It's Christmas time! And y'all know what that means? Christmas Extravaganza Update Bonanza. An update for this lovely story, new SOS Text, and two new agender Clockwork shorts.

I do this every year, because I'm a nerd.

This chapter took a bit because Danny decided that his scene was going to be difficult. I eventually cut it, so now this chapter has an alarming lack of the main character. Whoops. On the bright side however, we have plenty of the rest!

Onwards!

Chapter 11; Choose Your Fighter

Valerie wove through the crowd, away from the ambulance that Fenton was being wheeled into. She had no interest in watching Manson and Foley get scolded by Lancer, or to listen to Dash complain about how horrible it was that those losers had destroyed the gym. There was absolutely no part of her that cared about any of that, and she'd only stayed so long because of Prince.

She still didn't know where he was.

He hadn't left the school when Fenton pulled the alarm, but the teachers around him all had. So he must have gotten away. She'd already checked his shelter, but maybe she should try it again? He could have found his way back there.

Valerie shoved a couple older students out of the way as she broke through the crowd and took in the field around her. Someone would see her if she ran, and she didn't want to cause trouble by being followed. She needed a plan.

A hand tapped her shoulder and Valerie smacked it away before she turned around. She didn't know the guy in front of her; he looked a bit like he'd thrown a black sweater over top of his dark blue pajama pants, would probably have the exact same hairstyle as half the boys in the school if he ever bothered to pick up a comb, and a crooked nose. He was annoyingly short, and looked like a loser: exactly as bland and forgettable as the rest of them.

He held up his hands. She hated his stupid grin. "Chill, Val."

"Val?" Oh, Valerie was going to kill this loser. She snapped a hand out to grab his collar, but he was faster- too fast. He dropped and was behind Valerie again before she could look down.

"We're still on school grounds, Val, you can't fight me." He sounded like he was laughing at her. Valerie spun around again and aimed her fist at his gut. He caught it easily enough, and Valerie stared at him for a second. There was something wrong with his hands.

Valerie pulled her fist back. "What do you want?"

He smiled at her. Valerie glared back. "That homeless kid you adopted is by the dumpsters." Valerie took off running, "Give him a hug for me!"

No one noticed her mad dash across the school's field. It wasn't until she turned a corner that Valerie realized she hadn't thanked the guy, let alone asked his name or how he knew she was looking for Prince.

A little voice in the back of her mind told her it wasn't important. Valerie mentally punched the voice in it's face and vowed to do the same to Pajama Pants after she'd checked on Prince.

Valerie sprinted around a corner and looked down at Prince, curled up in a ball beside someone's phone. His head snapped up, and Valerie could plainly see an ugly green clump on the side of his head; the same stuff that Fenton's arm had been covered in.

"Hey," she said softly, and knelt down across from him, "are you hurt?"

Prince sniffled and buried his face again. Despite how hard he tried to keep them quiet, Valerie heard his choked sobs.

I'm going to fucking murder Danny Fenton. Valerie shuffled forwards, and Prince shuffled back. "It's okay," she said, and reached out to rest her fingertips on his arm. "Did he hurt you?"

"H-he, he-" Prince's voice was quiet, "he..."

That's a yes. "It's okay. You're okay." She moved a bit closer and squeezed Prince's wrist. "Where are you hurt?"

Prince peaked up, tears streaking down his cheeks and a gross bubble of snot under his nose. Hesitantly- he probably had to translate- he reached out with his right hand. There were long, black slices across its side, and a piece of glass stuck out from one of them.

"Okay." Valerie shifted closer to him and grabbed his uninjured hand. Prince flinched, but then squeezed it.

"Friend," he said, and took a shaking breath in.

"Friend," Valerie repeated. "Let's get you somewhere safer." She pulled him up, and kept holding his hand.

"Friend." Prince muttered, "Friend." He squeezed her hand and clung to her sleeve. "Sorry. Sorry friend."

"It's fine," Valerie said, as soothingly as she could. "Let's go, okay?"

Prince nodded and clung to her arm. Valerie let it slide.

"Sorry," he said again.

Valerie gave him an awkward pat and started back around the school. Prince clung tighter, and Valerie didn't have the heart to push him off. She caught sight of Pajama Pants standing on the edge of the crowd, and contemplated whether to flip him off or nod. She chose to give him a quick nod; she didn't want Prince learning another swear.

