Beneath the soil of the great expanses of Ooo, laid across in a hollowed, hazy shelf in the land's paneling, sat the Underground in all of its oozing coolness. Defying the dim mood of the perpetual curtains of fog, the air glowed in the spectrum of neon signs from the countless nightclubs. Every club had a different convulsion of noise leaking through its walls, but all together the cacophony was reminiscent of a jet engine endlessly spinning itself into wreck accompanied by splashes of cymbals.
The usual crowd stuffed itself along the only street in the Underground it needed- the Strip. Vampire and ghost mingled and moshed along with a smack of other twisted spawns of nature's sadistic side. Together, they all became one throbbing monster that hollered, belched and smashed-in anything that looked somewhat respectable. Somewhere in the intestines of this monster was a peculiar phantom, strange even to the various beasts raging on the street that night, though no one would care to notice. The visage of it closely resembled any old ghost you'd know from your brother's all-synth band, but the way its edged drifted randomly and sometimes broke around the hard bodies of the Strip's patronage gave its true self away- smoke. It flowed around inside an invisible form that some magic kept persistent, arising in long, smooth billows from the tiniest patch of fire that traced along on the ground. This little flame ate magical fuel, keeping a constant, dull licking that was careful to not catch the eye of any passersby. It darted hitherto, determined to a destination as if it were flying down a fuse. The flame finally drew out of the crowd and snuffed the ghostly facade above it, heading then into the murky hills of the landscape. It found an old stone road leading up a hill lined with shacks and started speeding with a hissing sound towards a large hulking mechanical castle that stretched out overhead.
On top of the hill the Spark Alternator rumbled and coughed as usual; above the building was a web of bulging pipes jammed into an opening, carrying their fill of rudimentary life energy. They stretched away from the funnel off into the upper limits of the Underground and rose into the soil of Ooo. In slid the tiny fire from the path, making its little way towards the building. Within some magical dimension the greedy eyes of Ignisem, the fire wizard menace, peered out of the flame at his new source of power.
My redemption, my catalyst to domination, my sou—AGHH!
From behind, a heavy leather boot had slammed down onto his fire, raising again and repeatedly stomping him out. The fire bellowed from beneath the boot and exploded into the form of the fire wizard, his molten face seething in pain. His eyes met those of his attacker: a black clad mistress with a grin.
"So you're the idiot that's trying to mess with my world?" The mistress rose into the air and circled him, piercing him with two red eyes that shot out from the shade of her cap.
"Don't try to stop me vampire, I will find a way-" he stopped abruptly as she plunged forward into his face, making a terrifying hiss that gripped his heart.
She found his fiery throat with her bony fingers, wringing the neck with a powerful grip despite his heat boiling her skin. She ignored the pain and leaned in again to hiss,
"I will be here every night until I kill you. Count on that." Her face had morphed into two slanted rings of fire and a mouth full of spikes.
Ignisem twisted from her grip and fell back into his little flame, then sped away into the fog, blazing towards the exit of the Underground. Touching down to the ground, she put her hands on her hips and scowled, stomping on the ground with excess adrenaline.
"Marceline!"
A meager voice called as it approached, belonging to an even more meager looking ghost. The dark vampire flashed a look to the ghost, who stopped a distance away and observed the scene.
"Was it him again?" He squeaked.
Marceline nodded then turned her attention to her right hand. It was scorched and throbbing, but as she concentrated the blackness seemed to drip off and from beneath her smooth, pale skin shone anew. For the millionth time she smirked at how awesome being a vampire was.
"If you don't mind, we, ah, have a council prepared that would like your attendance, m'lady. There is much to discuss." The ghost said, hovering at a nervous distance from her.
"Yes, there is." She sighed.
Together they floated down the hillside and shot past the noise into a side street of boring, practical buildings. The ghost kept a good buffer between them as he briefed her during the short putt from the Alternator to the Council Hall. He was saying something about the new council elects, their names and backgrounds. Marceline nodded but blatantly had her attention towards the Strip, smiling as she watched a swath of vampires dive into a brawl against a foolish gang of grease demons. He stopped at the two solid metal doors that shuttered in the government of the Underground, she floated up next to him.
"May I request that you…uh, appear a bit more… presentable, please? They've never met the royal representative." The ghost said uncomfortably.
She scoffed and looked down at herself: a full body of night black leather with the jacket undone and flowering out down the middle. Streaks of shining zipper shot around her arms and legs, her pants plunged into tall black combat boots. She zipped the leather jacket up to her neck and took off the strappy cap she wore to whip her hair back behind her shoulders.
"There." She said.
The ghost nodded, satisfied enough at least for her abnormally placid mood towards him. He rapped on the doors and they slowly crept open, revealing the dim light of the large chamber inside.
The Council Hall was stuffed with a convention of dull shades. Everywhere were ghostly suits: yammering on phones, digging through parchment, looking like the world was about to end. Marceline flinched inside, she knew what was about to happen. The ghosts wanted a way to fix the problem of the fire wizard without it costing too much money. Every time something bad happened to the Underground or its residents, the suited ghosts would show up complaining about the price. Less and less nowadays you would see a ghost in a club with his fellows, more likely you would see him opening one. They hushed abruptly as she stepped into the light of the main hall at the edge of a great round table. She was not expecting them to heave their full attention so quickly and it took her a second to collect her thoughts.
"My name is Marceline, I've been the royal representative for the Underground for the past 3 years."
The crowd nodded, then her expression hardened.
"Now if you're going to ask me how much this is going to cost, forget it. This is much more important than…" She stopped, genuinely shocked by how intently they were watching her.
"…We were going to ask you how to save us." A voice floated out from the back.
Everyone nodded at that, and for the first time she saw fear in their faces. It hit her then: the Alternator was their soul source, without a supply of souls the ghosts risked their light fading and their forms dispersing into the wind. The ultimate immortality that had given the ghosts their advantage over the other monsters of the Underground had finally been shown its Achilles heel. She suppressed an urge to smile and began anew with a lighter tone.
"Then we're all in this together, alright?"