That's the Spirit! - Chapter 21

[A Little Earlier than That]

“It was, it was September
Winds blow, the dead leaves fall
To you, I did surrender
Two weeks, you didn't call…”

“Tucker, will you turn that schlock off?” Sam groused. 

She reached out to grab his PDA, but Tucker avoided it. “Lay off, Sam, it’s a good song.”

The two of them left the detention room--again, man, sooner or later their parents were going to start asking questions and they already let them hang out at the Fenton place under protest--and walked through the hall towards the exit. Tucker was starting to get fed up with this junk.

You couldn’t even blame it on Danny going missing or them being tired from working with the Fentons. They kept getting in trouble because Dash had it out for them, man, and it wasn’t even slightly fair.

“Sure, if you think over-polished corporate sludge makes for good music,” Sam argued.

Tucker laughed. “Shows what you know, this is an indie rocker. She’s self-published and everything.”

Sam blinked. “And since when do you listen to indie artists?”

“Since the music’s good?” Tucker shot back. “I’m not letting you back outta that, by the way, judging something before you even know what it i--”

A locker swung open in front of him, and Tucker had to duck to avoid getting nailed in the head.

“Whoa, what the heck?!” Standing back up, Tucker looked inside the locker to see if there was a reason for it popping open like that, but the thing was totally empty. Just one weirdly fancy mirror inside a dirty, rusty cubby. “Weird.” He closed it back and hurried after Sam, who hadn’t bothered stopping. “Wait up!”

Sam didn’t stop, but she did slow her pace until he caught up.

“Oh woah, woah!”

Sam glared at his PDA again. “Can’t you wear headphones?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Dash broke them. And then I got in trouble for having them.”

She groaned loudly. “I swear, if we’re going to be getting detention anyway, next time I’m just going to hit him.”

“No argument from me.”

“Maybe if I hit him just right I can remove him from the gene pool…” she mused.

Tucker opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down at Sam’s preferred heavy-duty boots. Recently she’d started wearing steel-toed ones as, according to her, a form of weight training. “...” Tucker cringed as he imagined the scene. “...I don’t think Dash deserves that quite yet.”

Sam scoffed, but didn’t otherwise respond.

They exited the building and were only mildly surprised to see Jazz waiting for them, sitting on the steps and doing schoolwork. She looked up as the door opened and smiled. “About time. Mom and Dad are excited for something today, come on.”

She poured all her stuff into the backpack and led the way.

“You know, you didn’t have to wait up for us,” Sam said awkwardly.

Jazz waved her off. “It’s not a problem. I have an easier time doing my homework here than at home, anyway. I usually do it in class or during lunch but there was more than normal today.” She scowled. “I can’t believe you guys are getting in so much trouble. That Baxter kid is such a… a jerk!”

“Maybe you can vouch for us,” Tucker said, trying to sound lighthearted. “After all, aren’t you, like, the Valedictorian or something?”

“It’s only a month into the school year, Tucker, it’s too soon to tell that. Also,” she said, as an afterthought, “I’m a junior, not a senior.” She shook her head. “Let’s pick up the pace. There’s a lot to do today.”

Sam tilted her head even as they broke into a jog. “Like what?” 

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[Fenton Works]

“Like THIS!”

Jack held up a pair of coat hangers. They were great stuff! They were just normal metal hangers but he had spent one sleepless night painstakingly painting them the same silver as the rest of their tech. He even put on hi-vis green tape! But the real treat here was what was hanging from them!

Jack grinned widely. “You kids have been hanging out here so much, I thought it was time to officially make you part of the team!”

They were so excited! Tuck and Sam were so in love with it that they couldn’t help but stare!

Sam raised her hand and pointed. “You cannot be serious.”

“I mean--” Tucker began.

“I am not wearing that,” Sam said firmly. She pointed at the hazmat suit in Jack’s hand. “It’s green. It’s highlighter green.”

“Of course it’s green!” Jack declared. “Everyone gets their own color for the team! I’m orange, Maddie is blue, Danny is white, and Jazzy is purple! And now you two are yellow and green!” He held the suits up higher, then dropped them on the kids’ heads, before turning to look at something else.