Pajama Pants looked absolutely thrilled, and he waved back. And then he pointed over his shoulder. Before Valerie could even attempt to ask what that meant, he leaned to the left as Valerie's dad shot past him. Valerie froze, Prince still clinging to her arm, as her father skid to a stop and pulled Valerie off her feet.

"It's all over the news," he said quickly, "they said part of the school collapsed. You weren't answering your phone, and there was an ambulance leaving- I'm so glad you're safe." He set her back down. Prince, who was somehow still clinging to her, stepped behind Valerie and tried to make himself smaller. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm okay," Valerie said, "sorry, Daddy. I didn't hear your call."

"Calls," Damon Grey corrected, and looked down at Prince. "Who's your friend?"

Valerie swallowed. "Daddy, this is Prince." Prince waved. "He's homeless and foreign, he doesn't speak a lot of English. I've been trying to keep him safe, Daddy, but-"

"Is he hurt?"

Valerie relaxed. There was no trace of anger in her father's expression, just careful concern. "Yeah. And he's been living in a shelter by the football shed for a week. He- Daddy, when I found him, he literally had nothing but the clothes on his back."

Damon nodded, and knelt down. Prince clung tighter. "Hi there," he said, "let's get you patched up, okay?"

Prince looked confused. "Valerie," he whispered, and pointed to her dad.

"Friend," Valerie replied.

"Oh," Prince still looked a bit hesitant, but offered a small wave. "Hi."

.-.

Jazz had been in the ambulance with her little brother. Now, she stood in the waiting room, and stared at the door as her parents busted in.

"Outside," she snapped, "now."

Maddie and Jack took a step back as she stormed past them.

"Jasmine, we don't have time for this," Maddie said, "your brother-"

"Where were you?!" Jazz snapped, and stared her mother in the eye. "I told you Danny had a project today! I told you he would be presenting it after school and you needed to come support him!" She barely paused to breathe, "Half of that gym is now rubble or covered in ectoplasm! Danny's going to be known as the kid who destroyed the school, because you either gave him a dangerous chemical or put it in a place where he could get himself covered in it! What is wrong with you?!" Neither of them had any reply, so Jazz continued. "Have you even noticed how weird he's been acting? He keeps talking to himself and getting weird injuries that he makes up dumb excuses for, while you're always in the basement or that stupid thing you put on our roof or-"

"Jasmine, enough!" Maddie snapped, and Jazz- still seething- fell silent. "I understand that you're upset, but we needed to go over our old notes and there was an ectoenergy spike characteristic of a ghost in this realm-"

"You're blaming this on a ghost?" Jazz almost couldn't believe it. She really, really didn't want to.

She stopped arguing and walked back into the hospital. Her parents called after her, and Jazz ignored them entirely.

A ghost.

Her brother was acting out in a dangerous way, he could have died, and her parents wanted to blame their absence on a ghost.

.-.

Sam and Tucker sat in the office, with Ms. Tetslaff in front of the broken window. Penelope Spectra- Sam would be calling her Spectra, not Penny, thank you very much- sat across from them with her hands folded gently in her lap. She smiled, and Sam slouched in her chair. She elbowed Tucker until he did the same. If these adults didn't want to believe her when she told them what had happened, then she wasn't about to make it easy for them to force their delusions about what happened onto her.

The door opened, and Lancer brought Tucker's parents in. They didn't look nearly as furious as Sam imagined her's would, just tired and sad.

"Hi, Mom," Tucker said, "hi, Dad. I know you're mad-"

"We're not mad," Maurice Foley said, "just... disappointed."

Sam barely contained a laugh. That had to be the most stereotypical parental thing she'd ever heard. Spectra gave her a curious look, and Sam strongly considered just punching her.

Distantly, she heard an overdramatic, "Our Sammikins?" and the urge to disappear became significantly more pressing.

The door was thrown back open, apparently shocking Tucker's Dad enough that he clung to his wife as Pamela Manson stormed in. "Samantha Anne Manson!"

Sam continued to sit in the most undignified position she could think of as Tucker shuffled his chair away from her. "Mother."

Spectra offered her chair, but Pamela stayed standing. "What did you do to the school gymnasium?"

"Nothing," Sam said, "I know you don't believe me, but I didn't do anything."

"And that green- whatever it is?"

There was no way Sam was going to try and explain ectoplasm. "Hell if I know."

"Language!"

