CHAPTER 3: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, PART 3
Magic is real.
It is not the simple birthday clown act or Vegas theater show that is the reality; those are but theatrics and deception, cheap entertainment for the masses.
True magic is the ability to change the world.
A true magician, as in, a literal practitioner of magic, is one who understands objective and perceptive reality alike. They are fully aware of both what physically exists, and how it is perceived by a conscious mind. They know that what they perceive can be perceived differently than how others do, and how their interpretation will reflect on the rest of the world.
At the same time, science is also still very real. Science is a process used to discover and discern facts, and facts cannot change. Atoms and molecules, matter and energy, these are physical concepts that cannot be created or destroyed, but instead altered and changed.
Magicians are very powerful people.
Scientists are very smart people.
Those who combine magic with science are the smartest and most powerful people in the world.
One of these people is Vlad Masters.
In his younger years, he led a life with friendship alongside a pair of co-eds in college named Jack and Maddie, whom he would research the paranormal and supernatural with. Together, they made great discoveries, and gained important data that helped bring the world closer to an answer as to whether or not there was a god or afterlife.
But before Vlad could obtain that valuable information, his present life took a dive into embarrassment and shame with an accident regarding a miniaturized portal that he had created alongside Jack and Maddie. Upon activating, the portal blasted a torrent of ectoplasm in his face, infecting him with acne that completely ruined his social life, including any and all romantic chances he had with Maddie.
Though it was no permanent disfigurement, it had a lasting effect on the young man named Vlad that it might as well have been one.
Combined with this trouble, interpreting it as a personal slight committed by Jack, the ectoplasm had another side-effect. The blast had split his body and soul into two separate entities, one physical and one metaphysical, with his mind spread across the two bodies and able to switch from one body to another at will.
He had become half-ghost.
Using this power to his advantage, he had stolen patents, blueprints, and various technological advances to advance his own weatlh, creating the successful and influential business known as VladCo. His grudge against Jack Fenton and obsession with Jack's now-wife Maddie Fenton also stuck with him, shaping three separate lives, all revolving around their son.
Their son, like him, was also a half-ghost, and used his powers for altruism rather than self-gain. His story is best told later.
In one life, he had been the sworn enemy of their son, but taken him in after their deaths at an explosion at a Nasty Burger. Attempting to help him work through his grief, Vlad had misguided him through aiding him on his exploitative ventures against other companies, and, at his behest, offered to separate his body and soul.
The procedure worked, but at a price. The separated ghost half, now free from any human connection, tore out Vlad's own ghost half and merged with it, becoming a horrifying nephilim of ethereal energy known as Demon Phantom. It had destroyed murdered the world, leaving Vlad to die alone.
In his second life, Vlad carried out the same as the old, but no longer ended up with Jack and Maddie's son as his ward. Instead, he carried out several Machiavellian schemes, such as becoming mayor of the city of Amity Park to hunt him down, and proceeded to exploit an incoming asteroid to obtain power over the entire world.
He failed, and was exiled from Earth, where he would eventually land on an Irken prison planet somewhere across space. Returning from his own timeline, Demon Phantom would come to this second Vlad to recruit in him his second bid to destroy the Earth, which he would agree to for petty revenge.
This is where his second life would leave the most lasting effects on him.
The deaths of the Fenton family would leave him unsettled and uneasy, making him question his own beliefs. That questioning would soon lead to an answer, a revelation regarding his relationship with the son of Jack and Maddie Fenton that would forever alter his perspective:
Jack was not the boy's biological father.
Vlad was.
Given a vision of his accosting of Maddie in her sleep, he had realized he had not only violated someone he held dear, but also that the boy he regarded as an enemy and tormented for so long was his own son. The guilt over his actions had led to a permanent alteration in his personality, making him try to do good.
Now, he is in his third life, where he is given a chance to do this.
Now, he serves as an agent of the Clockwork.
Aware of his past lives, Vlad is also aware of the common denominators of his thievery and his forcing himself on Maddie, two great sins that he must atone for. He is the only one aware of his own crimes, and, though he knows he must atone for them, the fact that he and only he knows of them makes the guilt a heavier burden to carry, knowing he has no one to share it with.
However, this will soon chance, but not for this specific intention.
Recently, he has been made aware of a man named Buckley Lloyd attempting to resurrect his deceased daughter, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. The daughter had sacrificed herself in order to save the life of another, and had gone in peace from the world. Alas, her father, a lonely man with naught but wealth and regrets of his own, refused to allow that life to rest in peace.
So, in order to try to convince Buckley to stop, he decided the only voice who could convince him to stop would be Rhonda herself.
And it is here that he attempts to make contact with her.
It is said that all religions contain some form of truth in them, that there exists some sort of pattern that lays within the various belief systems, and that one must draw their own conclusions from them. The platitude is no more than how the human mind understands itself by reacting to different beliefs, no different than how one would understand what forms of art they like or dislike...
...but, to Vlad Masters, they serve a different purpose altogether.
All around him are documents, fetishes, and trinkets from various religions and beliefs, ranging from Christianity and Islam, to Voodoo and Wicca, to Hinduism and Chaos Magick, and more. He sits cross-legged among the various objects of belief, with scents of incense and herbs burning, attempting to submerse himself in a state of mind which released significant amounts of oxytocin in his brain.
Also accompanied with the religious items were some items belonging to Rhonda, ranging from bodily remains like strands of hair and blood samples, to other personal items such as an origami marriage predictor and a dress made of a shower curtain, remains of her acts of creation.
Closing his eyes in deep focus, he is Vlad Masters.
When he opens them, he is Vlad Plasmius.
He is the ghost.
Where he is now is neither the human world nor the Ghost Zone, neither the 3rd nor 5th dimension, but the 4th. He is focused in time, and how it is perceived by the countless people that have lived throughout human history. The perspective of the world he is given plays out like endless photographs of a single section over eons colliding together, coming together in a collage of various art styles.
