American Gothic Passion Play
byline: Anubis C. Soundwave
5. The heart is no place for anger or bitterness to dwell.
Jeremy studies a vintage rifle mounted above the fireplace mantle, lost in thought.
"You'll die an early death," glowered Jeremy, narrowing his eyes at his older cousin, Joel.
"Oh," sneered Joel, "and I suppose that you're going to kill me?"
"No," said Jeremy, "unless of course, you're stupid enough to lay even one of your beefy fingers on Pamela ever again."
"I won't bother her anymore," snorted Joel. "She's obviously not woman enough to handle me."
"Naturally," said Jeremy. "She's interested in real men, not thugs like you."
Joel trembled, then gripped Jeremy's shoulders and pinned him to the wall in their shared bedroom. "I can't fucking stand you," he seethed. "You're always looking down on me-like I'm less than nothing."
"I'm only calling you what you are, based on your actions," said Jeremy calmly. "If you want that to change, then you have to change as a person."
Joel shoved Jeremy over to a bed, then stalked out of the bedroom.
Jeremy rose from the bed, rubbing his shoulders. I'll be okay, he said to himself, as long as Pam is safe.
"Jeremy," says Ephraim, touching Jeremy's shoulder.
Startled from his train of thought, Jeremy turns from the fireplace mantle to face Ephraim. "Yes, Uncle Ephraim?" he asks.
"Let's not have any more thoughts of darkness," says Ephraim, grave.
Jeremy stares at Ephraim.
"I have had quite enough of it," Ephraim continues. "Please understand that Zachary is not Joel."
"I understand that," says Jeremy. "And for what it's worth, Zack appears to be turning over a new leaf in his life, and that's promising."
"I...just don't want you speaking words of death over him," says Ephraim.
"I won't pretend to consider Zack as part of my family," says Jeremy, cold. "In that respect, Zack certainly isn't Joel at all."
"You hated Joel," scowls Ephraim, trembling.
"No," says Jeremy, "he hated me. I hated his actions, but I saw Joel as a brother-we grew up together. That's why I was so surly dealing with him."
Ephraim studies Jeremy.
"Sure, I didn't like Joel," Jeremy continues, "but I didn't hate him. Zack, on the other hand, has twice tried to harm my child; as a father, I cannot forgive him. I don't have the strength."
"But...Zachary seeks your approval, and your love. That is what he has been missing-from both mother and father-his whole life," says Ephraim.
"I do love Zack," says Jeremy. "As to approval," he continues, "that must be earned, along with my trust-and that of my family."
"Am I not your family?" asks Ephraim curtly.
"Do you trust him?" counters Jeremy.
Ephraim winces. "No..." he says slowly, "but I must forgive him-not for Zachary's sake, but my own."
Jeremy folds his arms.
"The same holds true for you, Jeremy," Ephraim continues. "The heart is no place for anger or bitterness to dwell."
"Am I supposed to act as though the crap Zack has put our family through for years never happened?" balks Jeremy.
"I would never ask you to lie to yourself," says Ephraim. "Just consider that if you continue thinking this way, your heart will become just as hard as theirs-both Zachary and Joel."
"Someone has to be hard and unyielding," says Jeremy sternly. "You, Mom, Pamela, and Sammy are all so kind...entirely too kind to men like Zack."
"Would you open your home and heart to a stranger?" asks Ephraim.
"If you're referring to Dash," scoffs Jeremy, "he's hardly a stranger."
"Don't you recognize the insult his presence is to Zachary?" asks Ephraim. "How can he earn back our trust if we supplant him with this Dashiell?"
"'Dashiell' has earned our trust, and has proven himself worthy of Sammy's trust-something that she doesn't dole out lightly," says Jeremy.
Sam sighs. "They're arguing again," she says.
"About what?" asks Dash.
"About Zack. I'm sick of Zack," spits Sam.
"I think I heard my name uttered a couple of times," says Dash. "Maybe I should go."
"No, you ass," counters Sam. "We've got too much work to do."
"Look," says Dash soberly. "Your great-uncle wants your family and Mendelsohn to kiss and make up."
"Dash, I barely tolerate your asshattery," says Sam, "and that's only because at worst, you've committed minor felonies."
"What!?" balks Dash.
"Yeah: all of those wedgies, swirlies, and locker imprisonments over the years? Assault and battery, jackass," says Sam.
