A New World, An Old Haunt

by Professor Frogenshtein

Ch 8: No Rest for the Wicked

Author's Note:

Behold, the megachapter!

Here we learn a little bit more about some of the characters as they travel towards their first destination.

Ghost Mansion

Unliving room

Mid-day

The meeting had been adjourned, and the group had split up to appreciate the downtime before they arrived at Hollow Shades. Frothing Stein had stayed behind at my request; I had proposed that both professors 'needed to get to know each other'. This quickly devolved into a back-and-forth of science jokes.

"And so I tell him 'if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate!'"

"Hah," I laughed, "that's a good one. But really though, I don't know almost anything about you; tell me a bit about yourself."

Frothing Stein leaned back in his seat, opening the soda pop I'd gotten him from the fridge. "Well if you insist," he started, "where should I begin?"

I hmmed in thought for a moment, settling on one of the more obvious questions. "Might as well start with that symbol on your backside; I noticed it when we met, but I kept forgetting to ask."

"Oh this?" He motioned to the picture of a foaming mug of what I could only assume was alcohol on his flank. "It's my cutie mark."

"Kooky whatnow?"

"Cutie mark. It shows what a pony's special talent is after they figure it out themselves; most ponies build careers off of their talent. Mine shows my proficiency with spirits, so to speak."

"So a picture just showed up on your rear end and told you you were good with beer? I thought you said you were a scientist."

Stein looked affronted. "I am a scientist," he said, sounding slightly incredulous, "I also said I was a brewmaster, which I am as well." He put his hooves on the table and leaned forward. "I run a beverage corporation to pay my bills, but my truest passion is in chemistry, alchemy, and all forms of brew-haha; the fine moustache on your face can a attest to my successes in those fields."

I held my mask closer, stroking the moustache on it almost on reflex. Stein took a gulp of his soda as I reflected on how I was instinctually making a habit of using my mask for comfort.

Flavor's a bit bland, but the carbonation is alright; still, it's no 'doctor fizz'.

What was that?

You know, doctor fizz? Basically the best soda ever, which I invented? Unless you're one of those 'hay cola' fanatics...

There it is again; some kind of voice coming from... I don't know where!

Oh goodness, this is a first-person perspective isn't it? Terribly sorry, please ignore me, I'll go away.

It sounds like... Professor Stein?

I looked over at the pony professor, who suddenly seemed very interested in the ceiling.

"So Dante," he said suddenly, breaking my train of thought, "why don't you tell me about your life-- erm, afterlife."

I decided it was probably just the stress getting to me; I concentrated on calming my nerves before speaking.

"Well I actually wasn't always a ghost."

"No!" Stein put both hooves to his mouth in mock disbelief.

"It's true; before I was brought to this planet, I was a human being."

"A whooman whatsman?"

"A human. There's a portrait on the back wall over there; I'm the pink one in the hat."

Stein turned to look. "I see. That's a nice lab coat you're wearing; looks fancy."

I grinned. "Yeah, well, we tended to get a lot of large research grants; I was basically the only scientist in the field of ghost-type studies."

"That explains the flying mansion. Was any of your work ever published?"

"Oh most certainly. In fact, it was only recently that I published a paper on proper care for ghost-types, and how to avoid having your soul stolen."

Stein blinked behind his goggles before lifting them up over his horn. "Stolen?"

"Oh yeah," I said, taking a sip of my own soda, "plenty of ghost-types are known for their tendencies to drain life force, lay curses, drag people to the underworld..." I trailed off as I noticed Stein staring. "Well I mean," I quickly backtracked, "it's only SOME ghost-types that do that, and those guys are jerks. My team is perfectly safe to be around."

It wasn't completely untrue; it'd been a whole 3 weeks since the last incident, and even then the guy only ended up with a couple of mental scars.

Stein relaxed, but only slightly. "Well you don't look like any of the other ghosts in that portrait," he said, nodding towards the back wall, "what's your deal?"

"I'm a yamask," I answered, holding up my mask. "Yamask as a species are, to my knowledge, composed entirely of humans who died and came back as ghosts. That's what the mask is for; it's my face from back when I was alive."

"And is it made of pure gold?" Stein looked at my mask, inquisitive. "I imagine that would be quite valuable in the wrong hooves."

I clutched my mask tighter. "Yeah, no," I growled, "yamask are usually very attached to their mask; temple raiding is one of the leading causes of easily preventable damnation where I'm from."

Stein put up both his front hooves in a 'calm down' gesture. "Just asking," he said, "I'm more curious on if it's made of real gold. From a scientific standpoint, you know."

