' by Walker and brought to the Pits, I went right from an odd-looking place in the human world to a huge, dark room in the Pits. I didn't travel through the Ghost Zone."
"You went through the door," I whispered, my eyes glowing.
"That would be my guess. I've been trying to remember where it was for years, but I've never been able to find it." He sighed and glanced at me. "It doesn't really matter. You'd need Walker's key to get through the door and there's no way you'd be able to get that."
I shifted on the cot, my eyes flickering down to the blades that were attached to my arms. I could get it… that oily voice whispered in my brain, and don't say he doesn't deserve it. The slim edge of the star bright metal glinted helpfully in the glow of the ghost lights. "Why are you telling me this?"
Former blinked at me for a moment. "Huh?"
"What's the point of telling me this?" I pointed to the picture in the book and shook my head. "I'm just going to die in one of these fights. There's really no point to telling me this stuff. So why are you?"
Former shrugged and paged through the book again, an odd look on his face. A small slip of paper slid out from between the pages and fluttered to the bed, but Former snatched it before I could see what was on it. "There're more rumors," he said suddenly, ignoring my question as he thrust the book back at me. The two pages were covered with tiny drawings of buildings and people, the bottom corner of one of the pages dedicated to a small map of a city. "One of the rumors says that there's a third door."
"A third door?" I asked. "Where would it lead?"
He snapped the book shut, standing up and carefully putting the slip of paper into his pocket. "Well, think about it. If we're in dimension 1.5… what else is? What other creatures inhabit this micro-dimension?"
I twisted around and stared at the walls like I could see through them. "There's stuff beyond the walls?"
"Makes sense, doesn't it? What happened to the rest of the ancient city? Nobody knows, though, since there aren't any windows in the Pits. The rest of the city has got to be somewhere – and there's more than likely a door that leads there. Or at least some kind of portal."
Raising my eyebrow, I just repeated my question. "There's stuff beyond the walls?" The thought was radical… nonsense… impossible… and yet made a sort of odd sense. I thought about all the small rooms and lairs I'd been in throughout the Ghost Zone. What lay behind those walls?
"I've always thought it was fun to try and think about. What lives beyond the walls? It could be anything." He moved towards the door, fumbling with the small book when he reached the door. "Oh, rats," he muttered as the book fell to the floor.
"What?" A thought tickled in my head as Former knelt to pick up the book and gave me an odd look.
"I tripped," he said with a wrinkle of his forehead.
I nodded, not really paying attention to Former as he shut the door behind him. I was too focused on the thought that was germinating in my head. It tingled, growing stronger, butterflies suddenly bursting into life in my stomach as I knew something important was about to happen.
"Oh, rats?" I whispered his words softly to myself as the thought bloomed suddenly. Floating off the bed, I drifted down to lie on the floor and stare under my cot. There, hidden in the shadows, was the corner where that stupid rat regularly vanished - where he went through a wall that nobody else could get through. Almost like there was some sort of portal there. Or maybe a door.
I reached forwards, the point of my blade clicking softly against the hard stone. "Rats…
Could there really be a hidden third door? Could it really be in my cell?
I let out a deep breath, changing back to human and resting my chin on my arms. The cold of the rough floor instantly started to seep through my thin clothes, but I didn't move. My eyes were focused on the darkened corner.
"No," I muttered after a while, pushing myself to my feet and settling back down onto the cot. "That'd be too much of a coincidence – an impossible coincidence."
It'd almost have to have been planned…
I couldn't sleep. I was lying on my cot an indeterminate amount of time later, just watching the ghost lights dance and play. The half-thought that I should try counting sheep had crossed my mind, but my mind was too busy for counting. Despite the fact that it was impossible for that rumored third door to be under my cot, my mind wouldn't stop whirling around the idea.
If nothing else, it kept me from thinking about who I'd killed and what was going to happen next. Just what could be out there?
Former had been showing me pictures of the ancient city when he had mentioned the third door. It was pretty obvious that he figured the city was still there, and that this mysterious door would lead to it. In reality, though, anything could be outside the walls of the Pits. It could be a paradise or it could be a wasteland.
I raised an eyebrow, a grin flickering across my face. It could be a rat-infested wasteland.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and forced that thought back out of my head. It was time to sleep, not time to… More questions flooded into my head. Why had Former taken the time to tell me all this? What was the point? He wanted me to know, but…
Something clattered under my cot. I suddenly froze and held my breath, my ears straining to pick up any other sounds. For a dozen heartbeats I remained perfectly still, waiting. But when nothing happened and my brain started to get fuzzy from lack of oxygen, I took a deep breath and rolled over to peer under the cot.
Nothing.
