Chapter 8: A New Neighbor
Tuesday, September 11th,
8:23 am
A foul odor roiled up from a fetid river, each new bubble a bursting zit of petulant ooze.
Danny could just make out a lumpy patch of egg-yolk yellow scales that disturbed the surface, blending in with the ghost's liquid haunt. Refusing to breathe, but still tasting the fumes, he dove around the rocks holding in the slimy banks.
Beneath the river, the superhero consulted a hand-drawn map, tuning his flight slightly left and starting a gradual descent. Steering clear of a stone etched with an inverted tree, the male meandered by several fancy doors that slowly gave way to random, floating debris. As he continued on, the nasty smell that still clung to his tongue began to mix with the scent of a summer barbecue.
Danny gagged, spitting into the air a few times as he picked up speed and went intangible, avoiding a baked lasagna and fork.
Stomach churning and starting to feel faint, the mesomorph drew closer to a levitating island of vegetable gardens and freezers. At the haunt's center sat a clean cut 40's style house, the sides of the structure wavering like a mirage as he passed.
Phantom's toxic eyes narrowed suspiciously. This was more than just a standard case of nausea.
A floating boulder eclipsed the island just as Danny angled back toward the anomaly, stopping him for a second and hiding the plentiful land from view.
His perception lurched in the interim, the strange every-atmosphere of the Zone distorting around him like heat rising off of sunned metal. An invisible force pushed in, creating an area of tensility and wrongness that turned ghostly atoms supple.
Swamped with panic and body elongating, the phantasmal being shoved outward. After several heartbeats, the gravity well abruptly lessened and he shot from the pressurized space with a snap.
Ectoplasm filled the warped region's midpoint and stabilized it into a natural portal as Danny took habitual gulps of air, incandescence dimming in time with the breaths.
"That was waaay too close for comfort."
Sweat coating an overly pliable spine, the halfa watched as all traces of the distortion vanished, leaving only the portal behind.
Tuesday, September 11th,
8:50 am
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sorry, Daniel. But I really don't know anything about your situation," Ghost Writer responded. Hunching over one of his pink keyboards, the grey ghost typed "kurogiri", flipping a wool scarf to the side when it got in his way. Swiveling in his conjured chair, the thin man then tapped "blackmist" on a second setup and "known portal users" on a third.
"You know, I find your concern for humans endearing. But not everyone shares that sentiment." As the search engine scanned the library records, the internet cafe archetype turned back and locked eyes with the royal pain in his butt. "You really do need to spend more than a few days a week in the Ghost Zone."
The standing boy pinched the bridge of his nose and grunted, "We've been over this, Writer. I don't have time. I'm not dead yet, remember?"
"Just make sure things don't go to Hel in a hand basket while you're out there playing human."
The younger ghost averted his gaze and went stiff, face paling away the small tan the halfa somehow achieved in this form. When he looked back up, it was with eyes that flickered between electric blue and green.
Static glitches echoed across Ghost Writer's computer screens, syncing in time with his guest's ocular palette swaps.
"Ah, so you can feel it."
A scruffy mammal took that moment to wander into the dead author's creativity station, rubbing against a grey pant leg. The cat dad bent over, picking the three eyed monster up and hugging it to a chest.
"Maybe you aren't as entirely dull witted as you'd have me believe."
Scratching his pet under the chin, the wordsmith flashed a serrated smile.
Tuesday, September 11th,
9:03 am
"Ta-DA!" Jazz called, pulling a white sheet to the side as dramatically as a Spanish bullfighter, showcasing air like some great treasure.
Hagakure just stared, not exactly sure what she was supposed to be looking at.
"Oh come on. I know you're there," the older female informed the empty space wryly, wadding the bedspread up and tossing it onto the kitchen table that had yet to make its way home from the living room.
Quiet.
The redhead raised an eyebrow from behind a set of high-tech reading glasses and adjusted a strange hearing aide. "Just because I'm not a kid anymore doesn't mean I can't see and hear you with Fenton tech, Dork."
Toru nearly startled when the space shimmered, a boy half her age appearing with arms crossed and tongue sticking out through the fabric of a face mask.
Lime green hair and eyes peeked from beneath a dark cowl, a prominent contrast to the pasty grey of a freckled face. The rest of his garb matched the hood, covering the youth head to toe in black.
"Sweet outfit!" Jazz complimented, walking in a circle around the newcomer in inspection. "I've never seen that one before."