Keeping his focus on Rhonda, he moves on to the city of Hillwood.
Looking through the history of Hillwood since the spot of land it rested on had formed with the rest of the Earth itself, he carefully navigated himself to the late 2010s, where Rhonda grew up in the city as a girl going to P.S. 118. Continuing to follow her throughout her life, he watched her grow to take the unfortunate turns in life she made.
Starting from her rejection of a jealous boy to his accosting her and him becoming one of history's worst villains, to her attempt at revenge upon him, up until her death, Vlad has made a hard journey throughout a life of luxury turned to one of pain, and, now, he has come to one of the most painful moments, which is also her final.
The head doctor pressed the syringe of poison into the IV, feeding it into Rhonda's body and working its way to her brain and heart, slowly enacting a calm and painless death for her to peacefully fade. Feeling the sedative of the mixture take effect, her vision began to fade; her eyes beginning to slowly close.
Keeping her eye on Arnold all the while, she gave her last words to the football head before departing the mortal world.
"Hey Arnold... have a good life." Rhonda said.
As the injection began its work on putting her mind to sleep, putting her into a state of unconsciousness, her respiratory and circulatory functions began to cease, no longer feeding the vital component of oxygen to her brain to continue her life. Peacefully passing away, her hand's grip on Arnold's began to loosen its grip, soon coming loose to fall down, not moving.
Rhonda Lloyd is dead.
The scene is hard enough to watch for any one being, but Vlad does his best to compose himself, remembering his mission.
Without a body to exist in, her soul began to depart to the Ghost Zone, transcending the 3rd dimension and passing through the 4th dimension on the way, she is free from the confines of time, where she exists in this plane as though she has always existed in it.
She is ready to move on to the 5th, to the Ghost Zone, and be at peace. She has no more mortal obligations keeping her existing, no variables in her equation that leave her unsolved, and she has plans to disincorporate and spread throughout the 5th dimension, becoming one with the larger ocean and becoming god.
But Vlad does not let her, giving her another obligation.
"Hold it." Vlad said.
The ghost of Rhonda, never before meeting Vlad Plasmius and only just knowing of her current situation, stopped with confusion.
"Who are you? I'm supposed to be dead. I'm supposed to move on." Rhonda said.
"Not yet. There are other plans for you. First things first, we have a situation with your father to deal with." Vlad said.
There are plenty of people who believe in magic, and try their best to see through the various systems developed to try to understand them, even if they lack the genius to take their knowledge as far as men like Vlad have. There are plenty of people who still believe in ghosts, goblins, and things that go bump in the night.
And just like every other are of interest that human beings garner, there are those who diminish and dumb it down to generate the most capital they can off it, while simultaneously bastardizing the original intent of the art and turn away curious minds from it that might have otherwise made greater discoveries.
Such is the case with a syndicated show known as 'ARGGH!', standing for Academy of Really Good Ghost Hunters, a show very popular with the younger generations who still possess the spark of magic and innocence, and die-hard junkies for all televisions shows on the paranormal.
The host of the show is a man named Hunter Spector, known by the viewers by the simplistically-conceived stage name 'Spectre Hunter'. He is of a rare breed of adult male who still believes in the paranormal and supernatural with a genuine fervor, taking the show across the country to seek out the most genuine cases of haunted houses and possessions that he can find...
...but, under the pressure of deadlines and scheduling, the pursuit of quality more often than not is cut at the corner for a faster product.
Such is the case with ARGGH! being sent in a small town in the south, investigating a house that had questionable leads behind it, and little more than rumors to piece together a storyline for the show together. Numerous traps and props have been set in place by the show's producers, but Spectre Hunter does what he can to provide a good show for his loyal viewers.
"Alright, cadets, welcome back to another episode of Academy of Really Good Ghost Hunters, or, ARGGH! Today, we're in a very unusual spot to find a ghost. We were on our way to New Orleans, dreaming about some jumbo shrimp to go along with our hunt for the hometown for voodoo, but we heard some good rumors about this little stop while stopping for gas and food, and we just had to make an episode around it. Today, we're in the abandoned home of Ramis Aykroyd Reitman; born in Czechoslovakia and raised in Canada during the late 1800s, he emigrated to the U.S. and resided in this very home until he died. He was a doctor with several medical degrees and great expertise in his field, but there was always rumors and controversy wherever he would go. It was allegations of intentional malpractice and even murder which drove him from his home in French Canada, and still did these allegations follow him all the way to the U.S. and to his grave. We're in his house now, where locals tell us reports of strange noises and even missing persons associated with thsi house. As we venture through, let's take a look at some of the-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
The TV host's enthusiastic history lesson was cut short by the cluttering of an object, urging him to move on for action in lieu of talk.
"Oh, you hear that? I think we're onto something! This way!" Specter Hunter said.
Spectre Hunter rushed down the hallway of the house in search of the source of the noise, putting on a show for the cameraman as he continued to record every step the star of the series took. The cameraman, however, did so with a dash of carefulness as he ran along, taking notice of the direction that he was heading.
Familiar already with the plans for the pre-scripted show, the cameraman knows that it was not what was scripted, and cannot stop himself from pointing it out.
"Hey, Hunter? Hang on a second. This isn't the way that we were supposed to go in the script." The cameraman said.
With the cameraman taking the illusion out of the show, Spectre Hunter turned around and scowled at him, berating him over his error.
"Cut! What are you doing, man? You can't stop the show like this. You're supposed to just let the magic happen." Spectre Hunter said.
"But this isn't what Murray told us to do. We were supposed to go into the foyer and just look around until we saw some light in another room." The cameraman said.
"Oh, god, Murray scripted this behind my back again? I keep telling him that does more harm to our ratings than good." Spectre Hunter said.
"He is the producer, man. He can do whatever he wants, or else our asses are on the chopping block. I'm just trying to keep my pay."