"Stupid rat," I hissed. "You're keeping me from sleeping." I waited a moment. "I know it's you, rat. Come on out."
I was just about to push myself back up onto the cot when something glittered. I frowned, tilting my head to the side – but it was too dark. Stuffing my hand under the cot, I called a bunch of energy to my fingers. In the eerie glow of the spectral energy, I could see a small, metallic object lying on the floor. I squinted but I couldn't make out what it was. Maybe a foot long, thicker on one end and thin on the other.
I let myself fall off the bed and crawled forwards until my still glowing fingers wrapped around the chill metal. "Ow!" I yelped, yanking my hand backwards and glancing down at my hand. A small line of cuts had appeared along the insides of my fingers. Tiny trickles of blood were slipping down my fingers. This thing – whatever it was – was sharp.
Much more carefully this time, I pulled the object towards me and scooted out from under the bed. The second I got it out into the light, I knew what it was.
Kneeling on the floor and cradling it in my hands, I waited patiently for my brain to connect this and that. My eyes flickered from the glinting metal to the shadows under my bed.
The rat…
The door…
I curled the fingers of my unhurt hand around the grimy hilt of the small blade and held it up before my eyes. Dried blood coated the rusty metal in macabre patterns.
The rat…
The door…
Walker's knife…
It was like a giant mystery that was refusing to untangle itself in my head. I just continued to sit there for the longest time, staring at the knife that had found its way into my cell. Questions swirled in my head and congealed at one point, their probing fingers forcing me to say the one word that was pounding through my head.
"Why?"
"At least it'll be an easy fight," Former said as he leaned over his giant book and made a few marks with his pen. "He's got one of the most mysterious records in the history of the Pits. He's only a few appearances away from being the creature that has been in the Pits the most times. The record is thirty-seven."
Folding my legs, I floated quietly in the air on the other side of the table. "Easy? He's won that many fights and you say it's going to be easy?"
He shot me a grin. "He's got a record of zero and thirty-three."
"He's won thirty-three times?" I said faintly.
Former shook his head, his smile twisting into a perplexed look. "He's lost thirty-three times." Glancing back down at his book, Former muttered, "and there's still a handful of idiots that are betting on him."
I blinked a few times, tossing my questions about the third door and Walker's knife out of my head. "What?" My voice came out sounding strangled. I cleared my throat and tried again. "How can that be? If you lose… you die."
"Exactly," Former said. "However, this particular ghost keeps showing back up in the Ghost Zone after he loses in his pit fight. Nobody has ever been able to figure out how it does it." A small, morose chuckle slipped from him. " Walker's tried to torture it out of him, but what's he going to do - throw him in the Pits for not answering?"
"But…"
"If there's one thing I know about ghosts, it's that the instant you make a rule there'll be a ghost that breaks it."
"But…"
Former set his pen down and leaned over the book. "See if you can get him to tell you his trick. All I can get out of him is various forms of, 'I cannot be killed in a circular container.'" A small smile flickered across his face. " Walker's promised a no-holes-barred, instant freedom to anybody that can tell him how the Box Ghost pulls it off. He's such a weak ghost…"
"The Box Ghost?!" I gasped, literally falling out of the air.
Nodding, Former rolled his eyes. "He's got some kind of trick - that much is obvious. Just before he dies… well, you'll see. It's hard to miss."
I just remained on the ground, my eyes wide and my brain turning into mush.
Rats… doors… cities… knives… portals…
"The Box Ghost?"
"Beware!" the boxy blue ghost screamed as soon as he was pushed through the doors on the other side of the pit. "I am the Box Ghost, ruler of all things cardboard and square! You can not hold me in this circular arena!"
I was standing on the sandy floor of the pit, staring up at the floating specter. Our fight was one of the first of the day – the pit floor was basically dry and clean. I tipped my head to the side, watching the ghost rant and wave his hands.
The crowd that had gathered for the fight was beginning to chant and scream. Through the building noise, I could almost hear my name being repeated. "Phantom, Phantom, Phantom!" I sighed, shaking my head as a memory of going to a baseball game flickered through my mind. Tucker had been doing the same thing, screaming the name of the winning team as they slaughtered their opponent.
Just for a second, an odd thought twitched in my mind. Do all these ghosts think they're at some kind of game? I bit my lip, scanning the crowds of faces. Do they really know what happens to the losers?
I narrowed my eyes, forcing that thought out of my head. The ghosts knew what was going on – they knew that people were being killed.
They just want to see bloodshed, the voice whispered in the back of my mind. They are just as guilty as Walker and his guards. Visions of spilt blood and tendrils of revenge flickered through my thoughts. They deserve to die as well.
"Stop it," I whispered and then blinked when the Box Ghost stopped his meaningless ranting and turned to face me.
