The next day, after a much-needed bath, I decided to get right down to questioning Toon-Face. I had hoped that he'd have calmed down overnight, but to my disappointment he was as obstinate as before.
"You do realise that you've made a very grave mistake!" he huffed. "Holding me here against my will – I have very important friends, you know!"
"Well that's as good a start as any," I sighed. "Maybe you could tell me their names?"
Toon-Face huffed and puffed as he tried his best to remember. "So what if I don't know their names!" he sputtered. "They're friends and they're important and that's all you damn well need to know!"
"Ok then, let's start with something a bit simpler. Do you remember your own name?"
"What kinda stupid question is that? Of course I know my own bloody name!"
"That's great! Can you tell me what it is?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"What?"
"Why the hell am I talking to you? You're a bloody cat! I want to speak to a human being, dammit!" Still possessing the false teeth, Toon-Face began making them jump up and down while calling out towards the Good Detective and his family. "Oi, you lot! Down here! Bloody hell; are you all deaf or something? I have a right mind to come up there and-!"
"Will you calm down and just listen!" I slammed my paw on top of the teeth in an effort to still them. "They can't hear you, ok? Right now, I'm the only one who can help you and you are the only one who can help me!"
"Th-this is preposterous!" stammered the spirit. "I can't be dead… I'm a picture of perfect health!"
"No, you are most certainly dead," I told him. "And what's more, when you died there were special circumstances involved that gifted you with special powers, such as the ability to possess objects and manipulate them. Like those false teeth you're in right now."
I lifted my paw from the teeth. He didn't try to bite me or anything so I felt safe to continue.
"Do you have any idea who you are?"
"No."
"Do you remember how you died?"
"No I do not!"
I sighed and picked up my catnip mouse. "Here, try jumping into this."
"How's that any better than these teeth?"
"The lady of the house is going to find and get rid of these teeth sooner or later. Do you really want to end up as landfill?"
Toon-Face complied, but took the time to grumble another cuss word in my direction. I ignored him and with the catnip toy still in my mouth, I headed to the Good Detective's study – since yesterday's meeting with Yomiel, he had taken to leaving the door open for my benefit. I jumped up onto the tabled and began looking through the passport photographs of the Twister's victims, thinking that the crime scene images were too confronting at this stage.
"Okay then," I said, placing the mouse on the table next to the photos, "I'm going to show you some faces and I want you to take a good look at each and every one of them – one of these people might just be you or at least someone you recognise."
"Humph."
I showed Toon-Face the photo of the office worker first since he was the most likely candidate. "This is the man who was found in the same place where we first ran into each other," I told Toon-Face. "You remember him at all?"
Toon-Face jumped onto the photograph to get a closer look. It was a moment or two before he answered me. "Never seen 'im before." he grumbled.
I moved onto the next photograph – a truck driver who had been found tangled in the entrance gates of a local high school.
"How about this guy, think you might be him?"
"You're kidding me, right? That fat balding dimwit can't possibly be me."
"How about this person," I took out an image of a flamboyant-looking hairdresser who been left in the middle of a baseball stadium. "Recognise him at all?"
"Do I look like someone who'd hang out with such a tasteless bum?"
"I wouldn't know," I replied sarcastically. "Most people aren't blue flames with cartoon faces."
"Hey, I didn't ask to drop dead and forget who I was!"
"Well," I spread all six photos on the table, "do any of these people look familiar to you?"
"No! I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with any of these morons!"
"You are dead, remember?" I said through gritted teeth. "Alright, let's try this from a different angle – do you remember where you were when you woke up, or even how long you've been dead for?"
"How the hell should I know?" snarled Toon-Face.
"Maybe because it was your death?" I muttered crossly. "Look, is there anything you do remember? At all?"
"I don't remember."
Well, this was going nowhere. There was only one other time that I knew of that it had taken so long for a ghost to recover its memories, but that was only because I had mistook Yomiel's body as my own. This ghost however, had nothing.
"Okay, let's work backwards then. Remember back at the park? Perhaps you could tell me how you got there."
"I keep telling ya, I don't remember nuttin'!"
"Well then, you see anything unusu-"
"NO!"
I was fast losing patience. Missile and I had worked so hard to recover this loud-mouthed ingrate, and I couldn't help feel as if he was screwing me around.
"Let's give it a rest for now…" I said finally. "Recovering lost memories can take some time for the newly dead, so I'll just go and give you to some space to think, ok?"
"Hmph."
I jumped off the table and made my way to the living room, my nerves tense and my hopes low. The Little Lady noticed that I seemed to be in a bad mood.
