A/N: Hello! This is a rewrite of my old story, Epiphantos! Please stay tuned at the end for additional notes.

Frozen Fire

Chapter One: Green Skies and Melancholy

xXx

Dawn had barely started to bleed into an ashen sky when Sam Manson journeyed through the wasteland that was once Amity Park. Throngs of trash and debris littered the ground where she walked, the wintry air kissing her cheeks as her numbed hands grasped her ectogun, charged and ready should she need it.

"Everything clear out there, Sam?" a voice asked from the communicator in her helmet.

Sam rolled her eyes and flicked the bodycam at her chest. "You can see more than I can, Tuck, you tell me."

The voice was sheepish when it responded. "Sorry. Standard question. Buzz the comm if something comes up."

"Will do."

The environment around her was saturated with its usual monotony, void of any life and filled with a silence so loud it was deafening. Aside from the occasional touch of frigid air, there was hardly even a breeze. The sound of wind whistling through the decimated city was usually the soundtrack to her patrols, but today, everything was still. To say it unnerved the hell out of her was an understatement.

Leaning ivy woven skyscrapers and a hodgepodge of rusted automobiles framed her path. In some areas, grisly brown skeletons riddled the ground like gravel, a mere crunch beneath her boots. But Sam paid no mind to any of this. Her finger traced the trigger of her gun. She had a job to do.

Her breaths were kept slow and measured. She counted each step as she walked—One, two. Three, four. One, two. Three, Four.

Before the world went to shit, the sky had been blue. Now, it was tinged with the greenness of ectoplasm. Everywhere she looked, even far out into the distance where the rolling hills should be, a sickly green haze filled the sky. There was an air filtration device built into her helmet, but the contaminated air still managed to leave a bitter taste on her tongue. She licked her lips and grimaced. The taste reminded her of copper and melancholy.

Sam had grown up in a war, and now lived in what was left of it, struggling to survive in a world ravaged by ghosts. There wasn't much left of anything. Every day she wondered when her last would be. The resources at the compound only went so far. Even their rations were being rationed now . . . she shook the thoughts away from her head.

A sudden screech of groaning metal pierced the silence. Sam spun with her safety drawn and ectogun charged in an instant.

When she saw the source of it, however, she scoffed and lowered her weapon.

"Damnit, Barbarra, I almost just blew your ass to pieces!" she exclaimed with a glare. The weapon in her hands emitted a whine as the ectoplasmic charge fizzled out.

"Eh, Sorry, Manson," a man replied, though his voice was far from apologetic. His attire was a mirror of her own: black aluminum helmet with a communicator and infrared technology built into the flip-down shield, black jumpsuit, combat boots, and an armored vest with the lens of a microcamera gleaming from its center. Like her, he was armed with various weapons and other gear, all of which were emblazoned with the same "FENTONWORKS" logo. The screeching continued as he heaved a piece of corrugated sheet metal off the side of what was left of an old sedan.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked in a voice laced with exasperation. She sidestepped over piles of rubble to meet him beside the skeletal remains of the automobile. Her eyes skimmed the area around them before she glanced down to the scanner on her forearm. "I'm in no rush to go back to the compound, either, but Damon only allotted us so much time today to patrol."

Despite Sam's obvious annoyance, Barbarra was unperturbed in the slightest. With the corrugated panel shoved aside, he was free to inspect whatever it was he was after in the sedan. He reached through a shattered window and opened the door from the inside. The driver's side was in shambles, crushed and filled with the wreckage of what had once been a major roadway in Amity Park, but the passenger side was intact enough for him to brush aside bits of asphalt and rifle between the seat and center console.

He must have found what he was after soon enough, for he jumped out within seconds with a rather loud exclamation of "Hell yeah!"

She craned her neck to peer over his shoulder. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"The best goddamn thing since sliced bread. And not that Compound mush either. Better than real, honest to goodness sliced bread!" Barbarra was jubilant as he turned to wave his prize in her face.

Sam gave him a flat look. "Cigarettes? Really? That's what you're so excited about?" She turned away and squinted at him over her shoulder. "You're the senior sweeper here, so shouldn't you be setting some sort of example or something?"

"They ain't just any cigarettes, sweetheart. They're Marlboros, my brand! Expensive as shit back in the day, but oh so worth it." He shoved one of the unlit cigarettes into his mouth so it lolled in his wide grin. With a shrug, he said, "and I am setting an example for ya, kid. Do your job, and then enjoy what you can before you die. It's all you can do."

Sam found she had no argument for that.

Dale Barbarra was a man in his early forties, broad in the shoulders, and a bit of a womanizer, but also one of their military's most efficient unit commanders. He led the sweepers, who were responsible for the patrols around the city and maintenance of the environmental drones, as well as tactical combat when needed. He had taken Sam under his wing almost ten years ago when she was fourteen, claiming to have seen some form of potential in her, and mentored her into the brazen sweeper she was today.