"Yeah, yeah, you just blame it on me if there's any trouble. I'm the star of the show, it's not like they can fire me from my own-"
Then, another sound came out from the silence of the night, this one resembling the clinking of metal, accompanied with a cutting noise that resembled flesh. This put an immediate end to the bickering of the two, and put them back on the job of hunting ghosts, this time perhaps finding a legitimate example of one.
"You still rolling?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"Yup." The cameraman said.
"Keep it rolling, we'll cut this out in post. Follow me."
Leading the cameraman further down the unscripted path and towards the noise, Spectre Hunter kept up his television personality, leading the viewers on with him.
"Listen to this, cadets, we've just heard ear of a noise somewhere in this house, and it didn't sound like your usual mouse or stray cat. We're moving deeper into the house, in search of whatever could be the cause of this strange noise. Perhaps, if we're lucky, we could very well run into the ghost of old Dr. Reitman himself, in the midst of one of his dastardly perversions of science on a human being-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
The speech given for the television is improvised, a mere exaggeration, made up on the fly for his loyal viewers...
...but it just so happens to be exactly what he finds in reality. Upon entering a room deep in the house, appearing like a medical room in a hospital from decades ago, he saw a glowing, ethereal caricature of Dr. Reitman, and on a medical slab before him was a human body, cut open and vivisected with organs being taken out.
Of course, Spectre Hunter is still under the belief that this is merely a show, a ruse made up by his producer, even though the cameraman does not carry this belief.
"Oh, goddammit, what's Murray trying to do? Is he intentionally trying to make the censors rev up our ratings and get us off the air?" Spectre Hunter groaned.
"What?" The cameraman asked.
"I see what you were trying to do here, telling me this was the wrong way to get a more genuine reaction out of me. This is what Murray had you do 3 episodes ago. Well, I'm sick of this Hollywood bullshit. I wanted to show something real on TV, not this garbage. And especially not this cheap gore stuff. That's for the low-hanging fruit on the internet."
"Hunter, that's not-"
Spectre Hunter walked straight up to the ghost and his victim without fear, dipping his finger in a puddle of blood by the body and tasting it. The ghost of Dr. Reitman looked to the nonplussed Spectre Hunter with curiosity, with a twinge of confusion upon seeing how unthreatened he was by the situation.
"And he especially could've done better than this Halloween store prop. This fake blood's just barbeque sauce with food coloring, I can tell from the salt." Spectre Hunter said.
"Hunter-" The cameraman tried to say.
Spectre Hunter then waved his hand straight through the ghost of Dr. Reitman, attempting to prove that it was a projection.
"See? It's a hologram. There's a projector around here somewhere, I'm sure it's hidden somewhere where we can't find it." Spectre Hunter said.
"Hunter-" The cameraman tried to say.
"Oh, and would you look at this? It looks like Murray himself decided to have a little cameo in the show as the corpse. How original of him. Well, joke's over, Murray. I'm not falling for it. Go ahead and get up. I'm not finishing this take."
While he had correctly identified the corpse his own boss, he had failed to recognize that he was dead, and not merely a man playing the role of a corpse. Poking at the shoulder of the deceased Murray, he received no response, leading him to poke him in the face instead.
"Hunter, will you listen to me, man?" The cameraman asked.
"Not now. I know what the deal is here, and I'm not going along with it. Murray, if you don't quit the act, I'm quitting the show, and you won't have any show anymore at all. You got that? C'mon and get up." Spectre Hunter said.
Spectre Hunter waved his hand underneath the medical slab, trying to find how the 'effect' of a vivisected body would be accomplished, but found nothing. Regardless, he did not let this stop his efforts to 'stop' the show, grabbing onto the shoulder of Murray's body and beginning to pull.
"God, I don't know how you did this effect, but I'll give you that you definitely lost some weight since-" Spectre Hunter began to say.
In trying to take Murray off the table, Spectre Hunter managed to only remove the top half of his body, which slid off and fell to the floor with a splat.
"Hunter? You gonna listen to me now?" The cameraman asked.
Standing up with a sudden sense of fear and realization, Spectre Hunter looked to his cameraman to hear his protest.
"Y-Yeah?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"This was not in the script. We really were supposed to head to the foyer. None of this has anything to do with us... except that's really Murray." The cameraman said.
"So... You mean...?"
Slowly looking back to the ghost in terror, Spectre Hunter's look was responded with the cackling of the ghost of Dr. Reitman, raising his surgical tools towards him.
And Spectre Hunter and his cameraman screamed.
Over a year has passed since Vlad and Rhonda had first met, and much has changed for both, but for Rhonda far more than Vlad. She has come back to life, her soul rejoining her reanimated body, almost all of her friends have died, and her home city of Hillwood has been destroyed.
With a new life but without a new direction for it, she has chosen to remain with Vlad Masters, becoming his ward in his own affairs.
Together, they relax at his mansion in Wisconsin, with Vlad enjoying a glass of whiskey, and Rhonda sharpening one of her swords.
"You know, that leaves metal shavings in the fabric." Vlad said.
"You can afford a new one." Rhonda said.
"I'm only still rich now because I made smarter money choices. One of those is not wasting money needlessly. Please refrain from sharpening your weapons on my couch."
"Fine."
Setting her sword on the table in a rude manner, Rhonda's retreat into a cold attitude elicited a more compassionate attitude from Vlad, trying to calm her nerves.
"Listen. I won't try to pretend like I know what it is you're going through. But I know that I'm partially responsible, and I take that blame in full. I figured the least I could do is give you a place to stay and work things out, decide what you want to do. But I would appreciate it if you try to acknowledge that I'm trying to fix things." Vlad said.
"Okay." Rhonda said.
"And you shouldn't hesitate if you feel like there's something you need to say. You can always talk to me, you know."
"Whatever. You're not my dad, you know."
"No, I'm not. Hell, I'm not even a dad to my own children. But I'm willing to try to be someone who can help. You take your time if need be, but I do want to try to get you somewhere better than... whatever this is."
"Fine."
