#and here it is. the logical conclusion. local teenager thinks that she really is the second alaundo.

[outeremissary]

🌈🌍🐉 for Carmen and Ismene?

Oh man. Big night for women with issues!!!! I went through a full spectrum of emotions answering these, thank you

[prompt]

🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?

Oh for sure. On both counts, haha. I feel like this is a thing for most of my OCs- at least, it’s a major point of trying to like. Visualize a design for them when drawing. At any rate.

Carmen has always been strongly associated with red to me. It’s a very vibrant, strong color, and it’s also a very heroic and regal one. Maybe it’s just the kinds of books I read as a kid, but when I think of kings and knights, I think of crimson and scarlet and all that jazz. She’s proud, principled, and aspires to be a paragon of what she considers virtue. I’ve also always portrayed her with a rose as an emblem- a romantic symbol. Of course, the obvious flip side of that is that there’s a lot of negative association with red as well- fire and blood are the obvious ones here. She’s not fiery in the sense of raging passion or blistering anger per se, but more like… a destructive flame that would burn everything to ashes, maybe. Someone with burning ideals and zealotry so hot that it’s searing her too. Of course, the less fanciful aspect of the red is that it’s a color that was also associated with the chivalric order she was a part of in tabletop (also an anchor point of the rose). Carmen’s kind of a funny character for color though. She’s been around in some form or other for ten years or more at this point, and she’s always had the red association. It’s something that’s kind of transformed over time.

Ismene is an easy purple. And one day I swear to fucking god I will manage to color some of my art of her. Although I guess it wouldn’t be posted here so uhh maybe it doesn’t matter. Anyway. Purple. Regal and mystical. That’s the kind of vibe that I always want her to give off as a first impression, so purple is an obvious choice. I think there’s also something to purple being a kind of cool, somber color- she’s become a more mischievous character than originally planned, but I think it’s right for her to have a certain self-serious gravitas. This is a bit of an open and shut one I don’t have much more to say ^^;;

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Oh good god.

Carmen’s religious views are Very Different in Wrath from her original tabletop iteration (where her schtick is generally kind of inverted from part of Wrath), so I’m going to preface this by saying I’m answering for the Wrath iteration of the character. Carmen is a dogmatic atheist. You know the goofy edgelord atheist dialogue in this game? Honestly totally on point for her. She doesn’t believe that people should rely on the gods, and she believes that gods are ultimately all self-serving and tend to use mortals as proxies for their conflicts and the most extreme expressions of existence. The affairs of mortals should belong entirely to mortals. She’s not a person who sees the good gods as fundamentally better than the evil. In the end, they’re still imposing the same manipulative systems on their followers. They still inspire violent, irrational conflict. And they don’t “inspire” their followers. They breed helplessness. They make people reliant, cause them to wait and pray for salvation instead of searching for it themselves. The gods are cowards and parasites. And one day, it would be nice to see them torn down from their thrones.

I had to look up/double check FR lore for this one, which was half the time spent on this whole thing if I’m being real with you. Anyway. Ismene’s upbringing obviously meant a lot of exposure to gods of knowledge, and she tends to regard these deities with a reasonable level of respect. Knowledge, to her, is the highest power; those who reign over it are the highest Powers. She identified particularly strongly with Savras, Alaundo’s patron, from a precocious age- one of a number of ways she has taken aspects of the life of the one true prophet for herself. This seemed like a bit of childish fancy when she was young, but the release of Savras during the Time of Troubles gave it more gravity- another uncanny bit of foresight from the girl. For her, it seemed a sign in and of itself- thought not a person of deep devotion, she quietly claimed the returned god as her patron, developing a personal belief that her prophetic abilities had been an omen of his return and deepening her sense that she was personally connected to Alaundo. In the years between the Time of Troubles and the revelation of her Bhaalspawn heritage Ismene developed a conviction that she had a destiny to take up Alaundo’s mantle as a true prophet of Savras in the new age. Her personal dedication to the god is partially responsible for her aversion to outright lying- to speak untruth is anathema to the All-Seeing, though she never quite internalized his dedication to wholly avoiding misdirection and deceit. The revelation of her divine blood shook her faith deeply- in some form or other, her abilities originate in truth from Bhaal. Of course, with pride and precocious self-importance as the origins of her devotion to the Lord of Divination, she’s certainly able to adapt to the idea of being a demigod given time. I don’t want to say more when I have yet to y’know. Finish the original Bhaalspawn Saga. But I certainly have an idea of the trajectory of a hubristic young wizard who gets to live with the smug satisfaction that she can outfox a god.

🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?

Carmen is an easy dragon. It’s the fire thing. And the knight thing. What’s the opposite of a noble knight? That’s right, a dragon. And also being very cool despite objectively killing a lot of people, which isn’t so awesome.

Ismene is like a unicorn because she’s just so goddamn special. I wrote that sentence as filler for later but you know what? I’m right. What else needs to be said, really. And also it’s the princess-y thing. The maiden-y thing. The magic-y thing. Like. Y’know.

[atroquinine-my-love]

I just finished Ace Attorney Investigations 2 and now that's everyone else's problem (post-game ramblings under the cut)

Investigations 2 is honestly one of the best AA games I’ve watched to date. I say “one of” because there’s of course the Original Ace Attorney, Trials and Tribulations, as well as Rise From the Ashes (which is 7 hours long, she counts as a full game). That being said, none of these had fully inter-connected cases like aai2 has. You can’t talk about a single case without it leading into another. Meanwhile, AA1 was just building up Edgeworth and Phoenix’s relationship, RFtA was a single case, and T&T had two totally unrelated cases to the main game. None of these had strong themes of family and the parallels of different cast members through that theme, either - while individual characters went through their own arcs, none of these games had every single character dealing with their own qualms of the same theme.

While all of the cases in aai2 fed into its inevitable conclusion, it felt like the first two cases were tedious and almost made me skip to AA5 without looking back. (Logic Chess also seemed like a ridiculous concept and throughout the entire first case I was cackling, but that’s neither here nor there.) As soon as we started our third case and started to lay down the themes of family, parents' love, and following in the footsteps of our fathers, though, I loved every second. Some of my issues with the earlier cases were Justine and Sebastian, but looking back on it their stubbornness (and stupidity, on Seb’s part) was necessary to have the last case work so well and hit so hard.

Courtney was weeding out corruption, but by trying to remain impartial to everything she was slightly blinded by it (similar to Franziska’s obsession with perfection, who didn’t have as big of a role in this game, but still had a few very powerful lines). Her compassion for her son was really heartwarming, accurate, and really took her character from “good” to “great”.

Sebastian, though! Who can get through this game without having a total 180 on Sebastian! The best arc behind (and a strong parallel to) Edgeworth’s in AA1, imo. A pretentious incompetent teenager trying to act like he owns the world, and then has every foundation he’s ever laid be taken out from under him within a matter of hours. While many call Sebastian an idiot, the only one who calls him that to his face is his own father. Many times! You feel for the kid. And then his father commits MANY a crime, and Sebastian tries to stick up for him anyway until his dad turns around and tells him that every single accomplishment he’d thought he’d earned was given to him. I won’t get into much more detail, but I will say that Edgeworth steps into a father-figure role for Sebastian in a really beautiful way. The Logic Chess after Sebastian has been kidnapped and the courtroom scene as Sebastian takes on Blaise are testaments to this amazing shift in their dynamic.

Simon Keyes was a great villain, his reveal was amazing, and the parallels to Edgeworth’s story were just as potent as Sebastian’s. The idea of an animal tamer being your big bad because he knows how to manipulate not only animals but humans? Fucking amazing concept. We didn’t see his redemption or his evolution into what he became so much as saw him as a conclusion to how everything could have gone wrong with Miles, and (if you wanted to really stretch) Sebastian. In the end, I’m glad he got to have a father figure, even if it was an imprisoned assassin ��\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, I’m pissed we never got an official localization but at this point, I desperately hope we don’t. I don’t think the Capcom team is going to be able to pull this off as well as the fan translators did, and I’m actually very partial to the fan voice actors. Plus, how the hell are they going to beat the names Justine Courtney and Sebastian DeBeste? Just don’t even try, Capcom, keep to your little DGS localizations and cafe arts.

I have more thoughts on the plot and characters like Ray, John, Gregory and others but I feel like none of those are concrete enough to write down at the moment ‘cause I just got my second shot for COVID and I’m probably going to take a long nap after I post this. If you wanna talk abt this feel free to ask/message.

tl;dr: I fuckin love this game bro 🤘😔

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

Kay, so I found this old story idea I had a while back but never really did anything with, and I figured hey, I've got 300+ prisoners beloved followers who for some reason put up with my garbage, so might as well inflict this upon them.

That being said, welcome to what I call The Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey.

So our story starts with a little girl called Dee.

Dee lives in the UK, in a council estate. When she was a kid, there wasn't all that much space to play or do the things richer middle-class kids got to do. Her parents house didn't have a garden, the local streets were too dangerous for a child to go out and play in, and the house itself was cramped and crowded.

Despite this, Dee had what could charitably be called an overactive imagination, an imagination she channelled into two things: a plastic triceratops toy she called Sarah, and a book - a blank book of A4 paper that had coffee stains on it and papers falling out when she got it - that she claimed had a magical power: anything written in the book would come true.

Cut to a few years later. Dee is in high school, and like a typical teenager she's moved on from her childish dreams. That is, until one day when Sarah the triceratops approaches her after school and tells her she's in danger.

So, yeah, pretty basic beginning, you've probably seen fifty books that start out like this, and that's all I wrote back when I was actually trying to make this a thing. However, one thing I always do vis-a-vis my writing style is worldbuild, and it's the worldbuilding that I'm really keen on with this idea. So, let's talk about that:

The actual premise of the story is simple: at some point in the 1960s, the British government came to the conclusion that the British Empire was more or less doomed. Not only was the post-war economy not capable of sustaining an empire, not only was the Cold War between the Americans and the Russians ravaging them, but an increased awareness of the plight of one's fellow man was inspiring many people - not just in the colonies but in England too - to demand independence. No matter how hard they tried, Parliament could not forsee a solution that the people would accept where the British Empire continued.

So, a solution was posed. For the past hundred years or so, the government had been made aware of the existence of pockets of space-time created by people with active enough imaginations. From Neverland to Oz, from the Hundred Acre Wood to Wonderland, these places had resources beyond any place on Earth - magic, especially. If the public would not countenance colonisation where they could see it, then perhaps the solution would be to colonise somewhere they could not see?

Thus, the British Empire never really died. It simply... moved.

Cut to the present day, and the Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey is still going strong. Almost every parallel world is under their control, and the profits of these regions are beyond belief. However, rather naturally for stories like this there is a resistance movement, that seeks to free the imaginary lands from the Department. Although they are small and weak, they have had several worthwhile victories over the Department in the past few months, and the higher-ups in the Department, including the shadowy and little-seen Director, want all such resistance movements stamped out.

This, rather naturally, is where Dee steps in.

Every generation, one in a million people have the ability to shape the forces of Imagination itself, and the stories these people tell, and others tell after them, become reality in the Imaginarium. These people become known as Imagineers, and Dee is one such person. However, the lack of much real output for this power has led to most of it being placed inside The Book, which has led to a fascinating feedback loop - Dee's Book not only influences the Imaginarium, it influences physical reality itself to a certain extent. Thus, the Department need simply write in the book that the resistance movement does not exist, and it will be so. The resistance, naturally enough, are not down with this, and have sent Dee's childhood friend to bring her and the book back to them, to keep them safe.

There's also a ton of other small worldbuilding touches I came up with, chief among them being the thing the Department sends to collect Dee - a Stalker, the amalgamation of that seemingly universal childhood experience of that thing that followed your car on long journeys. But a couple of words on the characters:

The leader of the resistance is Peter Pan, because of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He's much more of the capricious, vaguely fae Pan of the book, not exactly evil but very much ammoral and childish. He's mainly invested in reclaiming Neverland, the Lost Boys, and Tinkerbell, although there is the subtext of him using the Department as an example of the inevitable consequences of growing up - although he's completely forgotten Hook, like he does in the book, he's still looking for that antagonistic relationship with a grown-up.

Peter's second-in-command and the one really running the resistance is Princess Ozma, who's much more... agreeable than Pan. Oz has been colonised too, but Ozma is still in nominal control of it, and she supplies the resistance with all the resources she can, although she can't openly work against the Department because the CIA branch of it has Dorothy imprisoned and are basically pulling a 'we have your wife' scenario on her.

The third key player in the resistance is Alice Liddel, who provides the resistance with shelter and safe passage - the Department has been having little success applying the logic of supply chains and regimented exterminations to a place as willfully chaotic as Wonderland.

The rest of the resistance are mainly heroic characters from other public domain stories, although some of the heroes are working for the Department, either willingly or because they're coerced, but one of the other main characters - and Dee's eventual love interest - is a character called many things, but most commonly Insert.

Insert is... complicated. Like the Stalker, they're an amalgamation of a certain new-fangled trend - namely, they're every self-insert character that's ever been written. Naturally, they have a habit of... changing, at random intervals. On any given day, they're any gender, of any ethnicity, of any sexual orientation, and with backstories ranging from an officer on a starship in the far future to a student at a school of magic in Scotland. Given literally everything about them is eternally mutable - including their allegiance to the resistance or the Department - the resistance members treat them with some distrust, a distrust that Dee generally doesn't share. Their relationship is pretty rocky at first - Dee thinks Insert is only interested in her because she can use The Book to give them a concrete identity, Insert is angrt when she reveals this because the constant shifting is just who they are, they don't want to be bound down, and later on there is a genuine dilemma of whether or not Insert is interested in Dee by their own choice or because she's clearly the protagonist and a key part of their identity in a lot of their lives is to be shipped with the protagonist. Also, obvious joke but at several points Insert turns into Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, because of course they do.

The Department's side isn't that interesting - it's a whole load of villains, some of the more... problematique heroes, and a few hundred grunts. The most interesting character is The Director. He's never seen, even by the highest ranking members of the Department, and no-one knows anything about him other than his gender. Everyone in the resistance has a different theory of who he is - Pan has a suspicion he may have faced him before, Ozma thinks its the Nome King, Alice the Jabberwocky, and Insert fluctuates, as is their nature, although the top two choices are Voldemort or Dumbledore.

It's Dee, however, who figures out the truth, when captured by the Department. The others couldn't possibly know him, but Dee's heard his voice before, in her history classes.

The Director of the Department is Winston Churchill, made immortal by the collective consensus of him as The War-Time Leader. Unfortunately for the whitewashers of history, the immortal they created isn't the brave fighter of tyranny, but the actual Churchill, warts and all, the man who starved over two million Indians out of spite and neglectfulness. Dee being a descendant of Indian immigrants, this meeting isn't perhaps the best one.

There are side effects to the Director's immortality, however. Since the perception of Churchill is tied so deeply to his speeches, to the voice on the radio, that's all he is now. He wants The Book to give him back a body again, and the Department is basically a means to that end.

That's about all I'd concretely plotted out, otherwise I just had random ideas for sequels:

The America Book, where the resistance goes to rescue Dorothy from the CIA version of the Department, which is located under a theme park that is as close to Disneyland as it is possible to be. Naturally, the head of the American Department is Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen head.

The India Book, because a book about British colonialism has got to touch on India at some point. I haven't gotten far in this one, but one idea was that there would be an ongoing war between the native myths and legends - Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata and such - and what is derisively referred to as the 'imports' - namely, the Jungle Book. Again, no idea how this resolves itself, and frankly as a Brit myself I am in no way equipped to tell a story about India, but food for thought.

That's basically it. This isn't a 'here's something to hype up this series' thing - this is an idea I had, I did some thinking about it, but other things happened and I'm kinda splurging this so anyone else who wants to do this idea can pick it up. If you write something like this, feel free to tell me and I'd love to hear about it.

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 15

Vlad makes mistakes, and then makes some more mistakes, and then rounds it off by making even more mistakes.

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

Chapter 15: Reign Storm

Jazz walked into the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw him. Danny grinned, waving at her.

Next to him, the other Danny also grinned and waved.

“Why,” Jazz groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Couldn’t I have gotten a normal brother?”

The other Danny gasped dramatically. “A normal brother? In this family?”

“Did you two plan this out?” She dropped her hand to narrow her eyes at them. Danny was pretty sure that she was trying to figure out which Danny was which. “Because this is bullying. I’m feeling very bullied right here.”

“Take it up with Sidney, then.” Danny, still grinning, took a bite of his sandwich. He should’ve had lunch sooner, but in his defense, he totally forgot. Until the actual Fenton kids were returning from school, that was. “He’s the local expert on fixing bullies.”

“This isn’t bullying, anyway.” His human counterpart rattled his fingers on the glass he held as he spoke. “This is just sibling fun.”

Jazz huffed, chagrined. “Phantom, I’m glad you’re here, but sometimes I wish you weren’t.”

“Amen.” Other Danny raised his glass.

“Same,” Danny agreed, raising his sandwich.

She narrowed her eyes even further, sparks of gold visible in the teal of her eyes.

Danny flashed his own eyes green, and Jazz relaxed a little. Ah. She really hadn’t been able to tell them apart.

“So you two really didn’t plan this out?” She finally entered the kitchen proper, pausing next to the table where they both were.

“Just a coincidence,” Danny assured her.

Other Danny nodded, then gestured over at him. “This one forgot to eat lunch until he saw me come home.”

“My day-night rhythm is in shambles.” Danny shrugged, taking another bite of his food. Just because this dimension’s Fentons insisted he come stay with them didn’t mean it fixed everything automatically. “It already was before I came here, though.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.” Jazz hummed, thoughtfully. “Something about being practically nocturnal.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many ghosts attack at night.” Danny clicked his tongue, chastising. “You’re gonna have your hands full when I leave.”

If he ever left.

“And you will have to get used to being the little brother again,” she jibed, equally willing to ignore the possibility that he might never leave. “Did you two leave me any food?”

Danny stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. Other Danny grinned and said, “Nah, unless you want the Frankenwienies.”

“You two are the worst.”

He opened his mouth to joke back, but felt his core stir in his chest. Far, far stronger than usual; more of a heave than a whir.

Based on Jazz’ startled expression, she felt it too.

Blue vapor misted from both their mouths, and Danny quickly sorted through his memories. What could possibly…

Oh no.

He threw out his arms as he shifted into his ghost form, a green shield forming around the three of them before the light had even faded away. The other two made noises of protest, but fell silent when the first ghosts started zipping past them.

No one said anything when the few ghosts made way for a whole stream of them. Humanoid, animals, every type of ghost flew past them, including familiar faces. One or two even bashed against the shield as they flew past, but were clearly unwilling to stick around to try and get at Jazz.

Good. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer through that gang-up like he had.

“What’s going on?” Jazz asked. Her hands were shaking, but Danny wasn’t sure if it was fear or just jitters from her core. “Why are all these ghosts here?”

“They’re fleeing the Ghost Zone.” He kept the shield steady, even as the flow lessened. “The Ghost King is awake.”

“The what?” Other Danny was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Ghosts have a king?!”

“Sort of. He’s been asleep for ages, locked in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.” Finally, the stream of ghosts seemed to stop, and Danny let down his shield. He didn’t shift back. “He is… extremely powerful, and a harsh king. The other ghosts are afraid of him, so they’re fleeing to the human world, where they don’t have to deal with him. Or so they think.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Jazz grumbled. Her shivers had lessened already. Probably just the shock of her ghost sense, then. “Is he gonna come here?”

Danny grimaced. “Not… necessarily. He doesn’t care about the human world.”

“But?” Jazz prodded. “Come on, I can tell you’re leaving details out.”

“But,” he repeated, before sighing. “He’ll be after one of his relics, which increases a ghost’s power. It’s called the Ring of Rage.”

“How did he get out, anyway?” his human counterpart asked. “If he was locked up for so long. Did someone free him?”

“Vlad, of course, who else?” Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair. He really wasn’t looking forward to doing this all again. Last time it had nearly killed him. Yes, he was stronger now, he’d probably be okay, but still. “And he knows Pariah is after the Ring, so he’s gonna bring it here and pass it off to some unsuspecting target, like his pet ghost hunter.”

Jazz’ eyes grew wide. “Valerie. She’s in danger!”

“Not until Vlad leaves and gives her the ring,” he dismissed. Paused. Cast out his ghost sense to try and track down Vlad’s minimal presence in human form. “Uh. Is Vlad still here?”

Jazz hurried back to the doorway. “Valerie is gone too!”

“Well, crap.” Oh, and he didn’t know where those two had gone, either… but he did know where the first big showdown was happening. “Come on, we’d better get going. Pariah is gonna send an army of ghosts here, and I know where he’s gonna open the portal.”

She nodded, immediately shifting into her own ghost form. No hesitation. “Let’s go.”

“Stay safe,” human Danny demanded. “Both of you. Stay safe, please?”

Danny nodded back. “I’ll make sure of it.” He stepped forward, paused. “And, um. In case Vlad is back before us… he may or may not believe we are the same person.”

“Phantom,” other Danny sighed, loudly, exasperatedly. “Again?”

He shrugged, putting on an innocent face. “What? It’s just the logical conclusion here! Anyway we’d better get going, bye!”

Jazz followed him up. “Did you really have to do that?”

“No, but this way he’ll have something besides us to worry about.” He leveled out, slowing down a notch so Jazz could keep up. “We’ll be fine.”

He would make sure of that.

---

The fight was a mess, chaotic to no end. Danny lost track of Jazz quickly, darting between Pariah’s skeletal minions. He would just have to trust that she could take care of herself. Vlad and Valerie also disappeared into the mass. It was just him, and the ghosts directly around him.

He caught a flash of green, his eye immediately drawn towards it. The Fright Knight, the ghost’s first appearance in this world. Or, more accurately, the flash of green of his swinging sword.

“Don’t get hit by it!” he yelled at Valerie, already rushing towards her.

“Thought that that was kinda obvious!” She dodged the next swing, the green metal carving a deep slice in her hoverboard. “Hey, jerk! Do you know how expensive this tech is?!”

“It is worthless in comparison to the ring,” Fright Knight snarled back. He lunged towards her.

Danny grabbed the ghost by the armor, bodily dragging him away from Valerie. “That’s enough outta you, pal.”

“The ring?” Valerie repeated, blankly. “They want a ring?”

Fright Knight swung his sword down at Danny, and he rushed to form a shield to catch it. “Yeah, they’re after Pariah’s Ring of Rage.”

“Oh,” Valerie said. Danny heard the click of a weapon assembling. “Well, I’ll take care of that, then.”

“Wait, what are you—” The weapon fired, and he twisted around to look. God dammit, Valerie, launching the thing on a missile doesn’t help!

The pressure against his shield disappeared, and a quick glance back confirmed that the Fright Knight had summoned his mount and was going after the missile. Danny needed to get there first, but he couldn’t be seen taking it.

It had been months since he last used this power, but… He split apart, meeting the bright green eyes of his duplicate.

“You know what to do,” he said to it, and it nodded back. It shimmered, disappearing from sight, but Danny could still feel it as it raced after Fright Knight. He would just have to hope that all that speed training would pay off.

“Damn, Phantom.” Valerie whistled, impressed. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

He blasted one of the skeletons away from her, cursing the distraction of his duplicate. This was not an ideal situation for this. “I don’t use them, usually. Splits my attention.”

“Gotcha.” She cocked her gun, turning her attention back to the fight as well. “Now what?”

“My duplicate is gonna grab the ring, make sure that Fright Knight loses track of it.” An ice-ray stopped a large swatch of ghosts that were coming in their direction. “Shooting it on a missile is a short-term solution, and we do not want them to actually get their hands on the Ring.”

His duplicate had caught up with the missile, snatching the Ring before Fright Knight could notice. Danny instructed it to flee, to hide the thing in a place where Fright Knight wouldn’t be able to detect it.

“Wow, I heard the capitalization on that.” Valerie snorted, blasted a few more skeletons apart. “Why is it so important?”

“It greatly increases the power of a ghost wearing it.” He swept a disc of ectoplasm at some of the ghostly skeletons, watching the explosion scatter them. His duplicate had made it back to FentonWorks unnoticed, stuffing the Ring into a Thermos. Clever. With its job finished, it dissipated. “Pariah wants it because it’ll make him the strongest ghost in the Ghost Zone.”

He could see her mask crinkle as she made a face. “And how bad is that?”

“Well, I had to use a suit that increased by power hundred-fold just to match him, so…” He could see her fretting, now. “Don’t worry, my duplicate snatched it and hid the Ring. They won’t find it.”

“Good.” The ghosts around them stalled, all of a sudden, and she drew closer to him, warily. “I don’t get it. Why did my weapons supplier have that thing?”

“Long story.” Danny angled his head upwards, saw the Fright Knight coming down again. Had he given up the search so quickly?

“You know my weapons supplier?” Valerie asked, skeptically. She had caught sight of Fright Knight as well. “Oh, there’s that guy again.”

The Fright Knight dismounted, the clanking of his armored boots loud in the sudden silence. Over the still skeletons, Danny finally caught sight of Jazz and Vlad; they were on opposite ends of the field, both having apparently decided to move to the edges of the fight instead of staying in the center like him and Valerie.

“By the authority vested in me by my Lord and Liege,” Fright Knight started, raising his sword. Green flames engulfed it suddenly. Danny felt his heart clench, but there was no stopping it.

“I claim this town now and forever under the weather of Lord Pariah, King of All Ghosts!” And Fright Knight drove the sword down, sinking it into the ground. A wave of ectoplasm emanated from it, a secondary beam shooting straight up.

“Stay back, and stay calm,” Danny told Valerie, not taking his eyes off of Fright Knight. “He’s not going to attack.”

She nodded, but the tense line of her shoulders told him she wasn’t happy with it.

The beam of ectoplasm spread out, forming a dome around their whole city. Jazz shot over the motionless ghosts, joining up with him and Valerie. “What’s he doing?”

“Right now? Upping the amount of ectoplasm we have in our air.” Danny let his eyes wander back to Vlad, but the man made no attempt to join up with them. “And he’s not gonna do anything else, either, except give us his demands.”

Fright Knight turned to look towards them. Danny stepped forward as well, Valerie and Jazz staying behind.

The ghost angled his head, but took the hint—Danny was the leader. “The sword has sunk, your die now cast. The sword removed shall signal fast. Make reappear,” he gestured at their group, “the ring thou hast. Or your next day shall be your last.”