"I heard you got into trouble last night," said she. She bent down beside me and began to scratch my head. "It's ok Sissy, you safe here at home."
Safe at home, huh? Those six people whose lives now only existed as notes and photos in the Good Detective's office certainly never got the chance to return to the safety of their homes, of their families and loved ones. They had died miserable and alone, with only their murderer for company. Could that haughty and brash spirit in the Good Detective's study really have been one of those six faces forever lost in agony?
The ringing of the phone woke me from my reflections, and I watched with curiosity as Beloved Mother went to answer it. After all, it might be a lead on the Twister.
"Alma here, how may I help you?" she said cheerily. "Oh Lynne, how lovely to hear from you! How have you been?" It was at this point that the expression on Beloved Mother's face began to fall, something was obviously wrong. "O-oh dear… I'll get him right away." Beloved Mother placed her hand over the receiver and called out to her husband. "Jowd, its Lynne – she says she's in trouble."
The Good Detective rushed over, taking the receiver from his wife and speaking into it, "Lynne, what's wrong?" I could sense the urgency in his voice. "Stay put. I'll be there in a minute."
He hung up the phone and rushed to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way.
"Daddy?" The Little Lady stopped petting me and looked up at her father. "Is Lynne ok?"
"She's fine, sweetheart," said the Good Detective reassuringly. "She's just had a bit of a scare and needs me to check a few things out."
The Little Lady went to her mother's side, hiding in her skirts.
I too was concerned with Lynne's welfare; while she had lost all her memories of the Fateful Night we had gone through a lot together and I still felt very much attached to her. Plus I felt kind of bad about scratching her up the night before. After taking time to hide my body I headed for the phone and once again found myself flying down the network, this time towards Lynne's apartment.
The place was swarming with cops when I got there, and the apartment had been turned upside-down, but Lynne herself didn't seem to be around. I noticed Missile had been tethered to a chair so he wouldn't get underfoot, so I made my way over to him.
"Hey Missile," I said. "What happened? Where's Lynne?"
"I dunno," he said sadly. "We came home from our walk, but when we got home…"he looked around the trashed apartment. " And there was a note on the closet door. She took one look at it and it made her really angry. She used the phone a couple of times and then she just ran out LEAVING ME ALL ALONE!" Missile let out a howl, prompting one of the nearby police officers to try and calm Missile with the offer of a biscuit.
"Relax Missile," I reassured him. "I'll go look for her."
The Good Detective came in not long afterwards, and I listened in as he was briefed by an officer.
"Where's Lynne?"
""She took a car and left as soon as we arrived, sir."
"What? I told her to stay put!"
"Yes sir, she wanted us to let you know she was sorry sir, but she said she had to follow a lead."
"A lead?"
The uniformed officer handed the Detective a note.
"That's the note that upset Miss Lynne!" Missile told me excitedly.
I jumped up to the note to see for myself what it was that had caused Lynne to rush out on her own. Even without the shaky, scrawled style of writing, the words pretty much spoke for themselves:
gAME'S gETTING eASY – wAY tOO bORING
i'LL bE wAITING aT tHE eASTERN dOCKS wITH mY nEWEST pLAYMATE
cARE tO jOIN tHE fUN? bETTER hURRY oR yOU'LL mISS mE
tWISTER
"Dear Gods," muttered the Detective, his face pale. He grabbed a police radio and began yelling into it, "Lynne – LYNNE! You get back here right now!"
"No can do, Jowd," Lynne's voice crackled from the radio. "My gut tells me this isn't a hoax."
"That's what I'm afraid of! You get back here right now, and that's an order!"
"Sorry sir, but this could be our only – what in the name of-!"
Lynne's words were cut off by the squeal of tires, followed by the crunching of cold metal. The Good Detective's face went pale, and he dropped the note and ran for the door. I had a feeling that my Powers of the Dead were going to be needed, so I quickly attached myself to the Detective's gun and went with him.
Lynne was already dead when we arrived. Her car had veered off the road and into a street lamp, which explained the racket that had been heard over the radio. Sprawled a little further down the road was a wrecked electric scooter twisted together with a second corpse, which I quickly recognised to be that of the Scrawny Snooper from the Temsik Park crime scene.
"Witnesses say she was driving along when he pulled out in front of her, sir," a police officer told a distraught Good Detective. "They were both killed instantly."
"Thank you officer. If you don't mind, I just need some room to think…"
"Of course, sir."
As the uniformed officer walked away, the Good Detective looked up towards the sky. "Sissel?" he said quietly. "If you followed me… well, I hope you followed me… if you could just do your thing…" he looked towards the pair of bodies as they were zipped into black plastic bags. "The boy too – I wanna kick his smarmy ass myself."