"Where's your proof?" smirks Dash.
Sam grins crudely at Dash, opening a file cabinet drawer in the library. "Where do I begin?" she asks, pulling out a file folder.
Dash snatches the folder, opening it. "Most of this documentation is me allegedly wailing on Fenton," he says, unable to conceal his mirth at the folder's contents. "You and Foley are not unbiased witnesses," he continues, "and Fenton was practically born with a 'kick me' sign on his back. Juries aren't going to waste their time convicting me when they see the alleged target. A Girl Scout could bully him."
"Star and Valerie were both Girl Scouts, and they were your cohorts in bullying Danny back in grade school," says Sam, pulling out another folder. "Along with Paulina and Kwan."
"So..." drawls Dash as he massages Sam's shoulders, "how much dirt do you allegedly have on me? I'm not admitting to anything, mind you," he continues. "This is just hypothetical."
"Enough," says Sam, "so don't fuck with us anymore. No proxies, either."
"With regard to Fenton and Foley," says Dash, taking the second folder and placing both folders back in the file cabinet, "I don't know what you're talking about. As for you," he continues with a sly smile, "I think that ship sailed a while ago."
"What ship?" asks Sam, blushing.
"Yes!" crows Pamela, behind a bookcase.
Dash and Sam approach the bookcase.
"Mom," asks Sam dourly, "are you spying on us?"
"I-I know what this looks like, young lady," says Pamela, thumbing randomly through the pages of a book.
"That's because it is what it looks like: you snooping on me," says Sam.
Pamela puts the book back on the shelf, then toys with a lock of hair.
"And Dash was talking about the junior class cruise we missed out on for Spring Break," Sam continues, gathering her books. She briefly scowls at Dash, her cheeks rosy, then leaves the library.
Pamela locks eyes with Dash.
Dash scratches his head. "Mrs. Manson," he says sheepishly, grabbing his books, "it was a dumb off-color joke about the cruise...yeah..." He grins at Pamela. "I've got to go." Dash leaves after Sam.
Pamela folds her arms, tapping her foot. Do they honestly think I was born last week? she fumes silently.
"Dude," says Tucker, tense as he stands outside his house, door shut. "Sam isn't here."
"Aren't you her friend?" asks Zack. "Besides," he continues, scowling, "I saw her walk inside."
"I don't care what you saw," says Tucker, returning the scowl. "Consider an appointment to an optometrist."
"I don't need to deal with this bullshit," spits Zack. "Let me see my cousin. I need to talk to her."
Sam opens the door to Tucker's house; she glowers at Zack.
"Sam-*" begins Zack.
"Save it, Zack," spits Sam. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you," fumes Zack, "but you're acting more like a frigid, touchy bitch than usual."
"Do I have to get a fucking restraining order and have it burned into your brain," seethes Sam, "before you realize that I don't want anything to do with you?"
Zack winces, hurt. "But... We're family!" he balks.
"No," counters Sam. "I am not dealing with you or your shit anymore."
"Sam..." says Zack, crestfallen. "I'm... I don't know..." he trembles. "I can't help how I feel about you!"
"You have eroded what little sympathy I had left after your first attack on me," hisses Sam, "because of your plot to claim me a few months back. You know," she continues, smiling thinly, "the one that landed you in prison for far less time than you deserved."
"I've changed," says Zack.
"I'll buy you a roll of gold star stickers for model citizenship, Zack," says Sam wryly. "What I won't do is trust you again. I...can't even look at you as a person right now," she continues, "and you have no one to blame but yourself."
Zack's eyes widen.
"Get out of my sight," spits Sam, "and quit stalking my friends."
Zack scowls, tensing his fists; he walks away from Tucker's house.
Tucker blinks. "I...did not expect to be in the middle of that," he says.
"Unfortunately," says Sam, "our little girl Lilith has to call that jackass family." Grinning, she reenters Tucker's house.
Tucker pouts. "His name," he says, following Sam inside, "is 'Tucker Junior'."
"Do we have to...?" sighs a muscular blond goth wearing black and red.
"We've been summoned," says his partner, a surly, muscular man in black and red with a shaven head. "I'm sure it'll be fun for you. I'm just in this to cause pain."
"This gets old after a while," says the blond. "I saw Gabe the other day. We both know what that means."