A brief moment of silence allows them both some reflection, but it is cut short by a phone ringing on Vlad's desk, which he promptly answered.
"Hello? Yes, that's me. Yes, I'm serious. Mmm-hmm... I see... Yes... Yes, I'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you." Vlad said.
Hanging up the phone, Vlad stood up from his seat, gaining Rhonda's attention with his display of seriousness.
"Looks like we've got a job to do." Vlad said.
And 'as soon as possible' is not too long at all for a man who can fly, for Vlad reached the city of New Orleans in a mere few minutes, only stopping outside the intended destination to obtain a taxi. Obtaining their normal transportation, their taxi drove up to the scene of the haunted house, with Vlad and Rhonda stepping out.
Keeping themselves discreet and inconspicous to the public, Vlad is still in his human form in a suit, where Rhonda was in all black leather with red accents, with a trenchcoat over it. The instant they arrived, Vlad and Rhonda were greeted by ARGGH!'s Spectre Hunter and a police officer, with the show's crew and law enforcement about.
"Mr. Masters! Oh, thank god you're here. But, uh, how'd you get here so quickly? We only called a few minutes ago." Spectre Hunter said.
"I get frequent flyer miles. What are we dealing with here?" Vlad asked.
"A ghost of a deranged serial killer who was also a doctor in the early 1900s. He already killed my producer, and I just barely made it out with my cameraman. We thought it was staged by him, but I found out it wasn't a little too late."
"So you're one of those crappy shows they put on the sci-fi channel late at night. And here we were, thinking you were one of the legitimate ghost hunters." Rhonda scoffed.
"Oh, no, this isn't a regular occurrence, honest. I was totally against the staged parts since day one. I wanted to give kids the real thing, honest. I read all of Mr. Master's and the Fentons' books on the subject."
"Pay no mind to my apprentice. She's not in a particularly good mood. I tune in to your show all the time, and I'm flattered you read my book." Vlad said.
"Oh... Well, then, you're welcome, Mr. Masters! Please, let me show you this way."
Spectre Hunter dashed for the door to lead Vlad and Rhonda, who shared a brief conversation before catching up.
"Let's try not to intimidate anyone, shall we?" Vlad asked.
"What, you actually like his crap? He just admitted that they stage their shows." Rhonda said.
"Not all the time. I know a real ghost when I see one. They get it right more often than not, they just don't know it."
"You actually like their crap, huh?"
"I watch every ghost show there is out there. Some of the best investigative work on the planet when it comes to the afterlife."
The two caught up with Spectre Hunter, being led past the police and show crew to reach the front door.
"Now, I have to warn you guys, it was pretty brutal, what I saw in there. I wouldn't go in there alone." Spectre Hunter said.
"Well, worry not, Mr. Hunter, you won't be. My apprentice will go in alone." Vlad said.
"Actually, 'Hunter' is my first name, I just swap them to be my stage na- Come again?"
"My apprentice will go in and see to the ghost herself."
"Wait... really? Is... Is that safe?"
"Perfectly. She's been trained for this. Right?"
"Right." Rhonda said.
"Well... I mean, I don't wanna sound out of line here, you are the experts, but... This thing killed a man. Doesn't that scare you at all?" Spectre Hunter asked.
"I've dealt with something far scarier than that. I'm not afraid of whatever's in there. So step aside."
Spectre Hunter looked to Vlad for approval, still unsure of the prospect of one person going in alone.
"I think you'd better do what she says, Mr. Hunter." Vlad smiled.
Meekly stepping to the side, Spectre Hunter allowed Rhonda access to the front door.
"It's, uh, 'Mr. Specter', Mr. Masters." Spectre Hunter said.
Taking off her trenchcoat, Rhonda threw it to Vlad, who caught it with ease and familiarity.
"Hold this, boss. I'm gonna go say hi." Rhonda said.
Entering the house of the late Dr. Reitman, Rhonda cracked her neck in a nonchalant manner, not feeling threatened or feeling any fear in her surroundings. With her trenchcoat gone, behind her back could be seen a pair of swords, no longer concealed by the inconspicuous clothing.
The weapons themselves are not the reason behind he attitude, nor even the Fenton Thermos at her side, but, as she stated once before, she has no fear of whatever is in here because she has dealt with worse. She has been to the afterlife and back, suffered violation of the worst degree...
...and she is confident that whatever awaits her is nothing serious.
Nonetheless, persuing the hallways of the home, she knows this is unfamiliar territory, and takes caution on what she is dealing with.
"Hey, boss, you better get some reasearch on this one." Rhonda said.
Receiving the call from his ward, Vlad, still outside the abandoned manor, turned to the nearby Spectre Hunter to get what she requested.
"What did you manage to dig up on this man's history?" Vlad asked.
"A lot of stuff. I have all our details on him if you'd like to go over it." Spectre Hunter said.
"Yes, I would, please."
Stepping over to his crew, Spectre Hunter retrieved a file of information about the ghost, handing it to Vlad to read.
Still does Rhonda carefully peruse the house, looking about the decor and furnishings that cluttered the building. The objects give her a small glimpse into a past time, allowing on to know what the sense of fashion of the time was, and how style was percieved from years past.
It is a topic that she was greatly interested in her own years past, particularly in clothing and other fashionable wear.
But now, she simply sees brick and mortar, and it is of no interest to her.
"You find anything on this ghost yet, Vlad?" Rhonda asked.
"Hold on, going over the file now. Nothing real big about him, just your average doctor turned murderous psychopath from the early 1900s. It looks like our Dr. Reitman wasn't all that much of a religious type, one of those deistic figures. No real particular beliefs. That should mean he comes in a standard humanoid form." Vlad said.
"Yeah, and it also means he'll be just as hard to take care of. The less religious types are always unpredictable. I like it when we can just exorcise the Christian ones by saying some magic words over a bottle of water, sprinkle it around, and call it a day."
"But that wouldn't be nearly as fun, now, would it?"
