"There is more to be done."
The tinny voice faded out after its aggravated hiss in the wrist-computer.
A massive, armoured figure stepped out from the shadowy streets, the dark depths of an abandoned town. It crossed to the tallest building, and then jumped into the air, igniting strange flame-like jets. Gravity forgot to take hold, and the being glided effortlessly upwards until it reached the pointed spire. An iron-clad fist grasped the smooth stick, and wrenched it upwards; causing several bricks to dislodge and fall clumsily down the side of the building, into the murky waters of the river below.
Instead of succumbing to the same fate as the bricks, the spire stayed put. No matter how much the figure pulled and jerked it, it would not move out. But the person didn't seem to want to make it do that. After each twist and turn a grin broke out on his wide, skeletal face, and he almost seemed to be… laughing.
The creature gave one final tug, and then stepped backwards smartly, preparing for what he surely knew would happen next.
The pointed spire was bending, lazily curling its top over, into the ground. When a bridge was made, it started widening, growing to almost eight feet. The centre of this strip was sinking, churning ominously. The dirty grey ebbed away with each swirl, and was replaced by dancing, ever-growing neon green. Soon the whole spire-turned-bridge had changed into the pulsing emerald, swaying slightly as it started to straighten up again. After only a few long moments, the stick had formed into a huge door.
Quickly and quietly, the person stepped into the strange object as though it were not solid; as though, in fact, it were what it looked like but couldn't possibly be.
But he stepped through it promptly and, again, effortlessly.
The creature didn't turn up at the other side of the rectangle of energy. It appeared instead in a different, desolate area of space, where nothing warm-blooded seemed to live. Tall snake-like weeds broke through the mossy undergrowth, and the trees were shaped like gaunt hands, with dozens of extra fingers.
The creature paid no attention to these things. He strode briskly toward an opening between two of the trees, and clambered through the narrow gap, swearing as some of his plated armour caught on the wire of a fallen, tangled fence.
After completely uprooting the fence, he walked toward a huge mansion that loomed out of nowhere. It was stately, for sure, and had an air of extreme grandeur. The wide oak door shook slightly as one of the creature's fists came out and pounded on it. If anyone standing nearby was watching, which they most certainly weren't, they could see that he was not accustomed to this form of making his presence known. He looked as though barrelling through the door was more to his taste. After a few moments, it opened creakily, and he stepped in.
Someone was waiting for him inside, floating a few inches above the polished floor. His head was comically arranged in two horn-like points, and a red cape was draped, cliché-like, around his shoulders. But there was no smug smile worn about his face, or even an angry grimace, as one may have expected from one wearing outfits such as he was. Instead, a pained expression was spread out, one of extreme loathing. A chill emanated from him, blasting through the cavernous front hall and shaking the pristine curtains and tapestries.
He inclined his head forward, acknowledging the presence. But before he had any time to say a word, however, the caped ghost held up a hand to silence him. Then it glided over, without the assistance of jets on his back. It spoke chillingly to him when two feet away from his face. His lip curled farther downwards, as though regarding the thing as beneath him.
"I spoke to you already," he stated, and started to float away.
Sam and Tucker watched, open-mouthed, as Danny was pulled backwards by two skeletal, eerily transparent female ghosts. His eyes were open, but glazed, telling them that the whack by the shortest of the three ghosts that had appeared, out of thin air, behind him had knocked him out. Sam felt as though time were standing still, though her heart's frantic beating surely cancelled that out.
She didn't move until the ghost holding Danny dropped him to the ground, and heard his head crack on the stone. At the same time she heard a large rustling, and whipped her head around instinctively to see Lancer scrambling out of the pile of leaves he had fallen into, toward the other school doors.
As though a switch had flicked inside of her, Sam felt like two strong hands were pushing her forwards, making her lunge toward Danny and the ghosts. Before making any contact with them, she saw the shortest: a pale, blue ghost with a crew-cut and baggy overalls, glance up at her with a surprised expression on his face, before she felt as though she had slammed into a brick wall. It was worse, though, for instead of her whole body hitting the wall at once, she felt her stomach almost cave in on the ghost's head, and curled over, whacking her head and chest forcefully on the ghost's back.