And without another word, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

“That sounded… dramatic.” Valerie was clearly eyeing up the skeletons. “What about those?”

“They’re not gonna do anything for now,” Danny dismissed. “Pariah wants us to hand over the ring, he’s not gonna attack us until his terms run out.”

“Where is the Ring, anyway?” Jazz frowned at the skeletons, but turned to face him for his answer. “Why did they stop looking for it?”

“We hid it.” He shot a meaningful look at the skeletons below, and Jazz nodded in understanding. “You head back home, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

She nodded again, golden eyes darting between him and Valerie. “Gotcha. I’ll meet you there.”

“What was that about?” Valerie asked, skeptically, as Jazz left them. “Why not just tell her?”

“I didn’t want to risk the skeletons being able to listen in.” He shrugged, casting out his ghost sense. Vlad had also left, at some point. “And I wanted to talk to you about your weapons supplier, Vlad.”

“What about him?” Her posture was stiff, tense.

Danny rolled his eyes. “You don’t think that it’s weird that the Vlad Masters gave this kind of weaponry to a fourteen-year old? That he gave a powerful ghost artifact to you, knowing what—or who—was after it?”

“Ugh.” She sighed, shoulders slumping down. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You gonna tell me he’s evil, now?”

“And also a half-ghost.” He grinned at her incredulous look. “That vampire-looking guy that was here with us? Vlad Plasmius, half-ghost. He’s been half-ghost for two decades, but he’s not as powerful as me, and Jazz will outpace him as well, when her core matures.”

She hummed. “And he’s no good?”

“And he’s no good,” Danny confirmed. “Told me—and Jazz, in this universe—to our face that he wanted to kill our dad and marry our mom. Most ghosts aren’t obsession-driven like people think, but Vlad? Absolutely.”

“Yikes.” She shook her head. “Now I’m gonna think of that every time I see my weapons. Big creep who refuses to deal with his own shit, got it. Anything else I gotta know?”

“Maybe get your gear checked out. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” He frowned, one finger tapping on his cheek. “I know that your identity is a big deal, and I respect that, but the Fentons are probably your best bet. Well, after this.”

“Thanks for the head’s-up, anyway.” She turned her head, presumably to look at the dome above them. “Now what?”

“I’m gonna head back towards FentonWorks. You’re welcome to come along. Would probably comfort your dad, too, to know that you’re in the safest place in Amity Park.”

She nodded, shifting to follow him. “What kind of world do we live in where FentonWorks is the safest place in Amity?”

That startled a laugh out of him as they set off.

---

Danny stretched, hovering over one of the cluttered lab tables. His parents—or their counterparts from this universe—were hard at work on the Ecto-Skeleton, Vlad standing nearby. Not helping of course, God forbid. Just watching.

He was keeping an eye on Danny, but that was okay. Danny was keeping an eye on Vlad as well.

Once or twice, the man tried sneaking closer to him. Tried talking to him without anyone noticing. It hadn’t been very successful, not with Jack and Maddie in the lab. And hadn’t that been a surprise to Vlad? Finding Danny in his ghost form in the lab, his parents perfectly fine with that?

Jack sighed, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. “Let’s take a break, folks. Get some lunch.”

“I think I’ll keep working,” Vlad said, eyes on Danny the whole time. “I’m not hungry.”

Maddie threw him a skeptical look. “If you’re sure, Vlad. What about you, sweetie?”

Oh, he was so glad that his parents were playing along. Not using his name meant that Vlad had no idea of their knowledge.

“I’m good, thanks.” He flapped a hand. “You guys go get lunch, and Vlad and I will keep working.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded. With Jack right behind her, she left the lab.

“They know, don’t they?” Vlad turned back to him, meeting his eyes. “That’s why they are so nice to you. They’re afraid of giving away your secret to me.”

Well, no point in denying. He shrugged at Vlad. “They were already nice before they figured it out.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Vlad sneered. “But here you are, spending ages in your ghost form. Why not shift back?”

“Why would I? It’s not like my ghost form is hurting me.” He drifted closer to the suit, until he was above clear space again. “Or do you dislike it, Vladdie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Vlad hissed back, his eyes flaring red for a brief moment. Ooh, temper, Vlad. “It doesn’t matter, anyhow. The invasion will get worse when no one finds the ring they want.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you’re not at fault for any of this, are you? Come on, man.”

“I don’t have the ring, if that’s what you are suggesting.”

“Yeah, because you gave it away to the Red Huntress.” He sighed, twisting until he was in a standing position, matching Vlad’s eye level. “Come on, I know exactly what’s going on. Just tell me why you thought it was a good idea to release a ghost of Pariah’s caliber, just to snatch a powerful artifact.”

Vlad flinched back, eyes narrowed. “How do you know about any of this?”

“Because people think I’m stupid when I’m not.” He grinned at Vlad, cocky. “What are you gonna do about it, Vladdie? Gonna tell my secret to my parents? Or, wait, what if they know already?”

“You little—” Vlad’s eyes flared red again, almost immediately followed by the dark-light rings that signaled his transformation. The other half-ghost didn’t wait a moment, lunging instantly.

Danny formed a shield, pushing Vlad away from the battle suit. “What are you really trying to achieve, man? You lost the Ring, you have no chance of getting the Crown, not while Pariah has it. Now what?”

“The suit will have to do,” Vlad hissed back, hands clenching. “But for now, I’m willing to settle for introducing your face to the floor.”

A bolt of green ectoplasm whistled past Vlad’s ear. Danny followed it back to its origin, finding the entire Fenton family at the bottom of the stairs.

“You talk too much,” Maddie said, almost complaintively. The glint in her eyes was angry.

“What?” Vlad’s eye clearly caught on Danny Fenton standing with his family. Vlad turned back towards him. “What’s…”

“You’ve been outplayed, Vladdie.” Danny shot an ice beam, freezing the older half-ghost to the wall. “Sorry, pal, but they heard everything.”

Pink flames formed around Vlad’s fists, and he started wriggling out of the ice. “No! I will not—”

“We know everything, Vlad.” Jack stepped forward, a disappointed frown on his face. “We’re sorry for the accident in college, for hurting you. But it’s not our fault that we weren’t allowed to visit you. It’s not our fault that you broke contact.”

“Being angry with us is one thing,” Maddie chimed in. “But attacking our children over it? Wanting to kill one of us? That’s too much, Vlad. You cannot honestly think that that’s okay.”

Vlad snarled, the ice around him cracking. “Oh, please. Like you know anything!”

“They know more than you do.” Jazz quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at Vlad. “They know everything, Vlad.”

“But we also believe in second chances.” Jack curled an arm around Maddie, keeping his eyes on Vlad. “We need to finish the Ecto-Skeleton, and we’ll need to fight that big ghost afterwards. Are you with us, or not?”

The ice cracked, Vlad almost completely free. “And what will you do if I refuse to fight with you?” he hissed, aura flaring bright. “Will you—”

The blue vortex of a Thermos interrupted him, wrapping him up entirely. Danny Fenton grinned, a close match to Danny’s own cocky grin. Other Danny capped the Thermos. “Now what?”

“We’ll have to discuss it later.” Maddie took the Thermos, carefully placing it aside. “For now, he can wait in there.” She sighed, clicked her tongue. “I can’t believe that man.”

“Thanks for telling us, Phantom.” Jack heaved a sigh. “And for helping us catch him.”

“Hopefully he’ll be more receptive to a stern talking-to than mine.” Danny floated closer towards them. “How’s progress on the battle suit?”

Maddie sighed, taking one last glance at the Thermos before turning to the suit. “It’s almost finished. If you two had any allies to gather, this might be a good moment for it.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded, and Jazz stepped up next to him. “Jazz, can you handle Sidney and Valerie? I’ll go get the others.”

“We have other allies?” she asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “But, sure.”

Light flashed as she shifted to her ghost form, drifting up. “I’ll be right back, then.”

“I might be a bit longer,” he admitted, both to her and to her parents. “I have some actual tracking down to do.”

Jazz nodded, flying off, and Danny quickly did the same. Some of these ghosts, he could find; he knew where they had been in his own universe. But others…

Well, he’d try his best, at least.

---

Jazz sighed, impatiently, watching over the people gathered in the lab. Both Sidney and Valerie had been reluctant to mingle, but had eventually caved to her insistence. Now Sidney was hovering next to Danny, Sam, and Tucker, talking about… modern schooling? And bullying? Hm. Well, at least they were getting along?

Valerie, on the other hand, had cornered Jack and Maddie, and was discussing ghost weaponry and gadgets.

Finally, though, Jazz’ ghost sense went off. She thought she could recognize Phantom’s signature, but she wasn’t sure… and it was far too strong.

But no, there he was. Phantom phased through the ceiling, followed by the allies he’d gathered. She counted… seven ghosts. Seven?! What the—

Phantom, floating above the rest of them, grinned. Threw his arms wide to gesture at the ghosts floating behind him. “Sorry it took a bit! Had to track down and convince all of these guys.”

Jazz went through the crowd, mentally. On the far left was a ghost she didn’t recognize; metal, humanoid, with green eyes and a matching flame mohawk. Next to him was Ember, followed by the Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, and then Desiree, and Dora on the furthest end, her amulet glowing brightly.

Another ghost she didn’t recognize floated up closer to Phantom. Big and bulky, a humanoid body-shape but with a wolf-like face, paws, and even a tail. The entire ghost was covered in thick black fur, and it had some dangerous looking claws on its front paws.

“Most of these are familiar faces, but I’ll introduce everyone anyway.” Phantom gestured at the ghost on the far left. “This is Skulker, Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter. Then there’s Ember, grand musician. The Box Ghost, self-explanatory. Lunch Lady, a killer cook. Desiree, wish-granter, and finally Dora, princess of Aragon.” He patted the ghost next to him on the arm. “And finally, this is Wulf! He only speaks a little English, mostly Esperanto.”

“You speak Esperanto?” Tucker asked, elbowing Danny. “Since when?”

“Since I befriended Wulf and realized I had no way of communicating,” Phantom retorted, rolling his eyes. “You folks wanna do an introductory round as well, or what?”

Jazz rolled her eyes, stepping forward. “I’m Specter, half-ghost. That’s Sidney, full ghost,” she pointed at him, and he raised a hand, clearly shy. “Next to him on the left is Danny, my brother. On Danny’s left is Sam, and furthest right is Tucker. They’re taking care of flight and small guns.”

She gestured at Valerie, who had stepped away from the adults. “That’s the Red Huntress, some of you might be familiar with her. She’s one of the local ghost hunters; she’ll be main fighter among the humans. Next to her are Jack and Maddie, my parents. They’re also ghost hunters, and they’ll be taking the big guns. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I got one.” Ember’s eyes narrowed, her hair flickering like a flame. “Why do the humans have specific roles when we don’t?”

“Uh.” Jazz made a face. “Honestly, we had no clue who Phantom was bringing. Also, you all know your skills best. The humans, we had to equip, but you guys can all work alone.”

Ember hummed, apparently satisfied with that.

Skulker, meanwhile, seemed to be suspiciously looking between Phantom and Danny. When Phantom noticed, however, he grinned widely at Skulker—all teeth and no humor. That was enough to throw the ghost off, who promptly pretended he hadn’t been doing that.

There was a story there, and Jazz wished that they had the time to go into it.

Something sniffed next to her, and she started. Jerked around to see Wulf next to her—and how had she missed a ghost of his size moving?

“Amika,” the ghost greeted her, before continuing in Esperanto.

“He’s pleased to make your acquaintance!” Tucker yelled, hurrying closer so he could help translating.

“Oh, uh.” She offered her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, too. Are you…” She ran over possible situations in her head. “Are you the ghost Phantom rescued in the Ghost Zone?”

Tucker spoke, presumably translating it. Wulf nodded, immediately.

“Apparently they are close friends back home, and…” Tucker paused, quietly talking back and forth with Wulf. “I guess Phantom asked Wulf to keep an eye on you, when he goes home?”

She blinked up at the large ghost and his bright green hoodie. Wulf’s tail wagged, slowly, hesitantly.

“I’m going to have to look up a course in Esperanto, then,” she said, grinning slowly.

They were unfortunately forced to end the conversation there, as Phantom cleared his throat. He was now standing on top of the finished Ecto-Skeleton.

With everyone’s attention drawn, Phantom spoke up. “So, everyone knows the plan?”

A general murmur of acknowledgment sounded.

“Good! Let’s get ready to go, then!” He underlined the statement by uncapping a Thermos; Jazz stiffened, expecting it to be Vlad’s, but no ghost came out. Instead Phantom shook out… a ring.

Or, no. The Ring, based on the gasps of all the other ghosts.

Phantom stuck it onto his finger, frowning down at it. Then, with a shrug, he phased into the Ecto-Skeleton, activating it.

“Is that safe?” Jazz asked, although she wasn’t sure who she was asking. Phantom must’ve heard her, though, because he shrugged—and the suit shrugged along.

“Safe enough,” he said dismissively. “The suit alone is too draining. It almost killed me in my own timeline, and I’m not risking that again.”

Phantom’s off-hand mention of his origin was… baffling. It also startled every ghost in the room except for Wulf. Well, now they were in for a quite talk, weren’t they?

But Phantom must’ve realized, because he grinned at the slew of ghosts. “How about this, folks. We take down Pariah, and then I’ll tell you guys all about it! And no one will be able to claim a role as Pariah’s Bane, because I’m not a local. Yeah?”

“Dipstick, you’re something else.” Ember shook her head, clicked her tongue, then nodded. “What are we waiting for, folks? Let’s go!”

The other ghosts cheered—or something close it, anyhow—all raising their fists. Phantom led them into the Ghost Zone, and Jazz only belatedly remembered that she was supposed to stay close to him. Quickly, she darted through the Portal as well.

Inside, the Ghost Zone was… vast. An enormous expanse of black, swirled through with green. It felt lighter than Earth. Not necessarily in a gravity way, but more… It was hard to explain.

“First time in the Zone, right?” Phantom asked, suddenly next to her. He grinned understandingly. “There’s more ambient ectoplasm, so you’re probably feeling that. I would offer to show you around, when this is all over, but…” He shrugged, making a face. “I’m not very good at navigating.”

Oh, yeah. That was how he’d gotten into her universe in the first place, wasn’t it? She’d almost forgotten. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The Portal’s surface parted, and the cylindrical shape of the Specter Speeder burst through. Danny waved at her through the glass, with Sam behind the wheel and Tucker in the co-pilot seat. Not a moment later, Valerie flew through as well, her hoverboard loud in the silence of the Ghost Zone.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Phantom declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Specter and I will go at the front. Once we’re there, you guys will be in charge of clearing the way.”

“We know!” Valerie yelled back. “Let’s just go and get this over with!”

“I agree with the human hunter!” Plane-like wings folded open from Skulker’s back. “Go, whelp, and we’ll follow.”

Phantom rolled his eyes but did as said, taking lead. Jazz sped after him, forced to keep more of a distance than usual thanks to the Ecto-Skeleton.

Pariah’s castle is easy enough to recognize, a floating structure with the land in front of it filled with ghostly skeletons. Jazz lined up next to Phantom when he stopped, the others all coming to a halt in front of them.

“Showtime.” Ember cracked her knuckles, then swung her guitar to the front. “Let’s go, everybody!”

Ember’s dive was followed by the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady, side-by-side. Sidney and Desiree went right after them, Desiree’s hands glowing green. Valerie dove next, weaponry charging, and Skulker drew even with her, panels sliding open to reveal his own guns.

Dora shifted into a dragon, roaring, and Jazz could feel the sound reverberating in her bones. Wulf answered it with a howl, and the two plunged towards the ground as well.

Last but not least, the Specter Speeder swept forward, staying high where the ghosts went low. The doors on either side opened, Jack and Maddie leaning out, heavy weaponry in their hands. The built-in guns started charging as well—Danny’s work.

She and Phantom stayed behind, watching the skeleton army get eviscerated. Before long, even the larger guards at the door were cleared out—or otherwise drawn away—and Phantom nodded at her. “Road’s clear. You got the key?”

“Yep.” She patted the pocket of her belt that held it. “You take care of Pariah, and I’ll make sure he won’t get out again.”

“Good. Let’s show him what we’re made of.” Phantom dove before she could answer, so fast that Jazz couldn’t even keep up. But that was okay—he was supposed to keep Pariah’s attention.

By the time she made it to Pariah’s throne room, Phantom had already engaged the ghost in a fight. And, wow. For some reason she’d imagined Pariah to be, y’know, mostly human sized. Not this massive bulking ghost, with twisting horns and a crown made of literal flames. Yikes. She was kind of glad she wasn’t the one fighting.

Phantom split himself, three duplicates joining him. All four versions of him shot ecto-blasts at Pariah, and the ghost was pushed back.

“You miserable pest,” Pariah grumbled, shaking off the hit. “You think you can stand up to me?”

“Ha!” All of the Phantoms grinned, viciously, but only one continued speaking. “I know I can stand up to you! I am Danny Phantom, half-ghost hero from another dimension. Pariah’s Bane!”

That caught the full ghost off-guard, because he blinked. The moment of surprise was enough. Two of the duplicates grabbed Pariah’s arms, and the third pushed against his chest.

Pariah seemed to struggle, but the final Phantom shot an ecto-blast at his feet. Pariah stumbled, almost tripping, and the three duplicates shoved.

The fourth Phantom shot forward as well, sweeping around the Sarcophagus. After a moment of consideration, Jazz followed him.

Phantom’s duplicates gave another shove, and Pariah knocked against the back of the Sarcophagus. The moment he crossed the threshold, Phantom himself pushed against the door, shutting it.

Jazz darted around him, the key already in her hand. It slid into the lock easily, and she twisted it.

It clicked shut.

The three duplicates dissipated instantly, and Phantom sunk to the ground, Ecto-Skeleton and all. It disengaged, the top clicking open, and he cheered weakly. “Whoo, we won!”

“We won!” she cheered back, flying over to him. “Are you okay?”

“I need a nap,” he confessed, slumping against her. “But we won!”

[howrry]

when you need me

a/n: here’s that slowburn i mentioned. there WILL be a part 2 so don’t hound me on it!!!! i promise she’s coming!! enjoy :~)

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: sfw! brief mentions of violence

***

Harry and Y/N were friends for exactly one summer.

Y/N and her family moved in next door to Harry when she was seven, and her parents were delighted to find out that the boy was the same age as their daughter. Sure, at the time of the move, Y/N wasn’t intensely attached to any of her old friends or her old home or her old school, but it was good to have someone to ease her into the new life.

The two clicked immediately. They played every day that summer, either swimming or playing cops and robbers or drawing on sidewalks with chalk. They rode bikes around the neighborhood, and shot basketballs in the hoop that belonged to the teenager down the street, and explored the small forest behind their home for squirrels. He taught her cool card tricks and she taught him how to make perfect chocolate milk without using an overwhelming amount of chocolate sauce.

It was a match made in heaven—up until a few days before the beginning of classes, the last time they would've openly called the other a "friend". It wasn't that when the summer ended, they'd had some big fight or randomly stopped talking to each other; it just... wouldn't have been logical to remain associated once the school year picked up.

They’d been playing in a sandbox at the local park that day. Sure, they were a little old to be playing in a sandbox, but the only people there were a family occupying their usual spots on the swing set. Harry dug around in the sand forming both holes and piles around him while Y/N drew pictures with a stick.

“Look what I found!” he yelled, holding up a little earwig he’d dug out from the sand. He waved it in her face, to her disgust.

“Gross, Haz.” She backed up and almost stumbled back out of the sandbox.

Harry laughed and tossed it back into the sand, where it burrowed itself. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want you shoving bugs in my face?”

“Tommy and James like bugs. They think they’re cool.” His gaze dropped down to the sand where he began to mimic her drawing.

Y/N paused for a second. “Well I’m not Tommy and James, am I?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “So… you don’t want to be friends with them when we go back to school?”

“Not really. I don’t like bugs. I like…” She scanned around the park. “Flowers. And art!”

He laughed. “I guess we’re just different people at school. What are we gonna do?”

She thought it over but didn’t answer. “It’s getting late. Let’s start walking home.”

The two strolled back to their homes, kicking rocks and not saying much. Once they’d reached their front lawns and the street lights flicked on, she broke the silence.

“Just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean we can’t say hi.” Such a simple conclusion. “And we’re pretty helpful to each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I taught you how to shuffle cards.”

“Exactly. Let’s make an agreement.” Y/N had been watching some Law and Order episodes when her parents weren’t around. They mostly bored her (since she was far too young to understand what was going on) but the legal parts of the show enticed her. “Let’s just be there for each other when we need it.”

“Like when we’re in trouble?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She giggled. “Yeah. But just in general too. If one of us needs help, the other will do what they can.”

Harry nodded, staring past her. “Sounds fair. Shake on it?”

The two shook hands and went inside their homes, with no idea what can of worms they’d just opened. ***

The first time the pact is utilized, it's for a jar of dewberry jelly.

The school year had arrived, and Harry and Y/N had almost no contact other than a brief ‘hello’ whenever the two ran into each other during the day. He hung out with Tommy and James who laughed too loud in class and threw dodgeballs really hard in Phys Ed. She made new friends with girls in art class who put stickers on their binders and gushed about fashion. Their agreement went unused for a very long time—two years to be exact, but it’s not like a child is gonna find themselves in deep trouble at every turn.

Y/N's parents were still in bed asleep one Saturday morning and she really wanted some toast. It was quite an easy breakfast to make for a 9-year-old by herself, up until she went to open the jar. Nothing. Not even a budge. It was almost ridiculous how much she was struggling to open the stupid lid. She even tried going on Google for tricks on how to open a jar: tapping the lid with a knife, running it under hot water, using duct tape, etc. No dice.

The idea of waking up one of her parents for help flashed over her mind, but stirring them before noon after a whole week of hard work just seemed evil. She had no other option but to ask Harry for help.

She grabbed the jar and ran next door, using the knocker to alert them of her presence. Gemma opened the door, one headphone in her ear and the other dangling. She scanned Y/N, and before the younger girl could even open her mouth, Gemma turned around.

"Harry, your friend is here!" she called and drifted back in without inviting her in. Fortunately, he appeared in the doorway before Y/N could realize how awkward the situation felt.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" he asked. Instead of answering his question, Y/N just shoved the jar into his hands.

"Please help me! I just wanted some toast but the jelly doesn't want to get eaten!" she whined, crossing her arms in a huff.

He inspected the jar a bit before laughing and popping open the lid with ease. When he handed back the jelly, their fingertips brushed together but he pretended not to notice. "Enjoy your toast."

"Thank you!" And she went off with her opened jar, skipping back to her house.

***

The second time, he needs her.

It's been two or three years since the jar fiasco, and Y/N had started to get an inkling that she wouldn't be seeing much of Harry anymore. If he could go so long without needing her or even acknowledging her in the hall, maybe that was the end of the two of them. The long amount of time without H had somewhat given her closure anyways.

Her mother had already gone to bed and she should have as well, but late-night reruns of Full House were so much more appealing than sleep. Y/N could feel her eyelids get heavier and heavier and she almost drifted off right there on the couch before there was a tap on the living room window looking out into her backyard.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but when her eyes adjusted and she realized it was just Harry, her shoulders relaxed. As quietly as she could, she opened the back door and guided him inside, holding a finger to her lips so that he’d remain silent. Y/N took him to the dining room, an area far from her parents’ room so that they could talk freely.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, eyeing the backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Mrs. Williams is gonna fail me if I don’t get this project done,” he breathed, setting the bag on the table. “It’s a collage piece, and I’ve tried to do it m’self three times now and I ruin it every time. You’re an art genius, can y’help me?”

She smiled at being called an art genius. Sure, Mrs. Williams gave her an A on every piece and she even won an award at the local art competition for her stop-motion movie on a butterfly hatching, but she wasn’t Van Gogh. Still the compliment rang in her ears and the pact itched at the back of her mind. “Of course.”

It was a simple assignment, using magazine clippings to make a collage about anything they wanted, and Harry picked football. He pulled out several magazines, most of which had been cut out of already (presumably for his first three attempts) but there was still enough left to make a coherent project.

As Y/N got to work, he stared at her. “You’re not using enough glue,” he noted as she arranged David Beckham in the center of the cardstock.

“Who’s the art expert, again?” she snapped. The cutout stuck perfectly and he hummed in deflation. “I see why your first three projects didn’t work,” she joked, making a little smile appear on his lips.

As Y/N finished up the cutting, the two of them could no longer contain their yawns and Harry began rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Do you ever think that we shouldn't be this tired, at this age?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence lingering over the dining room.

Harry unceremoniously dropped his chin into his palms, watching her work. "I think we'll be thinking that for the rest of our lives."

***

Y/N hated being late.

First there was the issue of wasting other people’s time, then there was the whole show about feeling awkward when you did arrive. This was all her history teacher’s fault—he was so freakin’ deaf he didn’t hear the warning bell and griped at the students who tried to pack their bags or leave. Once he’d realized what time it was he griped even more about how nobody told him it was time to go (they did; he just didn’t hear).

So, she somehow had to make a five minute journey across her campus in negative two minutes. Easy peasy. Y/N had no other option but to book it, until she unfortunately ran smack into Cara, one of the mean girls in her year.

“Watch where you’re going, spaz!” she whined, even though Y/N was the one who crashed onto the floor. Two other girls stood behind her, one of whom was named Lacey and the other was just some bitch who copied Cara to get ahead.

At the beginning of eighth grade, the secretary at the front desk of the school chose a few students each class period to help her with filing and giving notes to teachers and so on. Cara was one of the students chosen which virtually gave her the free pass to wander around whenever she wanted. Her friends, not so much, but if Cara told you to do something, you did it, even if it meant skipping class.

Y/N scrambled back up without apologizing, adjusting her bag and planning on walking away and ignoring her. Unfortunately, Cara stopped her by stiff arming her. “What’s the rush?” she hissed, a malicious smile curling up. Her eyes fell down to the ground. “Nice shoes. Do they come in women’s sizes?”

Okay, she was just trying to psych Y/N out. They were plain black Doc Martens, for crying out loud—it’s not like she was in steel toed work boots. “Are you done?” Y/N asked, unamused.

The grin on Cara’s face dropped and was replaced by a grimace fit for a cartoon villain. “Now listen—” she started, ready to chew the other girl out, but was interrupted by someone behind Y/N.