Hagakure glanced over to Kamada-san, curious to see what the other teen's reaction to the shinobi getup would be. It was kinda disappointing when the thinner girl snuck glances, but otherwise stayed introverted.
Well, the kid wasn't a hero, so maybe Haru's excitability just didn't extend to ghosts in general.
"Hi! My name's Hagakure-san, and this is Kamada-san! Nice to meet you!" Toru filled in, not wanting to seem rude.
"Youngblood."
"What?" The words were out of the invisible girl's mouth before she could stop them, confusion at the strangely translated phrase frying her brain in record time.
Was he calling her a child? Or maybe it was like the idiom "fresh meat" that Maddie-san taught her yesterday?
"I think it's his name, Hagakure-chan," Kamada tentatively explained, lightly touching Toru's shoulder to pull the teen from her thoughts.
The ghost kid nodded affirmation, bowing at the waist.
Jazz's eyes widened in epiphany before she smirked and ruffled the boy's hood. "Youngblood here has volunteered to help you with your training, Hagakure-san."
The seven(?) (eight?) year old spun around, smacking the offending hand away with a roundhouse kick.
"We all knew how much you guys have been worried about falling behind in class, so we've been trying to put some lessons together for you."
Toru felt a warmth flood her chest, spreading through her body and infecting her legs until she found herself jumping up and down. This was exactly what they needed!
"We'll still have to figure out where you guys are in all your classes before we can put together anything core-subject specific, but I've got a plan set up for combat training and Mom and Dad are figuring out what curriculum they can pair with their inventions."
Jazz walked over to the couch, lifting up a spiderweb-print blanket and exposing a small mass of fabric hidden beneath. Yanking a fuchsia and ebony wad from the pile, the woman tossed it at Toru.
A lump formed in the invisible girl's throat.
It was a Fenton jumpsuit. Specially made.
Toru turned to see a misty-eyed Haru gripping another hero-worthy costume, the grizzle grey and charcoal matching well with the support student's eye and skin tone.
"C'mooooon," Youngblood whined, breaking character as he shuffled from foot to foot, "Put them on already!"
This snapped Hagakure out of her daze, bringing the teen's attention back to Youngblood as the boy jabbed the air several times and proudly declared, "I can't wait to kick your butts!"
Grinning with shared enthusiasm, Toru refuted, "The skilled hawk hides its talons!"
Snatching Kamada-chan's hand, the UA girl dragged her still-zoned out friend up the stairs to change.
Tuesday, September 11th,
10:15 am
"Past Lurking Lake. Seven or eight doors on the right. The highest one. About four hundred feet back. You'll know it when you see it." Danny's nose crinkled in annoyance as he looked at empty space. Six doors had come and went, with nothing new in sight.
The white haired male turned tail, ready to give Ghost Writer a piece of his mind.
He didn't get very far.
Behind the halfa rose a towering cattle gate of galvanized steel that hadn't been there a second ago.
Sometimes Danny really hated Ghost Zone physics.
Sighing hard, the exasperated half-ghost floated toward it, raising a hand to knock on the metal top rail. Before his knuckles could make contact, it disappeared with a thwip.
Spinning head over heels to check all his surroundings, Phantom spied the hinged monstrosity back the way he'd come.
Oh. That's why the directions had been vague.
242 mph later, a rapid tap tap tap sounded on the gate before it vanished again.
Danny buoyed in the empty space, bobbing lightly while he waited.
Silence.
Seeing the teleporting gate settle once more, the halfa zipped to it again.
Fingers cupping around his mouth, he bellowed "HELLO!", the unnatural cry so loud it shook the bars.
Danny gave it a minute. Billy had to have heard that.
Sure enough, a string attached to the gate's latch pulled down, lifting the mechanism and allowing the entrance to crack open. A hand gestured frantically inward, and Danny wasted no time, body stretching thin to fit through the small opening.
The gateway clacked shut behind him as he alighted on a churned up field.
"Sorry, Kid. I heard 'ya the first time. But somethin's got my beeves all looney-eyed today," drawled a barrel chested man. "Didn't wanna hafta round 'em up again."
The yellow skinned ghost nearly sparkled from an internal light, inverted shadows of gold cascading across his leather vest and cotton shirt as he spoke.
"No biggy." At the blank look, Danny clarified, "It's no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you heard me."
"So what can I do you for?"