Was… was that a shield? No, they're rounder… she thought, her brain whirring frantically as it tried to register what had just happened.
She crumpled off the ghost and fell on the ground, winded, feeling foolish for trying to ram the ghost in the head. She felt a tingling in her hand, and remembered as she glanced there: she had been holding an Ecto-Stinger. The small rod-like object was shaking from side to side mechanically, trying to detect the nearest ghost to shock with a buzz and, temporarily, paralyze. The three had rarely used them after they had found out that it didn't matter whether the ghost in question was a halfa or not… even if the said halfa was in human form. Jack and Maddie Fenton, for a few weeks following the discovery of the Stinger, had figured that Danny was extraordinarily tired all the time because of pressure at school. Whenever Jack would raise the Stinger to show that he had, truly, perfected it, Sam and Tucker were 'posted' at 14-day successive sleepovers, trying to wake Danny up whenever he fell unconscious. He also had several scars from the buzzing.
Sam could see them now, reflected eerily by a flash of lightning that dampened her hair. His shirt had been pulled at by one of the female ghosts, and she saw, larger than before, jagged scars and burns patterning his chest. Many were new: she could see once dried bubbles of oddly dark green blood dribbling out; the ghost had unintentionally scraped at them. She swore under her breath and looked wildly around for Tucker, her head still on the damp grass, her vision blurred by the rain falling, faster, and faster…
Then she saw him. He had another Ecto-Stinger in his hand, flailing it wildly in all the wrong directions. She could see it twitching, trying to escape his grasp, itching to get at the three ghosts, who were now staring at his eccentric movement, while the slumped teen lay momentarily forgotten. She sat up quickly, the world spinning slightly, the rain becoming one ocean… then tightened her grip on the Stinger, and carefully aiming… before she threw it at one of the taller ghosts.
It screeched out in pain and shock as the Stinger whacked the small point of its back. The ragged hair whipped around, slapping it in the face with more water, soaking the see-through skin which was not, apparently, intangible. Then it stiffened unnaturally- Sam had seen this countless times with Danny- and fell backwards. Its back plopped onto the wet dirt; almost comically. Lolling about in a daze, the head rolled towards Sam. Its eyes opened for the last time in what was most definitely going to be at least four hours, and, in the short space of time before they snapped shut again, locked on Sam's.
In those few moments, before the watery face dropped onto the soaking muddy grass, Sam was hooked like a fish to the bait. She felt a pulling sensation, focusing directly on her consciousness, grasping it, tightening its unconscious grip onto that strand of reality- and pulling, harder, faster, with ever-increasing strength. The force made her almost double back, but she still held on, mesmerized, staring into the depths of those… those soulful eyes. Full of sorrow… she wanted to help the person who the eyes were made to see from… she wanted to relieve them of their burden, help free them of their annoying aches… aid them in whatever they bid her to do- she could hear, in the distance, cries… calling her name… her name? She- she didn't need one… she had to give all she had to these beautiful, sinking pits… the eyes were her only grasp to life, she could feel what was left draining away… with complete loyalty, as she knew that this strange, iridescent, beautifully carved pair of eyeballs was taking it from her… she needed it so badly… needed to help… her willpower was almost gone…
The head flopped onto the grass suddenly, landing with a comical plop on the soggy mounds. The contact was broken.
Sam found herself kneeling on the ground, her elbows shaking with the effort of, unconsciously, restraining herself to the eyes. She felt her heart beating so much faster than a few minutes before… each second it seemed to speed up more. Closing her eyes to the steady fall of rain, she felt her breath coming in ragged gasps that shook her whole body as she tried to register what had happened.
No hypnotism had taken her in like this before- she had not experienced what most of Amity had when Ember had come to town last year… her ear phones had helped with that. So she had not really felt any familiarity in the pull... but without even former experience, she could tell that this hypnosis was much, much stronger than anything Ember could pull off.
And it was most definitely hypnosis.