“Fuck off, Cara, or I’m telling the headmistress that your clown posse is skipping class thanks to you.” It was Harry, of all people. (Why he wasn’t in class either was a whole new can of worms, but Y/N chose to be grateful.)

She huffed out of her nose, realizing she was backed into a corner. Cara shoved past Y/N and slammed her shoulder into her, her goon squad following behind hot on her coattails.

Y/N breathed out a very appreciative thank you to Harry, and when he nodded at her, she went back on her way to her class, now with negative 4 minutes.

***

Y/N’s first mixer party was a night to remember, to say the least.

It took ages to convince her parents to let her go, but in her defense, both her mom and her dad were going to parties at 15. Plus, that was in the age of serial killers and before cell phones, so she definitely had the upper hand in that argument. Besides, it’s one party, what’s the worst that could happen?

Someone in her geometry class had invited her, and the same day she went to get a new flowy top from H&M to wear there. One of her art friends, Jenna, had already gotten her license and drove the two of them to the party where things were already in full swing once she’d entered.

It was a very mild kick back. It was a lower attendance than she’d anticipated, but the main point of reference she had were those crappy teen movies. The only thing people had to drink were those Smirnoff Ices that have almost no alcohol and a ton of sugar in them, which totally repulsed Y/N. Guess it’d be a sober evening for her.

After a few hours of chatting with people (that she would just talk to in school anyways) and listening to music, Y/N was about ready to call it a night. She excused herself from the host’s living room in search of Jenna when she felt someone tug at her arm.

It was Tyler, one of the centers on the school basketball team. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?”

She was totally caught off guard. Tyler was reallygood looking and didn’t usually spend his time around the art students. “Oh, um, hey. I was actually about to—” she started, eyes drifting to where he was holding her elbow still.

“Leave?” he finished, flashing a pearly white smile. “No way, it’s so early! Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

A pit formed in Y/N’s stomach. What could Tyler want with her? Her eyes narrowed, but she figured she’d probably regret leaving more than finding out what he wanted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“In private, I meant.” He gestured towards the back porch, which eased her mind. If he was just trying to get handsy with her, he’d take her to a bedroom—not outside by the pools where everyone could see.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, letting him guide her outside into the yard.

The backyard was large and well taken care of. The pool had lights that changed colors, and all of the furniture matched the mahogany color of the deck, fence, and pool shed. A black grill looked like it had never been touched and the grass was a beautiful shade of bottle green.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, breaking the ice and shoving his tanned hands into his pockets.

“Kind of. Not many of my friends are big partiers so this scene is pretty new for me,” she admitted, eyes dropping down to her shoes.

“That’s why I was surprised when I heard you were coming.” His hand came out from his pocket and lifted her chin up so that they were making eye contact. “I figured it was my only chance to tell you how pretty I think you are.”

Y/N was, how you say, shook. Her eyes widened and she squeaked out a “really?” before being alerted by a noise coming from the pool shed just a few feet away. “Did someone just laugh?” she asked, head snapping over to the shed in question.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tyler claimed, trying to get her attention away from the shed to no avail.

“No, I swear I heard a laugh,” Y/N absentmindedly insisted, leaving Tyler to go yank open the doors of the shed.

What happened next was in light speed. The doors flew open to reveal Cara and Lacey, the former holding a 5-gallon bucket and the latter a cell phone as if she was filming. Before Y/N could even get a dazed ‘what?’ out, Cara had dumped the contents of the bucket onto Y/N. Ice water.

She let out a shriek at this, frozen in every sense of the term. When she could feel her feet beneath her again, she spun around to see Tyler laughing his ass off along with the girls.

“I almost couldn’t do it!” he yelled, clutching his stomach.

“Thanks, Ty,” Cara purred, going to loop an arm through his. “You earned that $20 fair and square.”

Y/N didn’t stick around for any longer. She didn’t want to go back in the house in the state she was in, and everyone had probably seen what happened anyways. Rather than face even more humiliation, she did the only thing that came to mind: run.

Y/N could text Jenna later. She ran and ran and ran until she was home, but rather than go inside and cry her eyes out in bed, she found herself at the base of the oak tree next to Harry’s window.

She frantically shimmied up the tree, pausing only to wipe tears out of her eyes. Her knuckles collided with his window and for a moment she wonders if it was too loud. Then the thought of Harry not hearing the knock at all flashed through her mind, and she was left wishing she'd hit it even harder.

The room brightened just a little bit, as if he'd turned on a lamp. She perked up at this, leaning forward but keeping her balance in the tree. He pulled aside the dark curtains and opened the window carefully.

"Y/N?" he asked groggily. "What are y'doing? Why are you soaking wet? Y'scared me half to death." She opened her mouth to explain but her eyes just welled up and she felt her face turn pink. "Wait, are you crying? Get inside." He lifted the window even higher so that she could tumble in gracelessly. Without asking any more questions, he pulled her into a big hug, where she sobbed quietly into the crook of his neck. It took a moment to get the sad out of her, but once she was ready to let go, his hug lingered for a half-second too long.

So there she sat, on his bedroom floor, covered in cold water and trying not to shed any more tears then she already had. Harry handed her a fluffy towel and she wiped her face off before starting to babble. "I'm sorry it's late, and you were probably sleeping, but it's been a really - hic - long and rough night and I just needed someone. I know I needed you last and it's not my turn but I didn't know who else to go to—"

"Wait wait wait, what did you say? Your turn?" he asked, holding a hand up and completely halting her babbling.

She nodded, wiping at the mascara running under her eyes. "I mean... yeah. The past eight years we've switched off who gets the next favor. You helped me last time when Cara and those other girls were picking on me, and now here I am again."

His eyebrows were knitted together in sheer confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "It's never been on a turn system. Whenever you come to me in a time of need, or vice versa, we help each other." Y/N nodded, feeling dumb. "Besides, you didn't cometo me that time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Even if we were doing turns—which we're not—it's still technically yours anyways."

He was trying to make her laugh, and it worked. Her wobbly and blotchy face broke into a cute smile without her even trying, and Harry always found an underrated beauty in a laugh after a good cry.

"Now, do yeh wanna talk about tonight?" he pressed gently, sitting on his bed and offering her a spot next to him. It was hard explaining what happened without crying again, but once his hand started rubbing up and down her back, it was easy to relax and tell her story.

He was disgusted with what he’d heard, of course. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “You don’t deserve those kinds of people in your life, not now and not ever.”

She smiled and it was totally contagious. “Thanks H.”

“Do y’want me to get you some of Gem’s clothes?” he offered. “Yeh look like a sad puppy, shiverin’ and all.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go home. I can tell my parents I fell in the pool. Thank you for listening, and everything else. You’re a great friend.”

She returned the towel and left the same way she came in, Harry making sure she safely got to the ground before she ducked into her home. Something felt strange for a few minutes afterwards and Harry couldn’t put a finger on it until he was tucked into bed and drifting out.

That was the first time she’d called him his friend in eight years.

***

Fuck, my laundry!

Three universal words that will have anyone throwing themselves out of their bed late at night to go dig through a washing machine and pray it hasn't been so long that the clothes need to be rewashed.

Y/N was one of these people, on a night where she should probably be out with friends. It was Saturday night, but that meant tomorrow was Sunday and the day after that was Monday and that meant her stupid Calculus homework would be due. Who said that senior year would be a breeze? She wanted to kick their ass.

Fortunately, the clothes were fine, and on the way back to her room she was imagining how she was going to backflip into her bed and knock the hell out for nine hours. Just before she went upstairs, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye fluttering outside the front door.

Her blood ran cold. Her parents were long asleep at this hour; if this was some intruder, she wouldn't be able to make it over to their room and have them awake quickly enough. Her mind scrambled over dozens of plans and ideas (all of which ended with the intruder totally catching her) before something really surprised her.

A knock at the front door.

Umm... people planning on breaking into your house don't knock. Well, they do, but only at two in the afternoon when they're checking if someone's home, not when it's well after midnight. She tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass to see none other than Harry.

She swung the door open instantly. "Harry? What are you do—?" She stopped when her eyes adjusted and finally was able to see that he was notin good shape.

Harry's hair was mussed up, lacking its usual composure. He wasn’t able to stand up straight without leaning on the column, like he was drunk as hell. One of his eyes had a purple smudge under it and his nose trickled a tiny amount of blood. His arms were covered in scratches and bruises, but the most pressing issue was what seemed to be a paper towel soaked in blood he was holding against the side of his torso.

"Oh my God!" she whisper-yelled, guiding him inside and taking him upstairs to her bathroom. She sat him down on the edge of her tub and dug through her cabinets for a first aid kit.

Y/N didn't ask any questions. She washed her hands, found a clean rag, wet it with warm water, and rubbed a tiny bit of soap on it. Harry was still sitting with the paper towel, which she tossed in the trash can immediately.

"Can you... uh..." Y/N trailed off, gesturing weakly towards his black t-shirt. He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, and slowly reached up to the back of the neck on his shirt to yank it off his body. He hissed when he was able to lower his arms, and she got straight to work cleaning up his wounds despite his whines.

She'd never been this close to his skin before. That was kind of a weird sentence when she thought about it, but it was true. It was tanned and firm, and a few inches above the cut on his side were the ripples of the serratus muscles. Nice.

Once the cut was cleaned up, it was clear to see that it wasn't bleeding nor had it been very deep in the first place. To be safe, Y/N used an alcohol pad to sanitize the wound once more (which Harry was not a fan of, since he didn't see her pull out the packet nor have time to brace himself) and bandaged it up with a Band-Aid bigger than the palm of her hand.

Harry watched her intently while she tended to him. He noticed how when she focused really hard she always pursed her lips, just like she did when she did his art project. Everything she did to him was delicate, as if getting his ass beaten was enough excitement for one night. Even just her stepping back to admire her handiwork and cocking her head was so... gentle.

"Hmm... you're pretty," he goofily mumbled, making her head snap up. As soon as it was out in the room, he shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "God, sorry about tha'. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Wow, the first boy who compliments me immediately takes it back and blames it on being drunk. Just my luck, right?" she joked dryly, cleaning the bloody rag and rewetting it with fresh warm water.

He stared at her. "Wait, are yeh serious? The first?"

Y/N paused, staring down at her hands. "I mean... does my dad count?"

Harry laughed at this but only for a second before wincing from the pain. He figured she wasn't counting that skeez who'd tricked her back when she was 15. "Then I take back taking it back. You're beautiful and caring, and I really appreciate you--ah, fuck-- doing this for me."

She'd started dabbing at the dried blood from his still-sensitive nose. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." Y/N further inspected his nose, gingerly feeling it and holding the rag below it to prevent any further bleeding. "Doesn't feel like it's broken. Think it's just a little sore. In a day or so you'll be right as rain." Her focus moved up to his black eye, and Harry didn't breathe while she let her thumb ghost over the thin skin. "This doesn't look that deep, either. I'll get something to cool it down, and if it still looks bad, I'll give you some makeup to cover it. Be right back."

She left him alone in the washroom but returned quickly with two little boxes of apple juice. "Why'd y'get two?" he asked, taking them from her.

"So you can drink one. You looked parched." She went back to cleaning the remaining blood from the rag and hanging it to dry on the towel rack. Once the bathroom had been reorganized and Harry had finished his juice box, she sat on the lid of the toilet. "So... if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but... can I ask what happened?" She waved a hand around his entire body.

He snorted. "Honestly, whenever I think about it, I cringe a little. It's so cliché."

"How so?"

Harry inhaled through his bruising nose sharply. "So m'at this party with my mates, right? I didn't know a lot of people there, so I was just trying to mind my business and have a pint or four. I'm sitting in the corner of this house near the front door and I see this girl trying to leave. She's totally wasted, and it kind of looked like she was calling an Uber. I tried t'keep an eye on her 'cause, y'know, world's a dangerous place. Just as she's about to leave, some guy comes up to her. Looks real mad. Demands that she go home with him, which she protests, says her ride is there. They kind of argue while she's going out the door, so I got up to follow 'em." Harry paused to roll his neck side to side, one pop one each side making the only sound in the bathroom. "Out on the porch, he's practically got her in a bear hug. I go into panic mode and start yelling at him.

"I'm yelling at him 'get off her' and 'what's your fuckin' problem' and stuff till I catch his attention. He shoved me, I shoved him back, then it's kind of a blur. Guess he got a couple in on my face before one of his buddies joined in on kicking my arse. I got knocked down and I landed on somethin’ rough which is what cut me up so bad." He gestured towards the bandage on his torso.

"Jeez, Harry," she breathed out, eyes like saucers.

"I know. The girl managed to make it out to her ride while all this was going on. Some other blokes pulled the fighters off me and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed some paper towels from a gas station t’stop the blood and came straight here.” Once he’d finished explaining, his gaze dropped down before adding a soft, “Didn’t know where else t’go.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad that girl is as well. The universe will reward you for this for sure.”

He laughed at her ominous remark. “Little weird, but it’s not like I expected normalcy from the art expert.”

Y/N guided Harry back downstairs after giving him a big shirt to change into. “I’ll wash this and give it back as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stopped at the front door. Harry looked down at his little Florence Nightingale, decided to do the one thing he’s wanted to do for almost ten years now, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

For a second, she was pliable and willing, and he thought she was about to deepen it, but instead she pulled him off. “I need…” she started, dazed. “I need you to forget that just happened.” Then she opened the door, pushed him outside, and closed it in his face.

[chiseler]

“You think I’m the only one in this town who doesn’t like people?”

Following the JFK assassination, and especially after Charles Whitman climbed the Texas Tower in August of 1966, shooting and killing 14 strangers over the course of a lazy afternoon, lone mad snipers became an easy thriller standby. Targets, The Day of the Jackal, Two Minute Warning and dozens of other films since the late ‘60s have focused on a man, a rifle, and a perch. While snipers weren’t unknown to Hollywood prior to 1963 (Suddenly, Murder by Contract—even The Manchurian Candidate was in production before the assassination), they focused almost exclusively on gunmen with a purpose, paid assassins who were after a single, specific target, a politician or a mob hit. 1952’s The Sniper was not only one of the earliest films centered around an urban sniper, but remained an exception, really until the moment Whitman began pulling the trigger.

While on the surface The Sniper is a standard, straightforward police procedural about the hunt for a killer, what made it different was that the killer in question was a presumably unbalanced presumed vet who was killing random brunettes around San Francisco with a high-powered Army-issue carbine rifle. What also made the film different for the era was its focus on the psychology (some boilerplate Freudian hoo-hah) driving the killing spree. But beyond even all that, deep down it’s a profoundly strange picture disguised, for all its groundbreaking elements, as any other B thriller.

But let me back up here a second and come at this from a different angle.

In 1945, like so many intellectuals and Hollywood types (and when was the last time those two appeared in the same sentence?), director Edward Dmytryk began his little flirtation with the Communist Party. A few years later, like so many others, he found himself dragged in front of HUAC where he was  asked to name names. When he refused, he was thrown in stir along with the rest of the Hollywood Ten on charges of contempt of Congress.

After a few months in prison, though, Dmytryk had a change of heart and called his lawyer. In 1951 he was released from prison, appeared before HUAC again, but this time in a far more cooperative mood, providing interrogators not only with 26 names, but also detailing how he’d been pressured to slip subliminal Commie messages into pictures like Crossfire. After this, having lost his martyrdom and no longer beloved of Hollywood’s Communist community, Dmytryk found himself  just as effectively blacklisted as he had been before. So he moved to England and teamed up with producer Stanley Kramer, who would put him back to work for the next several years.  

This is not the place to discuss Dmytryk’s politics, his justification or damnation, to pass self-righteous judgments long after the fact. But it is interesting to consider the first film made by a man fresh out of prison would be a message film about a rogue gunman picking off Californian brunettes, and one has to wonder if his time behind bars in any way influenced the film’s opening crawl.

Written by a powerhouse trio at the time (script by Harry Brown from a story by Edna and Edward Anhalt), The Sniper opens by informing us that present-day laws and law enforcement were useless when it came to dealing with sex crimes, and that the story we were about to see concerned a man “whose enemy was womankind.”  

In the film’s first few seconds we meet the man in question, Eddie Miller, and it’s clear he’s teetering on the edge of something bad. Arthur Franz hadn’t yet established himself as a genre stalwart, playing rational, low-key, friendly sorts in the likes of Invaders from Mars and Monster on the Campus, and here turns in a remarkable performance as a believable psychopath. He never goes over the top and bug-eyed, instead playing Eddie as a tightly wound but always self controlled young man who may get occasionally twitchy and sweaty but always remains nearly emotionless.    

A former mental patient who is well aware that things are going wrong in his head again, Eddie does what he can to get himself committed, but no one’s cooperating. In fact seen through Eddie’s eyes, the entire world is simply one slap, one humiliation after another. To some of us anyway, he’s an extremely sympathetic character.  

Marie Windsor

Although later in the film the police come to the conclusion that he must be an ex-soldier, we are never given any proof of this apart from his weapon of choice. It doesn’t matter—now he drives a delivery truck for a laundry service. One of the regular customers along his route  is attractive young  nightclub pianist Jean Darr (Marie Windsor), who appears to be one of the few people, and certainly the only woman, who’s nice to him. So when what he believes to be a seduction turns out to be, well, not only not a seduction but  ends with Jean treating him like any other errand boy, he snaps. It’s the only scene in the film in which his face reveals any emotion at all apart from confusion or cold boredom. That night he waits on a rooftop across from the bar where she works and shoots her as she heads home.

Enter the police, which adds another layer onto the external story behind the film. As Det. Kafka (if there is any significance to that name it’s never made clear), Adolphe Menjou, is also playing against future type as a gruff, less than suave, and mostly hapless cop. A few years prior to the film, Menjou was known as one of the fiercest defenders of HUAC in the business, which of course made his pairing with Dmytryk here a potentially disastrous one. By all accounts, however, it was a perfectly amicable working relationship, so much so that Dmytryk would use him again in a few of his subsequent films . But that’s irrelevant, too.

As more seemingly random dark haired young women are being picked off around the city (which in spite of all the location shooting is never identified as San Francisco), the police bring in criminal psychologist Dr. Kent (Richard Kiley) to work out a profile. With precious little evidence, the doctor jumps to the remarkable conclusion that these are in fact sexually motivated shootings. And that leads to the first head-scratching scene of the film.

Taking Dr. Kent’s very broad conclusion at face value, the cops round up every pervert in town for a line-up. Now, given that there have been no witnesses who saw the shooter, a line-up is pointless. Perhaps the cops realize this, which explains why the chief interrogator (sitting at a table in front of an auditorium full of officers) runs the line-up like a routine from an old Bob Hope special, introducing and dismissing the peeping toms, gropers, and rapists with well-prepared one-liners.  To a schlub who writes obscene mash notes to strangers he begins, “So, Bob, they say the pen is mightier than the sword...”

It’s an oddball comic scene completely out of step with the rest of the film, and a scene that makes no sense within the context of a serious police drama. It’s darkly  funny, yes (especially considering that we’re dealing with convicted sex offenders as the butt of bad jokes), and had the rest of the film been handled in this tone, well, it would have been a very different picture. As it stands it’s merely jarring and leaves viewers wondering what the hell it’s doing there. Personally I can’t recall another cutaway even remotely close to this in  any other Dmytryk picture. Logically enough, though, the scene ends with dr. Kent muttering “this is pointless” before leaving the room.

He then goes on to deliver the film’s heavy handed message to the mayor, the press, and the other investigators—namely (and here’s where I wonder if Dmytryk’s prison experience is being reflected)  that anyone arrested for a sex crime of any kind should be locked in a psych ward until they’re cured of their personal glitch. And if they aren’t cured, they should be left there locked away for good.    

That leads to another delightfully baffling line of dialogue as Kafka orders a teenager with a broken antique rifle be sent to a nearby bughouse. “I don’t wanna be looking for this kid again in a couple years,” Kafka explains, “when he’s got a real gun...or maybe an axe.”  

(An axe?)

In spite of a few weirdnesses along the way The Sniper still played like most any boilerplate thriller while at the same time being years ahead of the game both in terms of subject and solution. Extrapolating a bit on Dr. Kent’s recommendation, the kid being sent to the psych ward had not been convicted of a sex crime—he was just acting weird. Likewise, following the latest school shooting the do gooders are once again calling for the  psychological incarceration of anyone who thinks differently, acts differently, isn’t like everyone else, as they represent a very tangible future threat. But the answer to this hamfisted solution can also be found in the very same scene. Before being sent to the local Bin, the above-mentioned teen with the broken gun tells Kafka, “You think I’m the only one in town who doesn’t like people? There’s millions of ‘em!” And we’ve been proving him right since 1966. So maybe it’s time we stop talking about locking these people up pre-emptively, and finally come around to accepting the simple fact that mass shootings might well be nothing more than  a rational response to an insane world. by Jim Knipfel

[caitsbooks]

6 Summer Adult Romances!

Click here to view the full post on my blog, or read more to find out more about these books!

Despite still feeling kinda new to the romance genre, I wanted to compile a list of some of my favorite romance novel’s I’ve read, that I think are perfect for summer.

Whether you’ll be reading on the beach or nice and comfortable in air conditioning, these books will be the perfect addition to your summer!!

Read more for descriptions of each book, plus check out my blog to see 6 YA Romances that are perfect for summer!

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THE HATING GAME BY SALLY THORNE

Page Count: 387 pages Publisher: William Morrow Release Date: August 9th, 2016 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Lucy Hutton has always been certain that the nice girl can get the corner office. She’s charming and accommodating and prides herself on being loved by everyone at Bexley & Gamin. Everyone except for coldly efficient, impeccably attired, physically intimidating Joshua Templeman. And the feeling is mutual. Trapped in a shared office together 40 (OK, 50 or 60) hours a week, they’ve become entrenched in an addictive, ridiculous never-ending game of one-upmanship. There’s the Staring Game. The Mirror Game. The HR Game. Lucy can’t let Joshua beat her at anything—especially when a huge new promotion goes up for the taking. If Lucy wins this game, she’ll be Joshua’s boss. If she loses, she’ll resign. So why is she suddenly having steamy dreams about Joshua, and dressing for work like she’s got a hot date? After a perfectly innocent elevator ride ends with an earth-shattering kiss, Lucy starts to wonder whether she’s got Joshua Templeman all wrong. Maybe Lucy Hutton doesn’t hate Joshua Templeman. And maybe, he doesn’t hate her either. Or maybe this is just another game.”

This book is what finally pushed me into reading adult romances. Yeah, I had read a couple before this one, but this is the book that made me fall in love with the genre. I know it’s been talked about by most everyone, but if you haven’t read it yet, this summer is the perfect time (especially with the movie in the works)!

THE KISS QUOTIENT (THE KISS QUOTIENT #1) BY HELEN HOANG

Page Count: 333 pages Publisher: Berkley Release Date: June 5th, 2018 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Stella Lane thinks math is the only thing that unites the universe. She comes up with algorithms to predict customer purchases — a job that has given her more money than she knows what to do with, and way less experience in the dating department than the average thirty-year-old. It doesn’t help that Stella has Asperger’s and French kissing reminds her of a shark getting its teeth cleaned by pilot fish. Her conclusion: she needs lots of practice — with a professional. Which is why she hires escort Michael Phan. The Vietnamese and Swedish stunner can’t afford to turn down Stella’s offer, and agrees to help her check off all the boxes on her lesson plan — from foreplay to more-than-missionary position… Before long, Stella not only learns to appreciate his kisses, but to crave all the other things he’s making her feel. Soon, their no-nonsense partnership starts making a strange kind of sense. And the pattern that emerges will convince Stella that love is the best kind of logic… ”

Firstly, if you aren’t a fan of series, don’t worry. This is just a series of companion novels, so you don’t have to commit to them. But trust me when I say, after reading this, you will want to. I just love this book so much. These characters are just absolutely amazing and you will not regret picking this up!

JOSH AND HAZEL’S GUIDE TO NOT DATING BY CHRISTINA LAUREN

Page Count: 309 pages Publisher: Gallery Books Release Date: September 4th, 2018 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Hazel Camille Bradford knows she’s a lot to take—and frankly, most men aren’t up to the challenge. If her army of pets and thrill for the absurd don’t send them running, her lack of filter means she’ll say exactly the wrong thing in a delicate moment. Their loss. She’s a good soul in search of honest fun. Josh Im has known Hazel since college, where her zany playfulness proved completely incompatible with his mellow restraint. From the first night they met—when she gracelessly threw up on his shoes—to when she sent him an unintelligible email while in a post-surgical haze, Josh has always thought of Hazel more as a spectacle than a peer. But now, ten years later, after a cheating girlfriend has turned his life upside down, going out with Hazel is a breath of fresh air. Not that Josh and Hazel date. At least, not each other. Because setting each other up on progressively terrible double blind dates means there’s nothing between them…right?”

I have two Christina Lauren books on this list because I am addicted to their books. However, this one is by far my favorite of theirs. It’s a friends-to-lovers done so well, you won’t be able to put it down. I know I wasn’t able to.

RED, WHITE, AND ROYAL BLUE BY CASEY MCQUISTON

Page Count: 423 pages Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin Release Date: May 14th, 2019 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

The plan for damage control: staging a fake friendship between the First Son and the Prince. Alex is busy enough handling his mother’s bloodthirsty opponents and his own political ambitions without an uptight royal slowing him down. But beneath Henry’s Prince Charming veneer, there’s a soft-hearted eccentric with a dry sense of humor and more than one ghost haunting him.

As President Claremont kicks off her reelection bid, Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret relationship with Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations. And Henry throws everything into question for Alex, an impulsive, charming guy who thought he knew everything: What is worth the sacrifice? How do you do all the good you can do? And, most importantly, how will history remember you?”

You all knew I would have to put this book on here. It’s my obsession. The love of my life. I know this book is getting a lot of hype right now, but let me tell you, it deserves all of it. This book is really something special. Not only is it an adorable romance with enemies-to-lovers and plenty of wit, but it’s also a powerful read that you don’t want to miss.