"That there's only so much shit we can do," snorts the bald man. "But he can't stop us if we're invited."
The two men enter a warehouse in Elmerton.
"Whoever set this up went all out," sneers the bald man. "Candles, animal corpses, Goetic symbols: they really wanted our attention."
The blond rolls his eyes. "Pedestrian crap," he spits.
"I'm a sucker for the old ways," grins the bald man. "Besides," he continues, licking his lips as he looks down at a terrified teenage girl, "they also have party favors."
The blond gazes dispassionately at the girl, then looks around the warehouse at a group of confused jocks from Elmerton High. "These idiots clearly expect a floor show," he says.
"Blue balls is your department," says the bald man, "and this girl's making me happy."
"Anything involving violence gets you excited," counters the blond, annoyed.
"Seriously," says a jock, "who are you dudes?"
The blond rolls his eyes. "I hate resorting to stereotypes," he mutters, nodding to the bald man.
Grinning ghoulishy, the bald man doubles in size; his skin turns red and jet-black horns erupt from his skull. The blond follows suit with his transformation: into a red-skinned demon with long, shiny black hair.
"Oh," says the jock, trembling as he pulls out a sheet of paper. "Okay: we just want the power to destroy our enemies," he continues.
The long-haired demon stares at the jock.
"Uh, except that our leader has special demands for you," the jock adds, handing the demon an envelope.
The demon opens the envelope; he skims the note inside, smirks, then burns the envelope and note in a burst of unholy flame. "Boring shit. You'd think that guy would be original," he mutters.
"Huh?" asks the jock.
The demon sighs. "Who are your enemies?" he asks.
"The Casper High football team!" bellows another jock. "The Ravens."
"We're giving these mouthbreathers the power to brutally murder jocks they beat regularly," says the demon quizzically.
"Why do you give a fuck?" snorts his burly cohort.
"We should have stayed in the Middle East," spits the demon in Aramaic. "At least we'd be summoned for a real war."
"I'm just glad to be out of the land of sun, sand, and camels," counters the other demon in the same language. "Can we take this girl now?"
"Sure, you can," says the demon, shrugging. "Everything's in order."
"Not joining in?" asks the burly demon as he readies himself, licking his lips at the terrified victim.
"I want something else..." says the long-haired demon. "Coercion's...not my thing."
"Your loss," sneers the burly demon. "She was a virgin."
"The offerings are almost always unwilling virgins," hisses the demon inaudibly, irritated. "Too fucking predictable..."
Danny, on patrol as the Phantom, notes a girl floating over a warehouse in Elmerton. Trembling from his ghost sense, he approaches the girl.
The girl shivers, tears falling down her cheeks. "I-I want my daddy..." she weeps. "I need my daddy..."
Taken aback, Danny pulls the ghost girl into a hug. "What happened?" he asks.
"I... M-monsters...!" sobs the girl. "I just... I have to tell Daddy I'm sorry..." she cries.
"For what?" asks Danny.
"He...told me not to go out with Jamal..." sputters the girl. "But I snuck out."
"And 'Jamal' ended up killing you," says Danny, scowling.
"They didn't touch me..." whispers the girl. "A big red monster... Jamal and the others just-they were just laughing, and...!" She weeps, clutching Danny.
Rubbing the girl's back, Danny shuts his eyes, drawing psychic impressions of the girl's memories. "You don't have to say anymore," he says gently. "I'll make them pay."
The girl stares at Danny.
"Stay here," Danny orders. He enters the warehouse.
"You idiot!" spits the long-haired demon. "You killed her!"
The burly demon stares at the girl's corpse. "Shit happens," he says, shrugging.
"Yeah," seethes the Phantom, glaring at the two demons, "and now it's about to happen to you."
The demons study the Phantom.
"When I get through with you," he continues, "you'll wish you were being tortured back home in hell."
"Danny," sighs the long-haired demon, "I like you, and I don't want you to pick a fight with forces well-above your weight class." He pins the Phantom to a wall with rings of unholy fire.
Danny struggles futilely against the rings.
"Beat the crap out of these jocks if you want to avenge the girl's death-for not having what it takes to satisfy me," sneers the burly demon. "They're the ones who summoned us." Unfurling a pair of wings, the large demon takes off and vanishes.
"We'll talk again," says the demon. "Later, Phan-turd," he adds with a smirk as he vanishes.