"Maybe not to you."
"He didn't appear to be all that big a fighter or bodybuilder type, but he certainly wasn't a scrawny man. He'll be decently strong, maybe not know his own strength yet."
"Great. More x-factors for me to consider."
Making her way into the medical room that the TV personality Spectre Hunter stepped in once before, Rhonda stood before the ghost just as they had done. Unlike them, however, she did not react in fear to the ghost, instead looking at it with an indifference reserved for a normal bystander.
And unlike the TV hosts, the sight of human bodies being vivisected does not bother her, looking on with disappointment rather than terror. Taking her time as the ghost is preoccupied, she studies his metaphysique and shape, analyzing what threat it may possibly pose should it choose to fight.
With a sight, Rhonda stepped forward to address the ghost.
"Hey. Dr. Giggles. I'm not a med student, but I don't think you're gonna learn something new by cutting up another human being like that. If you need to go back to the basics, I'd start with dissecting frogs." Rhonda said.
The ghost of Dr. Reitman gently turned to Rhonda, lifting a finger to his mouth.
"Quiet... We're in the middle of an important operation..." Dr. Reitman gasped.
Rhonda has not been impressed nor swayed by the call for silence, and especially not feeling so when the ghost returned back to its 'surgery'.
"Listen, doctor. I really don't want to fight you. I've been in a really shitty mood for the past week. I get you wanna do your whole science thing here, but we can't have that. This little device I got here's called a Fenton Thermos. It's not exactly cozy in there, but I can either put you in here to go to the Ghost Zone where you can't hurt anybody, or I can just end your entire existence here and now. We can do this the easy way or the-" Rhonda began to say.
The ghost of Dr. Reitman turned around in a quick spin, yelling an angry roar towards Rhonda with a barbaric, pure sense of rage and hatred coming from it. Remaining nothing more but a vague representation of the emotions that the living doctor once felt, it expressed its bloodlust in one showing.
It finally gets a response from Rhonda, but not one of fear. Instead, she is irritated at the ectoplasmic saliva that splattered against her costume, needlessly dirtying it.
"A girl like me does a lot to stay clean, you know. You just made this personal." Rhonda said.
Reaching towards her back, Rhonda pulled her swords out, walking up to the ghost with the intent of using them on him. Likewise, Dr. Reitman materialized his ectoplasmic surgical tools, bringing forth a scalpel and a bone saw, preparing to use them as weapons against Rhonda.
Weilding weapons that possessed a longer reach, Rhonda made the first strike against the ghost of Dr. Reitman, cutting through his metaphysical flesh and drawing out ectoplasmic blood. Initially receiving a shock from the first showing of genuine pain that he had since he lived, Dr. Reitman looked to Rhonda's swords to find the answer as to why he felt it:
The blades of her swords were laced with ectoranium, one of the few minerals capable of destroying ghosts.
Recognizing the danger he was now in, the ghost of Dr. Reitman began flying away for his life, phasing himself through a wall, much to Rhonda's annoyance.
"Goddammit." Rhonda groaned.
Running down the halls of the house, Rhonda followed the ghost in pursuit, chasing down the undead spirit by the residual glow of its ectoplasmic body.
"Rhonda? What's going on in there?" Vlad asked.
"Nothing I can't handle. He's on the run, but I'm on his tail." Rhonda said.
Rhonda's pursuit led her into the house's library, entering a room filled with large bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling and spanning across the entire room itself. Where there were plenty of books and literature to go around, a testament to the late doctor's wealth, the doctor himself was nowhere to be found. Even with a full scan of the room, Rhonda found no sign of the ghost, making her pursuit for naught.
Until, coming into view of the human eye, the ghost of Dr. Reitman became visible, lunging forward in an attack.
[Soundtrack Cue: TT34 - Jack; Starting from 0:21]
The ghost of the doctor drove his etherial scalpel into Rhonda's back, leaving a large slash across her body and bringing forth from her a loud scream. Immediately turning to face the ghost, Rhonda began fighting back against him, slashing at him with her swords and deflecting his own weapons away.
The fight carried on for a brief burst of energy, but it abruptly ended when the ghost suddenly flew back and disappeared, falling out of the visible spectrum of light.
With her opponent gone and invisible, and her back wound already beginning to heal, Rhonda, keeping her swords high, scanned about the room, keeping an eye out for when the ghost of Dr. Reitman would strike. Unable to spot the ghost by mere sight, Rhonda patiently waited for the ghost to appear, keeping her vigilance high as her senses were made as sharp as they could be.
But that is just barely enough to allow her the reaction time against the incoming ghost of Dr. Retiman again, seeing him come towards her with his surgical tools once again. And also once again does Rhonda fight back against the ghost, slashing away at the apparation while also deflecting away his attacks.
Rhonda once again is proven to be the experienced fighter, and she is able to ward off the attack and even come close to a lucky strike of her own, but it is not enough to defeat the ghost of Dr. Reitman. Again does the ghost retreat and turn invisible, keeping himself hidden out of sight to make another attack.
She is still onto the guirella tactics the ghost is employing, and once again watches out in preparation for the attack.
"Rhonda, talk to me. What's going on in there?" Vlad asked.
"We got a smart one. This one's trying jungle tactics. He's turning invisble and tying to attack me by surprise." Rhonda said.
"Don't move, I'm on my way inside."
"No. Don't bother. I got this one."
"Rhonda, listen to me. It's the smart ones you have to watch out for, they're the ones who get-"
"Relax. I'll be alright."
Rhonda does not resume her tactics of laying in wait for the ghost to attack again, but instead makes use of her own powers to try to stop the ghost. Where she has used them only heal the wound on her back, Rhonda now makes use of her enhanced senses to feel out for the ghost.
Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on the other four senses her body possessed.
"Rhonda, are you there? Rhonda? Rhonda?" Vlad asked.