THE UNHONEYMOONERS BY CHRISTINA LAUREN

Page Count: 400 Publisher: May 14th, 2019 Release Date: Gallery Books Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Olive is always unlucky: in her career, in love, in…well, everything. Her identical twin sister Ami, on the other hand, is probably the luckiest person in the world. Her meet-cute with her fiancé is something out of a romantic comedy (gag) and she’s managed to finance her entire wedding by winning a series of Internet contests (double gag). Worst of all, she’s forcing Olive to spend the day with her sworn enemy, Ethan, who just happens to be the best man. Olive braces herself to get through 24 hours of wedding hell before she can return to her comfortable, unlucky life. But when the entire wedding party gets food poisoning from eating bad shellfish, the only people who aren’t affected are Olive and Ethan. And now there’s an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii up for grabs. Putting their mutual hatred aside for the sake of a free vacation, Olive and Ethan head for paradise, determined to avoid each other at all costs. But when Olive runs into her future boss, the little white lie she tells him is suddenly at risk to become a whole lot bigger. She and Ethan now have to pretend to be loving newlyweds, and her luck seems worse than ever. But the weird thing is that she doesn’t mind playing pretend. In fact, she feels kind of… lucky.”

While Josh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating may be my favorite Christina Lauren book, this one is pretty close. Enemies-to-lovers, fake datings, and basically every other classic trope everyone loves found their way into this extremely fun read.

WELL MET BY JEN DELUCA

Page Count: 336 Publisher: Berkley Release Date: September 3rd, 2019 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Review Teaser ]

“Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him? The faire is Simon’s family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn’t have time for Emily’s lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she’s in her revealing wench’s costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they’re portraying? This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can’t seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon, or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.”

Okay, I know this one won’t be published until summer is over, but I need to mention it. It’s absolutely amazing! Seriously, it’s completely worth the wait. The relationship is so perfect, the characters are all amazing, and it takes place at a Ren Faire!!! What more could you ask for?

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What is your favorite summer romance? I really need some good recommendations!!

[lifeofgroffsauce]

Subject: Life Update (AKA Jon Spills His Soul)

June 25th, 2018. *Email contains TWs*

Today was the Mondayest of all Mondays. I got sunburned yesterday at Pride (super fun by the way, always recommend. Pride, not the scorched skin.) Really wasn't planning on going anywhere today. Our flight got in at 2 this morning, which was pretty rough. Probably should’ve planned that spontaneous trip to Cali better, but then it wouldn’t have been spontaneous now would it. Uh, I slept in until 8, if you could, on any level, call that sleeping in. Something I overheard yesterday kind of stuck with me in a negative way. I ran into (okay, more like eavesdropped onto) a group of gay men conversing about bisexual men. They were super insistent that there’s no satisfying a bisexual man because they always crave women. I know you know where this is going so yeah, bare with me. It’s so stupid; it even sounds just idiotic, because how can you shame an entire sexuality for the wrongs of a few people. I know it’s not logical. I know, I know, I know. It triggered this... I’m not even sure what to call it. Insecurity maybe? Naturally, the smallest of shit just exacerbated it. I got into a disagreement with my boyfriend over lube. Aloe as lube (which has a consistency akin to vaginal fluids (I’m sorry, even more sorry for brackets in brackets) so that just, BAD ). Specifically, him using it when he topped (dominated, if you’re not familiar) me. He didn’t want to and it fucking spiraled into this even bigger thing where my brain did that awesome cute thing of not shutting the fuck up. I didn’t even want him to touch me. How is that possible? How does it make sense? It’s so frustrating because I know it doesn’t. He started getting moody (I think) and for some reason that made me want to fuck him but- let’s put it this way: I’m finally seeing those side effects of Lexapro. As if I don’t already feel comfortable with my body, the one aspect I’ve never complained about doesn’t work. To top all of it off, I received an email from my agent that says filming for one of my projects has been moved up to August. The producers were talking about pushing this out until November, now it’s August? That’s less than six weeks away. I’m so fucking worried. I’m unfathomably worried that this is too soon to leave my boyfriend. I already know I’m going to miss so much: he’s having another baby in a few months (I can already imagine the new-baby-bonding with his not-even-ex wife he’s going to do), his third to accompany his two other small sons, one of which is still basically a newborn too. I’m going to miss out on these big stepping stones (there’s a better phrase out there, I’m adamant about it but don’t care enough to seek it; jk we both know I’ll get to the end of this and be anxious and not send this email if I don’t find it). WAIT, milestones! That’s the word. Including my commentary because I know how much you enjoy my psyche’s crisis. Um, yeah. I’m going to miss everything; I’ll be continents away in an entirely different time zone, filming a depressing fucking tv show, all alone; with the exception of my ex-boyfriend (who has been weirdly appropriate with me. Are you tired of all my notes in brackets yet?) Everything in my head is screaming it’s a bad idea: leaving. I can’t stay though; like, I can’t back out of this project. Papers have already been signed, the cast is locked in, and I’ve already removed myself from two other projects. It won’t look good on my theatre sheet/‘filmography’ to have that little *incomplete* red mark. To add (lol didn’t I already say thing or something? Fuck it, let’s keep rolling): Jesus Christ, my niece Camden has been so salty lately. She’s feeling so left out since I moved, but it’s not like I’m ten minutes away anymore and I can just easily pick her up. That little girl is my heart and soul; I’d never intentionally hurt her yet, here she is. Declining to spend the night or even hang out because she doesn’t get “all of me”. You have a daughter; what would you do with that one? Right, can’t make it personal. Sorry. Which, I think it super ironic when you think about how your patients (clients?) spill their motherfucking guts out on the ugly commercial carpet of your office (sorry if you chose it, so sorry!) and you’re not supposed to share much in return. My pop texted me to see if I was still coming to my parents’ wedding anniversary party, with my boyfriend. This will be the first time he’s meeting my dad, and the first time any significant other of mine will be meeting the rest of my PA family/friends. I don’t worry about Lin at all- he’s fucking amazing with people, and so, so charming. Jesus, does he have a way with words. Before this turns into a weird, unfulfilling love letter to him, let’s refocus. I don’t want to think about the way my father is going to look at me, at us, as a couple, together. Me, with another man. I’m still reeling over the last glance that seemed to scream, “ew, my son’s gay.” You know how people say things like, “Your parents love you unconditionally; they would never change a thing about you”? That’s definitely not true in my case, and I can feel it every time we’re alone. When we’re joking or talking, it’s cool, but then... then, there’s a silence that sets my teeth on edge and he acknowledges we’re not the same. Not that we were ever supposed to be but, I don’t even think I’m explaining this right, now. When I was a teenager (I know I’ve told you about this), a story came out on the local news about two homosexual men being wrongly jailed for a crime they didn’t commit. While awaiting trial, they were raped and beaten by a gaggle of bigger prison guys. Apparently it was so brutal they required stitching, to which the inmates tore out and repeated the first occurrence. Awesome, right. It’s forever burned in my mind what he said, because I know he wasn’t meaning to be cruel or callous but the words just came out. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone but if anyone would like it, God knows it would be those sissies. That’s what they all want anyway.” Followed by, “Sodomy is sodomy; they shouldn’t complain.” Every time I’m at my parents house, my brother Dave is amazing at swooping in to provide this phenomenal (majorly liberal) support system. He really pushes to educate my parents and not leave an older generation in the dark. I have to admit, he’s worked wonders with them, on so many different topics. That one though. I just think he looks at me and wishes so badly I was hetero. He’d sell his soul just to watch me marry Lea, I’m sure. Wow, my “just” count is insane but, no editing. Rolling with it; thoughts as they come. TLDR; I just feel like I’m disappointing everyone, or if I haven’t already, I’m going to. I fucking shouldn’t, I know that I’m thirty-three and still waiting for my parents approval is so goddamn old. It doesn’t mean anything though. Regardless, I’m waiting for the ball to drop, and I’m not sure the meds are helping. I haven’t been hyperventilating or had an actual attack but I still feel the anxiety. It feels like a harsh hand around my throat that makes it hard to breathe but I always somehow manage to catch my breath; that must be the drugs. I’m shocked I haven’t once mentioned how huge and disproportionate my thighs looked in every pair of baggy sweatpants and basketball shorts I tried on today. There’s one. It’s so exhausting to even try to talk about, or convey through here. You know the drill: thought about it for hours, picked at my food, maaaay have googled ‘things to eat for slim thighs’. Definitely did. At this point in life... I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Between typing out sentences of this email, I stopped to try to get hard (you’re getting the explicit, uncut version, sorry; also hi, wishful thinking) but all porn does is annoy me. I feel so wound up, anxious, and almost angry. Low-key (this is new generation talk for like, “kinda”, I think) want to just... cry. In conclusion: Jonathan feels all the things and I haven’t even told you half of it... believe it or not. I have a headache and this couch is hurting my neck. This is all you’re getting. Relief, right? You’re like, “Thank fucking god, Jon, you already sent me a Harry Potter novel. Let me respond then you may continue rattling on about your not-even-bad life you’re complaining about.” It really ISN’T bad, for the record. It’s not, at all. I’m just in my feelings and at the peak of frustration. Okay, done ranting. I think I feel better? I might not even send this. Let’s play russian roulette with the enter key. If you get this, thumbs up. If you don’t... I guess I won’t expect a reply. Thank you, always, for dealing with me. I’m sorry these thoughts couldn’t wait... three days. Face palm.

[Sent]

[aion-rsa]

The Weird History of Nightmare on Elm Street Comics

https://ift.tt/2BNWUsq

Watch Freddy Krueger kill his way through several different companies in our weird history of Nightmare on Elm Street comics.

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As a concept, the A Nightmare on Elm Street franchise is something I both love and hate at the same time. On one hand, it’s a killer idea with a charismatic villain, awesome set pieces, dark humor, and over-the-top violence. On the other hand, it’s a completely broken idea. The fact that it’s a franchise makes it completely hollow. As great a villain as Freddy can be – and it says a lot that a child murderer was somehow celebrated as an '80s icon – he inherently breaks the story.

Freddy Krueger has what I’d call, for the lack of a better term, “bullshit invulnerability.” See, every Nightmare on Elm Street movie is based on the idea of him being this unstoppable boogeyman that our cast has to survive. The heroes of each story have to struggle to stop him in some way and destroy him. But you can’t destroy him because then how can you do a sequel? So it’s pointless. They’ll come up with some crazy way to stop him, do it, then the final scene will say, “Whoops, that didn’t work, I guess! See you next year!”

Freddy is so ill-defined and relentless that even the first movie is kind of ruined by the final minutes. When I decided to read through every Elm Street comic book, I knew it had that nagging, jagged puzzle piece in the way of giving us actual decent storytelling. But there are still a lot of interesting ideas thrown around in all the various publishers where Freddy had called home.

Much like his rival Jason Voorhees (who has his own weird history on the printed page, which we explored here), Freddy was sort of late to the party when it came to comics. By the time Marvel got the chance to make Nightmare on Elm Street comics in 1989, they were in the middle of releasing A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child. So Freddymania was in full swing.

Freddy Krueger’s A Nightmare on Elm Street lasted only two issues, released as black and white, magazine-sized comics. The great Steve Gerber (co-creator of Howard the Duck, among others) wrote it while Rich Buckler and Tony DeZuniga took care of the art. It’s a good-looking book and darker than you’d usually find in late-80s Marvel. Too dark, actually. The book was selling really well, but there were enough complaints from angry parents to shut it down, robbing us of a Peter David-penned Freddy story.

Rather than focus on a group of teenagers, it focuses mainly on two people. Allison is a girl who, like many children, is being haunted by Freddy every time she sleeps. The story begins with her body being found in critical condition with her parents being blamed for the crime. She’s still able to put up enough of a fight against Freddy to not die and it becomes apparent that Freddy’s interest in her is more than just another piece of meat to torture. There’s something special about her.

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Enter Dr. Juliann Quinn, a woman who has been studying Freddy as well as how to control your dreams so you can better evade him. She comes to help Allison and discovers that years ago, Allison stumbled onto the same ability to enter the dreams of others like Freddy did. That’s why Freddy is after her: he sees Allison as a threat.

The thing that sticks out to me is how much fun it has with the lore when the movies themselves haven’t fleshed them out all that much by this point outside of the stuff about his mother. Remember, this came out before Freddy’s Dead, which spelled out Freddy’s backstory and how he came into power. Freddy Krueger’s A Nightmare on Elm Street is Steve Gerber’s vision on how Freddy came to be and while it isn’t too different, it’s certainly better written.

There are two things that really make it great. First is the fact that the magic of his abilities isn’t quite explained, but there’s just enough for us to understand without ruining the mystique. Second, for a comic that came out only a short while after Watchmen, it’s easy to see similarity between Freddy’s upbringing and Rorschach’s. It almost spells it out that Freddy is what would’ve happened if Rorschach’s experiences led to him becoming the dog-owning child-killer that drove him off the deep end instead of a crazed vigilante.

There’s also a bit that suggests that Freddy isn’t alone. There’s a whole community of freakish dream demons, only Freddy appears to be the most evil and proactive among them.

read more: 13 Essential Horror Comics

The Marvel Elm Street run is enough of a story to stand on its own, but it does leave you wanting more based on how abrupt the ending is.

In 1991, the publisher Innovation took on the franchise and released a short-lived ongoing and two miniseries, all written by Andy Mangels. Nightmares on Elm Street (now that I think of it, they should’ve gone to plural with the title years ago) lasted for six issues with two story arcs. The first of which has art by Tony Harris, which is at times stunning.

It has to do with Cybil, a woman who studies Jack the Ripper and has been having nightmares about a guy who’s similar to Jack but with a burned face. One of the dreams also leads to her stumbling across the house of her old college roommates Nancy Thompson. She investigates and discovers that Nancy’s died years ago. She gets in touch with her other roommate Priscilla (whose entire panel-time in the comic is about reminding us how gay she is) and A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors survivor Neil Gordon. Soon it’s discovered that although Nancy died, she was reborn as kind of the Anti-Freddy. If Freddy is a dream demon, then she’s a dream angel, only she’s too young and inexperienced to stand up to him.

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The highlight is Freddy killing Cybil’s husband with a printing press. As the guy gets chopped up from falling into the machinery, it spits out bloody newspapers with his death as the headline.

But like I said, some stuff doesn’t work. Being an Elm Street story, we need people to fall asleep for the sake of moving the plot along. That leads to a moment where Cybil’s on the phone, sitting on the couch, and she ends up standing up so fast that she passes out and enters the Dream World by accident. Um...sure, I guess.

Then there’s the twist ending, which is complete nonsense. More than your usual Elm Street ending. It’s this scene that’s supposed to be shocking and clever, but all I can do is scratch my head and wonder, “Wait, what?”

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The remainder of the series is penciled by Patrick Rolo and decides to play with the cast of the old movies some more. It’s five years after the events of A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child and survivor Alice and her son Jacob revisit Springwood to meet up with fellow survivor Yvonne because of the recent death of Alice’s father. With Jacob – who can read minds – being around, Freddy tries to butter him up and convince him to help him out. Also involved is Neil Gordon, reduced to a coma due to the previous story arc.

There’s a wild card introduced who brings some life into an otherwise lifeless cast named Devonne. She is basically Freddy’s agent in the waking world, helping him out of desperation. When she was a child, she burned down her home to kill her abusive father, but her mother died as well and Devonne’s been broken since. Not only is the incident the only thing she dreams of, but when she talks to people in real life, all she sees is them as skinless, much like how she last saw her mother. She figures that if she kills people for Freddy, Freddy will grant her at least one night of peaceful dreaming.

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But we know better.

Freddy ultimately wants to take over Jacob’s body so he can exist in the real world and while the plot is kind of weak at points, Mangels does scratch the surface of what’s a really intriguing idea that finally gives Freddy some much-needed stakes.

While the comic barely goes into it, Mangels suggests Freddy’s logical conclusion as a monster and how his reign of terror is his own undoing. Mangels establishes that Freddy’s nightmare rampages are localized to Springwood and only Springwood. He has no other jurisdiction. If he kills enough people and enough people move away, what does that mean for him? Granted, Freddy’s Dead kind of sidesteps this whole idea, but it has enough pepper to it that it’ll get used down the line in future incarnations of Freddy comics.

In an exercise in doing as many callbacks to the previous movies as possible, it’s also established that all of Freddy’s victims are stuck in his world as tortured souls unable to escape into the true afterlife. This allows appearances from the likes of the Dream Warriors, Nancy’s cop father, and Jacob’s father Dan, but even if they’re all good people, they’re still desperate to escape Freddy’s eternal torment and will do just about anything to help him.

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The whole thing just barely holds together and the ending is also really weird. It’s an actual happy ending, but even for an Elm Street plot device, it’s really odd.

Mangels would then do the adaptation for Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare with art by Mike Witherby and Robb Phipps. Shockingly, it’s the only Elm Street movie to get its own comic. I’ll admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the movie, but I don’t remember there being any big differences. Well, except one thing.

The movies around this time got hit hard by the MPAA and had to cut out a lot of gore to pass muster. This is a comic from a company that gives no damns about the Comics Code Authority. So you don’t have to worry about censorship here. When Freddy makes the deaf kid’s head explode, it isn’t just a balloon popping. It’s a goddamn exploding head!

read more: Why Sandman is the Essential Horror Comic of the '90s

Cool thing about the three-issue mini is that there are two versions of the final issue. To go with the movie’s gratuitous use of 3D, you could buy an issue that’s mostly in 3D...albeit without color. Still, that’s a cool gimmick.

Mangels would close out the Innovation run with A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Beginning with Dan and David Day on art. Considering they just made a big stink about Freddy being gone for reals this time (yeah, right), Mangels had to rein in the Freddy aspect. The miniseries focuses on Maggie, daughter of Freddy and hero of Freddy’s Dead. She keeps having nightmares about becoming like her father and feels the need to visit Springwood to get answers. Fellow survivor Tracy goes with her.

Storywise, not much seems to happen. It’s mostly Maggie having visions of Freddy’s origin. Seeing him kill people, watching his ill-fated trial unfold, standing helplessly as he’s lynched, etc. The only interesting part is how it goes back to young Freddy killing his foster father (Alice Cooper, you may recall) and that was some kind of sacrifice to the dream demon sperm creatures from Freddy’s Dead. Maggie and Tracy unearth the corpse and it releases some kind of magical energy that causes the house to collapse.

The second issue ends with Maggie visiting the boiler room where Freddy originally died and then vanishing. All that’s left for Tracy to find is Freddy’s hat and echoing laughter. A neat cliffhanger that simply wouldn’t be resolved.

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Innovation went out of business. Shucks. Mangels did have the script for the final issue online for a bit, but it’s long since fallen into the pits of the cyberspace abyss.

A year later, Freddy would make a minor comic appearance as Topps Comics did a three-issue take on Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday. Said movie is mainly remembered for the final scene that hints on the big money throwdown between horror icons.

Freddy remained quiet for over a decade. It’s not like he had much going on. New Nightmare didn’t really seem comic-friendly in its meta movie design and Freddy vs. Jason was stuck in developmental Hell. Shockingly, even when they DID get around to making the movie in 2003, there were still no comics to capitalize.

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It took Avatar Press to finally break the silence in 2005. They started with a one-shot simply called A Nightmare on Elm Street, put together by Brian Pulido and Juan Jose Ryp. Being an Avatar Press book, that means you have a lot of unsavory gore and unattractive drawings that are supposed to be attractive to look forward to. Seriously, it’s like nearly every female in an Avatar Press book has to wear high thong straps and a halter top.

Though it is neat that we have confirmation that Freddy and Leatherface apparently coexist in the same continuity. This continuity, at least.

The Avatar run goes with the status quo introduced in Freddy vs. Jason. Sort of. The local government wants to keep him under wraps so that teens won’t be terrorized by him. I thought the concept was done really well in the movie. On one hand, it worked. It actually cut Freddy off at the knees and made him too weak to do any damage whatsoever, hence the need for Jason. At the same time, there were still the moral implications of what Springwood was doing and the question of the ends justifying the means. You feel for the teens involved, but you also know that they’re doing horrific damage by unraveling the conspiracy.

It makes no sense here because Freddy is still able to do his thing. He’s just as capable of committing dream murder as ever, so there’s no point to the conspiracy. He isn’t underpowered or anything like that. He’s still offing kids, only they now have Men in Black guys on their backs to silence them. For what reason?! Their big plan isn’t doing a damn thing! There is no house of cards to knock over!

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Anyway, this one-shot is just about teens being killed while the government conspiracy is happening around them. Just nihilistic, violent, and pointless, like much of Avatar’s licensed comics.

The same creative team then did a three-issue miniseries called A Nightmare on Elm Street: Paranoid. Due to delays, it took about seven months for the whole thing to finish. The plot is a follow-up to the previous story where we get a lot of, “You can’t talk about Freddy or people will die!” while people are fucking dying regardless.

There are two parts here that are really good, though. First is how Freddy wants to spread the message that he’s out there and decides to use a kid named Mike as his megaphone to the world. Mike’s dozing off at a football game and Freddy casually meets up with him, asking for confirmation that Mike’s a hemophiliac. A confused Mike says he is, so Freddy pokes him with his finger and Mike explodes in a fountain of gore in the stands, leaving a message.

But it’s the ending that’s so close to being brilliant. The main character Claire reads up on Freddy’s so-called defeats from over the years and while nothing’s really worked in the long run, she’s inspired by the attempts to drag him into reality. Sure, making him physical and killing him hasn’t put him at a permanent end, but she knows how to use it.

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She draws him into the real world, but makes sure it’s in front of a pep rally. The entire high school is there and she and her boyfriend are armed and ready. Claire unloads on Freddy while telling everyone what a joke he ultimately is, successfully dressing him down with insults. He’s a gigantic, pathetic loser. Seeing him so vulnerable works its magic and everyone in the building is bonded in their belief that Freddy is nothing to be afraid of.

Freddy loses control of the souls he’s collected and his victims start to tear him apart. This could have been the best ending. Let me explain why with a little tangent.

Back in the early 90s, Peter Jackson had a movie screenplay for an intended sixth installment called A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Lover. It was about Freddy being deemed such a worthless joke that teenagers would go to sleep for the sake of finding him in the Dream World and kicking the shit out of him for laughs. Without anyone fearing him, Freddy is in a Clockwork Orange situation where he’s at the mercy of anyone and everyone. Then he eventually regains his mojo and builds a body count to get some revenge.

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It sounds completely awesome and of course they went with Freddy’s Dead instead. Though to be fair, Freddy’s Dead was about offing him "forever" while Dream Lover was about revitalizing the franchise.

So anyway, in a better world, they would have made a comic adaptation of Dream Lover as a follow-up. This whole climax with Claire exposing Freddy in front of all the other teens would’ve been the prime setup for how he becomes a dumpy punching bag.

And instead we get the, “LOL Freddy wins!” ending. Fantastic.

On another note, Juan Jose Ryp has some issues with his art. More than the usual Avatar issues. It’s like he glossed over the script at times. During the pep rally scene, it’s mentioned multiple times that Claire and her boyfriend are armed with shotguns when they most definitely carry handguns in every panel. Or there’s this bit.

Now, I don’t want to be THAT GUY, but...does she really got back? She’s got the ass of someone who sells propane and propane accessories.

A Nightmare on Elm Street: Fearbook finishes off the Avatar Press run, brought to us by Brian Pulido and Dheeraj Verma. This one is actually a lot of fun and plays with the Freddy concept to bring us something unique and original. It even begins with a rather funny fake-out where a student falls asleep during class and the infamous Freddy song is overheard as if she's about to meet her doom.

As it turns out, things are going pretty well in Springwood. Hypnocil, the drug that prevents you from dreaming, is given out all over. Everyone is now immune to Freddy’s wrath and it’s driving him mad.

Enter a gang of thugs driving through the area, completely ignorant to Freddy's existence. They rob a drug store and things get violent fast. When it becomes a hostage situation and one of the hostages starts drugging the killers with sleeping pills, it translates into a pretty neat revenge story.

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We’re so used to the constant compassion and helpless panic in these stories that it’s outright jarring to see someone vindictively watch over a sleeping person, knowing that Freddy’s about to have his way with them.

Just as Avatar Press said goodbye to Elm Street, Wildstorm went to work with eight issues of A Nightmare on Elm Street. Chuck Dixon and Kevin West are the creative team for the series, though Joel Gomez fills in on the art in the fourth issue.

The first three issues is a story called “Freddy’s War,” about a girl named Jade. She and her family just moved in to Springwood after years of constantly moving due to her father’s military status. We quickly jump in to action as her brother is killed and Jade knows she’s next. In a breath of fresh air, her open-minded father is totally willing to hear her out on this whole dream demon situation. It’s honestly refreshing to see a parent in a horror story seeing his daughter suddenly waking up with bloody claw marks on her back and going, “I am totally willing to believe whatever you’re about to tell me.”

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There’s also a subplot about one of those creepy little girls who always shows up in the protagonists’ dreams. For once, we get an actual explanation instead of her just being a random construct created by Freddy for the sake of being spooky. Being that this is Chuck Dixon, we get a climax based on Jade’s dad using his military weapons and training in the Dream World to fight Freddy, but come on. We know how much good that’ll do in the long run.

At least the follow-up issue tortures Freddy a bit. That little girl is able to do as she pleases in the Dream World and Freddy appears to be powerless to cut her up. Finding out that she’s going to be moving away soon, he gets increasingly desperate to end her before it’s too late.

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Then there’s a three-issue story called “The Demon of Sleep.” This one’s pretty cool. A group of geeks are being targeted by Freddy and one does some research and discovers an Aztec deity known for protecting people from bad dreams. He gets a talisman and comes up with a plot to summon the god to take care of Freddy.

Much like Freddy vs. Jason, the only thing stopping Freddy from being taken out for good is morality. To put the god at its full strength, they need to do a sacrifice. The ringleader opts to sacrifice the local jock bully, but the others aren’t really sure if they can go through with it. It all ultimately leads to a dark and tragic ending where hopes are dashed.

The final issue is a tale of a guy working at a local fast food place who stumbles upon the dreams of others being killed by Freddy. His dreams are so traumatizing that he’s in a constant, dazed state of work and fantasy, unable to tell the difference.

read more: The Weird History of Monsters vs. The Marvel Universe

A couple months later, Wildstorm released a one-shot called New Line Cinema’s Tales of Horror. It featured a short Texas Chainsaw Massacre story followed by an Elm Street story. The short story “Copycat” is by Christos Gage and Stefano Raffaele and it’s great.