Great, muses the Phantom darkly. Whoever those jerks are, they already know my true identity.
"Check this out," says a jock. "Those dudes are stronger than the Phantom."
The other jocks approach the Phantom.
The rings disappear; the Phantom's eyes glow bright green as he glares at the jocks. "They're stronger than me," he says, "but you assholes aren't."
"This ain't Amity Park," sneers the jock. "We're not like those pussies at Casper High."
"No," smirks the Phantom. "You're the pack of cock-suckers from Elmerton High who summoned demons to take a freshman from your own school," he adds, losing his smile as he scowls at the jocks.
"So?" scoffs the jock.
"You aren't smart enough to pull this off on your own," spits the Phantom. "Who put you up to this?"
"We won't tell you shit!" counters a jock. "You got our boy Zack locked up with some bullshit!"
"And you idiots have been losing games against Casper High ever since," says the Phantom. "Let me guess," he continues glibly. "You summoned the horned red men with that girl as their offering to give you the power to beat the Ravens for the regional championship. Does that about cover the stupid reason an innocent person suffered and died needlessly?"
"How did he figure that out?" wonders a jock aloud.
Because if Dash were as depraved as these goons, muses the Phantom silently, that's what he would do to win a fucking football game.
"Fuck you, man," snorts the first jock. "What are you going to do about it?"
The Phantom grins crudely. "I'm going to enjoy making you sorry bastards beg for mercy," he says.
"Please!" counters the jock. "There's one of you and twenty-one of us."
"It's nice to know that you can count past twenty," says the Phantom, "but how is that a problem for me?"
"Bitch," says the jock, "you can't beat all of us."
"I assure you," says the Phantom, "that I can."
"Oh, yeah?" crows another jock. "You and what army?"
Ugh, groans the Phantom mentally, these cock-hats are so predictable. I almost pity those demons. "I figured that you'd ask me that," he answers, "so I'm calling in my team."
"Bring it, you scrawny little ass," spits a jock.
The Phantom blows a sports whistle.
Sidney emerges from the floor, the glare from his glasses obscuring his eyes.
The jocks stare at Sidney a moment, then laugh.
"Laugh all you like, clowns," says Sidney. "I'm going to warn you once; tell the Phantom what he wants to know."
"You guys had better do what he says," adds the Phantom, phasing out of the warehouse.
"Is that little pencil-necked geek supposed to scare us?" snorts a jock.
"Suit yourself, clyde," continues Sidney, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. "Just know that towards the end of my life," he adds, lighting a marijuana joint, "I developed a nasty smoking habit to cope with bullies."
"Shit..." grins the first jock. "I wouldn't mind hitting some weed myself, man."
"The problem you guys have," says Sidney, cool and calm, "is that when there's smoke...there's fire."
The inside of the warehouse is abruptly set aflame.
The Phantom smiles as smoke emerges from the warehouse, completing his ecto-blast generated trench around the building.
Valerie arrives, holding the ghost girl. "What are you up to tonight, ghost!?" she demands.
"Working to punish some assholes, Miss Gray," says the Phantom. His eyes widen as he notes Elmerton's water tower; he quickly zips over to it, renders the tower-water and all-intangible, and brings it over to his newly-made trench.
Valerie stares at the Phantom.
"A moat!" grins the Phantom as he reverts the water's tangibility, allowing the water to flow into the trench. "You've got to have a moat." The Phantom returns the tower to its proper place, making it tangible again, then flies back into the warehouse.
Scowling, Valerie follows with the girl.
"One way out," says Sidney.
"Tell me what I want to know," says the Phantom, opening the door to the warehouse, "and you guys leave here alive."
The lead jock notes the makeshift moat. "Fuck you and this little shit!" he spits, running through Sidney. "Let's swim for it!"
The Phantom blows his whistle.
The jock starts to dive into the moat, but stops short when several mechanical piranhas leap out of the water, snapping their teeth.
"What the fuck!?" shrieks the jock.
"You were wise to summon me, ghost child!" bellows Skulker. "I found those little bastards in a remote jungle region of the Ghost Zone."
"You're in league with these ghosts now?" spits Valerie at the Phantom.
"No harm will come to these shithead jocks," says the Phantom, "if they just answer my question."
"Question?" balks Valerie.