Unable to afford a quick response on her communicator, Rhonda stayed deep in her meditation, silently trying to locate the hidden ghost. While already operating sharper than a normal human's with her powers as a Spirit Master, the distraction of sight taken away makes her able to detect even the smallest of differerences in the area, allowing her to find her target.
Her sense of smell detects an ionization in the air.
Her sense of touch feels a coolness in the room.
Her sense of hearing picks up a blowing of wind.
Her sense of taste twinges at a metallic flavoring.
And it all points directly behind her, where, were she to open her eyes, her other senses would correctly prove that the ghost is on approach again.
Acting purely on her sensory information granted by her brief meditation, Rhonda struck again with her sword, cutting into the etherial flesh of the ghost. The ghost of Dr. Reitman, receiving an unexpected cut across the chest, watched as his own ectoplasm spilled on the floor, just as a human body would spill blood would he have his own now.
Immediately turning invisible out of fear, the ghost of Dr. Reitman attempted to flee to safety, but Rhonda would not allow the ghost its freedom. Throwing one of her swords in the direction of the ghost in flight, Rhonda, with her aim just as sharp as her other senses, hit the ghost.
The sword, its blade laced with ectoranium, pierced straight through the body of the ghost, and, with the sword still flying, pinned it against a wall. The ghost of Dr. Reitman attempted to free itself by squirming and letting the blade cut through itself to escape, but the process was too painful to continue, forcing it to remain trapped.
Approaching with her other sword, Rhonda sliced off the head of the ghost with one swift strike, letting its etherial head fall to the floor, where it began to dissipate.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
Removing her other sword from the wall, she placed both swords in their sheaths on the back of her suit, concluding her fight with the ghost. As she walked away from the ghost, another made its entrance by flying through the outside wall of the house, landing just in front of Rhonda.
The arrival of this ghost is of no alarm to Rhonda, for she knows it well as Vlad Plasmius, the ghost half of Vlad Masters.
"Everything alright here?" Vlad asked.
"Fine, boss. Just finished him. Told you I had it." Rhonda said.
"Can't be too careful. Wouldn't go the quiet way?"
"Since when do they ever?"
"More often than not. Most ghosts just need to find their way home. Unfortunately, these ones that linger aren't the ones that want to go home in the first place."
"They're also the ones that are way more noteworthy. And make this job difficult."
"Well, at least you're alright."
"He got a cut in my back, but it's healed up by now. You can tell the sci-fi channel guys that they're good to finish their dumb show."
The casual conversation, calm and normal as it may seem regardless of its subject matter, is a distraction away from a more serious matter that festered behind them. While the head of the ghost of Dr. Reitman is long gone, its spectral body was still intact, and still active.
Worse yet, it still possessed its weapons, and prepared to charge forward, ready to enact its revenge on the one who decapiated it.
But with a quick trick-shot of Vlad Plasmius' finger, the remainder of the ghost was blasted into nothingness, permanently ending the threat.
"Decapitation again?" Vlad asked.
Rhonda let out a sigh, nodding in answer.
"And why is that not always enough?" Vlad asked.
"Because ghosts don't function like human bodies anymore. They just think they do until they figure out otherwise." Rhonda said.
"Correct."
"Nice shot, by the way."
"Thank you."
With Vlad in human form again, the duo then departed from the house, where the ARGGH! crew and law enforcement officials watched their exit with relief.
"Relax, folks. This house has been completely exorcised. You and your film crew can continue as planned without any interruption from a real ghost." Vlad said.
"What-? How'd you get in the house? The rest of the doors were locked and blocked off." Spectre Hunter asked.
"Trade secret, my boy. For now, why don't you keep to the regular schedule, and give us a call before you decide to make any detours so we can check it first."
"Y-Yes, of course, yes, sir. Thank you for all your help here."
"Don't thank me too much. You've still yet to get my invoice. Oh, and by the way..."
Vlad raised a cheerful fist, smiling as he did so.
"...keep up the good work. This cadet's looking forward to the episode on the Amityville home." Vlad said.
Spectre Hunter lit up with a smile, cheerily saluting Vlad back.
"Oh, yes, sir! I'll see you next time on ARGGH!" Spectre Hunter said.
Laughing as he left, Vlad received an unamused look from Rhonda, which he responded to with a questioning look.
"What?" Vlad asked.
"If we were in the fourth grade together, your ass would be thrown in the back of the bus with the rest of the geeks." Rhonda said.
"Geeks make the world go round, my dear. We're the ones who make the scientific discoveries that make big on the patents. What do the popular kids do to make big money?"
"Play the stock market."
"...Fair enough."
The two leave the state of Louisiana and arrive back at Wisconsin, where Vlad, back in his ghost form, flew down to the courtyard of his manor, setting Rhonda down on the ground. Having been carried by her shoulders all the trip, she rotated them in a stretching manner, attempting to shake off the soreness they gained.
"God, that gets so sore." Rhonda groaned.
"I could've carried you on your back, you know." Vlad said.
"Nah, the Superman carry gets way too weird."
Changing back to his human form, Vlad stepped up to the front door of his mansion, opening it to offer Rhonda her way inside.
"Ladies first." Vlad said.
Unwilling to enter the house yet, Rhonda stayed still for a moment, contemplating a thought that was in the back of her head for a long while.
"Uh, I'm not ready to hit the hay yet. I'm gonna head downtown. Have a little... 'me' time." Rhonda said.
"Been having an awful lot of that lately. Sure there's not something you want to talk about?" Vlad asked.
"I'm sure. I just need to go out for a bit. I'm getting stir-crazy."
"Alright, then. I'll just be here."
"Don't wait up for me."
Turning and walking away, Rhonda made her way toward downtown Madison, heading for her night out on foot.
"Need a ride?" Vlad asked.
"No." Rhonda replied.
Watching Rhonda walk away, Vlad did so with concern and unease. He knows that he is not her father, and that she is probably not in search for a subsitute figure, but he knows that there is something wrong with her, and that there must be something done to help her with it other than her own attempts at self-medication.