What scared Sam most was, not the fact that she had almost been taken under the creature's power, but the whole speed in which the incident had occurred- surely only a few seconds, at most! The woman had only glanced at her- a quick, fleeting look, and she immediately felt that she had been under it for minutes at a time… she could have taken Sam in completely if her head had just stayed up that last second. The power was immense… and, if Sam felt rightly… she could tell that that small look was only a little of the woman's power. Whether she knew it or not, the woman had a lot of power bubbling up inside of her, waiting to be let out, almost as though it had been locked down, or, even- ignored, it's potential completely passed by. Although it seemed impossible, Sam could almost feel deep, hidden anger- anger for being pushed aside?
Sam had no more time to dwell on this matter. For as soon as she managed to calm down her fragile body, and crawl barely one shuffle towards Danny's crumpled form- that the crew-cut man turned around, his once grey and harmless-looking eyes a deep, boiling-over red. He uttered a small cry and he saw the form of one of the women on the ground, so Sam realised that he must have been avoiding the Stinger to notice what she had actually been doing with it.
He roared, a high, almost female war-cry, and started zooming towards Sam, locking in on his target with fury etched on the scarlet pupils.
Sam cowered, then curled up in the few feet before he jumped on her, forcing his obvious ability to be able to crush her onto the impending girl- and rolled away, causing what was surely a miniature earthquake to pound the earth with its sonic blast. Bits of dripping grass still connected to small clumps of mud rained over Sam's head as she crawled out of the rather pathetic roll, itching towards Danny.
She felt something small and pointy wriggle out of her hand. Her heart sped up, wondering what the heck that was, then relaxed again, as she realised, through wet strands of hair sticking over her eyes, that the green glow of the Ecto-Stinger was whizzing towards the still-reeling-after-its-crash ghost. Wincing slightly, as she looked up at where Tucker was still doing his dance, she silently thanked him. What she had believed (and, apparently, so had the other woman ghost) was just Tucker's clumsy and foolish way, usually dangerous, of fighting ghosts hands-on, was really just an obvious (to all but the two conscious females there) way of being a distraction. He saw her looking, and, stupidly, gave her a thumbs-up. The ghost whipped her head around, just as a shriek echoed across the lawn. She knew it must be the male ghost, the one the Stinger had zoomed straight to. The woman turned, distracted, at what was happening, but Sam held on to her remaining strength and jumped at the ghost's legs, wrapping her elbows around them and squeezing tightly.
She felt the ghost topple, and her head almost split in two, and then Tucker's triumphant yell as he jammed the Stinger into the woman, where it dissolved into the fleshy back, using all of its energy to subdue this struggling female.
She heard a lid being popped open, and the click as a burst of white light shone on the outside of her closed eyelids. The presence of the body lying very still next to her had vanished, and, almost as if by magic, she felt the others go as well.
Feeling it safe to open her eyes, she did so, catching a glimpse of the ghosts being sucked into the swirling white energy. As she saw the remaining tendrils get swept up by the Thermos' suction - it could have been her imagination- several streaks of blood-red light was pushed, swirling, out of the Thermos, before Tucker snapped the lid back on. It must have been the light, certainly… why else would the few wisps she was sure she had seen escape into nothingness? Why…?
"Tu-Tuck!" Sam spluttered, aware that it was her first recognisable word since they had been unceremoniously greeted by the ghouls.
"Some- some fight, huh?" he replied, his eyes roving over Sam's face. It was only then, as she saw her best friend's eyes widen considerably at her face, that she felt the pain. It seared though her skin, as though she was getting the cuts and bruises she could feel there only just then.
Tucker drew his eyes away from her face, wishing that he a tissue- heck, a sweaty wristband, something to mop up the dribbling blood. Then he started, and jumped a bit before rushing toward Danny, temporarily forgotten. He bent over his friend's still form.
"What were they doing to him?" Sam asked, rushing behind him, and then kneeling next to Danny's wrist, scrabbling for signs of life.
"What doesn't every ghost in the ghost world want with the halfa?" Tucker replied bitterly, spitting out the syllables of 'doesn't'. "Revenge, most likely."
"I found a pulse… it's weak, though…"
"It's always been weak… well, since freshman year. Since the accident. And when he's a ghost, there's nothing, he said," Tucker started, chewing his lip.