Spectra placed her hand on Pamela's shoulder and gently guided her to the chair. With much less force, her father and Principal Ishiyama entered. "What your Mother means, Samantha," the urge to punch the school counselor was back with a vengeance, "is these are very serious charges you and your friends have been presented with. If you explain what happened, I'm sure we can work something out."

Sam scoffed.

"Danny already tried that," Tucker pointed out.

"With the state Mr. Fenton was in, his claim of a ghost attacking the school is far from reliable." Lancer replied. "The three of you may be facing charges."

Tucker looked like he was about to jump to his feet. "We didn't even do anything!"

"If I may," Spectra spoke up, her hand still on Pamela's shoulder. "I think that may be a bit much. These children obviously didn't intend to cause any harm. I believe they should fail the project, pay for a fraction of the repairs, and then their parents can handle the punishment from there. Does that seem reasonable to you?"

Pamela nodded and sighed, "I suppose."

"I would rather my son didn't face any charges," Angela Foley spoke softly, "that sounds perfectly reasonable."

Sam caught Tucker's annoyed look. She shook her head; if these adults wanted to be difficult, that was their problem. If Phantom caused another attack and someone got hurt because they were too self-absorbed to listen to a teenager, then that was their problem.

The meeting winded down, and with a tense pair of hands on her shoulders Sam was led back to where their driver had parked the car. She stayed silent: she wasn't going to try and take them on like this. It wasn't a battle she would win.

They were halfway home before Pamela said, "I don't want you near those boys anymore, Samantha."

.-.

"Tucker," his mom looked so tired, "what really happened?"

Tucker was tired too. He'd fought a ghost, watched his best friend be driven off in an ambulance, and been told for half an hour that he'd been making everything that happened that evening up for attention.

"Tucker, please," his mom continued, and looked over to her husband for a brief moment. He had his hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road. "We're not going to judge you."

Tucker was close to his parents. The last thing he wanted to do was something that could ruin that, and he didn't want to lie to them. "Danny's parents were right. Ghosts are real, and this giant ghost fly attacked the school."

His mother frowned. His father kept his eyes on the road. "I believe you," Maurice said.

Angela sat up straight and faced the front.

Tucker stared. "You believe me?"

"I grew up in this town, Tucker," he said, "I went to school with Olivia Marshall. I've heard every ghost story there is, what's one more?"

Faintly, Tucker could remember the story about the girl who threw herself from the old bridge between Amity and Elmerton in the eighties, and how she apparently returned on rainy nights to call for her lost lover. He'd never really been a fan of it. Danny's parents had assured him her ghost wasn't actually haunting that bridge anyway. "The fly was actually there, though. Danny punched it hard enough to explode it."

"I believe you," his dad said, and Tucker slouched in his seat. He caught his mother's exhausted sigh in the mirror.

It wasn't worth it. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

.-.

How dare they?

Sam had thrown everything in her room that she could, and smashed half the stuff on her way up. How dare her mother try and tell her who she could and could not associate with?! There was no way in Hell that she was going to sit down and let that woman mode her into her image of impossible perfection- she was going to be her own independent and free person if it killed her!

Her computer dinged, and Sam grabbed the first thing she could from her dresser. If it was from any member of her family and had anything to do with calming down, she'd-

It was from Rebecca. 'Hey Sam, I still have your stuff. And Mia wants to know if you actually trashed the gym.'

Sam returned her desk chair to its upright position and rolled it back to her desk. 'Part of it, yeah.' She replied.

There was a short pause before Rebecca replied, 'Mia also wants to know if you're still in for forcing a vegan menu day.'

Sam stared at the message, then looked over at a family photo that hadn't been knocked from the wall. A well-aimed hair tie fixed that, and the photo tumbled- glass shattering as it hit the side of her dresser.

'Hell yeah,' she replied, 'my mom will hate it.'

.-.

Damon had pulled the glass out of Prince's arm with a set of tweezers Valerie had in her purse. They'd cleaned him off with a make-up wipe, and with the green whatever off of him he'd looked much better. Paler and still gaunt, but that seemed to be his normal unhealthy look.

Valerie's dad had informed her by text that after they gave him something to eat, they would be taking the poor boy to the hospital. Valerie didn't argue; if she got angry, Prince would start getting upset, and he'd been through enough already. Still, something seemed wrong about taking Prince away like this.