But he knows that, in another life, he has had another youth under his wing who was troubled, and he had not only failed to help that person, but what he had done for that person had led to the destruction of the population of two separate Earths. He is cautious in his approach to helping, knowing that he cannot afford to repeat that mistake.
And, deep down, he knows that he, too, requires help of his own, but has no one else to help him through it.
Down the streets of Madison, Wisconsin, Rhonda is alone in a big-city setting, a place not too different from the area she grew up in. As a youth in Hillwood, she has been part of a big, bumbling city full of life and people, and, as a girl, had looked to it all with joy and excitement over what she can do, knowing that much fun waited for her.
Her wealth had allowed her many privileges and pleasures that others her age could not enjoy, and this had allowed her a hedonistic lifestyle to live life to the fullest, but this has spoiled her taste for the joys of life, making even the simplest of pleasures taken for granted, and to be expected rather than to be excited for.
It is all the worse with her current state of mind, when very little is available to find escape.
However, that potentially changes when she first laid eyes on an establishment far downtown known as 'JAMIE'S PLEASURE PALACE', a BDSM club with neon lights advertising it, and faint industrial metal heard just outside of the building. The building alone is enough to catch her attention, and a spark of interest peaks in her.
She has had very poor experiences with sex in her past; once, she had been taken advantage of by another, then, she had taken advantage of another. Both are awful memories that plague her mind and bog her down with guilt, and make her few experiences in intimacy bad ones that tarnish the very act.
But she is still human, and feels the human urge to reproduce just as anyone else, and must find a means of relieving the urge.
[Soundtrack Cue: Rammstein - Du Hast]
Entering Jamie's Pleasure Palace, Rhonda was immediately bombarded with the music at full blast, with displays of debauchery wrapped in leather all about her. Men and women congregate with each other, either in opposite or same sex pairings, in dance on the floor, in cages set about the club, and doing so in an open manner.
Their acts are not full intimacy and sex; they come very close to the complete congreation on the dance floor, but those who seek to fulfill themselves do so by seeking private areas elsewhere to do so. Rhonda has no time nor patience to dance in some public show of foreplay, for she only wants to get her release quick and now.
Walking across the club in search of someone or more than one someone to fulfill her needs, she came across a man and a woman, both dressed in leather suits and gear. Like a consumer engaging in window-shopping, she finds them both physically appealing enough for her purposes, and approached them.
Upon meeting with them, the two perused her just as she did them, appearing to share the same ideas as her.
"Hey, there. You looking to go somewhere private?" The woman asked.
"Yeah. You interested?" Rhonda asked.
"Hell, yeah. I'm-" The man began to say.
Rhonda raised her hand, preventing the man from saying his name.
"Not interested in names. I just need to be used." Rhonda said.
The man and woman shrugged in response, accepting her terms with indifference.
"Alright with us." The woman said.
The three then moved along in search of a private room, finding one not in use. Each of the three took out an offering of money to a bouncer just outside of the room, paying him to gain access. Once the proper payment was made, the bouncer let the three inside, leaving them in privacy inside.
Once entering the room, Rhonda immediately stepped up to a harness meant to restrain her, undressing herself to be put onto it.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" The woman asked.
"No." Rhonda said.
"The safe word?" The man asked.
"Football."
"What do you want us to do to you?" The woman asked.
"I want you to touch me, while he whips me. Hard."
"How hard you want it?" The man asked.
"As hard as you can."
The woman began placing Rhonda in the restraints, putting her arms above her head and her feet to the floor. Rhonda had no intentions of moving or escaping, but the restraints that she placed herself in ensured that she could not even if she wanted to, providing the perfect setting for her to gain her release.
As the man grabbed a whip from the wall, selecting it out of several sexual toys laid about, the woman stood next to Rhonda at the ready.
"Are you ready?" The woman asked.
"Yes." Rhonda said.
"So, what would you have me do?"
"Use me. Do whatever you want."
Complying with the request, the woman, as ordered by Rhonda, began touching her body softly and gently, as if caressing her gently in a loving embrace. The embrace was followed by tender kisses across her skin, still gingerly caressing her with ease and care that showed compassion.
This is not satisfactory to Rhonda.
"You're going too soft." Rhonda said.
"You said I could do whatever I wanted. I like to go soft and gentle when I'm with a woman." The woman said.
"I don't want soft and gentle. I want to be used. I want you to hurt me. Starting with him whipping me."
"Hmph. If you insist. Whip her."
Beginning with a whip from the man across Rhonda's back, leaving a light red mark across it, the woman began roughly groping Rhonda's body, going for her breasts and buttocks in an aggressive manner, and licking and biting her body in a rough manner in a direct response to her previous gentle acts.
The act is partially satisfying to Rhonda, making her start to get further aroused, which became the next place for the woman to use her fingers. This is enough to make Rhonda start responding verbally, letting out light gasps and moans, and feeling the first glimpses of release that start to build.
As the emotions came, however, she was also reminded of the two instances of rape she both suffered and inflicted alike; the feelings that were aroused now had brought back these memories, and, along with it, has made her feel guilt and shame for the feelings as a whole, making it difficult to enjoy the emotions as they were supposed to be felt.
So, she demanded herself another punishment.
"Whip me again. Harder." Rhonda moaned.
The man did so again, leaving yet another red mark on Rhonda's back. It is a physical punishment that she deems herself deserving of for the act she has carried out, and it is also a sheer act of pain that takes her mind off the specific memories, focusing only on the pure stimulation of the pain itself.
But it is still not enough.
"More. From both of you. Hurt me." Rhonda moaned.
The woman complied with her order, driving her fingers deeper with one hand, and using her free hand to smack Rhonda in the face, grabbing it after to kiss it hard, attempting to leave a hickey behind. Scratches were dealt on her as well, with the woman going on her knees to dig her nails into her legs and backside to inflict more pain.
This aggression being laid on so quickly and hard laid concern over both the man and woman, who looked on their shared act with skepticism over its final results.