"Phantom!" he crowed, "Bow down before the might of the Box Ghost!"
"Right," I said softly, "like that'll ever happen."
A slightly-glowing box appeared in his hands and he grinned at me over the sharp edges. "Beware!" The box flew through the air, but I just stepped to the side and it sailed past me. "Fear the might of my cubical instruments of doom!" Another box, another step to the side.
You're going to have to fight him.
"I know," I muttered under my breath.
How are you going to do it? The voice seemed to be reveling in the idea of premeditated murder. Slice his head off? Cut him to pieces? I personally enjoyed what you did to Muerto – the explosion was nice and the rain of blood was interesting.
"Stop it; I'm not going to do that."
Something different then? Variety is the spice of life…
I snarled as I sidestepped a third box. This voice was leaving an oily, sticky residue in my brain that was getting harder and harder to get rid of. But, it did have a point. How was I going to kill the Box Ghost?
"I can't kill the Box Ghost!" The words came out louder than I had expected as my brain suddenly seemed to catch up to the way my thoughts had been going.
The annoying blue specter hesitated, another box in his hands, and stared at me.
It's going to be him or you. Take your pick.
"I'm not going to kill the Box Ghost," I said sourly, shifting my gaze towards the desiccated Warden sitting in his special box seat. "I'm not going to kill..." I trailed off, confused by the words that had been about to pop out of my mouth.
A friend? The voice interrupted with a chuckle as it picked up on my thoughts. It sounded like it was grinning madly. You're going to have to kill a friend! Oh, this is perfect.
"He's not my friend." I was watching the Box Ghost again, shifting unhappily from foot to foot. The Box Ghost was just staring at me with an odd expression on his face. "But I can't kill him. He's… I just can't kill the Box Ghost. I know the Box Ghost." For the longest time, we just looked at each other.
Suddenly the Box Ghost grinned, the box in his hands vanishing. "I AM THE BOX GHOST!" he shouted, and then dive-bombed straight for me.
I reacted before my brain could really catch up with me. An arm came up and caught the ghost in the chest, the blade digging in deep. My mouth moved soundlessly as ectoplasm leaked over my arm.
"Find the key," the blue, box-obsessed ghost gasped softly as he collapsed against me. Green lights twirled and danced around the Box Ghost as he dissolved right in front of my eyes. The tiny lights misted and coiled, creating a swirling mass that looked a lot like the fog in the ghost portal in my parents' basement.
Within just moments, the Box Ghost was gone, the swirling colors were gone, and I was left alone in the middle of the pit, by mind struggling to comprehend what was going on. The fact that I had just killed the Box Ghost was overrunning my thoughts.
Rats… doors… cities… knives… portals… Box Ghost… "Find the key?" I whispered, "What key?"
My brain was slowly starting to shut down with all the questions and thoughts piling up inside of it. As I turned around to stumble out of the pit and back to the relative quiet of my cell, my eyes settled on those green-cloaked ghosts in the audience again. First there had been the one and then there had been two. Now, there were at least four green hoods standing silently in the mingling crowd.
Rats… doors… cities… knives… portals… Box Ghost… keys… green ghosts…
Snap. You could almost hear my mind shut off like a light switch. That's it. I'm done.
"I'm DONE!" I screamed up at the crowds, most of whom stopped to stare at me. "You hear me? I'm done! I'm not going to fight any more! I'm not going to KILL ANYMORE!"
The ghosts blinked down at me in silent confusion. The communal huh? was easy to hear.
Guards surrounded me and dragged me off as the crowd just stared at me.
I was still wallowing in my own thoughts when I saw her. White hair was falling out of her ponytail to dangle in her emerald eyes. I stumbled for a second, barely catching myself before the guards could yank painfully on my arms again. Dani?
Her set of guards weren't touching her. It was more of an honor guard than anything else as they flanked her carefully pacing steps. Compassionless eyes stared at me from an unfamiliar face as we neared each other. An aura of power and ruthlessness surrounded her that not even Vlad would have been able to project. No, I felt a surge of relief, it's not Danielle.
She blinked at me, a small smile crossing her face. As we passed, she gave me a small nod before continuing on her way. My head twisted around to follow her as she walked onto the pit grounds without hesitation. This spectral girl was a fighter, a hunter, a predator. Every instinct in my body was screaming to keep away from her – or to at least know where she was at every moment. I couldn't turn my back on her.