I paused, then looked at my mask. "I don't know if it's gold or not," I pondered, "that's one of the things I was going to hopefully test after finding a yamask for my team; I guess I found one after all."

"Two if you count Boneyfruit-- er, Banafrit."

"Oh right, Bunny." My eyes wandered as I thought of that angel. "She's a beautiful soul; I wonder what Lucius wanted to talk to her about."

---

Master bedroom

Meanwhile

"And here," said Lucius as he led a curious Queen Banafrit through the door, "is the master bedroom. I'm showing it to you because I get a feeling you'll be spending some time here." Lucius turned to the queen with a wry smirk and a knowing wink. "If you know what I mean."

The queen crossed her arms and gave the shadow pokémon a small glare. "Watch your tongue, vizier; it is improper to speak to a queen in such ways."

Lucius dropped his grin, his eyes turning serious. "Yeah?" He narrowed his eyes, "I guess we won't waste any time on pleasantries then." There were audible clicks from around the room as the doors and windows seemed to lock by themselves all at once.

Lucius' smile returned, now cold and sinister. "On to business."

Suddenly, all light in the room disappeared, and the queen was left in total darkness. After only a moment, a spotlight turned on; squinting, the queen looked up to see it was shaped like a wide smile. She tried to shield her eyes, only to find both of herself sitting on a padded golden throne with restraints binding her hands to the armrests.

"What is this?" She murmured.

There was a cold steel table in front of her. A figure strode into the spotlight from out of the darkness; it was Lucius, wearing a grey fedora and tie while smoking a cigar and holding a crowbar.

"So'z youze is da dame da boss's got a 'ting for," he said, sneering down at her, "she don't look like much, Lucy."

Much to Banafrit's bewilderment, another Lucius shuffled in, wearing a smock and a surgical mask; both had unpleasant red stains that he absentmindedly brushed at while fiddling with a pair of pliers. "Nein, ze fräulein ist not zat impressive. Und put zat out, zis is a no shmoking room."

The first Lucius shrugged, rubbing his cigar into an ashtray on the table that the queen was sure she had not seen earlier.

"Now don't be so hard on the lass, boys," came a voice, and a third Lucius stepped into the light; this one was wearing a blue peaked cap with a yellow badge on it with a small pair of round glasses, and there was another badge on his torso. "She only just got here." The third Lucius turned to the queen, an expression of mock concern on his face. "Is the chair comfy enough, yer hoighness?" he asked, "I can get ye more pillows if you need 'em."

The queen's confusion died down, replaced with anger and disbelief. "What is this?" She demanded, attempting to phase out of the chair, "release me!"

"A'm afraid I can't do that, ma'm," spoke the third Lucius, "we've got some questions we'd like ye to answer first."

"You DARE--" she began, but was cut off when a crowbar smacked into the table.

"Yeah," spoke the first Lucius, "I darez; da boss seems to like youze a lot. And dat's all hunky-dory, but any new members uh da crew gotta go 'trough a little 'evaluation' foist."

"It's a fairly standard process, mind," the third ghost cut in, "we have to be sure that any new friends we make aren't liable to stab us in the back and warp us into an unending noightmare." The third Lucius floated closer. "We're just looking out fer the boss's best interest ye understand; all ye'll have to do is talk."

The second Lucius spoke up, catching the queen's attention. "Und glauben Sie mir, belief me, ve haff vays of making you talk, fräulein." He clapped the pliers shut menacingly.

The queen struggled against her restraints. "You think you can intimidate ME?" she yelled, "I am QUEEN BANAFRIT, I possess power far greater than anything you can--"

Smack

The queen flinched back; she'd been slapped across the face.

"Be silent," said the second Lucius. The queen looked at his hand; he was holding an empty glove. "Ah yes," the ghost said, "ein kleine buttermesser, a little butter knife, told us you don't like being touched."

"A dame like youze shouldn't be makin' threats like dat," said the first Lucius, reaching under the table, "it might make others wanna threaten youze back." He placed something on the table in front of the queen.

It was her mask.

"Such a pretty face," said the third Lucius, taking in the shock of fear in the queen's eyes, "if something were to happen to it… Well, I think we all don’t want that.”

The queen grit her ghostly teeth, determined not to show any weakness; she would not allow herself to be frightened by these insolent shades.

"What is it that you want?" She asked, clenching her fists.

The third Lucius smiled at her with feigned politeness. "It's like we said befoar, ma'm; we just have a few questions."

"Very well," Queen Banafrit growled, "I acquiesce to your pitiful interrogation."