Sam reacted like she’d been burned and threw the garment onto the floor. “It’s hideous!”

“Just like those plants you like so much,” Tucker said, shrugging. He held up his suit next to himself. “Do you think this’ll be slimming?”

Sam glared at him. She responded by just angrily gesturing at the day-glo brick wall that was Jack Fenton.

“Point taken…”

Sam poked it with her foot. “I guess I can do my usual thing… spray-paint it black, or--”

Jack plopped a hand on both their shoulders. “BZZZ, no, can’t do that! No dark colors!”

“That’s kind of my thing.”

“Sam, ghosts love the dark. If we’re fighting a ghost and you’re wearing all-black, how are we going to be able to see you against the darkness? You could get shot! No dark colors,” he said, frowning.

Tucker scratched his scalp, eyeing a nearby canister of ectoplasm. “I dunno, isn’t that the same shade as the ghosts? What if you shoot her because you mistake her for a ghost in the heat of the moment?”

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it. He picked up Sam’s suit and held it up next to the canister. “...Hm. That could be a problem.”

Jazz, who’d been watching nearby, rolled her eyes. “Dad, it’s fine. Don’t we still have that suit you made for Aunt Alicia?”

Jack scowled. “Don’t bring up that old bat, Jazz, this is a happy occasion.” He looked over his shoulder then bent down, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Besides, don’t tell your mother I said this, but Alicia hasn’t kept as fit as Maddie. She’ll never fit in that suit anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” Jazz said flatly. “But Sam might.”

“What color is it?” Sam asked.

“Red.”

“I’ll take it.”

“But I went through all the trouble of making this one for you…” Jack said, holding up the green one.

Tucker patted him on the arm. “Anyway, was that all you wanted to show us?”

Jack blinked, then beamed. “Right! This way!” He grabbed Tucker and Sam by the hands and dragged them towards the basement. “We’re making our move soon, kids, so it’s time to put you through your paces!”

Helpless to fight against Jack’s strength, they both looked back to Jazz, silently begging for help.

Jazz didn’t pay them any mind. “Have fun! I’ll be down shortly!” She wanted to put her schoolwork in her safe before something exploded and ruined it again…

…!

She paused on the stairs. A picture on the wall bumped, just slightly. Looking over the banister, Jazz squinted at her dad as he shepherded Danny’s friend downstairs. She couldn’t put her finger on it… but was it darker in the room than it should be?

Then she blinked, and the feeling passed. Jazz shrugged and went upstairs.

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[Basement]

Creeping. Crawling. Slinking. Mauling. Johnny 13’s Shadow followed the giant hunter into the basement, hiding in the shade the humans cast beneath them.

It was not really a ghost in a way that most would describe it. It was a semi-autonomous construct connected to Johnny, sharing his unique energy signature and returning to him whenever the energy sustaining it ran out. It could be dispersed, destroyed, and disintegrated, but it would always reform under Johnny’s feet.

Shadow did not exactly, as it were, think. It could vaguely remember being around when Johnny was still alive, but it hadn’t been, not really. It was a metaphor brought to unlife, created by Johnny’s final thoughts, cursing his bad luck. The Shadow wasn’t really able to make its own decisions, or make judgements based on risk or reward. It followed Johnny’s commands, and it made things go wrong for other people.

While it didn’t think, however, that didn’t mean it wasn’t intelligent. Ghosts are weird.

The large man passed a table, snatching two items from atop it that Shadow paid no mind to. It transferred itself under the table, and peered up into 3-D space. It felt Johnny looking through its eyes as it scanned the room.

“Here you go kids!” the giant said, dropping two handguns into their hands. “Maddie, Danny’s friends are here!”

The woman looked up from where she was working, smiling. “Wonderful, dear. Tucker, Sam, there’s an area you can change into your new suits just over there…”

Ugh, these guys… Shadow heard through its connection. Look around more.

Shadow’s gaze panned across the room.

“Kids, you need to get dressed soon! The Ghost Zone isn’t safe, after all, and you’ll be glad for the protection.”

“Wait, we’re going in there? Right now?” the black kid asked, nervous.

“Not right now, of course, don’t be ridiculous,” the woman said. “We need to run you through the gun safety procedure, first.”

