Summary: Arthur gets in trouble while on a case with Vivi (set before Ghost). (PART 4)
(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)
(PART 5)
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A ghost? Is that a ghost? Arthur is unsure because he has never seen one so solid looking. All he has as a reference are encounters with the rare wisp on occasions when the supernatural stuff Vivi investigated happened to be real. This creature is completely different, made of solid shadow and fire. Perhaps it’s an elemental spirit?
“What do you want?” The skeleton-ghost-monster-creature grumbles, voice vibrating in the air without an obvious source. It glares down, visibly irritated by the man’s presence. Of course, this green-eyed looney has decided to go bother a powerful fire spirit…of-freaking- course. And here Arthur is, stuck, unable to escape, watching in the back of a car with his arms and legs bound.
Despite the show of aggression, the shorter man only huffs, unafraid of the monster he’s pissing off.
“There is no need to be rude. And after everything I’ve done to help. Where’s the appreciation?”
A growl. “I don’t count you’re useless rambling as help.”
Three smaller spirits in matching shades of pink and purple materialise along the larger ghost’s shoulders to glare. Great, more supernatural creatures. Hey, maybe the big ghost will get rid of his kidnapper, not notice Arthur watching in the car, and he’ll make an uninterrupted escape attempt. Why does that feel like wishful thinking?
“Ugh, no, no. You have it all wrong,” The man waves a dismissive hand, “They’re motivational rambles, not useless. Motivational! Don’t you always feel motivated after our chats?”
The ghost burns a little brighter, floating forward, forcing the other figure back, “If you’re here to insult me with more ‘motivation’ then you better leave. Now.” Fire crackles, punctuating the order.
“Oooh, scary…Have you been practising?”
There is a slow threatening growl, and all the smaller ghosts hiss.
“Kidding! I’m just kidding,” The man continues, louder so he can be heard over the rumbling, “Geez. You’ll be happy to know that I’m not here for a chat. Not this time.”
Slowly, the next sentence is delivered with deliberate emphasis, “Do you remember that deal we made way back when?”
The fire ghost hesitates in its aggressive approach. Now Arthur’s vision has cleared again, he can see how its' glowing eyes have narrowed in suspicion.
“Well, guess who just fulfilled their side of the bargain …” Arthur can hear the bastard’s smile as he sings the line.
This obviously means something important because the ghost stiffens and the fire pulses, becoming more erratic. Before Arthur can even think to process this development, those glowing purple eyes have snapped up to look straight past his crazy kidnapper and towards the car. Arthur doesn’t have time to duck down, meaning they make immediate eye contact.
A bright flash of magenta light and fire erupts over dirt, spiralling outwards. There is a deep ominous rumble from the ghost as it moves deliberately forward, pushing roughly past the second man who stumbles to the side.
Oh shit.
Adrenaline spikes, hitting Arthur like a sledgehammer. Arthur throws himself to the opposite side the vehicle, trying to shoulder check his way to freedom. He only succeeds in giving himself a sore shoulder. Frantically, he attempts to pull his arms free but the cuffs don’t budge, keeping his hands firmly tied behind his back. Shit!
Metal screeches, making Arthur wince, and the door opposite him is ripped free to frame the furious ghost who leans into the opening, glaring. Up close, the fire spirit is a hundred times more menacing, and, despite the excess energy, Arthur’s limbs lock up momentarily in fear.
“You,” The ghost grows, echoey voice laced with anger.
“Me?” Arthur squeaks in response, pushing himself back against the door. The escape attempt proves fruitless when a large hand reaches in, gripping the front of his shirt. An attempt at mule-kicking the appendage away is easily ignored. Arthur, riding high on adrenaline wiggles about, determined to not to go down without a fight.
“Traitor! You’ll pay for what you did.”
“What did I do!” Arthur objects, voice high pitched. He realises quickly that this is the exact wrong thing to say. Fire spreads around them, dancing over the ground, running down the ghost’s arms to his shirt. The area around him is slowly increasing in temperature, growing unbearably hot.