Freddy is annoyed when one of his victims awakens only to have some fat dork dressed in a striped sweater kill her instead. Freddy discovers it’s this guy named Otis, a sociopath that Freddy passed over during Otis’ teenage years because Freddy thought him too pathetic and that death would be doing him a favor. Years later, he’s a total Freddy fanboy and wants in on the action as Freddy’s sidekick.

Freddy’s not interested, but his hands are tied. Remember during the Innovation run where I talked about how Freddy’s only vulnerability is an empty plate? Gage embraces the idea. Freddy needs to be discrete to do his twisted work. If his existence is public knowledge, then Springwood will simply empty out and he’ll be out of a hobby. Otis knows that and blackmails him so that if Otis is killed or Freddy refuses his help, tons of evidence will be emailed to the media.

To deal with this problem, Freddy stumbles upon another fanboy. It’s simply wonderful because the very idea of people idolizing him takes Freddy out of his comfort zone and even he finds this completely absurd.

The ending ties things up nicely and there’s a funny aside about a teenager on meth that Freddy considers a threat. Track this one down. It’s easily the best Freddy comic.

read more: The Weird History of Ghost Rider

Then in 2008, Wildstorm and Dynamite teamed up to give us Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash, a six-issue miniseries based on the unused screenplay for a suggested sequel to Freddy vs. Jason. Coincidentally, Bruce Campbell always thought such a movie was ridiculous because he believed nobody in their right mind had any interest in seeing his aging ass reprise the role of Ash Williams.

And now, of course, Mr. Campbell knows better.

Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash was written by Jeff Katz and James Anthony while drawn by Jason Craig and...*sigh*

Okay, listen, folks. I’ve been writing for Den of Geek for years now. I’ve talked about Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash when I did my list of ridiculous appearances by horror icons in non-movie media. I talked about it again when I did a list of comic book sequels to movies. Then yet again when I went over the history of Friday the 13th comics. I’m probably going to do an Evil Dead comics retrospective down the line and talk about it a fifth time!

Guys. I’m so tired of writing about Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash.

Anyway, the series picks up after Freddy vs. Jason and throws Ash into the mix, out to keep the Necronomicon out of the hands of both Freddy and Jason. It’s great because for once we have a genuinely charismatic hero to cheer for. I mean, the best hero character we’ve had up to this point is, who, Nancy? Yeah, Ash is a huge step up and it helps knowing that he has plot armor, so we’re assured that at the end of the day, he’s not going to be easily snuffed out to make way for the next hapless protagonist.

The final battle between the three is kind of rad, even if the artist decided not to draw any backgrounds for most of it.

A year or so later, the creative team would follow-up with Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash: Nightmare Warriors. While it’s a definite love letter to the three franchises and has a killer hook, it also needed a handful of rewrites and art that wasn’t rushed out the gate. The hook is that a support group is put together of people who have survived Freddy and/or Jason. It’s headed by Elm Street survivors Neil Gordon and Maggie Burroughs and includes other heroes from the various movies. Ash is invited since he’s had success against both Freddy and Jason at the same time.

read more: The Evolution of Marvel's Blade, Vampire Hunter

As this is going on, Freddy becomes empowered by the Necronomicon and attempts to take over the world with Jason and the Deadites on his side.

Things get completely ridiculous and not in a good way. It’s total nonsense with Maggie going evil just because, dressing slutty, and making out with her dad to drive home how suddenly evil she is. A lot of stuff just happens without explanation. But hey, we do get some random bits of nutty fanservice, like when Nancy’s ghost appears to help Neil out.

But the one cool thing about the mini is Freddy’s fate. This is the last Freddy Krueger comic and the last use of the Robert Englund incarnation of the character in any media, so this is the last word. In the end, he’s completely stripped of his powers by the ghouls living inside the Necronomicon. Reduced to a human and begging for his life, Freddy is then shot in the chest by Ash and his boomstick. Freddy’s corpse is blasted into a vortex. Then a random government agent character is also knocked into the vortex and we discover that he was the very cop back in the 60s who didn’t sign Freddy’s arrest warrant. He magically winds up back in the '60s and signs the warrant, thereby preventing Freddy’s lynching and origin.

read more: 14 Times Dracula Fought Marvel Superheroes

So in review, Freddy is completely depowered, as killed as killed can be, and then has his history as a demon murderer erased via time travel. You have to give this book credit for being thorough.

Overall, the Freddy comics aren’t going to blow you away, but there’s smatterings of brilliance and flashes of interesting ideas to be found buried in there. With the reboot movie falling flat, there’s no reason to expect another Elm Street comic for a long, long time. Maybe if the next attempt reboot works out or if another publisher wants to gamble on some more nostalgia.

But hey, at least we have Scary Terry in the Rick and Morty comic! Close enough, bitch!

Gavin Jasper thinks people should use Dokken as a weapon against Freddy Krueger more often. It worked like gangbusters the first time! Follow Gavin on Twitter.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature

Movies

Gavin Jasper

Oct 26, 2019

A Nightmare On Elm Street

Freddy Krueger

steve gerber

31 Days of Horror

from Books https://ift.tt/346Szwt

[imaginekpoplikethis]

Abnormal Saturday - Kim Namjoon - Mafia OneShot

That Mafia One Shot that’s been sitting on coming soon for over a week is finally here!

Being bound to a chair, In a dark and damp room was not how you expected your Saturday to be spent but then again who plans to spend a Saturday like this? You had no idea why you were brought here and the men who had literally thrown you into this room offered no hints. You were really starting to regret opening the door to your apartment.

A few hours earlier.

You had agreed to meet up with your best friend Ah Ran at a local café in about an hour. Any normal person would be ready and making their way to the location but not you. You slept through your alarm and were currently aggressively brushing your teeth in the mirror. Finishing up in the bathroom you ran into your bedroom, throwing clothes in every direction. If only your boyfriend could see you now, in this tragic state. Scrap that. You were relieved Namjoon was on a business trip for the next few days. That meant no surprise visits during moments like this.

Thinking about Namjoon made you giddy like a teenage girl. Although you had been dating for a little under 4 months, you had still not gotten over the initial excitement of being in a new relationship and it was safe to say you were completely and utterly in love. You had met him in a book store and had gained an interest in him when he had mistaken you for an employee and asked you where he could find a specific book. After that encounter you began to bump into each other more often, one thing led to another and he finally asked you out. You had obviously said yes and thus a beautiful relationship was born.

You let out a yell of frustration as you let yourself get distracted again.  If only you had planned an outfit the day before but apparently that’s something you were incapable of doing. Glancing at the mirror you took notice of your dishevelled hair, tank top and pyjama shorts. Today was just not going your way. It didn’t help that you had allowed your phone to die so when you plugged it in to the charger you had to wait for it to turn on. That ruled out messaging or calling Ah Ran.

A knock on your door broke your train of thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone so it could only be Ah Ran. At least she won’t be waiting for you out in the cold. You trudged to the door not bothering to look through the peep hole. Unlocking the door, you twisted the handle and opened it.

“Ah Ran, thank- oh sorry mister. I think you may have the wrong house…” Shock was evident on your face when you noticed the bulky looking man standing before you. He smiled but it didn’t reach his ears which is something that planted a seed of worry in your gut. Maybe you were just jumping to conclusions.

“Is your name Y/N?”

That question caught you off guard as you had never seen this man in your life, you weren’t expecting him to know your name. You shifted from one foot to another, aware about how underdressed you were under his scrutinising eyes.

“Um… sorry, who are you?”

He seemed to notice you avoid the question as his eyes slightly narrowed and when he made a small gesture with your hands that’s when you realised something was wrong.

“Bye!” You slammed the door shut and double locked it whilst internally freaking out. What the fuck was happening. It’s not like you pissed anyone off, you just lived a simple life hanging out with your sister, friends and boyfriend. Nothing out of the ordinary.

When you heard banging on the door, you immediately sprinted to your room launching yourself at your phone.

“Piece of shit! Turn on already!” Your phone was doing you no justice so you instead opted for the next solution. You grabbed Namjoon’s baseball bat (because for whatever reason he had an obsession with baseball) and slid down against your bedroom wall. You tried to calm your heavy breathing as you listened to the banging grow louder. God seemed to be with you as your phone eventually turned on. You typed in your password and dialled Namjoon’s number because all logic put aside, at that moment it seemed more rational to call him instead of the police. He, thankfully, picked up after the third ring.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” His voice calmed you down a bit and you allowed tears to gather at your eyes.

“Namjoon, oh my god, there’s this guy banging down my door and I don’t know what he wants but he’s looking for me and I don’t know what to do and-” You were cut off by your door giving in to all the banging and you heard shuffling on his end.

“Okay baby I’m coming, I’m not too far and I swear nothing will happen to you. I’ll explain later just call Jin Hyung.” You were confused at his last sentence.

“Explain what…?” You heard his hurried footsteps right before a gruff voice let out a ‘find her’ from your living room.

“Baby, I’ll tell you later. Just call Jin!” He then proceeded to call out to someone.

You hung up and searched for Jin’s contact number, pressing dial at the sight of it. After the first ring you heard his cheerful voice through the speaker.

“Hey Y/N, what’s wrong?” His voice was laced with concern  at you calling him so early in the morning.

“Jin! Please help me, there’s these men in my house and their looking for m-” The door was suddenly kicked open and your dropped your phone in fear as a scream left your lips. Two men ran right in and you jumped up, readying your weapon. When they came close enough you swung with all your might managing to hit one of them on the arm. He groaned in pain as the other man restrained you.

“What the fuck do you want! Let me go you jerk!” You were kicking and screaming at this point legs flailing underneath as he lifted you up. The other man recovered from your attack, evidently pissed off at the injury you gave him. That’s why when he lifted his arm up, he delivered a punch to your face with no mercy.

“Stupid bitch. Don’t think I’ll go easy on ya just 'cause your a girl.” That much was clear from the intense pain that you were presented with on the left side of your face. A third man walked in, whom you recognised as the one who knocked on your door, and called out to both the men.

“Oi! Why is she still awake?” That caught both their attention and the one who had previously hit you smiled sadistically as he pulled a gun out from inside his blazer pocket. Your eyes widened and the last thing you saw was the end of a pistol.

The intense throbbing on your head now made sense after your recollection of events. Your main concern was how Namjoon could explain this kind of shitty situation to you. Surely, he couldn’t be involved with these men. Why did he want you to call Jin? Hands found there way onto your knees and began stroking your legs. You cringed in distaste at the vile man crouched before you.

“Don’t worry darling, boss’ll be here soon.” He smirked at you and you spat in his face in return. This earned you a stinging slap to your already swollen face. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you look directly into his eyes.

“Try that again bit-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the only door in the room opened and a heavily tattooed man strolled in. He let go of your hair in a flash and stepped out of the way, allowing the man to stop in front of you.

“Hey princess. How are you doing?” His sarcastic, teasing tone was as clear as day.

“Fuck you.” He chuckled at your retort and smiled down at you. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, allowing his hand to linger on your bruised cheek.

“Wouldn’t you love to? But not right now. Right now I’m looking for your bitch of a boyfriend, you know, Namjoon? You see I’d love to take that shit stain down and what better way to do it than through you?” To say you were lost was a complete understatement. Everything coming out out of this mans mouth didn’t add up to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He gave you a mock sympathetic look at the clueless expression you gave him.

“Ah, I knew you were too innocent… Namjoon is a deeply feared person in this world.” At the words 'this world’ he gestured to all around him. So, Namjoon was involved. It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise considering the fact you had no idea what he worked as. Even so you never expected something so blatantly illegal and dangerous.

“But let me guess, your still confused about what this world is. Well, princess, this world is a world ran by gangs and your shitty boyfriend happens to be right in the middle of it.” His rambling fell upon deaf ears as you tried to make sense of the situation. Was he implying that Namjoon was a gang leader?

“Bingo! Well, not quite. More of a mafia lord per say.” You hadn’t realised you were speaking out loud until you got the answer you were searching for. You weren’t sure if you were happy to understand the situation you were in. Ignoring the extreme fear you felt, you dared to make eye contact with the man once again.

“Why the fuck am I being used as a means to destroy him. Just be a real fucking man like the gang leader you supposedly are.” He didn’t seem to appreciate your last comment as the smile on his face dropped and his eyes became hooded. He dropped down to you level, bringing his face close enough to the point where you were almost touching and whispered.

“Princess… don’t make the wrong decision now. Look where that got your boyfriends loved one.” He eyed you up and down and moistened his lips with his tongue as you turned your face away in disgust.

“I must say, Namjoon has a delightful taste in partners. You’re beautiful.” You directed a deadly glare at him as you scoffed, despite the dreading feeling that was racking your body.

“I suppose you want me to thank you? Go jerk off to the discovery channel or something.” His hands both grabbed the sides of your face as he aggressively whipped your head in his direction.

“Don’t test my patien-” For the second time in a day, the sound of a door being kicked open had interrupted your conversation and the person who stalked in did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“Namjoon…” At the sound of your voice, his eyes focused on the man caressing your face, practically breathing down your throat. His face contorted in pure anger as he aimed a gun at the back of the mans head.

“Get the fuck away from my girl, Dong Woo.”

Dong Woo simply let go of your head and stood up, sighing. He lazily turned around and tilted his head to the side staring at Namjoon.

“How expected of you to turn up at the good part.”  His gaze travelled to behind Namjoon, at the figures behind him. The rest of Namjoon’s 'friends’ (now it was clear they were members of his gang) stood, guns aimed at the rest of Dong Woo’s men.

“Oh and look. You brought your lackeys.” Namjoon squinted his eyes further and Dong Woo took the opportunity to pull out a pistol and aim it directly at your head. You screamed as the cold tip of the gun made contact with your skin.

“Fucking shoot her and i swear to go-” A sharp laugh echoed through the room and you whimpered as he pushed your head to the side.

“What? You’ll shoot me? It’ll be too late for that. By then she would have had her last breath.” He cocked his gun to emphasise his point and you shut your eyes, praying for the best.

“Look, I don’t want to have to be the bad guy here but you really leave me no choice.” You heard his finger make contact with the trigger and used your last bit of sense to push all of your weight to the back of the chair. Your attempt was successful as you managed to tip the chair backwards just as a deafening shot was fired.

As more shots were fired, your head collided with the floor and for a moment you only saw black dots in your vision. You turned your head to the side only to come face to face with Dong Woo’s lifeless eyes staring back at you. Your screech seemed to gather everyone’s attention as the room grew silent. It was then that you realised all of Dong Woo’s men were no longer breathing and the thought made you dizzy. You gasped for air and gave into the darkness just as Namjoon’s ash grey hair came into view.

You had regained consciousness a couple of times for a few short moments. These moments were long enough for you to come to the realisation that you were safe in Namjoon’s arms. When you had completely came to, the first things you took note of was the familiar smell of Namjoon and the soft surface you were resting on. Sitting up, you took in the unfamiliar surroundings. You were not sure who’s bedroom you were in or where you were but when you heard Taehyung scream in mock fear you had your suspicions.

Sitting up on the bed, you turned and placed your feet on the cold surface of the bedroom floor. The dull throbbing on your head and body served as a reminder of what you had been through. Ignoring the pain, you stalked towards the door in search of the man who had promised you an explanation.

Leaving the room, you trudged down the corridor and stairs, holding a hand to your bruised face. When you had entered what seemed to be the main room, the conversation between the 7 boys had died down after they all had followed the direction Jungkook’s wide eyes were looking in. Namjoon lifted his head out of his hands and when his eyes took in your figure, he shot out of his seat and made his way towards you.

“Babe, are you alright? You should be in be-” The harsh slap you delivered to his cheek had enough brute force to make his head snap to the side. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek in a poor attempt to prevent them from falling.

“Why…why did you ask me out back then? If you knew it would put me in danger like that, why would you let me get attached!?” You couldn’t help it when one tear slipped down your cheek and the rest soon followed. You began to hit his chest whilst sobbing uncontrollably.

“I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you’d leave me and I… I couldn’t live with myself if you did.” He wrapped you in a tight embrace, restricting your movements. All you could do was sob into his chest.

“You bastard… you’re a jerk f-for making me love you.”  He welcomed your insults and placed a hand at the back of your head, bringing you closer to his body.

“Do you regret it? Regret us?” Despite everything you had been through, you knew your true feelings and you weren’t about to play stupid and deny them. You returned his embrace, trying to convey all your feelings through this one gesture.

“How could I?”

Things would never be the same. It would take loads of time and trust to return to how you were before but you were certain that you couldn’t live without him and he couldn’t live without you. He was a mafia boss but the 4 months you shared together meant much more to you than his title did and that’s all that mattered.

[bullshitfromanidlemind-blog]

A Question

I am writing this article as an outrage to the frequent rapes happening in our country. People are getting used to such headlines nowadays. But every time I read about a rape, be it in the capital or somewhere else, my blood boils. A country is a failed state if half of the population [not half exactly thanks to female infanticide and obsession towards a boy child] doesn’t feel safe after dusk. People are rather interested saving cows instead which could be a personal preference but we need to set our priorities right. We panic when our mothers, sisters, wives, girl friends are late returning from work or don’t pick up our calls especially when it’s at night. We try to drop them and pick them up from places because deep down we have this fear “what if something happens”. As a result we don’t try to solve the problem, rather we try to bypass it by putting restriction on women because we are “concerned” and it’s for “their safety”. But whom are we fooling? Is it really the solution? Why should they live in fear and restrictions just because some people could not educate their children right? What’s their fault? And what kind of education teaches that “the best way to teach a girl a lesson is either raping her or throwing acid on her as in to ruin her life forever to summarize. People are not born rapists. But then why girls feel safe in bikinis in the western countries that lack "culture” and don’t feel safe in our “ancient cultured” country even if they roam around in a burqa?

It’s a no-brainer that there must be something wrong with us. And yes, the reason is the way our society is today. It’s not a single reason but a product of multiple reasons which makes the country a mass producer of rapists and molesters. And I am not talking about any specific area of the country or any specific section of the society. From north to south, from rich to poor, from a teenager to a person in his sixties, problem lies everywhere. Let’s talk about few of them.

Equal rights for women, not: this topic creates thunders in everlasting debates. The question is simple, “do women get equal facilities as men do in our country?” Every time we see two parties with some cliché points. One party will say feminism is redundant nowadays why because women get ladies seats in trains/buses [they don’t forget to thank ac Volvo buses for not doing such discrimination], free entry [sometimes free drinks as well, can you imagine?] in pubs and public support in a public argument. So for them it’s sorted, what else do you need to live? Another party which is also known as “the Feminazis” will start taking examples since the beginning of time and discuss the oppression on women and after sometime totally deviate from the topic and it becomes point blank male bashing. Then the first party will say “yeah you say equality, but why men always have to pay the bill? Why men are judged if they cry? Why should we only lift the paani wala can?” and many more irrelevant questions. Then the first party will say “men are biologically stronger but that doesn’t mean they are superior” and it’ll go on and on. Then comes the third kind, the enlightened ones who will conclude the debate saying things either like “don’t respect a gender, respect a human being” or “women should not compete with men cause they are already superior” or “you are wrong, it’s not about who’s ahead, it’s about if they are moving together side by side”. But after the long discussion the main question remains unanswered. And the real answer is kind of tricky. Yes we are a civilization who worships women as goddesses [I am not going into religion cause that’s the different topic altogether], we had Rani Laxmi Bai then, we have Sushma Swaraj now but originally the condition of women rights in India is like money. A lot is there but not accessible to majority specially when in need, feminism is there but it empowers the empowered. So the answer is no, women don’t have equal rights, majority have less and a minority have more rights than men do. 

That is how things are: the phrase which is fed to us whenever our culture had to force something which is logically inexplicable, for example, the image of an ideal Indian woman. She should be polite, she should cover her body n sometimes face as well, she should respect elders no matter what, she should obey her father/husband [whichever male master she’s assigned to cause man leads and woman follows], she should not answer back, she’s the primary caretaker of the house and kids and career should always be a second priority. Of course there are exceptions and they are increasing with time but for majority there is infinite number of unwritten rules. And the sad part is majority follow these rules else the society will judge them or some aunty will come with her moral policing. It’s there is all levels of the society be it poor or rich, be it educated urban society or orthodox rural ones. And the reason is “that is how things are”. That’s why in villages girls get sasural training instead of education to get married off ASAP, people gossip about how the new girl got promoted and they did not cause she worked hard in boss’s cabin on her knees in some MNC, the newly married bride has to leave her job/studies and ambitions cause that’s how a happy family works. But this has to end someday. Just because women tolerate all silently, people get used to it. Then if some lady argues with a man with raised voice, people turn their heads and start judging her. Same suggestions are taken on different priority based on whether it’s coming from a man or a woman because the general assumption is “ladkiya toh dumb hoti hai yaar”/“abbe uski kya aukaad hai”. But what is the factor that creates this assumption. 

Happy family: It happens because in India a happy family means where women keep sacrificing. A boy sees his father always dominating his mother and beating at times. He sees her sister getting less privileges and priorities generally because he’s a boy. When he cries father says don’t cry like a girl, be a man. He thinks being like a girl is bad or equivalent to be weak. This thought gets embedded into his mind that girls are good but they are beneath me. When this boy grows up and goes out in the world. He sees girls coming from non-cliché families outperforming/ignoring him no matter how hard he tries. He takes this as humiliation, how can that petty girl dare to humiliate me? She needs to be taught a “lesson”! We all know what the possible lessons from this point are. 

Stop at the early stage, be pro-active: No one is born rapist, neither someone has the guts to rape someone at the first attempt. The reason rapists exist is the way we ignore the early signs of a potential rapist for which these sick people get away with a lot of small crimes and gather the courage to do bigger atrocities pushing their limits. We see or hear about events like, someone pulled a bra strap in some co-ed school, some neighbor boy harassed a girl cause he loved him[thanks to Bollywood], some child is molested by their elder brother or uncle, some middle aged uncle groped someone in a bus, some local hero molested a passerby and other numerous flavors eve-teasing and molestation where in most of the cases girls don’t speak up and even if they do, their parents suppress them fearing shame in the society and even if they speak up the male counterpart gets backed up by their family by saying things like “didn’t mean any harm”/“he’s just a kid”/“it’s a misunderstanding”/“your girl has issues”/“it was a mistake, please forgive and forget”. Events like these get the guts for someone to attempt a rape. 

We the volatile people: Another reason is people forget very easily. And media is to be blamed for that. In a hunt for new news headlines, they don’t draw closure to all the cases. We see new rape cases in the headlines on a daily basis but how many stories draw a conclusion? How many of the rapes reported are drawn to a closure? As a result, a person who is going for a candle march for Nirbhaya today forgets everything tomorrow and gets busy with Dream11 cause IPL is about to start. 

Sex? What is that: But why so many people especially in this part of the planet are driven towards touching a girl without her consent? Let’s face it, India is a sex starved country and the reason is our “cultured society”. Sex is treated like a taboo in our country and still we managed to be a country with second largest population [soon to be number 1 as you can’t force birth control norms like china over here because “democracy”]. Forget doing it, even talking about sex/condoms/even sanitary pads make people embarrassed. Since childhood we don’t get any awareness about sex just by the behavior of our elders around us we get the idea that sex is dirty and bad unless you are married. Once you get married, somehow you get a license to have sex. The biology teacher gets ashamed to take classes on reproduction, even prostitution is illegal here. People in their 30’s remain virgin and wait for their marriage to happen cause “culture”. But it’s not something you can hide or stop by not talking about it, it’s a biological need. This disrupted status quo between supply and demand makes people desperate to get some action. 

Iron cuts iron: Girls don’t go well with girls most of the time. I don’t understand the reason though. As we see around us women force restrictions on women all the time. Be it the neighbor aunty who gets judgmental when your clothes are not “sanskar compatible”, the same aunty who wants you to get married just after your college is over because “isko kaunsa prime minister banna hai”, the family members who are biased towards the boy child over the girl or the mother-in-law for whom “bahu” can’t work or study after marriage because that’s not how a “happy family” works but the “beti” can have ambitions. We can call them hypocrites in one word. But why does this happen? They went through the same system; they know the pain of being restricted all the time. Shouldn’t they let people live freely when the power is in their hand? Or is it some kind of anger which they couldn’t express when they were the victim in the story and later vent it out as revenge when they get the power? The way ragging thrives in hostels. I see girls demeaning themselves by telling boys “kya ladki jaisa ro rha hai?” or “mard bann” or “chudiyan pehen le” as if being a man is always better than being a woman. Mothers tell their daughters, “tu toh mera beta hai”, if she’s taking responsibilities. These people always keep this thought deep down in their mind that men are superior [because society embedded that into their minds and they can’t see beyond that] and try to compete with men whenever they get a chance. I see feminists with agendas like “ladko ko dikhana hai” or “ladko ko unki aukaad dikhani hai”. They always get obsessed with beating boys than improving themselves and by that they indirectly create a notion that girls are weaker in general, they somehow reached this state where they can challenge men. But you should pick your contender based on performance and not on gender. People ask for fast forward laws and courts for rape but that couldn’t happen because women are not united as a community. A lot of women take advantage of women rights which were introduced to help them. We see reports like girls trying to frame guys into fake “molestation/rape cases” to get lime light on social media or earn easy money by blackmailing, wives filing fake domestic violence cases to teach in-laws a lesson, even girls try to stop cars on highways asking for help and loot them when someone stops to help them out. Now think, if you tried to help someone and got looted by some gang, will you ever dare to stop your car next time seeing someone asking for help? Especially in north India people don’t dare to stop their cars thinking it could be a scam, people are not so inhuman to leave someone dying on the road but experiences have made them cautious. For the same reasons and numerous fake cases our penal code can’t make fast forward system for rape cases as it might be a fake one. 

It’s your fault: There are a large number of people who blame girls for getting raped. They say things like “she was drunk”/“she was wearing indecent clothes”/“she was roaming around alone in the night carelessly”/“she always hangs out with guys”. Let me get this clear, a rape/molestation is never the victim’s fault, be it a boy or a girl. We need to get out of this dumb notion. Rapes happen because some people believe it’s okay to have sex with a girl even if she is saying “no” because the usual reason we blame girls with for rape. Rapes happen because we couldn’t educate those sick bastards. Rapes happen because we couldn’t provide the safety to our women that they deserve. Then there are enlightened politicians who say things like “rapes happen because girls and boys meet freely”, what else do you expect? Separate countries for men and women? These thoughts are toxic, just because thoughts like these exist; we see different columns for boys and girls in co-ed schools. I mean c'mon, it’s a co-ed school, let them meet freely and understand each other. We are seeding difference at a grass-root level like this. 