The goth girl raised an eyebrow. “What, like, don’t point it at anything you don’t want to shoot?”

“Well you won’t run into that problem in there,” the giant shouted. “Nothing but ghosts! Why wouldn’t you want to shoot them?”

Jeez… wait. There.

The bike. Shadow tuned out the voices as unimportant. There it was. The bike. Johnny’s bike. Shadow flowed forward, hugging the floor. It moved quickly, and without care, jostling the table as it went. It ignored whatever it was that fell on it, ignored the jolt that passed through it as it drew near the motorcycle, and ignored any possibility of being caught as it peeled itself off the ground. Lucky for it, or rather unluckily for them, none of them noticed it in the relative darkness of the room. It helped that both the Shadow and the bike were black.

I’m coming.

Shadow huffed. It settled into the motorcycle’s shadow and waited.

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Tucker jumped at a sudden noise. He turned and saw something had fallen off the table.

“...Hey, what’s this?” he asked, picking up the-- “Some kind of thermos?”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, Tucker,” Maddie corrected, not looking up from where she was making adjustments to something or other.

Tucker examined it. The lines running through it were flickering dimly, like a flashlight running low on battery. 

Jack jerked it out of his hand. “Careful with that, Tuck! There’s a ghost in there!” He slammed it back on the table. “Sneaky little gremlin came through the portal the other day. But we got it dead to rights! Huh? Huh?”

He elbowed Tucker before laughing at his own joke.

“Ha. Ha.” Sam blinked as a red hazmat suit was shoved in her hands, and she held it out for examination. “...I can work with this. Mrs. Fenton, what exactly are we doing?”

Maddie smiled. “I’m glad you asked. First, let’s show you some of the gadgets we’re going to be using for this mission: the Fenton Thermos you’ve already seen, but we also have this,” she held up a small handheld gadget, “the Ghost Gabber, for translating anything the ghosts say. We’ll get them to tell us where Danny is if it kills them,” she growled. Then she was all smiles again. “Those pistols you’re holding don’t have an official name yet, but they’re essentially upscaled versions of Tucker’s Wrist Ray. I find a proper handgun easier to aim than the smaller mounted ones,” she added, twirling a third pistol across her palm. “Now, let me show you how to handle these.”

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Rotom was bored. It was almost worse than the horrible space place from before, because at least that wasn’t so boring, ugh.

It wasn’t able to phase through this container, because there was some kind of containment field that interfered with its intangible state.

The container rattled, and Rotom swore at whoever was tossing it around. It didn’t deserve this! This pokéball sucked!

…wait. Whatever that knock was, the containment field was wavering. Rotom started pushing.

-----------------------------------------

“And remember kids, don’t fire until you see the red of their eyes,” Jack lectured.

Tucker held up his hand, taking care to point the pistol at the floor. “Mr. Fenton, I can’t find the safety on my gun.”

Jack blinked. “Safety?”

“It’s the blue button on the bottom of the handgrip, Tucker,” Maddie answered for him.

“Oh, okay.”

The ground shook, and the Fentons whirled, weapons primed. Tucker and Sam were slower but still got to see the Stone Slab lying on its back in front of the portal.

Jazz ran downstairs. “What happened? The whole house shook! Oh.”

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Runerigus stared at the ceiling of wherever he was, feeling blank inside. Was this what he had come to? He had been competent, once. Once, he had guarded an ancient burial ground from dark spirits and grave robbers alike. He was terrifying and feared throughout the land. He had once frightened an archaeologist so badly that he retired and opened a bakery instead. 

That burial ground was gone now, and when he was offered the chance to serve Lord Giratina he had jumped on it. Anything to fulfill his purpose once again.

But he was bad at it. First, the biker hoodlums outrunning him. The punk ghost snaring him in a fishnet. The human tricking him with the oldest one in the book. That damned Rotom. And now, the diver had overpowered him.

He felt as empty as his Unovan cousins. He felt ashamed. He felt…

Infuriated.

“The attack begins! TAKE THIS GHOST!” someone screamed. A human, a loud one.

Something splatted against Runerigus’s surface. Green ooze covered up his painted image, sizzling slightly against the stone of his body.

…That tears it.