"Are you sure this is what you want? You're sure getting heavy into it already." The woman asked.
"I'm sure. I haven't felt that whip on me yet." Rhonda said.
The man whipped her once again, leaving yet another light red mark. The punishments have left but a few of these marks upon her, and each one has healed almost instantly with her regenerative powers. They have done naught but cause minor pain on her...
...and they are not enough to erase her mind of the greater pains she feels.
"No, goddammit. I said I haven't felt that whip at all. You've been doing nothing to me. I want to hurt. Make me bleed." Rhonda said.
"Whoa! Uh, listen, I'm not that used- I mean, neither of us really-" The man stammered.
"Just do it, damn you! I need it!"
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"Harder!" Rhonda shouted.
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"HARDER!" Rhonda shouted.
The man uneasily complied with her order, whipping her back once again.
It still has not rid her of her pain.
"HARDER!" Rhonda screamed.
The man whipped her once more, and as hard as he could stepping forward to have the whip leave a greater impact on her.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
At last, it has left a deeper mark on her body, this time a deep cut on her skin. The cut is deep enough to draw a large amount of blood, which began pouring onto the floor. The pain which came as a result of it is all and more that Rhonda has been looking for, giving her a temporary reprieve from her troubles with something else to focus on...
...but, the man, unaware of her own powers, thought of his own actions as a great wrong, dropping the whip in fear.
"Oh... Oh, shit... Shit! Shit!" The man panicked.
"Hey, what's wrong, what'd you-?" The woman began to ask.
Standing up and looking at Rhonda's back, the woman gasped in shock, standing back against the man and sharing the same concern for Rhonda.
"Oh, my god, what the hell did you do?!" The woman asked.
"I whipped harder, like she said, and I-" The man began to say.
Then, the immediate concern of the wound was gone. The cut left in the flesh of Rhonda's back began to heal, sealing itself up and stopping the flow of blood that poured onto the ground. With its absence, so was the pain that came with it, leaving Rhonda alone and ashamed in her own thoughts again.
Looking back to the man and woman, Rhonda received looks of fear from them both, neither sure what to make of her.
"What the hell are you?" The woman asked.
Rhonda had no answer for her, and instead lowered her head. The man had the courage to approach her, but did so only to release her from the restraints.
"Get out of here. Just leave us alone." The man said.
Left unsatisfied and ashamed from her outburst, ruining whatever intimacy or pleasure could be found here, Rhonda was left with little choice but to depart, retrieving her clothes and dressing up quickly, and leaving the room just as fast. As soon as she was gone, the man and woman followed suit, leaving at a different pace.
The bouncer outside the room took notice of both their haste and the distress on their faces, prompting him to investigate.
"Sir, ma'am, are you alright?" The bouncer asked.
Neither had the courage to answer, and instead bolted out for the exit. Looking to the third party, the bouncer kept a judging eye on Rhonda, watching her leave as well.
Once out of the club, Rhonda stopped to catch her breath, moving on soon after she had gotten her fresh air. She has not found her relief from her thoughts, nor even a release of what she had built up inside the club, and she has no choice but to return home, left to walk alone on the dark streets of Madison.
And alone she is left to face her own demons.
Her destination will not provide her a means of peace against her own personal issues, but it will give her a roof over her head and a place to sleep, which is good enough for the moment for her, and all anyone can ask for at the end of the day. Vlad is the owner of the home, and he currently makes use of it as his place to sleep...
...but like Rhonda, he does not find the peace that he seeks here.
His demons are far different from Rhonda's, but dire nonetheless, and make his sleep all the less easy.
Currently in his sleep, he is in a pleasant dream, where he is back in college with his classmates, Jack and Maddie. Together, they are laughing, enjoying the company of one another, and doing great work to try to pierce through the veil of the unknown and challenge what may lay on the other side.
At this moment in the dream, they share a glass of champagne together, fresh off their first construction of a ghost portal. Drinking together, they laugh and cheer in joy, holding one another in side-hugs as though they were champions parading across town to display their genius to the world.
Jack and Maddie shared a kiss, and Vlad leaned towards Maddie to try to steal one of his own, but Maddie turned her head and laughed. As Vlad leaned in, he had but kissed Maddie's neck; his eyes closed, he had not seen where his kiss landed, blindly hoping it would be on her lips.
Upon opening his eyes, however, he found something far worse had happened.
When looking at Maddie, he found her lifeless body in his arms, with a pair of puncture marks on her neck, with blood dripping from them and her skin the whitest pale from the loss of plasma in her body. Tasting the coppery flavor in his mouth, he knows that he had sucked her blood out, and, looking at Jack just as lifeless as well, deduced he did the same to him.
Dropping Maddie's body in fear, he looked down to find himself in his Plasmius form, and held his hands to his head in anxiety over what he had done.
Then, looking up from the ground, he found himself in a setting of a European village, with its villagers approaching him with torches and pitchforks. Knowing that he would be dead if he were to stay victim to the angry mob, Vlad immediately ran away, seeking whatever shelter he could find for himself.
His only option before him was a windmill, resting on the top of the hill he was running up. Heading inside the windmill, he closed the door behind him, barricading it with sandbags and wood beams, attempting to keep the villagers outside and prevent them from getting to him.
This plan had backfired on him, however, when the villagers began throwing their torches into the windmill. Instantly, the windmill caught on fire, and the flames began engulfing the interior, and smothering the air with deadly carbon monoxide in lieu of life-giving oxygen, the element taken away to fuel the flames.
With his doom laid out before him, Vlad let out a scream.
Then, he woke from his dream.
He rose from his bed in a cold sweat, relieved to know that he was still alive despite the contents of his dream. He has no need for reflection or meditation on the dream; he knows well what it is telling him, and he knows what he is guilty of to make this nightmare appear again and again.
Alone and without peace, Vlad laid back in his bed, uneasily closing his eyes in sorrow.