Studying the thatches of long, scraggly wheat that grew in place of hair around the rancher's body, Danny replied, "I'm looking for information on two things. Something's up with the Infinite Realms and I seem to have a rogue portal user kidnapping young girls. I don't know many ghosts with the ability, so I was hoping to get an expert opinion on where to look."
The cowboy eyed Danny for a solid twenty seconds as if trying to determine whether there was accusation in the words, before replying, "Well, the ghost youngin's were havin' trouble. But I heard they got help. And I haven't heard nothin' bout no sidewinder kidnappin' little girls. I'd have to take a look at one 'a the portals in person to tell you more."
Appearing agitated as he surveyed his lair, the older man started walking.
Danny hurried to follow, the dirt clods sticking to the bottom of his boots coaxing a grimace. But his host walked, so it was only appropriate he stay grounded as well.
"Ol' McNeely had an issue with some of his crops yesterday. Part 'a one of his barley fields got mashed by somethin' real good. And my gate's been on the fritz for the past couple days. Dang thing won't stay still." The two passed more and more clumps of grass interspersed in the torn earth as they went.
"What do you mean, on the fritz? It's not supposed to teleport?" Danny asked, cocking his head to peer down at the wrangler as they crested a gently sloped hill.
A rolling meadow filled with ghost cows stretched ahead.
"Oh, it's supposed to teleport. Once an hour. Keeps the critters from gettin' out." The weather-worn man spit to the side in disgust. "Can't say I'm impressed with this 'every few seconds' bosh."
"Have you had a chance to look at it?" The halfa asked, studying the herd of multi-tailed, stegosaurus-spiked cattle rather than the man's face. He didn't want to appear pushy (even if his core was thrumming with suppressed energy).
"I tried," Billy hissed, an edge of fiery sunlight creeping along his back. "Every time I take a gander, the thing's right as rain. Then this mornin' I had a greenhorn twist an ankle when my field portal cut out."
A power cutting out. That sounded familiar.
"Field portal? What do you mean by that?" Phantom latched on, pointed ears straining.
"One of the portals I use to drive the herd between fields. It closed right in front of a heifer and spooked 'im. Caught his hoof on the corral and dropped 'im like a sack 'a potatoes."
"Have you had any other abilities mess up? Or just the gate and the portal?"
"It's just my property actin' up, Boy. Ain't me."
"A lair is an extension of a ghost's being." Danny stared hard at a blade of grass in thought. "I don't think it's coincidence."
Tuesday, September 11th,
1:29 pm
"Billy! What are you doing here?" a nasally voice ask-cused.
"Just checking in," Phantom soothed, dropping his hand when the other ghost inched back. "Seeing how you've been doing after the…incident."
Neon green eyes met crimson, soft and compassionate.
"Ah, yes. Of course," the dapper being answered, squeezing the head of a skull topped cane and subtly placing it between them with one hand. The other tipped his hat low, hiding round-rimmed glasses from sight.
If Danny couldn't feel the waves of anxiety creeping off Amopho before, he definitely could now.
"Apex is still secure—Walker has been kind enough to give me daily updates—and Nocturn took your request seriously. No more nightmares." The polymorph started to take a step back, fedora brim still shielding his eyes. "I really am doing better; but thanks for the concern."
"You sure? Nobody's bothered you since, right?" Phantom asked softly, exuding an aura of care and attention.
The trenchcoat enthusiast stayed stiff for a moment before caving to the sensation of safety, shoulders drooping as he readjusted his headpiece.
"Everyone's left me alone since your decree," Amorpho acknowledged. "And even though my powers don't always work correctly, I'm still trying to get out more." Tone brightening, he added, "I even managed to pull a prank the other day."
The delight in the words chilled Danny's ice core, a genuine smile pulling at the superhero's mouth in solidarity.
At least this job wasn't all bad. Some days, like today, it was worthwhile.
"I'm really glad to hear that."
He was. Relief and joy vied for Phantom's attention so intensely, he almost forgot the other reason for the visit. "Oh. I have a question for you, if you're up for it. Completely unrelated to…the thing." Surprisingly, the Ghost Zone resident actually perked up at the hybrid's words.
"You wouldn't happen to know about any shady shapeshifters, would you? I have a bit of a problem and I just want to consider every possibility." Phantom massaged his nape. "I know it's a pretty common power, but not a lot of ghosts can use it as subtly as you and I figured you'd know about your competition."