Law and order: We have laws to deal with rape cases but sometimes they seem useless due to poor execution. At first half of the cases don’t result into an FIR because “what people will think?” The ones which get to the police stations don’t get enough priority all the time as police is busy taking bribes. At times people who go to the police station get humiliated with weird and out of context questions. If you look beyond metros and big cities, a lot of police stations and related nursing homes lack infrastructure to test and prove rapes before the substantial evidences fade away. On top of that our court proceedings make even snails look faster. A lot of people don’t have the time, money and patience to fight a case till closure and end up doing personal settlement by either taking some money or marrying off the victim with her rapist. Another issue is it’s bail-able [if you have money] until it’s proved in court which takes years. Sometimes rapists are below 18 and they get away with “warning and few months in the rehab” as juvenile but people don’t asses their sanity when they are released with anonymity. Yes, things are getting better slowly but we are light years behind of how it’s supposed to be. The law and order need reinforcements to address these issues.

So it is clear, that we have loads of issues and to overcome those is neither a short term job nor a one man job. We as a society need to evolve and spread awareness so that we don’t breed rapists and molesters unknowingly, don't treat women differently than men and treat a rapist the way he/she should be treated. But that’s a farfetched goal and we have real issues at present. What to do about them?

What to do: Well, this is 21st century where we can track ground activity from space. But with all these successful ISRO satellite launches, with all these eyes in the sky why aren’t we being able to save our women? Can’t we dedicate few satellites for our women? Just few “Geo Stationary” satellites to cover the entire country. We can make an app what can be easily installed in all phones [not only smart phones] which will have a “panic button”. When someone feels that their safety is being compromised can push that button. Immediately the location of the SIM card will go to a central server via that dedicated satellite so that people don’t have to rely on the availability of mobile networks. That server will pick that location in GPS and alert the nearby police station with specific GPS co ordinates. Even if the rapists throw the phone from some moving car, this whole process will happen in less than a minute giving police a real time data to come up with a legit search radius. The satellite can even be used to take photographs for evidences. A lot of tragedy can be avoided that way including other crimes as well. We should ask for such systems, we are the tax payers and should ask for money allocation during yearly budget for such system.

You can say writing an article and ranting about everything is very easy but to do something it takes courage. I will say if everyone did what they are capable of, our country would have been like heaven. But a change has to come from within ourselves and it always starts with an idea. I am not bragging but saying this so people don’t judge me as a “theoretical patriot”. I have taught English and Mathematics to slum kids for free, I have protested to save environment, I have fed hungry beggars, I have given gifts, food and clothes in charity, I even cleaned up dirty lakes, I don’t litter, pay taxes honestly as well. Maybe I am capable of doing more but I don’t have the money or resources to build such a system for sure else I would have done it already. I have a job and mouths to feed. I will request my friends to forward this to such an extent that it reaches people and government. I would love to work on such a project [who wouldn’t?]. If this changes the thought process of even a single person, my purpose to write this will be fulfilled. I believe in our country that it has the potential to bounce back. So the question is…will you support and forward this message? Hoping to see better days[“Acche Din”]….Jai Hind.

Kunal Dutta.

[whosoever-in-christ-blog]

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh!” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.” — A. A. Milne No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us. — 1 John 4:12 I grabbed my canvas book bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out of my dormitory to trudge across campus to the library, where a few students and I were gathering that windy autumn afternoon to work on our assignment for Philosophy 200. (I may have had an extra spring in my step because a cute new student named Todd Ehman would be there — and I might have a chance to sit next to him!) The project that day included thinking through and coming up with what the professor in our small Christian college called our summum bonum. Summum bonum is a Latin expression meaning “the highest good.” It was introduced by Cicero to parallel the “Idea of the Good” in ancient Greek philosophy. The summum bonum is commonly referred to as an end in itself that also encompasses all other goods in life. In medieval times the phrase was used to describe the act of ultimate importance — that singular and paramount pursuit that human beings should strive to do. Our professor gave us several examples of what someone might choose as their highest good in life. Perhaps it was God. Or family. Or caring for the poor. There really was no correct answer. It was up to us to prayerfully consider the assignment and then present our case for what was most significant to each of us and why, gathering in small groups to explain our choice. As I sat in the library fiddling with my number two pencil, I tried to think of what I would choose as my summum bonum to share with the group. What was most important to me in life? What did I think was the highest good — the chief pursuit that mattered more than anything else? I decided I would choose relationships. Even at my young age I had already heard many people say how when we pass away, we cannot take anything with us. And I remembered my spiritual mother’s assertion that the only two reasons we are on Earth are to have a relationship with God and to show others the way of salvation through Jesus. Their comments showed me that things were less important than people. Certainly what was most precious to me were my family, my close friends, and my fellow brothers and sisters at the church I’d attended in the three years I had been a believer. It wasn’t hard for me to write a paper asserting that what mattered most in life is relationships. So I whipped out a canary-yellow legal pad and began to scratch out my thesis and main points, determined to make the argument that nothing in life mattered more than people. Nothing. That philosophy assignment was decades ago, but I still believe that nothing in life matters more than relationships. And the longer I am on this Earth, the more convinced I am that it’s true. Why Am I Here? One of the oldest questions known to humans might very well be, “Why am I here?” Something deep within us longs to know the meaning of life. Is there a point to it? And if so, what is it? Where do I fit in the grand scheme of things? And if I am on Earth for a purpose, how do I find it? We simply do not want to go through life having missed our cause and calling. Pastor Rick Warren tackled this topic in his bestselling book The Purpose Driven Life, subtitled What on Earth Am I Here For? In just the first five years after the book released, it sold over thirty million copies. Thirty million people wanted to know their purpose for being on Earth! Warren’s book was his attempt to lay out the biblical perspective on why we exist. Society, of course, has its own answers to this question. One answer is to grab all the gusto we can. After all, we only go around once, right? We might as well live it up and accumulate all of the material possessions or memorable experiences that we can. Just look at some of the popular hashtags in social media. #yolo stands for “you only live once.” People use this phrase to justify some of their outlandish or crazy behavior. (Perhaps even some illegal behavior as well!) And #fomo reminds us of our “fear of missing out.” After all, we don’t want to be left behind. Interestingly, for all of social media’s frequent illustrations of people’s narcissism and selfishness, it also gives us glimpses of true acts of kindness and episodes of thoughtfulness. The articles, pictures, and videos associated with such benevolent behaviors often go viral. Just today I saw the following stories trending on social media: A police officer who used his own money to buy a homeless family clothes, food, and a ten-night stay in a local hotel A social worker who decided to adopt one of her clients, a teenager who had been in foster care for over a decade A customer who gave a four-digit tip to a faithful waitress so she could pay down some of her college debt While many of us may be self-centered and care too much about material possessions or glamorous experiences, we also celebrate selfless acts of kindness and care for other humans. (And animals. I mean, who doesn’t love a great animal rescue story!) What does this tell us? Perhaps we all experience a tension between the selfishness of what we want to do and the appeal of the truly heartwarming and touching stories of kindness we see. We long to live unselfishly as well, but sometimes we are just too accustomed to our self-centered living. Or we think that our small acts of kindness don’t add up to much, while the grand ones we spy online seem to make a real difference. Or maybe we have just been conditioned from birth to think of ourselves first; our default mode is to look out for number one. Perhaps if we paid closer attention to why our hearts are drawn to such stories, we’d discover it is because we are called not only to view them online but to live them out in our own lives as well! A Three-Step Life Plan Of course Jesus gave us the answer not only to why we are here but what we are supposed to do while we’re here. Take a look at how He answered a tough question a religious leader asked Him, and what His answer teaches us about our why and our what: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” — Matthew 22:36-40 Jesus asserts that the entire teaching of God — all the law and the prophets — hinge upon these commands, which can be summed up in this three-step life plan: 1. Love God. 2. Love others. 3. Love yourself. Relationships. Relationships. And more relationships. Why are we here? To love. What are we supposed to do? Again: love. God, others, and even self. When I became a Christian, I read the command to love yourself and thought it was strange. I thought surely the Christian thing to do was to think very little of ourselves. The concept of loving myself was very foreign. But when I followed Jesus’ line of logic, I came to a different conclusion. If Jesus told us we are to love our neighbor “as ourselves,” then it must be crucial that we do indeed possess self-love. If we put ourselves down or neglect our most basic physical or emotional needs, we would not be a good model for how we are to treat our fellow human beings. Slowly my understanding of this verse began to change. How do we love ourselves? Well, we make sure that we have enough to eat. We take care to see that we have clothes to wear. We make sure we are sheltered. We seek self-respect and safety, security, and significance. We nurture our important relationships. And then we realize that these are the same things we should make sure our neighbor has. When we love ourselves, we can see that God calls us to love others in the same way. Still, it can be difficult to strike a balance. Sometimes we think too little of ourselves. Other times we may think of ourselves too much, leaving very little time to reach out and to love others. How can we properly address both problems at the same time: the problem of self-loathing and the problem of self-love? The answer lies within the passage we have just visited. Look back at what Jesus declares is the greatest commandment of all: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. — Matthew 22:37 Learning to manage the tension between putting ourselves first and thinking of the needs of others happens when we put loving God at the very top of our “How to Live” list. If we truly love God with our hearts and souls and minds, we will want to get to know Him through the pages of Scripture. We will long to spend time with Him in prayer. We will hunger to get to know His heart and mind as we seek to discover His will for our lives. And as we interact with God through prayer and experience His heart through studying the Scriptures, we will learn how to live properly. We will learn that thinking of ourselves with a proper perspective and reaching out in love to others always go together. And when we live in this manner, we will be able to maintain the purpose I learned as a young Christian: to go about our days strengthening our relationship with God as we look forward to eternity, but also being on the lookout for ways to share Christ with others so that they may spend eternity in Heaven with Him as well. All of this takes place within the context of relationships. Perhaps I got my little philosophy assignment correct. Maybe relationships are the highest good in life — with others here on Earth, but most importantly with God.

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Bittersweet Future: Chapter Nine

Summary:

Danny awakens to the future he’s created...

If the Nightmare Is Only Beginning...

Danny awoke with a start, sore and terrified from what had to be the worse dream of his life. Time-travel, jet fighter planes, a freakishly competent Guys in White, it was all too unreal. He wrapped his arms around his middle; cold, and shivering not just from the imagined chill. The errant time traveler stood up from his painful position on the floor, rubbing at the twinging pain in his lower back while doing so. Danny rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled from in between the stacked boxes of his make-shift hiding place. After a few extra seconds to bring the minimum necessary higher brain functions online, he walked forward towards where his bedroom door should be…Jazz is going to get a kick out of this one. The sleep-addled teen thought while still wandering, eyes closed, for his bedroom door. He’d made a habit of telling his sister the more disturbing dreams, at her insistence. He stumbled over something lying haphazardly on his “bedroom” floor before grumpily kicking it out of the way and opening his eyes fully to avoid a repeat. For the second time in what was only a week, Danny awoke somewhere he not only didn’t expect, but didn’t immediately recognize. A dark windowless basement greeted his sight. The dim lightening did nothing to disguise the condensation soaked walls or the drooping stacks of cardboard boxes all around him. It especially didn’t stop the jolt of realization currently crackling through his system like a lightning bolt. Oh. God! It wasn’t a dream! A cold terror snaked up his spine as the blunt starkness of reality splashed through him like a bucket of ice water over his head. Danny slid his hands through his hair, willing himself to calm down and think the situation through. A few seconds of forced slow breathing later, the teenaged superhero was slumped in the center of the room, head resting precariously in his hands. Now more than fully awake, he set his mind on auto pilot as the memories came flooding back. A fight with Plasmius, a hasty decision, a family that was his but didn’t know it yet, crazy battles with the last involving a freaking pair of fighter jets; all of it crashed back into the fore of his mind. Ok great! I’m back in the future, without going 88 miles per hour, he thought with a roll of his eyes, but not one that I recognize. First thing I know for sure, my parents do not live in Amity Park. There’s just no way with it being ghost hunter central that I’d be safe, especially with halfa sensing equipment. Danny closed his eyes as a shudder coursed its way across his skin. It wasn’t as if his parent’s ghost sensing equipment never picked him up, it just never picked him out as half ghost. And how in the world do they know about halfas anyway? Danny shook his head, setting aside that mystery to continue his internal monologue. If they don’t live here, there is a chance they still live close by though, because this is the ghost capital of the world. As long as they could be sure I was safe, and being outside the dome-they built a freaking dome?- would do it. Secondly, Danny started before getting up to pace the room. He was restless. There’s a good chance Sam and Tucker would know where I live. If my parents moved, it must have been after I got my powers. It also completely explains why the Guys in White rejects know about half ghosts. I mean, I’m sure my parents were able to get actual funding from Vlad or something and so were actually connected to the rest of the ghost hunting community. So after I got powers, the world knew about halfas. Ok, lastly, Danny stopped pacing and crossed his arms in thought, if Sam and Tucker don’t know where I live, then I’m sure…Vlad does. In which case, if I find him in Wisconsin or wherever, I’ll find the rest of my family. Danny finished off his logical progression with a nod of his head. The first objective was to connect with his friends, and if that didn’t pay off, he could make a flight out to Vlad after his parents’ whereabouts. And considering he still had he’s friends’ phone numbers, it didn’t even require him to sneak back into Amity to find them. He had turned off his cell phone a little after he had arrived in the past. There was really no use for it, he couldn’t even get a signal, and everyone he’d want to call was either in the future, or didn’t know him yet. Danny reached in his pocket and flipped open his phone. A few seconds of startup music later, and he was browsing through his contacts list. He knew both Sam’s and Tucker’s phone numbers, cell and house, by heart. On the other hand, he was nervous as all get out, and the repetitive motion on the keypad was helping calm him down. Should I call Sam or Tucker first? Danny hesitated over the section of his phone with the speed dials, glancing quickly in between their names. His finger hovered over the number a second longer before he made his decision. Sam first. The curling fingers of nerves twisted inside his guts as he waited for Sam to pick up. I’m sorry. The number you have requested cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again. A voice droned from the other side of the line. The long beep of the dial tone rang out as the automated system hung up from the other end. Danny gripped the phone tighter and looked back at his contacts list again. He was sure he had dialed it correctly; he didn’t even have to check it against his list because he knew it by rote memory. He felt a cold sweat break out on his skin, and slick up his palms as he re-dialed the number. I’m sorry. The number- Danny hung up and tried again. I’m sorry.- No. No, no no. This can’t be happening. This is Sam’s cell phone number. It has to be. Danny tightened his grip on the cell phone to stop the fine tremble coursing through his limbs. He took another deep breath, and decided to try Tucker’s number instead. To his immense relief the cell phone actually connected and he could hear ringing on the other side. It rung once, twice, and thrice before he heard someone pick up on the other side. Hey this is Theo. I obviously can’t come to the phone right now, too busy rocking out, so sing your song at the beep, and I’ll maybe get back to you. A long beep issued from the phone as the voicemail clicked over to record mode. Danny nearly dropped the phone in shock. The voice on the other end wasn’t Tucker’s. At the very least he had gotten the voice mail, so he didn’t have to talk to whoever was on the other side of the phone. Danny resisted the compulsion to check the phone for the number again. It obviously wasn’t his friend’s so checking once more wasn’t going to help. The time traveling hero gathered the frayed edges of his nearly destroyed nerves and started thinking things through again. Alright, so their numbers aren’t exactly the same. Phone numbers are a simple thing, they can change really quickly. No reason to jump to conclusions. I’ll just call their home numbers, and if those aren’t the same, I’ll look up the numbers in a phone book or something. No big deal, don’t freak out over nothing. Danny re-steeled his nerves and looked up Sam and Tucker’s house numbers. He really didn’t have to, but once again, the repetitive clicking soothed his nerves. The decision about who to call first was a simple one. Sam’s parents hated him, so calling Tucker’s house was the obvious choice. He didn’t even bother looking at the phone screen this time, opting to instead dial it from rote memory. The other end rung twice before being picked up. A female voice from the other side announced the Foley residence and asked who was speaking. “Hey Mrs. Foley. This is Danny…is Tucker home?” Danny smiled into his side of the phone, excited to finally hear the voice of someone he knew. Angela Foley was a nice enough lady, and just knowing she was still local to Amity made him feel a lot more certain about his deductions from earlier. The other side of the line went quiet before someone said, “Who is this?” The voice on the other side of was angry, accusatory. Danny jumped on the other end of the phone. “It’s Danny, Danny Fenton. I…listen I accidentally deleted my contact’s list, and I can’t seem to remember Tucker’s number. Do you think-” “Well Mr. Fenton,” The voice on the other end sneered, “perhaps you could ask your father what Tucker’s number is. He should even know where he is. And tell that bastard that if anyone from your family calls again, I’ll have my lawyer on his ass faster than he can scream ‘ghost’.” Angela hung up the phone, slamming it down into the receiver. A few years ago, she might have just broken into tears, but now she was too strong for that. Maybe if the Fentons had any sense, they’d never call again. Danny stared into the phone, a beeping dial tone emanating from the receiver. “What the hell was that about?” He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this, but apparently he and Tucker weren’t friends anymore. Did the entire half ghost thing cause that much of a ripple? Danny thought as he reluctantly dialed up Sam’s house number. Mrs. Mason didn’t like him at all, and he could only imagine that if being half ghost put Tucker’s parents that far out, Sam’s probably had a restraining order against him. Still, he had to try. Maybe just contacting the house would get him somewhere. Sam could call him back, going against her parent’s wishes as usual, and maybe he could figure out where he lived. Anything was something at this point. The phone rang one time further at Sam’s house than Tucker’s, before Mrs. Mason picked up the line. “This is the Mason residence, Pamela Mason speaking.” She was in a good mood today. She and her husband had gotten a new measure through on the school board, creating a nice peppy dress code for Amity’s future at the local high school. To top it all off, they were going to a nice restaurant to celebrate. Danny took a deep breath before responding. At least she sounds like she’s in a good mood. “Hey Mrs. Manson, it’s Danny. I was wondering if Sam was home.” He held his breath while waiting for the response. If he didn’t, he was sure he would be panting from anxiety into the receiver. Pamela felt a jolt of heartache shoot through her, one she thought had been buried for years. “You…you have some nerve calling here young man. I don’t know who you are, but if you ever contact this house for some sick prank call like this again, I’ll have your parents ground you till you’re thirty-five! I’m the head of the PTA so don’t think I don’t know your mother!” “Prank call? No listen, I’m sorry Mrs. Manson, this is Danny Fenton, Sam’s best friend, and I know you don’t like me, but please don’t hang up, I just-” “You sick monster! You stay away from my family, and don’t you EVER call this house again.”

Once again a dial tone was the only thing that greeted Danny’s surprised and hurt stare. Admittedly, Pamela Manson had never liked him before, but that was way over the line. A sick monster? Wow. He shook his head and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He wanted to call his sister’s number, but with how bad it had just gone with his friends, Danny wasn’t sure he could risk it. He knew his own sister would never turn him away, but there was a chance it was a different number than the one in his phone, and he would either get the same automated prompt that he had gotten from dialing Sam’s number, or he would get another person entirely, and he wasn’t up to more rejection at the moment. Worse, it wasn’t like his friends’ parents would be forthcoming about his current residence, if they knew it at all. He’d never seen them, their respective mothers, so angry at him. Angry and hurt. It was like he had dredged up some bad memory or something. Still, if they the half ghost thing had gone over as bad as he thought, their reactions made sense. Not like Mrs. Mason needed an excuse, but being half ‘not human’ would be a good one from her conservative perspective. I don’t know what to say about Mrs. Foley though. Danny shrugged and swiveled his head left and right for the exit. He had come in here some way, a stairway if he remembered correctly, so the exit should be…-Ah- He thought catching the sparse light from the first floor shining down an opening. He silently worked his way through the boxes and across to the room and towards the softly falling light. Danny stole up the stairs and onto the ground floor of the building he’d slept in the night before. He hadn’t paid much attention to the layout when he arrived, only looking for somewhere to hid, so he took the opportunity now. It was nowhere near as stuffy and dank on the ground floor as the basement, the cross wind blowing through the gaps in the boarded up windows moving the late spring air. Still, it was dusty and relatively dark on the ground floor, and Danny didn’t want to stay here longer than necessary. It was likely the GSU was still looking for him, and since he’d slept here overnight, he needed to move on soon. Danny looked down at his cell, checking the time. It was nearly noon, and since he had passed out sometime around sunset the day before, sunset coming around 6pm at this time of year in Amity Park, that meant he’d been out nearly 18 hours. On the plus side, he was feeling fully refreshed, and he’d been laying low long enough for the initial search to blow over. On the negative, he could feel his stomach trying to burrow a hole through his abdomen at the moment, and there was nothing to eat. He gripped at the empty feeling in his gut, before something else came back to mind. His powers had been shorted out last night, and he didn’t know whether or not he was able to use them again. Well I better give it a try before I venture outside. Danny decided. He reached inside for the cool feeling of his ghost powers at the pool of energy that usually existed in his chest. A few tentative brushes past the area left him with a wide smirk. His powers were back! Now more calmed than before, Danny started towards the door to the building, confident he’d be able to defend himself. He held his hand over his eyes like a visor as the bright midday sun assaulted them. Off in the distance was the Amity Park city wide ghost shield, its bright blue glow visible even in the height of the day. It easily covered the entire small city and then some, bleeding into some of the surrounding boroughs and districts. The ghost powered teen frowned at the bright unnatural glow off into the distance. Everything he knew was inside that bubble. Ok. First order of business, I need a disguise. There is a good chance the Guys in White rejects saw what I looked like when I just walked up to their hid out. So I need a change of clothes. How much money do I have on me? Danny pondered as he moved away from the shelter of the abandoned building. He felt through his pockets for his wallet and pulled it out as he waited on the corner for the light to change. To his dismay, he only had 20 bucks on him. Enough for a few cheap fast food meals, but not enough for anything else, including a hotel or clothes. Great. So I’m broke too. Danny groused as he finished crossing the street and walked towards the coffee shop on the other side of it. He needed to either make some cash, or get some fast five finger discounts. The thought of stealing sat really badly with his system, a burning coal of guilt already settling into his stomach at the thought. But with no money to buy new clothes, no way to get money quickly and legally, and a real need to get out of town as fast as possible, it was looking like his only option. Danny sighed and leaned against a red brick wall, warm from the noon day sun, as he thought over his options again. If he could just figure out where his parents were, it would be easy. He’d thought about finding somewhere with internet and just looking them up. That would solve the problem easily, but there was a great chance any place like that would be crawling with the GSU. Public spaces like libraries, internet cafes, and most eateries were probably being canvassed as he thought about it. And speaking of, I need to stop standing here. Danny pushed away from the wall he was resting on and walked in a random direction. Staying still wasn’t the best decision at the moment. Since he couldn’t get access to the internet, whether he wanted to or not, that left him with trying more personable resources. Out of those, the only one left was…Vlad. He really didn’t want to end up at his doorstep asking for help again, but it seemed life hated him at the moment. It wasn’t as if I spent the last week in Vlad’s debt or anything. Danny rolled his eyes at the thought and stop against another wall. He needed to get his bearings. It was about noon now, so he couldn’t even tell which way was west or east, and he couldn’t tell from memory where he was exactly, he never ventured this far out of Amity on the regular. Whenever he could figure out which way was west, he’d be going that way. It was quite a flight to Vlad’s Wisconsin home from Amity, at least distance wise, but he’d be able to make it in about two hours if he flew fast. It was times like this Danny was happy he could fly. Even taking a car, if he could drive, would be at least a 6 hour drive. But first, lunch. Danny began walking towards the diner he’d seen just up the street. While he’d personally prefer Nasty Burger, it was inside the dome, which made it off limits to him. At least if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He sauntered up to the front of the diner, taking in the fading letters in gold announcing it as “Donna's Place”, before pushing the door open with a tingle of bells. A chocolate haired waitress walked over to the podium at the sound of the entrance bells. It should have been the middle of the lunch rush hour, but most everyone was huddled up inside after the ghost attack the night before. They weren’t common anymore, even in the famous Amity Park area, so it spooked people up a lot. On the other side of the podium was a dark haired young man. She quirked her lips at the boldness of youth these days. The only people who ever came out so soon after an attack were those adults who had to go to work, or the teens who thought they were invincible. Personally, she had thought her boss would have shut up house for the day, but he was almost as money hungry as he was daring. Nothing less than the ghost apocalypse is going to make this store close. Her boss had claimed. And so if the diner was open, she was working, and looking at stupid kids who didn’t know enough to be scared. “Hey, welcome to Donna’s Diner, table for one right?” Danny swept his eyes over the interior of the building. It was conspicuously empty. That surprised him a lot more than he thought it would. It was the middle of the day, so there should be people, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why it was empty. “Uh yeah…actually, I think I’ll just take a seat at the bar if you don’t mind. That way I don’t take up a whole table on my own.” The waitress scoffed and tossed a section of her long chocolate hair over one shoulder. “Don’t worry about that kid; no one’s coming in here today.” She picked up a menu and walked with him towards the bar. Danny felt his eyebrows move towards his hairline. “Why? It’s the middle of the day. Don’t most places have a lunch rush or something?” The waitress sneered. “Yeah usually, but were you living in a hole last night? There was a ghost attack, and you know, everyone’s scared stiff. If adults don’t have to be at their jobs to keep it, they’ll all huddle up in their houses, as if that’s going to protect them from something that can go through walls.” She shuddered and set the menu in front of the dark haired young man. “My name’s Debbie by the way,” she said while motioning to the bright white name tag pinned to her bosom. It had a heart over the ‘I’ the same way she’d done it since high school. “Oh, well I’m Danny, and well I’m not really from around here.” It’s not really a lie; I don’t live around here anymore, my parents moved or something. Danny rationalized as Debbie moved away to the kitchen. He heard her snap something at the cook to actually start up the stove to make something because they had a customer, before moving back towards him. “Oh yeah? What’s a kid like you doing in Amity area if you aren’t from around here?” Debbie leaned against the counter to take pressure off of her legs. Standing up the whole shift was the bad part of waitressing, but she loved meeting the people that just blew through town. “Well I’m on vacation with my family.” Danny shoved down the flutters of shock at how easy lying was getting, even on the spot. A short laugh escaped Debbie’s lips and she shifted her weight onto her left leg to rest her head in the hand on the same side. “And your family just let you wander off after last night’s attack?” She asked incredulous. The nerve of parents! It seemed like some of them didn’t care if their offspring lived or not. Danny pouted under the slight to his family’s honor as he paged through the menu. Plenty of cheap good looking food met his gaze. “Hey I’m not a little kid. I can watch myself. Plus they wanted to go somewhere else for lunch. Besides, we only got here this morning, so we missed all the excitement last night. Good thing too, or I would have never gotten any peace and quiet for myself.” Danny sent an annoyed tinged glance at his waitress’ mirth filled face. Oh he is cute. “Uh huh, and I’m sure you could fight off any ghost that came your way to hot stuff. Peace and quiet eh? Lots of siblings to drive you nuts on the road trip up here?” Debbie couldn’t place it, but she’d seen his baby face and big emotive eyes somewhere before. “No only one, but my parents spent the whole time fighting over what was the fastest way to get here, if we were lost, that they needed to stop for directions, that my mom was driving too fast, or my dad was driving too reckless. By the end of it my sister was even in it, telling them staying in such a closed area was bringing out latent hostile and invoking animal territorial instincts.” Danny chuckled as the last road trip the family took flitted across his mind. “She’s practically an amateur psychologist.” Debbie tapped her lip in thought as Danny’s ramblings washed over her. I know I’ve seen his face somewhere… She shrugged as a lull in conversation required her to respond back, she’d figure it out eventually, she never forgot a face. “Is she? Does she want to diagnose criminals and get inside their nutty heads, or listen to people complain about how much their mediocre life is not like the awesome movie rock star life they were promised by society?” Danny laughed as he came to a decision about his food. “I think she wants to listen to people complain. She wants to help people be better adjusted, or so she says. Er well, that’s why she keeps trying to practice on me. Oh can I get a coke, and a Donna’s special with extra fries? ” Danny closed the menu and handed it back to the waitress. “No problem hun. Earl! Wake up back there, don’t say you weren’t sleeping, I can hear you snoring from here. We have a DS with extra hash coming up, and don’t burn it this time, I like this kid.” Debbie stepped over to the fountain drink station and started to pour her new vacationing teen customer a drink. She heard Earl mumble something back about being worked to the bone, and snickered. Earl was a good worker and the best short order cook in town, but he worked two other jobs. Whenever he was awake, he could make anything greasy under the sun, but most of the time he was sleeping if there weren’t orders coming in, and there weren’t any today. The brunette walked back over to the bar, an extra tall coke in hand. She set it in front of the only customer of the day, and slid next to him on the bar, sick of standing. “Oh no, I only ordered a medium.” Debbie waved off his concerned with an achy dish pan wrinkled hand. “Don’t worry about it kid, we aren’t going to go bust giving you a tall coke with refills today. We’ll be lucky if this place gets back to normal by Friday.” Danny took a long swing from his drink and looked back over at the sitting waitress. “Why’s that?”