She sat in the backseat of her dad's car, Prince to her right. He only had the lap part of his seatbelt on, and had discovered the button that rolled down the window. He was laughing, and sticking his head out into the night air. "Valerie!" He pointed at his mouth, "Bug!"

Ew. "Did you... eat one?"

Prince grinned, and Valerie tried to keep the judgement off her face as her dad rolled up the window.

"Why don't we get you some actual food?" Damon suggested, "Do you like burgers? Or chicken?"

"Shiken?" Prince scrunched up his face, "Burr-gurs? Huh?"

Valerie brought up a picture of a burger on her phone as her dad sighed. "Do we know what his native language is?"

"No," Valerie handed Prince her phone, "it doesn't sound like any I've heard."

Damon nodded. "Prince," He asked, "What... words... do you know?"

Prince blinked. "Words? Words..." He turned back to the window, "Green eggs and ham. Yes. Valerie. Burn. Bug. Food. Hungry. Sorry. Hi. Friend talk." He wrinkled his nose again, "Danny."

Valerie clenched her fists and let out a low growl. She missed the rest of the words, and her Dad's next attempt to ask what he wanted, but it didn't matter. Next time she saw Danny Fenton she was going to pound that loser into the ground.

"Chicken." Prince was muttering when she bothered to stop plotting her revenge against Fenton., "Chicken, birds. Birds. V-" Prince suddenly crumpled in on himself, clutching at the center of his chest.

"Dad!" Valerie's panicked shout was unnecessary; her dad was already pulling over.

"S-sorry," Prince choked out, "Sorry no bad, no bad-" he was crying again, and flinched when Valerie reached over. He kept whispering an apology.

"Is he alright?" Damon asked, and Valerie tried to place her hand on Prince's shoulder again. It felt... softer than it had a moment ago, but that didn't make any sense. Maybe it was dislocated? He was fine a second ago!

"There's something wrong with his shoulder!" Valerie called back, not taking her eyes off Prince. The streetlight above them cast a strange glow over Prince's face, making him look almost see-through for a moment. Prince was curling tighter around himself, shaking as he clutched at his chest.

Damon undid his seatbelt and shoved the door open. Valerie looked over for barely a second.

"You're going to be fine," the soft pressure of his shoulder against her hand disappeared. "We're going to get you to a hospital, or-" the seat was empty when she turned back. The seatbelt still buckled in, and the door still closed.

Damon finally reached the other side, and pulled Prince's door open. He wasn't outside, either. Valerie and her dad stared at each other, neither knowing what to say.

"Prince?" Valerie called, undoing her seatbelt and slipping out the open door. She dropped to the ground- he wasn't under the car. "Prince?!"

"I didn't see the door open," her dad said, and attempted to look under the seat. "Where did he go?"

Valerie pulled back and looked over the street, searching for any sign of him. The air was thinner here compared to the school, and didn't smell so much like broken air fresheners- it was easier to think.

It was easier to put together that Prince shouldn't have been able to go anywhere without one of them seeing him.

.-.

As far as Amity Park was concerned, Casper High was cursed.

In 1955, Sidney Poindexter had died trapped in a locker. Six months later, after a horrible storm, one wing of the school had fallen in. Since then, at least one student had killed themself every year. In 1989, Olivia Marshall, the valedictorian, had thrown herself from a bridge. Three months later, the same half had flooded. Now, the gym had collapsed, and a freshman had been whisked away to hospital. Everyone who had the choice would be staying as far away they could for the next while. So, there was no one to see the young adult in a brown coat break the wood over a broken window in and slip on through.

Besides, even if they did, it was Lewis who'd take the fall.

The being who'd taken on the name of Flicker stood inside Mr. Lionel Lancer's office, one foot still on the board he'd kicked in and arms crossed. "Well, here we g- Powers Above this is still unnerving." Speaking with someone else's voice was just weird. Maybe weird enough to stop his habit of talking to himself. "Hah, no- okay this is still creepy." He beat a fist against his chest and coughed, which did nothing to help.

No security cameras were on- and again, if they were, Lewis' excuse of possession was still several weeks short of holding weight- so Flicker took his time. He strolled through Casper High, hands in his pockets, and looked through every empty room. It would be far too easy to slip back and just remember how it used to be.

Unfortunately, he had a mission to complete.