The grey being across from Danny straightened, pride leaking in. "Well, you're not wrong. I am a first rate actor. What kind of problem are we looking at?"
"I found two girls that got mixed up in some trouble and a shapeshifter might—and that's a pretty big might—be involved. We think that someone could have been watching the girls' schools, using the information they found to kidnap them," the taller male explained.
"Hmmm…" Amorpho stalled. "I can't think of anyone who would fit the bill." Letting go of his cane, the spirit's black-sleeved arm lifted in a shrug. "Most of the people I know of just like to stir up mischief. Like committing voter fraud. I can't imagine anyone going so far as to kidnap children."
"Wait, wait, wait. Back up. Voter fraud?! Who?!"
"Now why would I stop someone else from having a little harmless fun?" the mouth-less being chuckled, somehow giving the impression of a grin.
"In what world is that harmless?!" Danny squeaked, an octave higher than normal.
Rubbing at his face in exasperation, the supernatural ambassador sighed. Dropping the hand back down, he pressed a thumb and finger to either side of his other wrist.
"Hey Eerie, add 'secure elections against ghostly tampering' to my to-do list."
Tuesday, September 11th,
3:30 pm
Danny felt like a load of laundry, wrung out and tumble-dried.
He would know. Appliance-heavy Technus had washed him once before.
On the verge of throwing up, the halfa surveyed his surroundings.
Call him a conspiracy theorist, but he didn't think Hagakure's home was in a desolate wasteland that may once have been a big city.
Loath to use the Infi-Map again after such a questionable ride, Danny threw caution to the wind when a bullet whizzed past an ear.
"Take me back to the Far Frozen!" He screeched, turning intangible just in time to evade another shot.
Reality tore in front of the passenger, the scroll drawing Danny through the jagged gash in an instant.
It was lucky he stayed incorporeal. The other side of the dimensional gate let out into a frothy, churning current. Holding onto the map as it launched upward, Danny's dry form slid from the river. Only for minor claustrophobia to douse the traveler in a way the water hadn't.
There was no sky. No stars. Tall, tropical trees pressed in, shading the already dark world with their dense foliage. Glad beyond belief for built-in night vision, the half ghost scanned the gloom with eyes that perceived movement and edges more sharply than color.
Abruptly letting go of the still-rising Infi-Map, Danny threw up a shield, narrowly saving both himself and the omniscient chart from burning to a crisp. Darting to the side and firing an ice beam, the boy whisper-hissed, "Why the heck would you take a route through fire-snake territory!? Are you nuts!?"
The semi-sentient navigator just floated above, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events.
Danny glared, freezing the ghost serpent solid and snatching the scroll again. "Okay, let's go."
The ancient paper stayed quiet in his palm.
Sweat clinging to a pale brow, and not just from the wet heat of the jungle's atmosphere, Phantom's voice got small. "Please, pretty please, take me back to Frostbite."
A solid ten seconds of the man's backlit puppy-dog eyes later, the parchment started to move, trolling the luminescent adult along like a baited line.
Dimming his white aura and staying deathly silent, Danny anxiously examined every tree limb and inky shadow. Minutes passed before a new portal finally formed, as equally sluggish as the Infi-Map itself. What could have been snow was nearly visible through the hazy window.
With Danny inches from the opening, the wormhole snapped closed and a sharp pain jabbed his leg.
The halfa screamed internally.
Freaking Murphy.
Hissing in a breath, Phantom kicked the highly-venomous snake off his calf, more than thankful for the stopping power of both Fenton boots and the Kevlar underneath.
"Okay, as fun as this Trauma-Sauna has been, I'm out."
The superhero speared through the canopy, shooting up into a jet black sky whirled with violet.
This part of the Zone was tricky and remote, but using the map was proving to be infinitely more terrifying. Thinking of all the places the scroll could have landed him, in this time or another, a shiver of dread tore at the halfa's spine.
Flying five hours back was suddenly very appealing.
Tuesday, September 11th,
9:23 pm
Danny was exhausted. And bored. But at least he could see the Far Frozen now.
The retractable head mask hidden in his suit collar had allowed him to listen to music on the flight, but six hours was a long time.
Granted, he probably wouldn't have been this tired if he hadn't run into The Cloud halfway through. But hey, by destroying the soul-sucking natural disaster, he'd been able to scratch something from his ever-growing to-do list. Winning.