"Maybe we should get him into the school. The nurse's office?"
"No way, Danny' parents might get called, we don't want everyone knowing about the ghosts-"
"What the hell, Tuck?" Sam almost screamed at him. "You really think that everyone hasn't seen these ghosts out here? We probably made a little bit of a mess."
They surveyed the scene. The mini earthquake had caused a great hole to appear in the ground, and almost entirely uprooted a tree, some branches of which were poking into the open windows of a bright yellow parked car. The grass looked as though a hundred elephants had tromped all over it, not to mention using it for, erm, facilities, and what was worse, as they looked towards the building, there wasn't a single window without a face looking through it, gawking at the grass below. And at Tucker and Sam, and Danny's limp form.
Tucker glanced at Sam. She looked back, saying quietly, "Sorry, Tuck. About being sharp. I- I just- heck, lets get Danny inside before it floods."
They each grabbed Danny under the arms, and hauled him up to their shoulders, his feet dragging on the ground, into Casper High. Neither of them noticed his mouth, open slightly already, widen a little as a pale pink stream of smoke force his lips open, and disappear, writhing, down his throat. But both of them felt the shiver that passed through Danny's body as that happened, and they quickened their pace, not knowing what- or who- it could be.
Some of the faces above them were almost petrified with shock.
"I am not here for further instructions," the larger figure said, his tone gravely. "I came to tell you that the mission was not… fully… a success."
"I must say, I expected no more."
"Well, they tried, but those humans are too much of an assistance. Perhaps if they could be, properly, disposed of-"
"No, you foolish scrap of metal! If we rid the ghost of his accomplices, then how are we too experience our revenge sweetly enough?"
"But, sir, the three have not been successful…"
"-and that is not my problem, it is theirs. For success, there must be pitfalls. Mere obstacles which fade in time…"
"But, sir, they were captured. They cannot do more, now-"
"Enough!"
The larger ghost shrank back slightly, as though expecting a blow. He wasn't disappointed. A neon flash of pink light and the awful screech of something scraping along metal rebounded through the cavernous room. The caped figure was seething slightly, his eyes simply black, ominous pits on either side of his nose.
The larger creature was on the ground, one side of his armour slashed with a great black burn, but he had an air of stiffness about him, as though he were accustomed to such treatment. He got up quickly, and adjusted one of the many computers screens now beeping methodically on his arms.
He glanced at a screen, then back up at the raven head, now calmed down and looking as though for all the world nothing had happened. Then he looked back at the screen. "Plasmius… I think… it says… they cannot- they cannot get out!"
The floating vampire turned his head slowly, acknowledging the metal-clad ghost. Then he whipped out a hand, and outstretched the fingers on it, sending a small burst of light speeding towards the green screen. It hit its target with a thwack and the screen was left with a gaping hole, filled with broken wires emitting sparks. A fizzling noise was coming out from the now slightly smoking computer, and Skulker's mouth dropped open slightly, surprised at the sudden motion. Plasmius coughed slightly, and he looked up, his flaming green hair rippling faster than usual.
"I did say," muttered the caped ghost. "There is more to be done."
The broken equipment beeped out last, resounding notes, in a tone that only the half robot-ghost could understand.
The mission is still strong… I have secured our path to the glory!
Then it died out, and the robot looked up at the vampire. He was floating away; shaking his fingers a little to get rid of several hanging sparks. Just you wait… He thought solemnly, wrenching off the broken technology. Just you wait…
There are probably a few mistakes in here that I didn't intend to make… because my computer wouldn't let me edit it actually online, so I had to do it all here, and I had some problems and nothing would save and yeah…
Well, this took me a couple of weeks to write, actually, because I've been so busy with schoolwork, and badminton practice and etc. that I've only managed to do stuff on the weekends. So I guess that's actually about five, or six days, counting Easter weekend… hmm…
Well, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and if any mistakes are there, please review and tell me about them! Also…
1) Is there interest lost anywhere?
2) Plot gone amiss? Characters wavering from originals?
3) Any other constructive criticism you can help assist me by criticising… um… to me?
Thanks for getting this far! Nyita7