The Lucius in the fedora growled back. "Who'z is youze callin' pitiful, you--"

"Enough," came a new voice, and there appeared yet another Lucius; he wore a brown deerstalker's hat with a monocle, and held a magnifying glass in his hand. "The good lady has agreed to questioning; we have no further need of such brutishness."

Frankly, if they did not have her so forcefully and inexplicably restrained, Queen Banafrit would have found the situation more ridiculous than intimidating.

The new Lucius turned to face the queen. "Let's begin," he said, examining her through the magnifying glass, "tell us about your past; who you were in life."

Forcing herself to unclench her fists, the queen composed herself before she began to answer. "I was - I am - Queen Banafrit, twenty-seventh ruler of the land that is today known as Unova."

---

Centuries in the past, on ancient earth...

A shining palace sat half-built upon a foundation of hard stone amidst a barren landscape. Inside, a beautiful young woman with dark, fair skin was being outfitted with the finest of royal silks and jewelry.

From birth, I was groomed to rule by my father, King Ptolemy.

Ptolemy? I know that name; surely you don't mean Ptolemy the war king?

The very same.

In the corner of the room stood a tall man wreathed in the garb of a pharaoh; his skin was tan and littered with scars, and his face was hard and unforgiving. In his hand he held a staff tipped with the blades of a slain haxorus, and his headress was the helmet of a samurott.

I've read that the ruthless war king carved a bloodied path through ancient Unova, conquering lands to add to his kingdom in a search for immortality.

He did indeed do such things; my father was as cruel and unforgiving as the desert sun.

A servant entered the room carrying a cup of wine. The servant was malnourished, face hollow and arms thin, and he stumbled as he entered, spilling the wine on the king's robe as he fell. The servant looked up from the ground, terrified, as the king glared down at him, raising his bladed staff.

He extended his wrath even to his own people.

The king wiped his staff blades on the former servant's garb. Around the young woman, the seamstresses stared and shook. At a glare from the king, however, they hurriedly returned to their task.

And what about you? What were you to your father?

I was the guaranteed continuation of his legacy; his heiress, his princess. I was his backup plan, and nothing more.

All though the ordeal, the young woman did not move, did not turn to look at her father or at the blood pooling on the floor; her expression lay flat, her eyes all but dead to the world.

Harsh.

He worked hard to teach me that compassion was weakness, and that all who opposed me were simply saying they wished to die. He taught me that servants were but insects, that pokémon were mere tools, and we were gods.

It was the next day; peasants in tattered robes were gathered before the palace as the king presented the young woman from a high balcony. Golurk and sigilyph stood guard, ensuring that no one tried to attack. Or escape.

My father also taught me the art of war.

Unbeknownst to the king, the young woman was scanning the guards, her face impassive as she visually checked each one; all of them were wearing a small piece of silk somewhere on their body.

I learned the ways of subterfuge.

She finished her scan, nodding ever so slightly as she slowly inched towards the railing.

I studied the complexities of a perfect ambush.

The golurk on the balcony behind the king suddenly slammed a fist into the ground without warning, causing an earthquake, while the sigilyph guards raised the peasants into the air with their powers to protect them from harm.

I became proficient in hand-to-hand combat.

The king became outraged as the palace shook, his footing unsteady as he whirled to face the guard. The young woman quickly swept the king's legs from beneath him, grabbing his staff.

I was told one must never turn their back on an enemy.

From the floor of the balcony, the king's face displayed his shock as the young woman raised the staff with both arms.

But the most important lesson was one I observed on my own.

She swung down.

One must never turn their back on an ally, either.

From the balcony fell a severed head, wearing a samurott's headress.

---

The fourth Lucius looked at the queen thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the side of his magnifying glass. "'Those who live a cruel life shall find only a cruel death.'" he said, "A quote from an ancient Unovan philosopher, I believe."

Queen Banafrit sighed lunglessly. "It does not matter," she said, all earlier traces of her anger gone, "word of my father's death spread quickly, and the shift in the balance of power provided an opportunity for savages to invade our lands; my forces were overwhelmed and I was killed a month after my coronation." She closed her eyes tightly, holding back tears. "I was going to change my father's kingdom, and make the throne a position to be loved instead of feared," her hands curled into fists again, "but the people were all terrified of me; they thought I might become worse than my father ever was." She opened her eyes to look at her mask, and red tears broke loose from her eyes. "But they had been right to fear me. My father's teachings had taken hold in my mind, and even now I cannot stop myself from lashing out..."

A stubby purple hand was placed on the table beside the queen, and she looked up to see Lucius-- the real Lucius; the other four had disappeared.