It was with a sort of fascinated dread that I kept her in my sights until the very last moment. The doors to the pit slammed shut behind me and an unconscious shiver slid down my back. I don't want to fight her… I really don't want to fight her…
The girl gasped, jumping to her feet and pacing around the cell, wincing with every other step. "How can he not see it?" she seethed. "It makes so much sense…"
She dropped back down next to the book and picked it up. "But, I suppose it's harder to figure out if you're actually a part of it." A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. "Ghost lights are the ghosts of the ghosts that have died. Green for ghosts, blue for humans." Her fingers trailed over the smudged and smeared words. "I do feel sorry for him – having to do all this. At least I won't have to live with the idea that I'm a murderer." A soft sigh escaped her lips. "I'm not going to survive my first fight."
Fingers traced over a few of the words back in the journal entry. "I wonder what he did with Walker's knife? The rat brought it to him, I'm sure, but why? That's what Walker must have been looking for earlier… Did he take it with him when he got out of here?"
A shiver ran down her spine. "Did he get out of here?" Her eyes danced around the bare cell, looking for a knife that she knew wasn't there. "I wonder where he hid it?"
An odd thought slid into her mind. She flipped through the book, staring down at the slip of paper that had fallen out a few pages ago. She stared down at the portrait that had been carefully sketched onto the creased paper. "So many questions…" She smiled suddenly. "He's right – it's a very confusing mystery. But there are some things I do understand."
Her thoughts swirled back towards Walker's knife as her fingers tapped on the last words the Box Ghost had said. "It's so obvious… the knife… a key…"
Then she slowly turned the page and continued to read…
--o.o--o.o--o.o--o.o--o.o--o.o--
Special bonus section:
Walker was sitting in his chair, sun-dried eyes closed, contemplating the various mysteries of the universe. He didn't bother to open his eyes when the young ghost girl destroyed her vulture-like opponent. He had other things on his mind; other, much more important things – such as the young halfa currently molding in a cell.
However, his quiet thoughts were disrupted by the appearance of four creatures in his box. One was expected – his head deputy Bullet. The other three weren't quite as welcome. Walker's nose wrinkled at the thick elephant musk that filled the air. "Great," he muttered, finally resigning himself to opening his eyes.
Bullet was pushed off to the side of the box, making room for one gigantic female elephant and her two sidekicks. The ghost dressed up in a turn-of-the-century war uniform saluted Walker while the other yanked off his safari helmet and gave a small bow. "We're here, as you requested!" the general said.
"I ordered your presence weeks ago," Walker seethed at the bounty hunters, "right after you caught the punk."
The general shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. "Well, you understand, it's hard to keep track of time sometimes. We did get here."
"Yeah," the safari ghost added, "and we're ready for our reward."
"Fine, fine, fine." Walker muttered darkly, closing his eyes again. "Bullet will give it to you. Get out of here."
"Right away, Sir!" the general saluted again.
But before they could turn to leave, Walker's eyes flickered open. "One question, before you go." He directed his gaze at the elephant; she was obviously the leader of the group. "How, exactly, did you manage to catch the halfa?"
The elephant looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? We told you, we hit him with a dart." Her eyes were narrowing suspiciously, her trunk coiling up.
Walker leaned forwards, steepling his fingers, trying to sort out his thoughts. If he were right… "Yes, but where did you manage to procure such a dart? There aren't many ghosts that can create something that will work on halfas."
"We got it from a guy," the safari ghost cut in. "He said it was guaranteed to work!"
"And do you remember this guy's name?" The warden's eyes narrowed. This game of twenty questions was getting annoying.
"AJ?" the general said, more of a question than anything else.
"No, it was UK," the safari hunter corrected. "Or maybe DJ, or TA, or something. It was definitely a couple of letters of the alphabet though."
A menacing grin was growing on his face as he watched the elephant's eyes dart back and forth. She wasn't too happy with how this was going. Walker smiled pleasantly, his smile only widening when the massive elephant backed nervously away from him. "Could it have been an LJ by chance?"
"That was it!" The safari ghost crowed, slapping his hands together, grinning at his two compatriots. The general nodded his agreement. Still looking at Walker apprehensively, the elephant slowly nodded.
"Did you," Walker continued in a soothing tone, "manage to see what this LJ looks like?"
"No, Sir. Never saw him. The letter and dart were sitting on a table, waiting for us." The general nodded as he talked, unaware of the bored expression that was growing on Walker's face when the warden realized the three ghosts had no new information for him to use.
"Fine," Walker muttered darkly. "Now get out of here. Bullet?" The deputy hung back, waiting by Walker's side as the three ghosts vanished through the door. As soon as the door snapped shut behind them, Walker continued. "Take care of them. I don't want what they know leaving this place."
Bullet nodded, a small grin crossing his face. "Sir."
Alone again in the silence, waiting for the next fight to start, Walker closed his eyes. "What are you up to LJ?" he whispered. "Why did you help get the punk into the Pits? And why did you know to steal my knife?"
A mystery wrapped up in a mystery indeed.