I really hope that everyone is enjoying the story so far and that the flashbacks of the last chapter weren't too confusing for anyone. It is time to return to the present with the story and see what's happening with the various characters.
While there are very few powers that can match the magnitude and flexibility of the Reality Gauntlet, there are a few ghosts with limited reality warping capabilities.
One is the genie-like ghost, Desiree. She is limited to granting any and all wishes that she hears, but often with a darker twist. She is also unable to resist the compulsion to grant a wish. She can occasionally be vindictive with her wishes, especially if she desires some form of revenge. Her last known location was a bottle that she was trapped inside.
Another is Ghost Writer, who can alter reality by writing what he desires to happen. He can even control the thoughts, emotions, and actions of others as long as he continues to write. He can be limited by the style of writing or if he is unable to think of the next word. He rarely interacts with others and prefers his isolation so that he may work. His last known location was in his domain in the Ghost Zone.
The identity of the third and most dangerous ghost capable of warping reality to a reasonable degree is unknown at this time. His name is not spoken due to the fact that speaking it thrice will summon him, though he is occasionally referred to by the title "The Ghost With The Most." He can alter reality in his immediate surroundings by exerting his will on it and wanting it to change. The full extent of his power is uncertain, but he is different than most ghosts that have been dealt with or encountered by the later generations of the Showenhower family. He is not one of the primarily ectoplasm-based ghosts that are easily viewed, but is instead one of the true deceased. Specifically, he is what is referred to as a poltergeist. In addition to the binding to his name, he is limited by his impulsiveness and usual lack of motivation towards large-scale action. He should be avoided at all costs and should certainly never be angered.
-Excerpt from "The Reality Gauntlet and Other Ghostly Myths" by Frederich Isak Showenhower
Breakfast, prepared by Roger with the same enthusiasm that he approached anything that his wife wanted him to do, was already on the table. Lydia debated with herself the same way she did every morning so far. On the one hand, she hated spending time near the woman and her husband. Leaving the household as quickly as possible and simply grabbing food somewhere else was so much easier. On the other, Aunt Melinda insisted on eating at least one meal together "as a family" and it wasn't worth angering her over a minor issue. She could only risk rebelling so much. The fact she could hurry through breakfast by claiming she needed to go to school made Lydia chose it as the "family meal."
The decision once again falling in favor of eating, the girl reluctantly sat down and nibbled on a piece of toast. Lydia avoided their gazes stubbornly. She wasn't foolish enough to upset Aunt Melinda over something as simple as breakfast, but that didn't mean she wanted anything to do with them.
"Darling, I'm afraid Roger and I will be out late this evening," remarked the woman cheerfully. "We should be here for a little while after school unless something extra comes up, but you'll probably be on your own for dinner. We're having some parts shipped in, arranging a meeting with a few experts, and other assorted errands. Hopefully it'll be dealt with reasonably quickly, but I wanted to let you know so you wouldn't worry."
"Stay gone all night for all I care," she muttered. "Or all week."
Honestly, Lydia wasn't sure what her aunt and uncle did for a living. They could be anything from librarians to insurance salesmen to mad scientists to bankers to being simply independently wealthy. She didn't know or really care that much. As long as it kept them away occasionally, she was perfectly content.
"Perhaps we can do something nice this weekend," continued the woman casually. "A trip to the park? Or maybe we could watch a movie?"
Biting back her initial response to the idea of spending her free time with that woman, Lydia lied, "I have plans already. I'm going to be busy with Sam and her friends."
"Oh," she said, blinking in surprise. "While that's a little disappointing, I understand. I did want you to make friends."
Ignoring the fact the woman essentially attacked her last friend, Lydia gave a non-committal mumble and pushed herself away from the table. Tossing her backpack on, the girl left the kitchen.
As she hurried towards the front door, Lydia noticed that the study was open. That caught the girl's attention. Aunt Melinda and Uncle Roger kept the door closed and locked. Always. Ever since they moved in, the study was kept sealed tightly to the point that Lydia barely knew what it looked like inside. Curiosity prompted her to take a quick look while the adults were busy with breakfast.