Under normal circumstances, I would've thought little about going back in time to prevent a death, having done it so many times before. But the missing cores in the Twister's victims had knocked my confidence somewhat. Even with my excursion to the city morgue, I had no guarantee that Lynne's core would be intact. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Thankfully, the cores of both Lynne and Scrawny were still there. I decided to try Lynne's first, I hadn't spoken with her in such a long time although I knew that my chances that her soul would be conscious were very slim. But I was in for a pleasant surprise for there was Lynne in full form, awake and alert. It was a real bonus for I knew that Lynne would now have a Core of the Dead, meaning I wouldn't have to bother Yomiel anymore.
"Crap," Lynne muttered. "And just when I was on to something…"
"Relax," I said to her, "you won't be this way for too long."
She looked at me, a little stunned at first, but she just shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Guess it makes sense. How'd you get here anyway? Bet you got hit by a car or something, seeing as you keep running away all the time."
"Heh-heh, not quite. I'll explain later," I said, getting up and heading towards the path that would send us back in time. "Right now, let's just work on preventing your death, ok?"
"Uh, pardon?"
Once again I felt the winds of time reversing, blowing Lynne and I towards that crucial moment needed to prevent death. Lynne was unable to speak, frozen in awe as she saw the events of her death replay themselves right before her very eyes.
We were right outside Lynne's apartment, watching as she ran out the door towards an unoccupied police car.
"But Officer Lynne!" a uniformed officer called out after her. "Jowd and Cabanela said to wait until they…!"
"Tell them I'm sorry, but this could be our only chance." Lynne started the car and pulled out into the street. "Wish me luck!"
Switching on the alarm, Lynne hit the accelerator and speed off in the direction of the eastern docks. A few minutes later, the Good Detective's radio transmission came through.
"Lynne – LYNNE! You get back here right now!"
"No can do, Jowd. My gut tells me this isn't a hoax."
"That's what I'm afraid of! You get back here right now, and that's an order!"
"Sorry sir, but this is our only –" Lynne stopped short as a silver blur, seemingly from out of nowhere, jumped into her path. "What in the name of-!"
Lynne slammed on the brakes, causing the car to swing wildly but it was too late. The body of the car slammed into Scrawny and his scooter, sending them both flying, and Lynne vainly struggled to regain control of the car as it spun out and smashed into the lamppost.
Lynne stood there, stunned. "Holy cow."
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, Lynne."
"So, you say you can stop me from dying?"
"I can pretty much save anyone who's been dead for less than a day," I said, moving towards Scrawny's body. "The key here seems to be preventing this man here from cutting you off like that."
"So that moron got me killed," Lynne growled. "I swear, if you're telling the truth and can keep me from dying I'm gonna kick his ass…"
"Detective Jowd called dibs on that one," I told her. "Although you might be in for a bit of ear-bending yourself when all's said and done."
"Like you can talk."
I let my spirit energy make contact with Scrawny's core. Unlike Lynne, Scrawny's ghost was still a silent blue flame.
"Where is he?" asked Lynne, her voice slightly panicked. "You can bring him back, right?"
"Relax, he's just unconscious. Usually this is what happens when someone dies for the first time. You probably took so quickly to recover because I've saved you before."
"Wait, you're saying I've been dead before? And you saved me?"
"Yeah, but those deaths were completely erased so you wouldn't remember them, and I didn't appear to you as I do now." I made my way towards the path headed back in time, Lynne following close behind. "It's a long story. Let's just focus on preventing you two from dying now, shall we?"
This time, we were witnessing the lead-up to Scrawny's death. He was outside what I took to be his apartment, fumbling with his keys while a surprisingly familiar face waited anxiously behind him – a kid with spiky purple hair, wearing a leather jacket.
"C'mon Renny, I gotta meet the band for rehearsal," he whined.
"Yeah yeah, just a sec," Scrawny replied. "Are, here it is."
The lock clicked open, and the two men went inside, but they were in for an unpleasant shock. Their apartment had been trashed just like Lynne's had been.
"Holy-!" the Spiky-Haired Rocker's eyes went wide. "Aw man, they better have not messed with my vintage Gibson."
Scrawny wasn't paying attention; he was far too focused on the suspicious-looking note stuck on the wall. He tore it off and took a quick look at it, and then he bolted past the Spiky-Haired Rocker, nearly knocking him to the ground.
"Hey dude, what gives?"
"A lead on the Twister case!" Scrawny called back. "This could be my big break!"
"Then shouldn't we like, y'know, call the cops?"