"Of course," continues the Phantom to the jocks, "if you asses don't answer me, you won't leave here alive."
"Y-you can't do this...!" blubbers a jock, his knees quaking. "It's against the law."
"Yeah?" scoffs the Phantom. "So is gang-rape, asshat."
"We didn't even touch the little bitch!" snarls the lead jock.
Valerie stares at the lead jock in outraged shock, recognizing the lead jock. "Is that you, Jamal Dickerson?" she hisses.
The lead jock, Jamal, blinks at Valerie: recognizing Valerie's voice, but confused about her costume. "Who are you...?" he wonders. "You sound like a shortie I tried to talk to..."
"I bet you say that to all the ladies," sneers Valerie. "Did you set Tomeka up for this shit!?" she demands.
"I'm telling you: I ain't touch the girl! None of us did!" spits Jamal. "Now tell these sorry-ass ghost crackers to stop this shit!"
The ghost girl, Tomeka, shivers in Valerie's arms.
"I hunt ghosts who threaten and harm the innocent," says Valerie. "In the interest of fairness: I should just wait for you all to burn so that you become ghosts."
"We-we summoned some demons," says Jamal, "and they took Tomeka!"
The Phantom laughs; Sidney snickers.
"What's so funny?" whines a jock.
"You do realize how stupid you sound, don't you?" says Valerie, shaking her head.
The jocks stare at Valerie, even as they inch closer together to shield themselves from the flames.
"When the cops see your burnt-up asses, Tomeka's body, and all of your DNA near that table over there," continues Valerie, "I'm sure they'll only come to one conclusion."
"Why'd we burn ourselves up?" counters Jamal.
"Botched arson in a sad attempt to destroy the evidence of your crimes," says the Phantom.
"But we ain't did nothing!" spits Jamal.
"The cops would never believe the truth," smirks the Phantom, "and unless you idiots tell me who ordered you to summon those demons," he continues, "you won't be alive to tell your side of the story."
Jamal looks around the warehouse, frantic.
Another jock notes a flight of stairs. "Look!" he says. "We can get out through the fire escape."
"Fuck y'all!" spits Jamal, flipping off the Phantom and Valerie. He and the other jocks run towards the fire escape.
Grinning, the Phantom blows his whistle...
Ember appears, blocking the fire escape exit.
"Bitch," spits a jock, "get out of our way!"
Ember sighs. "I thought you dipsticks would have liked to play with a real woman," she says coyly. "But I guess," she continues with an evil grin, "I'm just a little too hot for you to handle!"
The flames rise, burning hotter. The jocks rush back down the steps in terror.
Sidney blocks the doorway.
"Fuck it!" spits Jamal. "We'll take our chances with the piran-holy shit!"
A pair of mechanized sea dragons surface briefly, then sink back into the moat.
"Face it, fuckwits," smirks the Phantom. "I'm the only way you walk out of this alive."
"He'll murder us if we talk!" hisses a jock.
"The ghost dude will have these fuckers kill us now if we don't!" counters Jamal, staring at the Phantom. "You win, dude!" he says to the Phantom. "It's..."
An hour later, the Phantom phases inside Zack's apartment.
"Our business is concluded then, Zack," grins Ephraim, shaking hands with Zack.
The Phantom blinks a moment. "I know that's not your grandfather," he snorts.
"How do you know?" sneers Ephraim.
"Not only are you not using Zack's full name," says the Phantom, "but you're dressed like a cheesy Mafia boss."
"He's certainly sharp," says the fake-Ephraim, mussing the Phantom's hair. "As I said before, I'll see you later, Phan-tarooney."
I'll figure out why this demon asshole is doing crappy Dash Baxter impressions later, says the Phantom to himself. I need to deal with this piece of shit now.
Zack grins. "Danny!" he says.
"My name is Danny Phantom," says the Phantom coldly, "but I don't believe we're on friendly terms, Zack."
Zack's smile becomes a crude smirk. "True," he says, "but you can quit trying to shit me with your sad tough-guy act...Danny Fenton."
The Phantom sighs as he reverts to normal as Danny. "So," he says quizzically, "did the creep impersonating your grandfather reveal my secret to you, or did Freakshow?"
"Fred told me," says Zack, "though in retrospect, it was fucking obvious. Your overprotectiveness of Sam, the fact that you had some gadget from Fenton Works to send me to the slammer, your fucking names sounding alike..."