There were a lot of boxes, all labeled "important," stacked against the far wall. A desk covered in various papers took up the right side of the room and the left wall was completely covered in built-in shelves. There wasn't enough time for a proper search, but Lydia could see a small safe in the wall with an electronic lock.
Anything that Aunt Melinda might hide in a safe in a locked room was either very good or very bad. She didn't seem like the type of woman who would use the wall safe for normal things like jewels, paperwork, or similar valuables. She'd just get a deposit box at the bank. The woman would hide more important things, objects she wanted to keep safe and close at hand. Lydia suspected it would hold ghost-related items or information since she held such strong opinions on the topic. Regardless of what exactly Aunt Melinda kept hidden, the girl knew she should get it.
She couldn't, however, spare the time to break into the safe by randomly guessing the combination. She only had a few moments before her aunt left the kitchen. Lydia didn't know what Aunt Melinda would do if she found her in the study. It wasn't like she actually forbid the girl from entering, but the constant locked door sent a pretty clear message. This could end very badly. Just thinking about it was giving her a headache.
Not knowing what else to do, the girl started opening the drawers in a likely futile hope that Roger scribbled down a combination. Her frantic, quiet search didn't immediately seem at all productive. But then she found something she realized could be useful. Near the back of one of the drawers was a heavy, dull, metal skeleton key, one that looked like it would match the study door. If she was right, then she would be able to come back later for the safe.
"Thanks for the spare, Uncle Roger," muttered Lydia, slipping the key into her backpack.
Knowing that she was out of time and needed to hurry, the girl scurried out of the study, down the hall, and out the door. A weak smile tried to creep across her face. It was the first productive thing she'd done since moving to Amity Park. She should be happy about her accomplishment. But something held her back, like a warning in the pit of her stomach. Something told her it was going to be a long day.
None of them were particularly early risers by nature, but they quickly learned that ghost attacks could happen at any hour. They learned to deal with late nights and early mornings. Tucker accepted it as part of his life now that his best friend was half-ghost. Saving the town regularly took up a huge amount of time, after all. So when Tucker was called and asked to meet Danny and Sam before school, he wasn't that upset about crawling out of bed early. Actually, considering how the brief phone calls the night before turned out, he was fairly curious for answers.
They met in the park, the location empty at the early hour except for the rare overly-enthusiastic jogger. It was still relatively gray and misty by the time he'd left the house, the first glimmers of sunlight just starting to creep over the horizon. That gave them a little time for what turned out to be a lot of information. By the time he finished listening to Danny's explanation of what Poindexter told him about the Netherworld, the ghosts who lived there, and the infamous Ghost With The Most, it was growing late enough that the trio needed to start worrying about school. They walked towards the building while Sam filled them in on Lydia apparently being roommates with ghosts back in Connecticut, figuring out Danny's secret, and her promise to not tell anyone else while volunteering to share her knowledge about the Netherworld ghosts. Overall, it was a lot to digest first thing in the morning.
An entire alternate group of ghosts from yet another dimension, all of them dead people who weren't made of ectoplasm, were floating around somewhere. They apparently didn't cause much trouble in comparison to the ones that lived in the Ghost Zone since this was the first time they'd heard about it. But Lydia knew about them for years. No wonder she could handle the Lunch Lady so calmly. It also explained how she figured out Danny's secret. When you deal with freaky and weird things on a regular basis, it made it easier to notice other oddities.
By the time they discussed all the new information, the halls were beginning to fill with the normal bustle of students. Those that forgot their homework hurried to complete it while others enjoyed the traditional occupation of gossiping. Even when the newly-discovered information set his head spinning, Tucker was happy to see some parts of life remained constant.
Abruptly, Sam grabbed his arm and pulled his thoughts to the present. Of course, she was also physically pulling him. She dragged him down the hall.
"We'll meet you at class, Danny," she called back towards their mildly-confused friend. "I need a little tech help."