“What did you do!?” The repeated question is punctuated with Arthur being slammed back against the car. His neck snaps back, giving him a renewed sense of vertigo.
“You killed me!” Is yelled right in his face.
“No!” Arthur gasps, pulling at his cuffs which bight at his wrists, “I don’t even know who you are!”
“Who I am?…WHO I AM!”
Arthur is smashed into the car again. This time, when his head snaps back, it connects with the metal surface of the car. Lights explode behind his eyes accompanied by dizziness.
“WHO ELSE WOULD I BE!”
By this point, everything has gone all fuzzy and the sound around him is warping, making the words difficult to hear. The fire is suffocating, burning his throat. Forget his neck and back, everything hurts now.
“Ahem,” An amused voice cuts in from the side, “if I may interrupt this touching reunion, but I believe the deal was that we keep him alive long enough to act as bait.”
For a moment everything is still and all Arthur can hear is the pounding in his head. Then the fire around him recedes an inch and Arthur is suddenly dropped. He hits the dirt next to the car like a sack of potatoes.
“That’s …” The ghost hesitates, anger abating, “Yes…Right…”
Arthur groans, trying to curl up and protect his head, “I didn’t…kill…anyone.” This had to be a case of mistaken identity. If he could just make them listen! At least the dirt is cold, offering some relief.
“Got… wrong person…” He mutters to the ground.
There is a long pause before, “What’s wrong with him,” is snapped. Their voices are growing more distance now and Arthur realises everything around him is growing increasingly dark. It’s not the natural dark of nightfall either.
“Aside from the obvious physical injuries? Did I forget to mention, dear old Arthur is telling the truth about not remembering you.”
A harsh, “What.”
“He really doesn’t remember killing you. Got a case of the old trauma-induced amnesia I’d say.” It’s the last thing Arthur hears.
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(PART 5)
If you want to know more about this challenge I have an intro here
NASHVILLE (WTVF/CNN) - A newly-released surveillance video shows a man in a rage jumping on a woman's car and kicking-in her windshield all because she refused his advances twice.
So I don’t really talk about my job a lot but there are calls I get where honestly there is nothing I can do for the person and I wish I could.
Today was one of those days. I work for a call center that represents Ford Motor Company.
So I get a call and the woman says to just call her Sally and she would like to let me know what happened to her at this dealership she bought a car from.
She starts off with saying how she was injured in Iraq so she had lower credit but was needing a car for herself as she just had a baby. She took her boyfriend with her to cosign on the car and the dealer put him as the owner and not her. Doesn’t seem like a big deal right?
Well she goes on to tell me she wanted it in her name because her boyfriend has attacked her before and she wanted the car in case he did again so she could leave with her baby.
She told me how he hadn’t hurt her since the baby and she really didn’t know the town or the area as she doesn’t get to leave the house much.
It just really hurt because I couldn’t do anything, the paperwork was finalized and the only way to get her as owner would be with her boyfriends signature.
She could still have every right to run off in that car if he was hurting her but the fact is he could get her only hope of escape taken from her.
It really just hit me because I kept apologizing only telling her “I understand where you are coming from I will document this for review but I cannot correct this and I am sorry.”
She told me in tears she hadn’t even drove the car...and man I just wish sometimes I could do more.
Wilson gave a whimper as he sat on the cold concrete, his body aching and weary. He looked up at the dead spectres on the ground in front of him. They had managed to follow him as he made his way home, ambushing him in an alleyway.
The Elsen winced and looked at himself. His clothes were torn and soaked in his own blood. He had to admit, they had gotten him pretty well. He honestly didn't know if he would live. The pain was too much for him to even speak, let alone standing up or moving.
He leaned over and coughed, spewing up blood with a soft groan before falling over, staring at the wall as he laid there in the mixture of his own blood and the disgusting black ooze that the spectres bled when they were injured.