"PE," he muttered, "gym class, perfect example of gym ass...inine. Yes. No swears. No disappointing my mom, no sirree. I don't disappoint anyone by existing, I've got my personality for that." He slipped through a hallway into absolute darkness. "Wow, we got dark. Freakin... ghost senses, they'd be useful. Should've made a deal with a ghost." He pulled a face, and one hand along the wall, made his way along the hall. "Jeez, I sound like a crossroad demon."

Lewis' phone rang, and Flicker froze. "Oh, no- no, no-" he pulled it out of a pocket and fumbled with the flip phone, nearly dropping it on the floor. "Okay. Okay. They don't know this is happening, just... be Lewis. You got this. I got this." I don't got this. He answered the phone anyway.

"Where are you?" The voice on the other end didn't sound like they were about to murder him with a tire iron, but Flicker had dealt with Lewis' family enough to know that was always a possibility. A terrifying, terrifying possibility.

"I saw a ghost octopus," Flicker said. Were ectopuses happening yet? Screw it, they are now. "I'm between two houses, just let me find a street sign." What was a street with lots of ectoenergy but far away from Casper High? Elm street? I'm at number 13 on Elm street. No, I'm not making this up, why would you think that?

The voice on the other end- Kathrine? Maybe? It had been ages since he'd heard her voice- was silent. Flicker mentally started listing off every swear he knew. "Who am I speaking to?"

Well, I tried. Flicker sighed, rolled his shoulders back, and put on the spookiest voice he could muster. "You already know, Kathrine Louise Archer." Nothing freaked people out more than ominous full names.

She growled on the other end. Terrifying, but she was human, and Flicker was not. It meant nothing. "I want to talk to my brother."

"He's not related to you," Flicker replied, and continued struggling down the hall. I've got this. "And we made a deal. He's nineteen. Not a minor, so his contracts are legally binding." Man, who knew that dumb graphic novel law book Lewis hadn't gotten him yet would be so useful?

"Whatever you are, you are above our legal system."

"Really? And here I was thinking I would face charges for my multiple murders." Ah, joking. That made it less traumatic. That made everything less traumatic.

"I want to talk to Lewis."

"Annnd your call has been forwarded to an automatic spectral messaging system," the voicemail bit had never actually worked for him, but hey, there was a first time for everything. "Leave a message at the tone-"

And then she said his name. She said his name. "Let me talk to Lewis."

Flicker spun on his heel, chucked the phone down the hallway, and ran to the gym. He was running out of time. He had to be fast, but careful- faster and carefuler than he'd ever been. He couldn't fix this- she had no supernatural abilities, she was just smart. He couldn't touch her. She shouldn't have learned his name. Lewis didn't even know his name! Freakin' Vlad didn't even know his name! He had to finish this- go back, erase, rewrite, something! She couldn't know, not this early!

He spun the corner and was well aware of a presence pushing on the back of his mind. He'd wasted too much time. He had half an hour left, if he was lucky. He had to be fast.

Flicker threw his stolen form at a gym door and felt him right arm crack at the impact. Pain rushed through it, but he gritted his teeth and stepped forwards. He needed that core.

The remains of the ghost fly hadn't been cleaned up, and nobody had bothered to even put up any caution tape. The sun was rising in the sky above, dim light seeping in from the destroyed roof. Flicker stepped forward, scrunching up his face at the burnt-lime scent of ectoplasm. He remembered where it was, he just needed to find it.

His boot nudged the partially deflated remains of a dodgeball, and Flicker frowned. He pulled a sleeve over his left hand and awkwardly lifted it up between two fingers. Using his definitely-broken arm, he flipped it inside out and gave it a good shake. Nothing. Flicker frowned, and dropped it back on the ground. "I so don't have time for this." Maybe he was remembering it wrong. Maybe it was caught on the spear?

Twenty minutes. He swept the ground for twenty minutes, and found nothing. If he left now, there wouldn't be any darkness to cover him.

"This can't be happening." He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck. "I need that freakin'- where is it?!" He kicked a fallen bit of plaster, watching as it shattered right beside a still-open side door. There was a faint hint of footprints outside- that's new.

Flicker vaulted over a pile of rubble and darted out the side door. Distantly, he could see the football shed, and a familiar white haired figure digging a hole beside it. Prince looked up, and Flicker knew he'd been spotted.

"Hi." His voice was hoarse. He wondered if Prince even heard it. Advanced hearing only went so far.

Prince hesitantly waved and pulled into a tight ball. Of course he'd heard it.