"You've had a hard life" he said, looking saddened, "and an even harder afterlife." The restraints around the queen's wrists clanked open. "I can't blame you for being resentful; anyone would. You're welcome to stay with the boss."

Red eyes met red eyes as the queen looked up. "You are certain?"

"Absolutely. But first you have to promise me three things."

Queen Banafrit listened intently as he continued.

"First, you should talk to the boss about this; he'll want to help however he can. He won't hold it against you, he's an optimist like that."

The queed gave a silent nod.

"Second, you need to swear to me that you will not harm anyone on our team or treat them as inferior." The shadow's eyes turned hard for a moment as he said this. "The boss sees us all as equals, and he's just as protective as I am when he needs to be."

Another, more earnest nod. "And the third?"

"Third," said Lucius, and the room faded back to darkness as he spoke, "I need you to wake up."

---

Queen Banafrit woke with a start. Looking around, she realized she was still in the master bedroom, laying on the large canopy bed.

"You alright?"

The queen turned; Lucius was floating beside her as if nothing had happened.

"You must have been tired; you passed out on the bed right after I showed you in."

She blinked. Had it all been a dream? She felt for her mask; it was clutched safely in her tail.

"Yes," said the queen, "I am well." She floated up and off of the bed. "But if you will excuse me, I have matters I must discuss with Dante." She went to the door and made to turn the handle.

It was locked.

"Oh," came Lucius's voice from the other side of the room, "let me get that for you."

The door unlocked with a click.

The queen's eyes widened slightly, but her face was otherwise devoid of emotion. "Thank you, vizier."

"You're welcome, fräulein."

---

Storage

"Trick or treat!" Jack opened the door to the storage room and skipped joyfully inside, Ravid following behind him as the jack-o-lantern started rummaging through boxes

"Does he finds it? Ravid needs his precious..."

Jack looked up, still rifling through boxes of what looked like junk as he spoke.

"Ravles, pal, you know me; I can find anything! I'll find our spare items faster than you can say 'floccinaucinihilipilification'!"

Ravid frowned as he tried to parse what he'd just heard

"Flocksy- flossynock- flockynotchy-"

The sableye proceeded to stumble over the word for the better part of an hour before being interrupted by an exclamation of triumph.

"Found it!"

Jack popped up from inside one of the boxes. Ravid looked at him in anticipation.

"It finds the precious?!"

"Oh, that? I found that a while ago." Jack tossed over a small orb with a swirled design inside, which Ravid caught and held to his chest protectively. "No, I found the dictionary so I could look up that word!"

Ravid wasn't paying attention, clutching the odd stone like life itself.

"Ravid was worried, precious. But Ravid has you back now, and it won't ever let go..."

"Hey Ravles, you want these cool sunglasses too?"

"Yes, yes, gives it to us!"

---

Training arena

The training arena was a large room built in the basement of the complex.

How a flying castle could have a basement was beyond Durendal's understanding, but it wasn't his place to question the grand duke-- or the king, as Dante had finally accepted his place as true ruler over his small ghost kingdom. It even seemed the sovereign had found a worthy bride, even if the queen was a bit... Forceful.

Regardless, now was not the time for such matters; he was here to practice his technique with his greatest battle ally.

"Now Goliath," began the sword from his place in the giant's hand, "today we shall be practicing our 'skyward sword' maneuver; focus on properly using that shield, and I shall guide your movements for attack."

Goliath said nothing, simply nodding as he held up Durendal's shield in his other hand.

"Let's do this like Sire taught us; start with Fly."

Nodding again, Goliath withdrew his legs into his body before flames shot out from below his skirt like a rocket booster.

Speakers around the room activated as Tesla's voice rang out.

"Alright guys, I'm activating the training program."

Mechanical hisses and whirs sounded all around them as gun turrets and armed robots rose from the floor.

"Right then." Durendal's eye glinted in anticipation as Goliath brought up the shield.

"For the glory of the spirit king!"

---

Foal Mountain, near the peak

Biscuits' breath was heavy as he and Corporal tried to keep up with the balloon house. The problem wasn't that the house was going too fast, that wasn't it at all. The problem was that the dogs kept running into more angry creatures, forcing them to... delay their chase.

"Snow bom, boma snowbom abom!"

One such creature was a giant angry snowy tree.

Biscuits found new energy in his terror. "Run, Corporal!"

And as they ran, Corporal thought to himself that ghost hunting was a lot easier back on earth.

Comments

[LakieLegion]

Corporal thought to himself that ghost hunting was a lot easier back on earth

ghost hunting?

[Orange Pudding]

Run, you dogs!