She snorted and swiveled to lean against the counter for support while still looking at Danny. “Has it really been that long? I guess most people, let alone kids your age, don’t remember how dangerous ghosts can be.” The chocolate haired woman shook her head and reached for the remote at the edge of the bar. The news and scenes from last night could explain it better than she ever could. “Listen kiddo, I know you aren’t from around here, but ghosts are kind a big deal. Every time the U.S. government thinks they are extinct or some other nonsense, and that the GSU isn’t needed, one or two strong ones they haven’t managed to catch shows up and wreak havoc, like last night.” Debbie paused to flip on the news station. The ring of the bell in the back told the waitress Earl was done with the food, so she moved back around to the other side of the bar. Danny took in this new information with a growing sense of apprehension. Ghost attacks happen so infrequently, that people are scared by them, because all the ghosts have been captured? He was stopped short in his musings as a steaming plate full of fries and a hulk of a burger was set down in front of him. “Woah! That’s a lot more than I thought I’d get.” “Aw, too much food for you kiddo?” Debbie teased while taking her seat back by Danny at the bar. “What? No way!” the hungry teen replied while stuffing a huge handful of fries into his mouth. “I just didn’t think five bucks would buy this much food.” He gulped down another mouthful of fries, before heading into burger territory. The brunette laughed at her customer’s food disappearing powers. “Hey take it easy kid, it’s not going anywhere. Hey look!” She turned back towards the back of the diner where the TV was set up and pointed. “Looks like the news has looped back around to last night’s ghost attack. Took it long enough, maybe if we’re lucky they’ll play the press release from the GSU leader of Amity Park again.” Agent Frank was pretty cute in her middle-aged opinion, and she had a right to a little eye candy every now and then. Danny paused, burger half way to his lips, and twisted around to look at the TV screen. Sure enough there was an overly peppy sunshine colored hair reporter talking about last night’s “ghost attack.” He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the phrase; he was the one who got attacked, not the other way around. Debbie grabbed her only customer’s half empty coke before snatching up the remote to turn up the volume. They usually kept it low, but with no one else around, it wouldn’t be too bad to turn it up. That’s right Lance, last night was a historic event. The voices from the television blared out as she leaned against the counter from the opposite side of her customer again. This marks the first time in four years that a ghost attack has taken place in Amity Park. Our protectors the GSU, have issued a warning to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary to go out. The camera zoomed out from the bright green eyed bottle blond face of the news anchor. As the ghost has yet to be found and apprehended, it is still at large and very much dangerous. You beat ya’ Tammy. Last night’s ghost attack cost the city thousands of dollars, with initial damage estimates in the hundreds of thousands. Luckily, the city will not be charged for the loss of the two fighter jets that were in pursuit of this new ghostly threat, lowering the bill significantly. Several of our viewers have called in to express concern and alarm over the apparent strength of the ghost that attacked last night. They want to know what our defenders and saviors the GSU are doing about it. Of course they do Lance. Naturally, many of our Amity area viewers missed the press release from last night and early this morning due to the chaos of the last 24 hours, so our station will be periodically rebroadcasting the GSU report on the top of every hour for the rest of the broadcasting day. The next broadcast is due in another 30 seconds or so, so stay tuned. The picture flickered over to commercial, with a promise that the press release would be the first thing back on air afterward. Danny finished off the last of his fries absentmindedly staring at the TV screen before grabbing up the newly refilled coke. “Wow, that fight must have been worse than I thought.” “Yeah it was kid, a whole apartment building got destroyed when the first plane crashed, and there are pieces of the second one all over the place. You know what’s weird?” Debbie leaned over closer to her customer conspiratorially. Danny shook his head and leaned over further himself, to play into the faux need for secrecy. “I saw the press release last night, and I know they are saying it wasn’t him, but I think it was.” Debbie leaned back and flicked her eyes over to the TV screen, checking to see if the commercial was over. “He who?” Danny asked, more confused than before she answered the question. “You know the teenaged ghost hybrid. They have pictures of the ghost from last night, and he looks a little different, you know different hair color and all, but the face is really similar, and the ghost looked really human. Only hybrids look that human.” Danny shifted nervously in his seat as the television switched back to the news station from commercial. “Oh? Well I don’t know, maybe we should trust the professionals?” The tired waitress shifted back to Danny’s side of the counter and sat back down next to him. “Yeah well, the government doesn’t always tell the truth, and even if it isn’t him, it has to be another hybrid, and there’s no press release on Earth that will convince me otherwise.” She picked up the remote and flicked the volume a notch higher as the press report from last night replayed. Agent F- Agent F!- Agent- A group of flurried hands shot up in front of the news podium at City Hall. Agent F calmly held a hand out to quiet the crowd before speaking. Gentlemen, please calm down. Save all of your questions until after the press release is finished, and I will answer as many as I can then. The group of reporters settled down as the government agent settled into his place in front of them. Gentlemen, I am here to confirm reports of a ghost attack on Amity Park earlier this evening. At 6:05pm, approximately three hours previous, a ghost set off the sensors outside of the GSU headquarters. Our initial team attempted to quarantine the entity, but underestimated the creatures flying speed leading to a breach of perimeter. In order to contain the entity the GSU Air Division was called in. These were the two fighter jets inhabitants saw flying over the area in the last few hours. The ghost was more powerful than initial estimates and was able to evade and destroy both aircraft before escaping. Neither pilot was injured, nor were there injuries to the GSU’s ground team. There have been scattered reports of minor civilian injuries, but as far as we know, the Amity area sustained no causalities from the encounter with the ghost a few hours ago. The people of Amity Park and its attendant areas are official advised to remain indoors as much as possible and to avoid travel. We are declaring a level orange emergency, and as such, allowing the full cancellation of business hours, at the owners’ discretion, and telling the working employees of the Amity area to call in due to ghost terrorism. It is of course our official recommendation that this not reflect badly on the employees that do take the next day for their own protection. This ends the official press release from the GSU, are there any questions? Agent F stepped away from the microphone and waited for the hands to shoot up. Agent F- Agent!- Amity GSU leader! An especially enthusiastic reporter dove forward with his microphone in hand at the government agent. Agent F nodded and leaned towards the mic. Yes? Agent F, can you give the people of Amity Park an explanation how the ghost got inside the shield and so close to your facility? I’m not at liberty to speculate, we are pursuing all avenues into the cause of the breach.- So you think the Amity Park ghost shield was breached somehow? Allow me to rephrase that, Gentlemen the Amity Park shield is ghost proof. Make no mistake about it, the shield is and was active at the time of the attack.- Then how do you explain the ghost just appearing inside Amity Park? The same reporter as before shoved the microphone back in Agent F’s direction. As I said before I am not at liberty to speculate, however there are several mechanisms that could be at work here. A- Then could you confirm or deny the reports of the ghost being a ghost hybrid of some kind? The same ardent reporter as the last time drew attention back his way. The main camera for the Channel Nine station swung around to capture both the reporter and Agent F in a single wide angle shot. Agent F slid off his government issue sunglasses and hung them off of his pocket. Taking them off made him seem more human, the test polls had said, and he needed the extra element to make this next line convincing. He smiled down into the flashing cameras and said, Gentlemen, I’m not at liberty to speak freely about many things. My line of work requires much secrecy for the good of Amity and the nation as a whole; often times national security is at stake when I decline your questions. However, this is something I can directly respond to. After looking over the data myself, I can deny the reports of there being a hybrid in the city. All known hybrids are closely monitored and this ghost does not match up to any of the GSU records for hybrids. I know it seems strange how this ghost just appeared inside the shield, and we promise we are looking into it, but now is not the time to jump to hurried, messy, and dangerous conclusions about the ghost attack a few hours ago. The ghost was not a hybrid, of this we are certain. Danny let out a breath he wasn’t sure he had been holding and leaned back against the bar. “Yeah thinking it was one of those ghost human mixed freaks worried me too, but I don’t buy their official line.” Debbie poked the diner’s only customer in the shoulder as the press release continued. Now I know many of our citizens reported seeing the ghost in our skies the last few hours and have pointed out how humanoid and even disturbingly life-like the creature appeared. There’s nothing to worry about. I know the creature looked human, even young, I saw it with my own eyes, but it is only a trick ghosts can use to hide themselves. Some are experts are changing their form and shape, like the female ghost Spectra who was caught several years back, or the morphing ghost who was caught just recently. Some ghosts are intelligent enough to exert control over their physical appearance to manipulate humans, so don’t take a ghost’s initial look as proof. Agent F finished his explanation and was about to flip his glasses back on when the nosy insistent reporter who started the Q&A session piped back up. The maybe you can explain this? The picture shifted as the station played an amateur video tape from last night. In it, the mysterious ghost from last night’s attack was seen flying for the Amity Park shield, bright green ball of ectoplasm in hand. Behind him are two ecto-energy seeking missiles, getting closer by the second. All of a sudden, the ball of energy is fired and there’s a bright flash of white light. The screen goes fuzzy for a few seconds and then focuses in again on the ghost on the other side of the shield. The reporter smirked triumphantly at the Amity Park GSU operations leader, waiting for his response. The video had been visible to those at the press conference by way of a monitor facing towards the crowd at the Hall. Agent F barely had time to cover the surprised look on his face before the camera zoomed back onto his face. He pursed his lips into a hard line before sliding his sunglasses safely into place. A cold confident smile erased the firm line previously occupying his face, before he leaned back towards the microphones. Gentlemen are you familiar with the ghost power of teleportation? The standing group of reporters quieted as the question filtered through the room. Agent F chuckled before continuing, I didn’t think so. Teleportation is one of the avenues we are pursuing to explain how the ghost got inside the shield. Now ordinarily, I wouldn’t be allowed to share this information, but the video tape allows me to give you a cursory explanation of this still being researched ability. To make a long story short, some ghosts are capable of moving over large distances nearly instantaneously. Agent F waited for the murmur of surprise to settle before starting again. They do this by transforming themselves into pure energy, spectral energy, and willing this collected energy form of themselves to another location. When in this form, they can disappear and reappear anywhere, being made of spectral energy, they move faster than the speed of light. Gentlemen, the ghost shield isn’t made of a solid energy wall, it would use far too much energy if it were. The shield is like a very fine meshed net. Ordinarily, it’s far too fine for any ghost to slip through, but in this form they can. Now now, He raised his hands to calm the rising terror in the crowd. The ghosts who have this ability number in the few dozen. It is a rare ability, even among the oddities that are the ghost creatures, so there is very little chance of a breach on a daily or even yearly basis, but the chance is still there. That is why there are GSU teams in every major city, just in case one of these powerful creatures gets past our shields and passive defense systems. Are there any other questions? Agent F leaned away from the podium and waited for the rest of their demanding inquiries to come crashing in. “He’s so full of shit.” Debbie moved back around to the other side of the counter to give her customer another refill. He was currently finishing off the last of his burger and gaping at the screen. Danny tore his eyes away from the television and swallowed down the last of his sandwich. “What’d mean? That sounds pretty cool to me, and likely. I mean he does do this for a living you know?” He silently hoped the press release didn’t go into any more detail. It looked like the GSU weren’t too keen on sharing information, and for that he was very grateful. The waitress rolled her eyes as she brought back another refill. “Because, well wait you weren’t around when the last attack happened. Well I don’t want to scare you kid, or ruin your vacation so I won’t give you too many particulars, but I can tell you this…” Debbie leaned over towards her teen customer again, not wanting this info to carry. “That flash of white light you saw and the grey static?” Danny nodded at her to continue and leaned in further. “Well, I was around when the last ghost attack happened and I was close enough to see one of those hybrid creatures transform. Ya see, they look human enough, and they even have human DNA, it’s how they can get past the ghost sensors and shields around most places, but they aren’t really human. When they transform into their true ghost form there’s this flash of light. Now I admit the flash I saw was…black. I know that sounds impossible, light can’t be black right? Well I’m telling you, I saw this guy go from as human looking as one of us, and then poof there was this black light and he was a ghost.” Debbie leaned back away from the counter and looked back up at the television screen. The press release replay was almost done. Danny felt of shiver go down his spine. From the looks of it Vlad attacked Amity Park four years ago, but for what reason he didn’t know. Worse, he had revealed the existence of half ghosts to everyone, what the hell was he thinking? “Oh wow! Um…that’s crazy…” The chocolate haired woman chuckled and slapped Danny on the back. “Take it easy kid, there’s nothing to worry about. The GSU keeps even the people outside of the Amity ghost shield safe. You and your family are in no danger here, even if you managed to come at an exciting time. Speaking of, won’t your parents be worried if you don’t get back soon? It’s already nearly 1:30.” Debbie picked up her customer’s cup and plate and walked it back towards the kitchen. The press release was just ending, and she didn’t want to miss the picture of the mystery ghost at the end. Nothing better to scare the cute teen with than claiming the ghost haunted around here or something. She walked over to ring the kid up, so he could get back to his family before they came to ring him up for worrying them. Debbie peered up over the top of the register as the Channel Nine news room came back on the screen. Well Lance, that was certainly informative. It sure was Tammy. Our boys at the GSU have given us a clear print out of the ghost’s picture to share with all our viewers. Remember if any of you see “someone”, the reporter paused to issue air quotes around the acknowledgment of the ghost’s personhood, who looks like this please report to the authorities immediately. This is not some new punk style or an ordinary teen; it’s a dangerous ecto-entity. Onto the screen flashed of picture of a young looking ghost. It had white hair and iridescent green eyes. The camera zoomed onto its young looking face and a large print warning: Powerful and Dangerous blinked across the screen. Debbie stopped punching the bill through, shocked into pausing mid-press of a button. The close up of the ghost was unmistakable; the ghost looked just like the kid sitting not ten feet from her. She stole a quickly terror filling glance towards her only customer and backed away from the counter. Danny grimaced as reporter put air quotes around the “someone” part of his sentence. Like I’m not even a person or something… He stared in alarm as the picture shifted to a very clear image of him flying through the skies over Amity Park last night. The image quickly zoomed into a picture perfect vision of his face, with a dire warning to stay away as he was powerful and dangerous. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as he felt the waitress, who had been nice so far, distance herself and stare at the back of his head. Danny took a deep breath and steeled himself; there was no avoiding this confrontation. While most people in his own, what is it future?, didn’t recognize him as Danny Phantom there was a good chance, now that the barrier of humans having ghost powers being impossible was destroyed, that someone here would. The wayward teen superhero swallowed past a lump in his throat and turned back towards Debbie. Until he had turned around, she had been convinced she was wrong. A trick of the light, a bad picture, a faulty memory, anything was more likely than the fact a ghost and likely ghost hybrid was sitting with her in the diner. Afterwards though, the pained fearful look in his eyes confirmed it for her. The brunette waitress worried the inside of her cheek indecision. She should call the authorities right this second and have this obviously dangerous creature hauled away somewhere the hell away from her, but…but, it’s so…What Debbie? Kind? Young? Innocent or something? Get a hold of yourself! This is a ruthless violent creature that destroyed two GSU fighter jets and threatened your town. You have to call the police. The decision made, Debbie reached for the phone hanging just a few inches to her left. “Wait!” She swung her eyes back towards the pleading and very young looking baby blues of the ghost currently sitting at her diner counter. She gripped the thick pink of the corded phone on the wall as the ghost shifted in its place at the bar. “Just um…I…owe you for lunch, at least let me pay you before you call the cops. Heh, you can’t get money from me after they run me out of town.” Debbie felt her heart leap into her throat. Here she was about to sic the dangerous GSU on this creature and he wanted to pay for lunch? Is this thing crazy? Wary over a trick to get close to her, she moved her hand away from the phone, and leaned against the door frame of the entrance to the kitchen next to it. “I don’t want your money, whoever you stole it from.” She watched as the ki-creature- winced across from her. She narrowed her eyes and cursed her kind heart. “You’re a nice, whatever you are; ghost, more like hybrid aren’t ya’?” She watched as his eyes widened and got the confirmation she was looking for. “Listen, I like you, I don’t know why, but I do. That’s why I’m going to give you a five minute head start before I call the cops.” Danny blinked at the offer of reprieve. He’d thought the brunette woman across from him would just call the cops and duck for cover. “I...um-” “Get out of here brat, you’re wasting time. I will call the authorities in five minutes whether you are sitting here or not, and don’t you dare leave any cash here neither.” Debbie turned away from the counter, daringly showing the ghost her back, before slipping back into the kitchen. If she didn’t know when he left exactly, the authorities couldn’t get it out of her, and she wouldn’t know what direction he ran off in either. She never told anyone but on the day of the last ghost attack, she knew why the older ghost hybrid had attacked, and it wasn’t the official story. If it had been her in that position, she’d have fought back too, and maybe that’s why she couldn’t believe that the hybrids, powerful as they were, were inhuman. Nothing inhuman cared enough to risk themselves for others. Danny jumped away from the bar and leaped for the door. He pushed it open and was about to sprint into the street, when he looked back into the quiet restaurant. He caught Debbie peering back into the main part of the diner from the kitchen and smiled the brightest nicest smile he could muster under the circumstances. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this, and I’ll pay you back some day.” The brunette rolled her eyes and pointed out of the door. “Scat ghost kid, four minutes and counting.” Danny nodded his head thankfully, and ran away from the bright glowing blue of the ghost shield. He rounded a few corners before resting against a wall to get his bearings. It was nearly 1:45 in the afternoon now and late enough for the sun to start slanting towards the west. All he had to do it look up and he’d know which way Wisconsin was. The sudden fugitive heard the whirling of sirens back towards the diner and shook his head. Debbie had been really nice to him, and even after hanging out with him, she still called the police. If someone as nice as Debbie could throw him under the bus like that, what would the rest of the world be like? Danny wasn’t sure, but he knew someone who could help him hide until he figured this crazy world out. He hadn’t been sure about going to Vlad before, but the last few minutes had clenched it for him. There’s a serious chance he isn’t at Wisconsin anymore, especially not at that huge castle, after the attack four years back, but that’s the closest place and I could get some clues from there. At least it’s out of Amity Park. Danny moved away from the wall and spied something to hide behind to transform. In a flash of bright light, he left the bonds of gravity behind and flew westward towards the Wisconsin area. Unbeknownst to him a digital signal was sent out when his ghost signature popped to life after transforming.

Washington D.C. 12:45pm EST Pentagon debriefing room

He tugged at the uncomfortable tie currently wrapped around his neck. He hated it almost as much as the polyester lined cotton monkey suit he forced to wear to these meetings. He much preferred the field operative issued suits to the bureaucratic nightmare wear he was suffering through at the moment. However, he was the leader of the Government Spectral Unit now, so he had to suffer small indignities like this to keep his organization running smoothly. The general in front of him blathered on in the slow drawl common to old entitled bureaucrats used to their own power and in love with their own voice. He resisted the urge to sneer and settled for shifting the cuff of his suit again, the itchy nightmare. When it looked like the general was winding down, he quickly interrupted, not wanting to sit through another moment of this waste of his precious time. “I completely understand your concerns General Birch and I will gladly implement all the recommendations you’ve made within reason,” which means none of them, “however, my report address all of your, and in fact, all of the other Chiefs of Staff’s objections and problems, so forgive me, but I fail to see the point of this meeting. I have an organization to run and a dangerous ecto-entity to capture, so you’ll understand my urgency to leave.” “Commander, maybe you don’t see the reasons for this meeting, but I do. Your organization, one that you are so keen to get back to, failed to apprehend a dangerous ghost. The GSU costs millions of dollars a year to keep operating, and has been hemorrhaging funds for years. It’s a money sink, and worse it doesn’t even seem capable of defending the US citizens as commissioned.” “With all due respect Secretary, the ghost we faced yesterday was no ordinary creature. My initial reports and analysis of the situation indicates that creature was a hybrid. Hybrids are amazingly powerful and versatile beings and something incredibly difficult to capture and control.” “Yes,” Secretary of State Fitzgerald started, “I am well aware of the agency’s failures to capture of the ghost hybrids, this country’s greatest threat. In fact, the continued failure to do so is one of the reasons I am so unconvinced about the legitimacy of the continued operation of the GSU.” “Secretary, perhaps I need to remind you of the state of America before my organization’s current incarnation under my leadership. Anarchy. Ghosts haunted every town in America, and hot spots, like Amity Park, were attacked weekly, tri-weekly even, by powerful and dangerous ecto-entities. They terrorized the citizens of these United States and the local and even national ghost hunters could do absolutely nothing to stop them. No professional in the world could stem the seemingly never-ending tide of ghosts flowing into our world. My leadership, and my organization has done what no other has before it, stop the ghost threat. The number of ghost attacks around the world number in the dozens yearly instead of the hundreds of thousands.  Similar organizations around the world are modeled after our own, and yearly attend a conference we host, for plenty of money, to stay abreast of the current findings in the ghost community. The scientific community has never seen greater output, America has never had a greater input on the world scene, and we’ve done it all while destroying the ghosts and making our country a safer place on a balanced budget.” “That’s a wonderful speech Commander, but one that has yet to be corroborated. I’ve had my assistants look into the financials for the GSU and the preliminary findings have it underwater by a long shot.” Secretary Fitzgerald leaned against the table on his palms. The current administration he served didn’t like the GSU, not at all familiar with the time ghost attacks were regular. Personally, he’d never seen the need to eliminate all those weak ghosts while the real threat, the hybrids, roamed free. “I respectfully disagree.” The GSU’s Head Commander leafed through the papers sitting in front of him. He hated bureaucracy. Jill usually took care of things like this for him, tackling the intricate questions while he made the inspiring fund grabbing speeches. She watched over the regular everyday operations while he attended to the grand vision of things. It was what he was best at; the long creative view had always been his strong point.  The mundane details like this just didn’t interest him and he expected his second in command, who wasn’t here at the moment, to know them and be able to spit them out at a moment’s notice. “Well if your word is all we have to go on-” “Not at all Secretary Fitzgerald.” A new smooth voice preened from the other side of the room. The click of determined set steps in heels echoed throughout the room. “If I recall correctly, the annual international gala pulled in a record breaking 500 million dollars, easily covering the operation costs of the GSU for the first half of the year. The second 500 million was partially kindly donated by several captains of industry and partially made by local fundraisers by the grateful citizens of our great nation. After all of that was said and done, the patents for the GSU’s work and the Commander’s personal inventions, whose revenue he has so generously donated to the budget of the GSU, lead us to a 250 million windfall that was immediately reinvested in the organization in the R&D department, scholarships for the bright and upcoming in the next generation, and holiday bonuses for our hardworking employees. We balanced the budget netting a solid neutral after all of that, and we are in line to once again have a positive budget for this coming year. If the Chiefs of Staff would be so kind as to turn to pages 156, 203, and 315 of the GSU’s mid-year report, you’ll find the information yourself.” The speaker finished, turning in a prim tight business suit towards the rest of the room. A warm smug smirk tugged at the edges of the Head Commander’s face that he quickly suppressed. “Thank you Ms. Castle. As you can see Gentlemen, my organization is in fantastic financial shape.” “Well what about your failings to capture of the ghost hybrids?” This time Secretary of Defense Dirk Muller called the organization’s merit and ability into question. The Head Commander swiftly turned to face the newest opponent. “Failings? Yes I admit I have failed in the past to capture the ghost hybrids, but my opponent is cunning, and unlike the other hybrids in the record started out not only human, but one I was intimately familiar with. It and I were in social contact with each other at one time, and the creature uses this to his advantage. Nevertheless, the last capture was aborted purposefully.” He watched as the Joint Chiefs of Staff murmured in unease around him. “Easy Gentlemen, there’s a good reason for this. I need him to be a good scout for us and lead us to the nest.” “The…nest Commander?” “Yes Secretary Muller, the ant’s nest with the rest of his kind. You see, their leader is much too intelligent, much too calculating to reveal himself or the location of the rest of the traitors to democracy. However, a scout, like any good soldier, goes out into the world to test the waters. It forages for food or a safe place to make a new nest for the rest of the colony. This scout comes and goes, but is as weak as link as it is expendable. Gentlemen, do you know how to kill an ant colony?” He paused to look over his impromptu speech’s audience.