"Alright, kiddo," Barbarra said after a glance at his own scanner. "We're still clear for the time being. I'll take drone seven on Second Street, and you head over to central park and hit up nine. That way, you're close enough if something happens, and we can at least get some shit done before Gray reels us back in."

Her nod of affirmation was punctuated with a two-fingered salute. "Sure thing, Captain Cancer Stick."

"Uh, that's Commander Cancer Stick, actually."

She didn't have to go terribly far, maybe a half mile or so. Once the paved path she was on came to an end, she smiled when the toe of her combat boot dipped into softer ground. No longer cement, but real earth. Various patches of yellowed grass were stark against the velvety darkness of soil. Bony shrubs reached with claw-like limbs, while vines crawled high over a wrought iron sign. Even amidst the swell of vines and ivy, Sam could still make out the words: "Amity Park Recreational Area." It was then that she let her guard drop. Though only a little.

She feared this world, sure, but it was still better than the one beneath her feet.

Sam cradled her hands around a tiny sapling that she noticed was just beginning to make its hopeful ascent above ground. Her eyes followed its leafy gaze toward the sky where it searched in desperate need of sustenance. The sky was its usual green-tinted-grey, slightly hazy, as the morning sun filtered through the film of ectoplasm within the earth's atmosphere.

Her smile fell into an expression twisted with pity. "Hope you can make it, little guy," she said. She knew it wouldn't. Hardly anything grew anymore. The world was too poisoned.

"Uh, hey, Sam?" Tuck said suddenly through the comm, startling her. "I know you're pumped to be out there and everything—and before you ask, yes things are still clear on our scanners—but you should probably get cracking on that drone before your time runs out."

"Yeah, Tuck. I know. Chill," she replied. She glanced at the countdown on her scanner and winced. He was right. "Getting started on it now."

"Sweet. See ya in a few. Wanna grab some food when you get back? I'm starving."

"Sure."

Barbarra's voice was sharp over the comm which caused them both to start. "Oi, Foley, quit distractin' my trainee!"

"Heh, sure thing. Sorry, sir." Tuck's line crackled as he disconnected.

Sam rolled her eyes. Releasing a sigh that dissipated in small, wispy rivulets, she set to work.

The drone was located near the center of the park. It was a cylindrical device that wasn't much bigger than her torso. The body itself was a series of rolled sheet metal panels riveted together, and a hemispherical head comprised of thick glass that when one looked inside, was filled to the brim with colorful array of circuitry and copper piping. A gleaming silver nameplate gilded its body near the dome and identified it as FENTODRONE #9. The drone was dormant now, the charge having dissipated since the last time she changed its batteries and pulled its data chip.

Humming to herself, she pulled the necessary tools from her belt and set to work on removing the paneling from the side of the drone. Within the drone's hollow body was a detachable pod with several, slightly glowing cartridges. She detached it and separated the individual cartridges from the pod, then reached into her utility belt and pulled out new ones. They inserted with a satisfying clink. And finally, before she reinserted the battery pod inside its terminal, she removed a small, green and white data chip from a slot in the bottom portion of the drone. Once that was done, she reassembled the unit, her movements quick and practiced.

She stepped back and aimed her scanner at the drone. With a flick of her finger on the touchscreen, it hummed to life. Almost drunkenly, it rose from the ground and climbed to a hover at about eye level.

"Hey, Cancer Stick," she said into her comm. "Drone's up and ready."

"Took ya long enough, kiddo," Barbarra responded. "Mine's up too. Looks like it even took a little damage, but still seems to be functional. Start heading to the compound. I'm almost back to Main Street."

She heeded his command and set on her way. They met at a junction between Main Street and Washington, where they caught their breath under a darkened stoplight, before they pressed on, further into the heart of the city.

Their steel-toed boots hardly made a sound as they crept across the barren, rubble strewn roads. They were careful to keep each other's backs covered, and leave their words to a minimum.

Not that it really mattered, because ghosts had been avoiding this part of the city as of late. Things had been quiet in this area for weeks now. Why that was, Sam didn't know. Even the Fentons weren't sure what to make of it.

Sam's thoughts strayed to the data chip in her pocket. The environmental roving drones, ones that sweepers like she and Barbarra maintained, could have the information they were looking for. While the infrared and ectomagnetic scanners in the compound were powerful, the drones were designed to catalog everything at a more molecular level. They continually scanned the areas they were assigned to, as well as cataloging any local ghost haunting and behavior.

She sighed as their path became lined with barbed wire and the vast fortress that was Amity's military base rose around them like some large crouching beast. Armed personal greeted them at the gates of the imposing stronghold and ushered them inside. While most of the compound was located underground, the base acted as a sort of barricade for the compound's entrance.