Another few minutes and the iced landscape finally came close enough for the young ghost to drop from the sky. Landing hard enough to creak hastily formed knees, the halfa oofed and started a sedate slog toward Frostbite's home.
Passing through an upper labyrinth of defensible tunnels that would put Hotel de Glace to shame, Danny came to a spiral staircase and started down the steps.
Brilliant colors refracted across the walls from behind ornamental fixtures, leading him deeper like whimsical will-o-wisps. When the stairs let out into another hall sentineled by ice sculptures, Danny yawned and blinked hard.
Trudging to the chief's cavern, the worn out superhero knocked, but was unconcerned when no response came. Instead he sighed and plodded to the artifact room, nodding to the bulky creature (who he was pretty sure was a woman), posted at the door.
Much like Dwarves, there was little difference between the males and females of the Ovibos Ursus species.
"Do you want me to call Frostbite?" the guard asked, changing the grip on her high-tech spear to better access a strip of cloth at her waist. "You look like death warmed over."
A strangled laugh escaped Danny before he gave in. "Yeah, go ahead."
As the jumpsuited man crossed the room and approached a golden chest, an amused "nevermind" caused him to glance back at the door.
A massive, white form was pushing through the carved entrance, already rushing toward Danny. In a core-thrum, the friendly beast was kneeling, checking the half-human over for injuries. Voice more strained than Danny had ever heard it, the leader of the Far Frozen asked, "Are you okay, Great One?"
It was only then that the young adult noticed the extra shine of unshed tears in his friend's eyes.
"Don't worry. I was only gone so long because I got dumped in sector eighteen." Frostbite's shoulders started to sag in relief at Danny's words. "Oh, also, can you tell the council The Cloud's on ice so they quit harassing me?"
The giant yeti tensed right back up, studying Phantom's face hard.
When the halfa didn't smile in jest, Frostbite looked like he was praying for patience. "You were supposed to go with an entire unit of my people to subdue it. That was very reckless of you."
"I mean, if I hadn't stopped it, three ghosts would have ceased. I didn't have much of a choice."
The yeti opened his mouth, then closed it, lamb-like ears twitching in irritation at the harsh reality.
"So, uh, the Infi-Map's broken. In case you were wondering."
Rather than laugh at the awkward change of subject as Danny expected, the Far Frozen chieftain looked solemnly at the scroll. Sensing a nonverbal cue, the younger ghost held it out for the furred man to take.
Frostbite spoke quietly, turning the mythical artifact gently in his claws, "You cannot break the Infi-Map, Great One. Not truly. Just as you cannot destroy the Infinite Realms."
"The map is but a sliver of this world's mind. A way for the Realm to speak, as it were. Any instabilities within it are a reflection of the Realm itself."
Tuesday, September 11th,
11:46 pm
A screen illuminated one side of Danny's face as he laid in the dark, phone squished to an ear.
"He wouldn't even give me a hint this time, Guys," the halfa recounted, rolling over in the close atmosphere of the bed-pod. "Normally I get some cryptic words of advice that have me questioning my own sanity, but this time he just told me I didn't need the Infi-Map to solve my problems and warped me out of the tower!"
Danny pulled one leg up to his chest and relocated his cell to his other ear, unable to get comfortable.
Maybe he's trying not to psych you out this time, Tucker's voice filtered across the line.
"As if. He lives to mess with me." The male's tone took on a rough edge, frustration obvious.
Don't you mean 'exists'? I don't think he has much living left in him, another voice cut in, leaving Danny scrambling for a comeback through syrupy thoughts.
If he wasn't so dog-tired, he might have come up with a good one; but as it stood, all he managed was, "You—You know what? Shut up! I don't need the pun police on my case on top of everything else. It's late. Today sucked. AndI have a stupid test on Portals XL in the morning." Shoving forcefully at the pillow under his neck until it gave more support, Danny's jaw clenched. "As if I don't have enough portal problems!"
Hey, calm down grumpy pants. We don't need your flak either, Sam shot back, words heating to match.
You both need to calm down. Danny called for help, not a lecture, Tuck mediated, taking on a voice Danny recognized from Mrs. Foley. Luckily he wasn't so far gone in exhaustion as to poke that bear.
Holding on to the anger a moment more before deflating, the half-ghost sighed.
"Sorry, Sam. You're right," Pulling blankets closer, he admitted, "It's just been a long day. I feel like everything I did just brought me more problems. I can't even use the Infi-Map to return the girls like I'd originally planned."