Scrawny payed no heed to this suggestion, jumped onto his scooter and sped out into the street, speeding downs side roads and back alleys, before he finally turned the corner that put him in collision course with Lynne and her car.
Scrawny saw the car, but he was moving way too fast to stop or even move out of the way, "Oh no… oh CRAP no!"
And it was over.
"Did he say he got a note from the Twister?" asked Lynne.
"That may be something you'll want to check up on," I said. "But right now, let's see what I can do about that scooter."
It turned out that getting to the scooter from the accident scene was more trouble than I had bargained for. I spent a good amount of time trying to find a pathway without much success. Lynne noticed this.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Can't you just zap yourself over there? We're running outta time!"
"My powers have their limits," I explained. "I can only move by possessing objects within my reach."
I scanned around desperately for anything that might give me a hand, looking at street lights, shop windows, dumpsters, orange one-eyed cats… wait, what?
It was Outlaw alright, lazing contentedly on a tree branch and enjoying in the sunshine. I couldn't help but notice that his location was overhanging the path down which Scrawny would soon be passing. Normally, I wouldn't have wished Outlaw's wrath on anyone, but this was a matter of life or death. I snaked my way into the tree, possessed the branch and began to shake, not hard mind you, but just enough so that Outlaw was roused from his slumber and lost some of his balance. He yowled and spat, trying to figure out what it was that had disturbed his rest. Finally, I saw Scrawny coming past. I waited until the timing was just right, until Scrawny was almost about to pass directly underneath. Using all my strength, I shook the branch so vigorously that Outlaw lost his balance, losing his grip and landing right on top of Scrawny's head.
"Holy-shit-someone-get-this-CAT-OFF-MY-HEAD!"
I winced a little as the runaway scooter derailed into a dumpster, and Scrawny was upended and landed inside with an unpleasant squelch, Outlaw's claws still digging into his skull.
"Well," said I, as Lynne and I returned to the present, "Not the solution I would've preferred but at least you two won't die now…"
"Wow that was awesome!" Lynne had a huge grin on her face. "If only Jowd knew about all this."
"Actually, he does. If you talk to him he'll explain everything to you."
"You mean I'm going to remember all this?"
"Yeah, you will. What's more, it's now possible for us to communicate with one another pretty much whenever we want."
"No way. This is incredible!"
"Now Lynne," I dropped the casual nature I had been using until now and adopted a more serious tone. "When you get back, I need you to ask Jowd to fill you in about the missing cores." I looked her straight in the eye to make sure she understood. "You hear me? Ask about the cores. It's very important."
Lynne was a little put off by my sudden change of demeanour, but as carefree as Lynne was, she was by no means a ditz. "Ok Sissel, I'll be sure to tell him."
"Good. Now, let's go back to the present, shall we?"
When we came to the present, I was still in the tree branch watching as poor Scrawny pulled himself out of the dumpster and tried to dislodge a livid Outlaw from his face. Knowing he was heading in the same direction as Lynne was, I snuck myself onto his scooter and waited. Scrawny finally managed to pry the angry tom cat off of him and got on his scooter, started it up and drove towards the eastern docks.
"I hate cats."
As much as that statement hurt, I couldn't help but sympathise.
Lynne's car was already on the scene by the time Scrawny and I arrived, and I attached myself to his camera as he got off the scooter. But I realised that we had a serious problem – the docks themselves consisted of rows upon rows of large warehouses, and there was no sure way of knowing in which one the Twister was hiding. I saw Lynne not far off, looking around her frantically trying to think of where to check first. Scrawny saw her too, and tried to sneak by her, but she caught sight of him and rushed over towards him.
"Hey!" she got right up in his face. "You realise you nearly got us both killed back there, right?"
"I nearly-? What do you mean, I nearly killed you?"
I jumped from Scrawny's camera and into Lynne's core, hoping to calm her down.
"Lynne," I tried to attract her attention. "Lynne, there's something I…"
"Oh c'mon, I nearly ran in to you on your stupid scooter! If it wasn't for Jowd's cat-!"
"Um, Lynne…"
"Just because the Twister broke into your house and left you a note-!"
"Whoa, back up. A, how did you know about the break-in and b, that yellow monstrosity is your boss's pet?"
"No, the black one – Sissel! The one who can talk and time travel and everything!"
There was an awkward pause. Scrawny blinked a bit before he spoke again, "Are you high or something?"
"Lynne," I was finally able to get her attention. "He was unconscious back there. He doesn't remember anything."
Lynne's face seemed to turn the same shade of red as her hair. "Fine!" she snapped, storming back towards the warehouses. "Just don't get in my way or anything."
Scrawny threw up his arms and made off in the other direction, "Fine, whatever… ya damn psycho."