The guards were quick in their movements. They scanned Sam's and Barbarra's corneas with a small handheld device, asked them a series of questions, then made them walk through a large ectodetector that resembled some space-age doorframe. The machine beeped with a cheerful tune after they passed through.

"See," Barbarra said, his voice sarcastic. "Possession free. This shit's just a waste of time."

"Triage is standard procedure, Sir," one of the guards responded, voice muffled by his helmet and gas mask. The man gestured them forward. "You can go."

With their check in complete, Sam and Barbarra walked with familiar steps through the building until they reached the elevator that would lower them deep into the hellish abyss. Underground. Sealed within impenetrable steel walls and bedrock, was the compound, home of the Resistance, and one of the larger known populations of humans still struggling for survival. It covered almost half the expanse of the city and was over two miles deep.

Sam ignored the sudden bout of nausea roiling in her stomach as the elevator's doors closed with a cacophonous groan. She'd never considered herself to be claustrophobic, but there was something tomblike about being in that elevator shaft. She tried not to listen to the sounds it made as it teetered in its descent, cables and gears scraping against metal. She shuddered a bit. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barbarra shift from foot to foot, his arm braced against a rusted handrail and held tight in a white knuckled grip.

One long rickety ride later, and the elevator's doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. Tucker Foley was waiting for them, his communicative headset around his neck as he leaned lazily on the adjacent wall, smothering a yawn into his hand. He stood up and grinned when Sam and Barbarra emerged from the elevator shaft.

Barbarra groaned. "Oh great. The techie." He reached into his belt and handed Tucker the data chip. "Here, take it and leave me alone." Then he looked at Sam and said, "Don't forget, tomorrow we're hitting drones four, six, and ten. It's just going to be you and me again. Gray has the others tied up with maintenance work on the east side." With that, he sauntered off whistling, his prized pack of cigarettes clutched gleefully in his hand.

Tucker watched Barbarra's form disappear around the corner. He shook his head. "Where did he find cigarettes? Doesn't he know they're against regulation?"

Sam's eyes went skyward. "He knows. He just doesn't care." She couldn't help but chuckle as she removed her helmet and reached into her own belt. "Anyway, here's the other chip. Think we'll get anything useful?"

They began to walk at a steady pace through the winding halls of the compound. Tucker shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe. Hopefully?" He frowned. "Probably not, to be honest."

"Your level of optimism is astounding."

"We haven't had any breakthroughs in months!" He threw his hands in frustration.

Sam said nothing as they walked. Instead, she glared at the surrounding walls. They were a colorless sort of grey, with cracked tiles that somehow managed to glow a sickly yellow under the fluorescent lights. The monotony of the color scheme was marred only by a series of darkened blotches at the ceiling where water could sometimes be seen trickling along crevices of mortar. Her nose wrinkled at the sight. God, she hated this place.

"So, what do ya say? I'll drop this stuff off at the lab and then we'll go and get some grub?" Tucker asked with an animated pat to his stomach. "Like I said earlier, I'm freakin' starving."

"Sure, Tuck," she responded. "I just have to drop my gear off at my locker and then I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

"Sounds good to me." He tipped his hat to her and then was on his way.

xXx

It was late in the evening, merely a day following its battery replacement, when FENTONWORKS FENTODRONE #9 stilled from its aimless, drunken wandering and came to a hover. It stayed that way for several moments, bobbing slightly, as if to ponder the dismalness of its surroundings. From within its glass dome the sound of mechanical whirring noises could be heard, which started low, but then progressed into a turbulent hum as it processed an abrupt abundance of data.

Then, suddenly, every light within its body lit up an eerie red. FENTODRONES all over the city quickly followed suit, all sensing the same immense spike of ecto-energy.

As if awakening from a nap, the ruined city of Amity stirred from its slumber and the silence was shattered when the sirens started.

A/N: Well, here we go! We're back and hopefully better than before!

I am so excited to be back in this world again. This story has never left my brain. I couldn't stand the way the beginning of Ephiphantos was written, and that was a big reason why I never came back to finish it. I just couldn't get past how bad the first few chapters were. While I haven't written since my last update of Epiphantos, I do feel like I've really grown a lot as a person over the years. I feel like I can tell this story much better now.

I'm not sure how many people even still read in this fandom anymore, but if any of you remember me, I just want you to know how grateful I am for the support I've received over the years. Between the reviews and the private messages . . . y'all are amazing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

A quick note on this story, while this is an AU, I just want to note that a lot of the core elements from the show are kept relatively canon here, so keep that in mind! And that's all I'm going to say about that, haha.

My goal is to stay on a pretty regular update schedule. I have quite a few of the next chapters written, so I'm thinking either weekly or biweekly, depending on my schedule. I'm really busy with life these days, but will try to keep the updates rolling!

Until then!

Stay Spooky!

-Roar