The room’s occupants, generals and the Cabinet combined, shook their heads not catching onto the GSU Commander’s meaning. “Why, you poison it of course. Oh but you must be careful, if your poison is too swift, it will kill only the scout who brought it in, or those who taste the food for their queen. Too slow and the entire colony will develop an immunity to it. You must make a poison strong and slow enough for it to reach the queen, once there, she must consume it before the first scout falls, and then by that time it’ll be much too late to stop her inevitable death. You see Gentlemen...” the Commander rounded the table and began walking to the head of the room. “This latest incident has afforded us a unique opportunity. It seems one of Plasmius’ scouts has wandered too far from the nest and right into our trap. But instead of making a play right this moment, a poison much too fast, I have decided to use a much deadlier method. We will monitor the little creature, and watch it carry us, the deadly toxin, back into the folds of its own colony. There we will disseminate among all of its members until even their leader Plasmius finds our influence too late and widespread to do anything about. Then, we would have finally caught them.” He finished the ant poisoning analogy with a wide sweeping glance of the room. “Gentlemen we are at a crossroads. As we speak, I have reports of the hybrid traveling outside of Amity, Michigan, and towards the Wisconsin area, the last known hiding spot of Plasmius. If we intercede now, capture it, we might lose this chance forever. With the creature in our grasp, it may appear as if we have the upper hand, but don’t be fooled, we’ve been in this position before. Whenever we capture one of its scouts, Plasmius sends out a,” the Commander paused to chuckle, “valiant and powerful rescue team, whose attempts have yet to fail. If we have the hybrid with us, we leave ourselves at the mercy of Plasmius’ never-ending conniving and shrewd planning. That is not a position I want to be in again. If we let the creature pass, there’s a good chance it will go right back to its leader, and back to the vulnerable nest where we can do real damage. Even if it doesn’t, we have the hybrid’s signature in the data base and being tracked by satellite. It will not escape.” The room was silent in the wake of the Commander’s stirring recommendation. He offered a chance to rid the country of their worrying menace forever. “What about the public?” This time it was the Sectary of the Interior that spook up. “No need to worry about that Secretary. The public has been informed of nothing, and all reports of hybrids have been denied and silenced. The creature is flying over and towards uninhabited areas. The public has nothing to fear, and if there is any threat no matter how small, we will not hesitate to intervene immediately. You have my word on the matter.” The Commander crossed his arms over his chest and waited for their answer. There was no doubt in his mind they would agree, they were easily control and manipulated, and his years as head of the GSU through 3 Administrations had taught him well. “Well Commander, you drive a hard bargain, but it’s a solid plan, one without any foreseeable pitfalls for public safety. Because of this I will allow this strategy to continue, however I want periodic updates as the creature’s whereabouts and the status of the mission as a whole.” The Secretary of Defense finished up, gathering his things into his hands. This meeting was basically over. The Head Commander smirked and held out his hand to the first general preparing to exit the room. “Thank you for your support Secretary Muller and I promise you will not be disappointed.” The Commander took the Secretary’s hand into a fierce shake, a testament to his physical strength undiminished by years in the upper echelons of the bureaucracy. “Yeah well, you just make sure you don’t screw this up, and I’ll look into convincing the president to approve those forays into the Ghost World your people are always clamoring for.” The Secretary wasn’t of the same opinion as that of Ronan Fitzgerald, the Secretary of State. He was old enough to remember how much the GSU had done to stem and stop the ghost threat. Muller shuffled a few more items off onto one of his many aids and headed for the door with the rest of the Cabinet. “Oh Muller?” the Commander called out just as he met the threshold for the meeting room. “Yeah?” It was well past the scheduled lunch hour, the meeting had run over by a long time, and he was ready for something to eat. “When I put Plasmius’ head onto a pike, you’ll be the first to find out about it. I’m sure your son would…appreciate the gesture of that monster’s death.” Dirk Muller grimaced before turning around for the door. “I’d rather you send me the creature’s heart just to prove your anatomy team correct, because as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t have one.” He said over his shoulder walking quickly down the hall. The Head Commander of the GSU sighed and slumped against the meeting room table. That had been a long and annoying emergency meeting. He pulled the tie straining around his neck into a looser arrangement and fiddled with the cuffs of his suit some more. I hate this dumb three piece of shit. He thought before he felt calloused slender hands begin working the knot back tighter on his tie. “Damn it Jill, I’m off duty for a few minutes, leave the tie be.” He felt more than heard Jill’s snickering. The only evidence of it was held in her warm honey brown eyes. “Forgive me Commander, but until we are safely back in GSU headquarters, you are required to at least look the part of the Head Commander of the GSU.” She re-rolled the cuffs of his suit into a reasonable looking fold, and finished tightening his tie. Her commanding officer never did like anything but the regulation issued spandex suits the GSU underlings wore. Not that she blamed him, business suits weren’t really her style either. “Oh come on Jill,” he half whined, “no one’s watching. If I lose the tie for a few minutes no one will be the wiser. Besides I just spent the last few hours dealing with the F.B. I at least deserve a little reprieve because of that.” He crossed his arms as the tie was firmly re-tighten once more on his large frame and threw up his hands. There was really no arguing with Jillian when she got her mind made up about something, it was why she made such a good second-in-command. “Stop fussing about it. The sooner you get presentable, the sooner we can leave and get back to headquarters where it’s safe.” Jillian Castle stepped away from her superior and began strutting towards the door, knowing he’d follow. “I have a few new reports for you.” “Is that why you were late?” He grabbed a thick and bulging folder from his second, a secretary, scientist, and military leader combined into one. “Partially. I was delayed from departing by Agent’s F’s incompetence. He can read a speech well enough, but he can’t write it. If it wasn’t best he deliver the message as the spokesperson for the GSU in Amity Park, I would have done it to save time. Secondly, I was gathering all of that for you. That’s the latest analysis of the hybrid’s data. I’m not sure who the fuck this is Commander, but it’s not 2nd Priority that’s for sure. Sure its energy signature is close, and the techies down in Amity Park, the miserable shits, couldn’t tell the difference when handed a line up, but I know this creature like the back of my hand. It didn’t fight like it, or think like it. It didn’t look like the hybrid we know, and whether or not ghosts can change their appearance, hybrids aren’t known to, so that’s makes it even more unlikely. Finally, the creature walked right up to GSU central in Amity and acted surprised the sensors went off. Either that hybrid’s stupider than can be imagined, or it was honestly surprised we were there. I’m sure it’s not the former, from how it fought, so it must be the latter, not matter how ridiculous that is. There’s also the question of where this ‘bogey’ came from. You know as well as I the number of hybrids out there, and there’s only one this creature’s age, so your guess is as good as mine about the creature’s appearance.” Jill shrugged up one shoulder as they turned the final corner to exit the pentagon. The Commander frowned as he took in his second’s comments. They mirrored his nearly exactly with the missing sections being the thoughts on its fighting style. “So if this isn’t 2nd Priority, then who are you little ghostling?” He mused out loud as they slid into the limo waiting out from to take them back to GSU headquarters. He had no idea. It was obviously not a ghost, he concluded as he finished flipping through the rest of the highlighted paper his second had given him. At least it wasn’t purely ghost, so that precluded it just being a very good copy cat. That meant it was a legitimate hybrid, and with the only other hybrid its age ruled out, it made it a new one all together, something he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Where had it even come from? He settled into the seat for the hour drive back to his domain. Jillian kicked off her heels next to the Commander, happy to settle in as well. “So Commander, when we get back, what do you thinking about changing back into spandex and grabbing a nice big deli sandwich for lunch?” She spared a tired glance in his direction. She’d gotten on the next flight from Amity to DC after she he finished the preparations in Michigan. She’d arrived late last night into her house, but didn’t sleep. She had realms of data to go through in order to prepare for the meeting today. The Commander had had a much shorter meeting the day before to explain to situation in Amity, but the one today she needed to be prepared for. If she hadn’t gotten stuck in traffic on the way over, she’d been on time. Luckily, the Commander never held it against her as long as she got her job done and made him look good in front of the F.B. She snickered lightly as the meaning of that particular nickname of theirs came back to her. Fucking Bureaucracy indeed. “Oh no I was thinking several chili cheese dogs, but I’ll take deli sandwiches if you buy my favorite dessert Ms. Castle.” He licked his lips at the thought of chocolate and closed his eyes, head falling back into the soft leather cushions of the limousine. “Sir, for Spumoni’s deli delights I’ll buy you dessert any day.” Jillian retorted as the car pulled into DC’s formidable traffic. Looks like it’ll be some time yet before we get anything to eat. Something on her wrist beeped and got her attention. The GSU second-in-command glanced down at her wrist communicator. She’d tied it to the GSU global positioning satellites only this morning to keep track of the ghost hybrid’s travels. The beep told her the hybrid was currently crossing Lake Michigan half way to Wisconsin. Fly fast little ghostling, and bring us closer to ‘Daddy’ Plasmius.

Danny gazed down at the seemingly endless expanse of water below him stretching in all directions. He was flying directly into the sun, and at this time of day, that made it due west. Amity was a lot closer to the Lake Huron side of Michigan than Lake Michigan he was currently crossing, but with how fast he was flying, it didn’t matter. In any case, he’d be into Wisconsin in only 45 more minutes. 

Danny sighed as his hair flipped in the wind behind a small ghost shield he’d made to stop the bugs and other assorted debris from smacking in the face at high speed. On the way out of town, he’d picked up a few new sets of clothes. 20 dollars or not, he’d had no choice but to shoplift. That’s when he learned most places in Amity area had a ghost alarm and sensors. As soon as he’d used his ghost powers to try and shoplift something a big red alarm had dropped out of the ceiling and cried Ghost Alert as loud as possible. He’d been forced to turn whatever else he needed invisible and slip out through the floor before the ghost shield on the place turned on. Outside, he’d blended in well enough, items still invisible on his person. He’d stuffed the clothes and the few other items he’d stolen, snacks, toiletries and the like, into an also stolen duffle bag. He didn’t know how long he’d be on the run or the move, but he’d picked up enough stuff to last for two weeks. At the moment, he was flying over the last part of the lake, the opposite shore coming into view. He’d had a fair amount of time to think about everything at had happened in the last few hours, and he’d come to some conclusions. First conclusion: I should be dead. This future is so obviously different from my own, that I should be really dead. I mean I guess Clockwork’s warning said ‘irreparable damage’ to the timeline, and I also guess that this isn’t irreparable damage level yet, and maybe this is how it’s supposed to be after the changes I made in the past, but plenty just isn’t right. All of the ghost security, Vlad attacking Amity Park, since when is he so stupid, and the public knowing about halfas. It’s all so surreal, and if Vlad attacked Amity four years back, and he was a family friend like I wanted to happen, then there’s no way I got powers. I mean my parents must have known how it happened, so there would be a lot more precautions in the lab to prevent another accident from happening. Which if that’s true, doesn’t explain the press report from that GSU guy talking about “hybrids” plural. Or maybe I do still have ghost powers, and I got them sooner because the portal got built faster with Vlad’s help? Ah…Christ man. This shouldn’t be so complicated. Second conclusion: I wish Clockwork wouldn’t be so damn cryptic. I’m getting the sense that Clockwork knew about all of this shit, and has been giving me clues that can be used multiple times. As if telling me to trust Vlad, as much as I hate the guy, hasn’t panned out multiple times. If only his warning about a time limit was more obvious, stupid time ghost. Danny paused in his internal monologue and shook his head in exasperation. Clockwork was a subject that both confused and irritated him. I’m also still wearing his Medallion, which leads me to the next point. Third Conclusion: He wants me to visit him. There’s no other reason I can think of for his time piece to still be around except him wanting a reason to talk to me again, as if he couldn’t just pop up himself. Obviously, he wants me to come to him, which is annoying. The landscape swiftly changed from the soft blues of Lake Michigan to the deep greens and browns of land. Several small lakeside towns passed underneath Danny’s nearly frantic flight before giving way to the rural countryside. This part of the country was mostly “Southern Canada”, a combination of small rural towns separated by large expanses of untouched wilderness. Danny slipped back into his pensive state as the land beneath him changed into forest. Well this is the first time in like a week I’ve had time to myself to think, and I’m not even sure what to think about. The last week was crazy, my own adventures in being hunted not included. I’m not sure what to make of my parents honestly getting along with Vlad so well, or Vlad being not as big of a dick as normal. I didn’t think he could actually be nice, and care about someone. Most of the time he’s so manipulative, and a jerk. If he was that nice all the time in the future…well ignoring his offers for “apprenticeship” or something would be a lot harder. I’m both glad and upset he isn’t so nice in the future. And I’m not sure what makes me more uncomfortable with the “Vlad can nice too!” revelation from this time traveling mess. Is it the fact Vlad can be nice, but just chooses to act like a dick or that people can change so completely as to be nearly unrecognizable? Sometimes I like to think that people never change, good people are good just because they are, and evil people are bad because they are. It’s like an inherent quality or something, but if…But if that’s not really the case, what’s to stop me from becoming…I mean even now… Danny shuddered as the forest close to Vlad’s Wisconsin residence came into view. He was only a few minutes from the castle of the former Wisconsin Dairy King now, so he slowed his flight to a moderate pace. He didn’t want to zoom past it. Danny pulled up to the western edge of what should be Vlad’s grounds, only to find them in total disarray. In fact, even the castle itself was basically falling apart. Some of it looked like the result of years of disrepair and disuse, but some other parts…Why is there a black scotched hole in the side of the building? Danny wondered as he hovered near the blackened opening. In his humble opinion it looked like an energy burn, one made either by a large ecto-blast or an especially powerful spectral weapon of some sort. The ghost powered teen landed just inside the hole on the western wall and peered inside into the dark interior. “Um…Hello?” Danny’s voice echoed off the empty barren walls of the castle. The room he had landed in was an old living room. Upturned tables still lay, though swollen and beginning to rot in the elements, in the room next to broken vases and shattered glass mirrors. The shadows of opulence still hung over the room, with expensive looking tapestries hung from the wall, torn and burnt in odd places, caught in the signs of a struggle. There was a pervasive feeling of emptiness in the whole space, and Danny realized with a start, there wasn’t even the ambient ghost energy he always sensed when around Vlad’s house. He stepped further into the space, carefully picking through and stepping over the remains of the destroyed room. The door on the other side of the space hung precariously off its hinges and Danny had to gently pull it to the side to prevent it from falling in. Whoever had lived here, however long it ago it was, is definitely long gone. Danny thought as he walked into the main hall of the Castle’s western side. Noticeably absent were the bright gold and green decorations, testaments to Vlad’s unerring devotion to the Greenbay Packer’s. The marble tile floors were covered in dust and a mysterious fine power. The walls were nearly crumbling on the exterior facing portions, or had more scorches and large dents on the interior facing sections. The carpeted areas were ripped to shreds, burnt, or stained with something so close in color to dried blood that it gave Danny shivers. There were no light fixtures throughout the whole of the areas of the castle he’d so far explored, and Danny was thankful for ghost’s enhanced night vision. He finally came to main part of the castle, the grand staircase, or where he remembered it being in any case. Instead of the thick marble banisters of his memory and the shining gold tinted marble steps, there was nothing but a gaping hole. It went straight down from the second floor, where he had entered, to the first, where there was even more extreme damage. The first floor was an indistinct hodgepodge of destroyed furniture, blackened floor and walls, and violent splatters of dark brown, that in Danny’s opinion shouldn’t still be so clear or there at all. He peered down the edge of the broken stairway, contemplating whether or not to head downstairs, when a crash came from off to the left. Danny turned his head at the sound that echoed from towards the original entrance to the castle. Well that came from downstairs, so I guess that’s where I’m going. He still couldn’t sense any ghosts, looks like they got the Dairy King too, so it was likely it was someone human. That only brought up more questions. Vlad’s castle was in the middle of nowhere basically, with any close city at least an hour’s drive away. That ruled out random local kids wanting to explore. It was also surrounded by a lot of woods, but obviously abandoned. So that ruled out campers looking to stock up on supplies or get out of the “camping experience”. There were no cars when he came in, and the roads weren’t well tended to this far out because no one lived here. All in all, who could be making the banging noises coming only feet away from him were a small list of beings, none of whom made sense at the moment to be here. It only made Danny more curious as he rounded the last corner, having turned invisible a few feet back, to sneak a peek into the next room. What the teen hero saw shocked him. Inside were two kids, no older than twelve, shifting through some boxes under what would have been the sink in the kitchen had the building been still intact. One of the kids tossed a piece of pipe out of the way, and the repetitive clanging sound suddenly had a source. Danny shifted back around the edge of the corner and held back the urge to sigh in relief. They obviously weren’t dangerous, but it didn’t explain how they got there. One thing’s for sure though, they were definitely human. He moved away from the corner near the kitchen and transformed. He hadn’t wanted the light from the transformation to carry into the other room and spook the other kids. Danny took a deep calming breath, ignoring the tickle of the dust floating in the air, and walked around the corner. He was wearing stolen duds at the moment, the most obvious being a new hooded jacket with the symbol for Abercrombie and Fitch on the breast pocket. If you’re going to steal, at least get something good right? He refocused himself on the pair in front of him. At the very least they can tell me what happened around here. No way a fight as big as this one didn’t cause stories with the locals. And they were locals, Danny had decided, they had to be. Maybe some kids from a Boy Scout troop got lost and wandered off. “Hey…” He said as he waved at the kids seated a few feet from him. The two of them turned around quickly, almost fast enough to blow the tops of their hoodie jackets back and away from their faces. Two pairs of bright purple eyes stared at the sudden addition to the room with growing worry, before turning back to one another. “Uh oh.” They said in unison, before swiftly standing to their feet and backing up towards the hole where the kitchen sink should have been. “No wait! It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m uh…my name’s Danny-” He hadn’t pulled the top of his own jacket hood down yet. “Danny huh? That’s a cool name.” One of the kids answered. “Quiet Nate, we aren’t supposed to talk to strangers.” “Yeah well, we aren’t supposed to be here either. So there.” The left child retorted. “So you’re Nate are you?” Danny crossed part-way over to the two pre-teens. “Oh yeah!” Nate, the one on the left, answered before getting smacked by the other kid in the room. “Why are you answering that? We aren’t supposed to give out our names either!” “Ah, don’t be such a worry wart Nick. Besides you said my name first.” “He is right you know.” Danny commented before crouching down next to them. “So could either of you two-” Danny started before he was cut off by something hot and painful slamming into his left side. He simultaneously held his stinging side and spinning head, trying to re-gather his bearings on the floor. Before he could make much headway, he noticed something silver and black with a high pitched whine pointing directly at his head. “Wah is-…” “Stay right where you are! If you so much as wiggle a pinky finger ghost, I’ll splatter your ectoplasmic brains across the far wall.” Danny felt ice settle into his being as his vision cleared enough to see his attacker. It can’t be… “Jazz?”

…then Danny might want to stay asleep.

[captainjackssingalongblog]

So the box synopsis of this movie sounds really interesting: a group of college kids decide to measure whether or not thoughtforms can manifest in realty and everything goes horriby wrong, indicating their thoughtform does manifest and they must destroy it, right? Except that’s possibly not what this movie is about at all. I will denote [SPOILERS] before they happen, should you wish to avoid them. Apparently my descriptions of what actually happens in this movie are funny or something.

I was disappointed in this movie for several reasons: the plot was based on someone being an idiot; the apparition doesn’t ever make a full appearance; it provides neither closure nor sequel fodder; and the apparition spends most of the movie just being a dick.

The acting was good, if somewhat overdramatic on the part of Girlfriend #2. The neighbour kid, however, is brilliant. Score reasonably thriller-y. Effects quote good. The first 15 minutes of the movie might as well have been from a different movie though. That first 15 minutes had me. I was ready to be terrified, like blanket to the chin terrified of this movie. And then its momentum sort of died. The apparition stopped being a malevolent murder-ghost and become just an irritating asshole who kills the neighbour’s dog because it seemed fun at the time. The whole sense of dangerous murder-ghost, forgive me, gives up the ghost at that point. Even if we do bring back Murder McMurdermist, I’m just not set for scared anymore. They completely overextended the suspense in this one, having played their fear card at the onset, and it kind of killed it for me.

And below the jump: a re-enactment by Captain Jack.

The first 90-150 seconds is a grainy 70s home movie of the basis for the college kids’ endeavours called “The Charlie Experiment”, wherein a bunch of paranormal investigators try to contact their recently deceased pal Charlie. If these kids are dealing with thoughtforms, why do we care about a group of 70s investigators trying to contact an actually recently deceased person?

Wait, what the fuck is a thoughtform? Remember the episode of Supernatural Hell House? That. That’s a thoughtform: have enough energy invested in believing in a thing and it manifests as reality. At least that’s the somewhat logical conclusion of the idea of thoughtforms. They are in fact based on a Tibetan idea called Tulpa, mentioned in the episode, but Tulpa is more realistically about the power of enlightened persons to manifest things for positive reasons not scaring the shit out of people.

And we’re back. So these college kids decide based on The Charlie Experiment to will a ghost into existence? Yeah, I don’t really follow that logic either. If you do, please explain. But anyhow, they do it. Led by intrepid investigator Tom Felton--who has clearly made at least one poor life choice since the Harry Potter franchise came to an end--a group of students with nothing better to do decide to will Charlie, the aforementioned actual dead guy, into existence in what appears to be a university crawlspace they’re probably not actually authorised to be in.

So based on the box synopsis we know they succeed and something terrible happens. They apparently will Murder McMurdermist into existence and its first act is to kill its mother: it grabs Girlfriend #1 and literally hides her body in the walls. Ok. This could be good, right? That’s fucking terrifying. Well, then we randomly pan to a chick in a vet’s office to meet Girlfriend #2. Girlfriend #2 is the second shown girlfriend of Not Tom Felton. GF2 and Not Tom Felton are moving into a property owned by her parents to keep it company until it finds real tenants. Then spooky shit starts happening. Plants inexplicably wither and die, doors open without triggering the alarm they went out of their way to show you was engaged, weird mold shows up, an invisible rabid raccoon plays cat’s cradle with GF2′s scarves. This all takes way too long. They run away. They come back. GF2 discovers GF1′s untimely drywall related death. GF2 breaks up with Not Tom Felton, gets back with Not Tom Felton.

[SPOILERS] And when the apparition finally makes a sort of appearance as a red blob on a heat sensor, intrepid investigator Tom Felton returned to save the day! But not before telling them that he fucked up. Bigly. It boils down to him explaining that they didn’t so much will an entity into existence as open an interdimensional doorway just enough for it to be a murder-douche the one time. Then Tom Felton had a brilliant idea that he could catch it if he did it right, only he didn’t do it right and he freed the murder-douche. He escaped its clutches by hiding in an anti-thoughtform Faraday cage, so it gave up and went after Not Tom Felton because it could scent track him or some shit, I don’t know. Oh! The IMDb page says something about it feeding on fear. They probably should’ve mentioned that in the movie. Well, Tom Felton talks them into letting him try his experiment one more time because he’s sure it’ll work this time and he’ll send Murder McMurdermist back from whence it came. They agree. Even though he has a horrible track record of this not working at all. I guess they were desperate or something. Ok, so he did try to suffocate GF2 in the hotel room with her own sheet, but otherwise he’s just been an asshole. Haha. I moved your dresser. Whoops. I killed the cactus. Sorry! I opened all the doors. Check that A/C bill! You know, the kind of shit bored teenagers do to their babysitter.

So anyhow, Tom Felton saves the day and GF2 and Not Tom Felton can go back to their normal lives in their giant house in the middle of nowhere. [SPOILERS] Not! Murder McMurdermist survives! And the first thing he does is eat Tom Felton with the closet. So Not Tom Felton and GF2 flee to Tom Felton’s Farraday Cage of safety! Well, the apparition has left Tom Felton’s journals on auto replay for them to hear. Turns out he neglected to let them know that all of the Charlie Experiment participants died horribly before inviting them to do the experiment that’s not really the same thing at all, but still. Disclosure is important. You don’t invite someone to bed and wait until morning to tell them you have herpes. Dick move. Turns out the Faraday Cage either doesn’t work or is broken. Not Tom Felton dies horrible and GF2 makes a break for it. She runs and runs and runs. Straight into the camping section of their local Lowe’s? She zips herself into a tent and a bunch of  grimy hands pet her softly and tell her it will be ok. Apparently that’s how they kill her or something.

But yeah, there’s no resolution here. We haven’t sated the apparition’s desire for revenge or something. No one else knows it exists because it ate or murdered everyone else. Is it just loose on a new plain of existence to slaughter everything in its path? Is it benevolent now that enough fear has allowed it to fully manifest? Does it walk down the street in a suit asking you to call it George? What?

Some people aren’t bothered by lack of resolution, but I see it as poor writing. Yes we have an end. Everyone dies, I get it. But we haven’t solved anything. We haven’t learned anything. You may think “it’s a horror movie what the fuck are you supposed to learn”. And that’s fine. But even Zombieland had a fucking point. Maybe the point is “you reap what you sow” or something similar, but that doesn’t account for GF2. She had nothing to do with anything other than dating the wrong guy at the wrong time. But then maybe that’s part of the point. Being peripherally related to people who fuck shit up will probably get you into some shit. So don’t be friends with heroin addicts. Ok, fine. But I was still unsatisfied at the end and a large part of it was that the basis of the movie didn’t make sense to me. The Charlie Experiment wasn’t a thoughtform experiment; it was a can we contact the dead experiment. How that turns into a thoughtform experiment still doesn’t make sense to me. If it was a thoughtform, it shouldn’t have had any affect on GF2 unless Not Tom Felton brought it up, which he was determined not to do. If it wasn’t a thoughtform, why was it so obsessed with these people? And the biggest unresolved question of all: what happened to the lizard?