Danny snickers. "Your cousin essentially created me," he says. "I will protect her from you."
"Look," says Zack. "I'm not going to attack Sam."
"Like you didn't sic your pack after Tomeka Barclay?" spits Danny. "Or the shit you did to Gwen?"
"As far as Gwen: that's all in the past," says Zack, "and with regards to Tomeka-*"
"Tomeka's dead, Zack," glowers Danny. "You and your shitty football team will pay for what you've done: once and for all."
"D-dead!?" balks Zack. "Moloch said she didn't last... I didn't know they'd kill her! I swear!"
"I'm sure it wasn't intentional, to be fair to you and 'Moloch'," says Danny. "I'd bet that the ass just watches too much Showtime back home in hell and went too far with her."
Zack trembles, then shakes his head. "Not like you can prove shit. I wasn't there at all, and I know my boys didn't touch her."
"You won't get away with this, or with your obvious plan," says Danny.
"I don't see what you can do to stop it!" laughs Zack: half-sneering, half-hysterical. "I'm filled with the power of Asmodeus, and my team with the power of Moloch. The Dire Wolves will maul the Ravens," Zack continues, "and I will personally rip out Dash Baxter's heart."
Danny sighs. "Oh. Yeah," he says sarcastically. "With Dash gone as your rival, Sam will be so horny for you: a murderer and known rapist."
"Actually, yes," says Zack, a wild, zealous grimace of a grin on his face. "With Asmodeus' power, I will make Sam mine."
"You...are a fucking idiot," says Danny.
"What?" wonders Zack.
"Yeah," nods Danny. "I usually call Dash an idiot, but I have to apologize to the jerkass. You are the real McCoy."
"What about 'crazy'," asks Zack, "or 'insane'?"
Danny shakes his head. "Nope. You're just stupid. There's clearly some brain-dead logic at play here," he says. "Kill your competition, then seduce the object of your desires. But your evil plan is fatally flawed," Danny continues, "and no amount of hellspawn will be able to salvage it-presuming the assholes even care to try."
"I don't understand," says Zack.
"From what Sam has told me about Asmodeus-her second favorite Goetic demon next to the Krampus, by the way," says Danny, "one: he's in charge of lust and pleasure, so he doesn't get off from any kind of assault-your goons probably pissed him off to begin with."
Zack touches his chin.
"Two," continues Danny, "old fellows like Asmodeus have been summoned for far more rewarding reasons than 'help my team win a football game'. If I were a demon of his caliber, and I were summoned with an unwilling slave as an offering for bullshit like that, I would kill you for your insolence: as an act of mercy-as you were all clearly too stupid to live on this earth."
"Funny," smirks Zack, "but I'm still alive, and so is my team."
"You've been shafted, asshole," scoffs Danny. "The success of your entire scheme...rests on the outcome of a football game."
"That, and killing Baxter," says Zack, "which would bring me immense pleasure. I'd think you'd be pleased, too."
"You'd be wrong," says Danny.
"Don't you hate that asshole!?" balks Zack.
"I have reasons to hate Dash that can't be reduced to the sticky residue in your old gym socks," says Danny wryly, "but unlike you, I've never wanted him dead."
"What does it matter!?" spits Zack. "Every game I've ever played against Casper High for the past two years, the Dire Wolves have won. Baxter is terrified of me."
"That's in the past," smirks Danny. "That was before you were sent to prison, and the Ravens tasted victory against your team. That was before Dash and his pack of muscle-bound morons brought their A-game and made themselves regional contenders."
"So?" snorts Zack.
"Come on, Zack," continues Danny. "You're an athlete. As far as Dash and the Ravens know, you're just a human being wearing a jock strap like them. In the end, you are just the only obstacle standing between Dash Baxter and a trophy," he adds. "Speaking in my expert capacity as Dash's favorite target, the 'power of Asmodeus' will not save your ass from the most stubborn, mule-headed guy ever to strap on a pair of cleats."
"I've beaten him before," counters Zack.
"All the more reason for you to shit bricks," says Danny. "Dash now has something to prove."
Zack scowls.
"And I'm rooting for him," Danny continues, "because I'm determined to see you lose." He transforms into the Phantom and leaves Zack's apartment.
Trembling, Zack punches a wall.
NEXT: Earn your happy ending.