It was a miracle when the goth didn't rub it in, instead opting to move on. What should we do to get them home, then? Any ideas?
"Sort of. My parents are going to try and modify the Fenton Portal now that we can't rely on the map, but it's a bit of a long shot. They actually want to visit an old friend from their college days that has a doctorate in theoretical physics. In Switzerland."
A whistle crackled through the phone. That can't be cheap,Tuck commented.
Did you want me to pull some strings to get them complimentary plane tickets?
Danny's brain shorted. "You can do that?"
With a Platinum Flier card you can.
"Uh, yeah. That'd be great. Thanks Sam. I'll try and hit up Wulf when I get a chance, too. Maybe he can take the girls." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "Well, if his powers aren't messed up, too. I really need to figure out what the heck's going on in the Zone."
Well, if both the Ghost Zone and the ghosts are having issues, they're probably related, Sam mused.
I just find it weird that you haven't had any problems. Must be some kind of halfa or real-world-resident immunity, Tucker jumped in.
Danny winced. It was time to come clean. "I—uh. I have." Rushing to drain this freshly lanced abscess, the ghost kid word-vomited, "My powers have been acting up for a while. Everyone else has only had issues for a couple days, but mine started almost two weeks ago."
There was a heavy sigh Danny recognized as Tucker's.
Daniel James Fenton.
Oh crap.
I wish I could pretend I didn't just hear that you broke our promise for full disclosure on your health. But are you freaking kidding me?! A snarl sounded as something distinctly fabric tore in the background.
"I didn't want to worry—" the halfa tried.
Excuses? After last time?! It was a good thing Sam wasn't wearing an amulet of Aragon right now or she'd already be breathing fire. That's it! You're wearing your father's jumpsuit to school tomorrow. And if you don't, I'm going to do something that'll make you wish you had. Mark my words.
"Tucker," Danny implored, requesting backup.
Nuh-uh. Nope. You earned this one. Take your lumps. Or in this case, used-handkerchief stuffed pockets and day-glo orange spandex.
Tuesday, September 11th,
8:35 am
-Earlier-
Consciousness slipping from a computer monitor to a table, a black cord and on, a silent, almost-shadow left a laboratory filled with advanced technology.
The possession-quirked spy traveled down white washed halls, taking mental note of the building's layout. Stopping at an office, he peered inside.
An orange-haired man shuffled things around a messy desk, picking up a clipboard and walking toward the glass door he idled behind.
Avoiding the possible confrontation, the sneak dropped down, inhabiting the floor joists' R-20 insulation and making his way across the room. Better itchy than discovered.
Using a piece of rebar in the outer cement wall as a springboard, the mimic leapt into an alley and assumed his natural form.
A genetic memory surfaced, screaming to abandon this vulnerable, flesh body.
Sweat beading on a pale face, the blonde dashed into the closest possessable object—a dirty rag.
As he scanned the alley for threats, a breeze kicked up and sent an empty cup tumbling along the ground. Silence reigned but for the uneven, scritch-clock-clack of styrofoam on pavement.
An instant later, a deafening gale tore through, snatching and pulling at the terrycloth being as he grabbed at a dumpster with makeshift hands. Looking very much a passenger on the outside of an airplane, the linen held on as tons of litter and trash blew past.
Everything coalesced at a single point, the air moving like a pile of agitated snakes.
Then, the vacuum's suction abruptly released.
The man-turned-fabric flopped to the ground, watching in horrified fascination as a cool, rippling light spread from the center of the aberration to its edges.
Several minutes of observation passed before the mimic finally moved, using the corners of his temporary body to tip-cloth toward the toxic green mist. Trying to ignore bright shadows that turned everything into a series of discontinuous, greyscale negatives, the man peered upward.
Nearly fifteen feet above, otherworldly fog vignetted a wall of dark stone.
Only a strong will and track record of espionage kept the man still when a middle-aged lady suddenly launched through the hard surface.
Roaring and brandishing two barbecue-rib batons, the heavyset woman scanned the alley with eyes of heated coal.
Her gaze passed him by, seeing nothing but cold concrete and trash.
Relief quickly turned to unease when the newcomer's features flipped from seething rage to docility at the drop of a hat.
"Oh. A new neighbor," The foreign words were so...nonthreatening. Sweet, even.
"I wonder how they feel about meatloaf..."