Lynne ignored this insult and stared despondently at the rows of warehouses stretched out in front of her. "Great, now what do we do?"
"Let me go," I said, "I'll jump through them much quicker than you can walk. I'll come back for you if I spot anything."
"Well, okay." Lynne walked over to a pile of crates stacked up against a wall. "I'll call for backup while I wait for you."
Most of the warehouses were either empty, or simply holding everyday things waiting to shipped to who knows where. I was rushing around for about half an hour or so when I heard it – a muffled scream. I wasted no time, following the sound to the warehouse it had come from, hoping I could make it in time. The warehouse I entered was mostly dark, save for a single mobile searchlight that illuminated a small area. I took possession of the light so I could take a closer look, and that's when I stumbled into a nightmare.
At the centre of the lighted area was an operating table, strapped to which was a man in casual attire, but the look on his face certainly wasn't. He was pale and sweating, his face filthy and streaked with tears. His eyes were bulging in terror, focused on a shadowy figure looming above him. This shadowy figure was a man; tall, lean, but powerful-looking, wearing a filthy blood-stained apron and holding what appeared to be a scalpel. But most horrifying was the mask. It seemed to be made of some sort of sacking, crudely fashioned into the shape of a face, with two narrow slits for eyes, a metal zipper where the mouth should be, frayed and knotted pieces of filthy string in place of the hair, and spattered all over with stains in varying shades of red. The way he moved, it was like some sort of demented bird of prey, cocking and twitching his head as he looked over his terrified victim. There was no doubt in my mind – he had to be Twister.
"Are you having fun?" he said in an oily, rasping voice. He lowered the scalpel and drew it across the victim's cheek, letting out a thin trickle of blood and causing the victim to cry in pain. The Twister brought his masked face so it was nose-to-nose with the victim, still performing that bizarre twitching. "I know I am. I'm having lots of fun."
"Please," begged the man pathetically. "My mom's got MS; she'll never survive without me…"
I had promised Lynne I would go fetch her, but I knew by the time I did that this man would most certainly be dead. Thinking fast, I switched off the searchlight, plunging the room into darkness. I reasoned that the Twister was only human after all and would never be able to see in the dark. Then, before the Twister could have time to switch the light back on, I quickly zipped up onto the table and worked as fast as could on unfastening the leather straps holding the man on the table, hoping he'd have enough sense to make a run for it. Indeed, no sooner I had freed one of his hands he instantly set to work on the other, as quickly and as quietly as he could manage. Then the scalpel flew out of nowhere and hit him in the throat.
I could only watch in horror as the man began to gurgle and splutter, coughing up blood as he struggled to stay alive. It was still pitch dark. How had the Twister hit this man in the throat with such frightening accuracy?
"Finally," the Twister's voice came from right above me, with a tone of smug satisfaction. "A challenger approaches. I was starting to get bored, with only the pigs and bleeders to play with. Oh, and that little photographer. Needed to mix it up, you know."
He grabbed the scalpel, tearing it from the victim's neck, an act which finally killed the poor man.
"Surprised I know that you're here, are you?" the Twister continued. "Perhaps I should enlighten you a little, hm?"
Suddenly, I found myself in the familiar glow of the Ghost World, and that's when I saw it – Temsik radiation, flowing from the Twister's body. I had seen this before, from when Yomiel himself was cursed to bear the fragment, and from my own body where the fragment now rested. The Twister had the Powers of the Dead! His soul was not the familiar blue flame I had come to recognise, but a hideous black slimy lump, oozing and writhing, like nothing I had seen before. But the worst was yet to come. I could easily see the core of the victim from my position in the leather straps, and already the Temsik radiation was affecting his soul, creating another ghost with these rare and unusual powers. But whatever these powers were, the poor soul never got a chance to use them. From the oozing lump of the Twister's soul came a hideous army of shadowy hands, shooting towards the victim's ghost and ensnaring it like a set of vile teeth. They pulled the struggling soul towards the Twister, and his slimy soul opened itself into a hideously gaping mouth, swallowing the poor little ghost.
"I would like to have played with him for just a little bit longer," gloated the Twister. "But I suppose if you're here then the piggies must also be on their way." He turned to leave. "Oh, and don't try to follow me. I'd hate for you to be out of the game before it's even started."
It was only then that it dawned on me that the Twister could just as easily have devoured me too if he had so wished. But for now he was letting me go, and I wasn't about to argue with him. I had a very bad feeling about all of this, and as the Twister disappeared into the shadows I turned my attentions towards the fresh corpse of his victim.
My worst suspicions were confirmed – the victim had lost his core.