Uncertain about what she wanted, but unwilling to argue once he caught a glimpse of her serious expression, Tucker let himself be pulled along like a kite. After a little weaving among the crowds, Sam practically shoved him into the school library.
"Okay, you can't tell Danny about this yet."
"I really don't like discussions that start out like that," interrupted Tucker. "Should I be worried?"
Grimacing slightly, she said, "Maybe. But Danny needs to focus on that poltergeist, so we're not worrying him until we know more."
"I know we're going to regret this," muttered Tucker. Then, moaning tiredly and rubbing his temple briefly, he said, "Fine, tell me."
"Lydia's aunt knows about ghosts and really doesn't like them," she said bluntly.
"Which also describes Danny's parents. And a large chunk of Amity Park."
"But she also has some tricks that the rest of the townsfolk don't have. According to Lydia, one of her ghost friends was almost destroyed by the woman and some of her memories were messed with."
That left Tucker startled and staring at the teenage girl. That was seriously messed up. Granted, people trying to destroy ghosts was practically a local pastime. Between the Fenton, the Guys In White, and Valerie, there was always someone hunting around. But messing with someone's mind was a little less common. Desiree could do it with her ghost powers, Ember could do it with her music, and Spectra could mess with people with her super negativity. But the only human to do anything similar was Freakshow, though that was mind-controlling ghosts (and half-ghosts) with a weird red crystal staff.
"I told Lydia we'd help her handle her aunt, but we have to proceed carefully," continued Sam. "Not only could the woman do the same thing to Danny, but Lydia is worried about Barbara and Adam suffering if her aunt finds out."
"We should tell Danny," he said, though reluctantly understanding the girl's reasoning even while he spoke.
"We will. After we figure out how to handle her," said Sam. "As long as she doesn't go after Phantom, he doesn't need to worry about the woman and the Ghost With The Most at the same time. We can look into things quietly, find out how she's doing whatever it is she can do. Maybe you can look up some stuff on the family on the internet. I promise Lydia that we'd wait. Once we know more, we can work out something that won't get Lydia's friends hurt and we'll tell Danny."
Tucker took his glasses off, cleaned them, and then put them back on, using the time to think. On the one hand, it felt wrong to keep something important from Danny. Especially something ghost-related or dangerous. On the other, Danny did already have a lot on his plate and it was only for a little while. They were essentially doing some reconnaissance first. It wasn't that bad if he thought about it like that.
"I don't like it, but I guess I can look up some stuff," said Tucker slowly. "But we tell Danny the minute we get the chance."
Sam nodded, 'That's the plan."
"So what's the woman's name? I know Lydia Deetz, but her aunt's name would speed things up."
"Melinda Livingston. And her husband's name is Roger."
Tucker nodded thoughtfully, already mentally going over the ideal method to start the search, when he saw the clock. Blind panic took over as he grabbed Sam's arm and ran. They had less than a minute before the bell rang.
Maddie found herself biting her lower lip as she read over past entries concerning encounters with ghosts, not happy with what she was seeing. There was certainly more bias than what she'd hoped to find. The word choices and phrases weren't neutral or objective. They were all slanted towards a specific conclusion rather than simply reporting exactly what they observed. Assumptions and bias were scattered throughout. She would scoff at that in other scientific journals, so there was no reason to accept it from herself or her husband.
She glanced at Jack as he looked through his own stack of reports. He wore a similar expression of unease. It was frustrating how much of their work was wasted. They might be able to salvage some of the raw data if they were lucky, but some of it and all the conclusions would have to be thrown out. Lydia was right; this was just bad science.
They needed to go back to the basics. Maddie closed the current journal and glanced around the lab with a thoughtful expression shifting across her features. They needed to start from the beginning, establish the true baseline information for ghosts. She and Jack would need a proper sample size, a few specially-designed tests intended for non-carbon-based life-forms specifically, and a more objective viewpoint for their observations. Only then would they be able to determine whether or not any of their previous conclusions were right.
"We have a lot of work ahead of us," she said.
"You can say that again, Maddie," said Jack.
A rather welcome distraction from their current task, the phone began to ring. The pair quickly raced up the stairs, but her husband managed to reach it first.
"Hello, Fenton residence," he answered cheerfully. "Yeah, I remember. We usually don't share our tech with other people, so we certainly remember your call, Mrs. Livingston."
Maddie recognized the name. The Livingstons contacted them a few weeks ago, asking about the Fenton Ghost Shield. The poor woman shared a tragic story of ghosts plaguing her family for generations and remarked about how worried she was about moving to such a haunted town. It was the most recent call, about a week ago, that won Maddie and Jack over. A recently orphaned girl being placed in their care, one that deserved to be protected from ghosts, won over the mother's heart. To reassure the concerned Livingstons that their niece would be safe, they agreed to help.
"We finished up a model for your home," Jack continued. "We've streamlined the design and adjusted the power efficiency. It should work out great for you, but we'd love some feedback on how it functions against ghosts so we can continue to improve."
There was a brief pause as Jack nodded occasionally in response to the woman on the other end of the line. Maddie simply smiled at him rather than mention head gestures don't work over the phone.
"All right, we'll see you later today," he said finally, "and you can get your Fenton Ghost Shield." Jack paused a moment before asking, "You will keep the name, right?"
"Number 9,998,383,750,000? Would Number 9,998,383,750,000 please report to the desk? Number 9,998,383,750,000, you're up."
Feeling better than the night before, he was studying the images he could see through the reflections. Even with several hours of nothing to do except recover his strength and consider his options, he was still trying to come up with a Plan B. He just couldn't see the answer to his problem. He was frustrated by that fact, but he wasn't giving up yet. He was merely gathering information for the time being. And he made up for the fact that he could get out yet by keeping an eye on things.
He still couldn't see her, but he could see the surroundings when he put enough power and effort into it. So he observed what he could about what was happening around her. It wasn't enough, but it was something at least.
The poltergeist could see a classroom, his angle suggesting he was watching from a clock on the wall. There was an empty chair that he hoped was her. Near the chair was another girl in black, a black-haired boy wearing a white shirt, and another boy with glasses and a red beret. They were the only three who looked at the empty chair, looking at her. The other students and the bald teacher were of lesser importance, though he took a moment to memorize their faces just in case. The trio was the ones to focus on.
The new black-haired girl reminded the ghost of his friend. They certainly had similar fashion choices. The stranger wasn't quite as pale, but there were plenty of similarities between the two. At least, on the surface. He was experienced enough to know better than to judge books by their covers and so on.
The boys were more concerning to him. Granted, they weren't particularly large or strong boys in comparison to some. The blond teen in the red and white jacket was certainly more intimidating. But the two were paying attention to her while the blond one wasn't. That made him for more interested in the scrawny teens. The poltergeist knew the kind of thoughts that went through minds of males in the presence of nice-looking females; he'd experienced most of those his thoughts himself over the centuries and would probably have similar thoughts again in the future. But she was off limits to everyone. Especially teenage boys. Any of them that even thought of messing with her would regret it the minute he got out.
Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention away from the reflective piece of metal in his hands. The poltergeist turned fast enough to catch sight of another ghost trying to duck out of view. Black-and-white, the new arrival looked like a teenage nerd and wore a rather nervous expression. He took a moment to assess and dismiss any potential threat the weaker, ectoplasm-based ghost might pose.
"I'm busy with my version of Eye-Spy," he called out, making the monochromatic ghost flinch. "Now, I could take the time to get rid of you properly, but that would be more effort than I want to bother with right now. So I suggest you run along before you start to annoy me like that hunter ghost did."
With a squawk of surprised fear, the teenage ghost turned and flew back the way he came. The poltergeist watched for a moment to ensure the ectoplasm-based ghost kept going. Then, once he was satisfied, he turned back towards the reflective piece of metal.
I know, this wasn't the longest or most exciting chapter ever. It was one of those transitional ones that fill in the scenes between the good stuff. The events that occur in the chapter are necessary for the story, but they aren't always the most action-packed or amazing. But hopefully this update didn't bore you completely.
Remember, reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I love feedback.