Flicker should turn around and walk away. He knew that. He was going to break everything unless he could step back- he was already walking forwards.

"Hi." There was a lump in the back of his throat and a churning in his gut. Still, Flicker found himself standing too close to terrified Prince. "Were- were you in the school last night?"

Prince nodded. He glanced at the mound of dirt beside him and started to lean towards it.

Flicker tried to keep stoic. Well, that explains where the core is. "That's dangerous." Stay strong. "You could have been hurt."

Prince shrugged. "I- I fine." He was mumbling, and his form was faint. He must have pulled the leash, or gone into somewhere with not enough ectoplasm, or- Prince, I'm so sorry. "No hurt."

He's under orders. Oh, Powers Above, he's under the English order. Flicker knelt down and offered a tiny smile. Prince shuffled away from him. I'm such an idiot. Stupid! Why did I let this happen?! "That's good. Um..." he needed that core. All of this- Kathrine knowing his name- would be for nothing if he couldn't get it. "...Come here often?" He could clearly see the lean-to behind the shed. Of course he came here often, he freakin' lived here!

Prince was still watching him warily. Flicker sat cross-legged instead and felt Lewis' presence press against his mind again. Ten minutes.

He sat there for another five, just beside Prince, and in utter silence. He pretended not to notice that Prince kept pulling away from him.

"It'll get better, you know," he had to say something. "You'll be just fine."

Prince raised an eyebrow and didn't look remotely convinced. Flicker hadn't expected him to.

"I know you don't believe me," or know me, "but I promise, there's people out there who care about you. And they're doing everything they can to keep you safe."

Prince gave him a rather blank look. He barely understood a word I said.

Flicker sighed, and held out a hand. "Here," he could feel Lewis pressing against his mind once again. "Take my hand, I'll prove it."

With no small amount of hesitation, Prince barely placed his fingertips on Flicker's stolen hand. He took a deep breath, focused on the fog of his stupid, stupid home, and pulled Prince in.

He saw scenes. Fragments, moments, memories- he knew them all already. He saw Prince and his sister, throwing grapes at each other. Prince curled up with his dad, clinging as tight as he could to the huge man's arm. Prince and his mom, trying to paint a canvas but covering themselves instead. Prince and his sister, standing next to the family's maid-turned-babysitter, as she made ectoplasmic butterflies land on their heads. There was the aunt and uncle, throwing the kids on their shoulders and racing down the hall. There were friends, allies, all cooing over the two delightful children holding onto their parents' hand. He saw them happy.

And then he saw himself.

Flicker focused on his own memories of learning English and shot Prince right back out. The ghost scrambled away from him, and Flicker put his hands behind his head. "See?"

"What did- what did you do-" Prince stumbled over the unfamiliar words, and then he froze. He rolled his tongue, frowned, and kept his gaze on Flicker. "English."

"It's not much," Flicker replied, "but it's neat, right?"

Prince stared at him. "You taught me English by touching my hand."

"I could teach you Esperanto too, if you'd like." Yes, you idiot, teach him all the languages. That'll make up for what you've done.

"I... think I'm good?" Prince wrinkled his nose, "I don't like this language."

He could feel Lewis pressing against his mind. He had less than five minutes left. "Well, use your new skills for good and all that." Flicker stood and brushed himself off. "Be nice to your friends and don't murder your enemies."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Prince replied softly.

Of course he didn't. Flicker swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped he kept the rasp from his voice. "Even better."

Prince had narrowed his eyes, and slowly rose to his feet. "Who are you? You're not human."

"Hey! I'm doing my best here," Flicker replied, "and I'm a friend."

"What's your name, then?" Prince crossed his arms, "You know mine, what's yours?"

Lewis really wanted his body back. Flicker glanced down at the buried core, then back at Prince, and made his choice.

It was the same choice he'd always make.

"I can't tell you that yet," he said, and Prince frowned. "You'll figure it out soon, I promise. But next time we meet, don't say anything unless I do, okay?"

Prince tipped his head to the side. "Why?"

"If I'm right, we won't be alone." Not a lie. He couldn't lie to Prince. Wouldn't. Not after everything. "I'm trying to help you, so just for a bit, could you play along?"

The ghost continued to stare at him. "...Sure."

"Thanks, buddy." He pointed a finger gun at Prince, "It gets better."

Prince, uncomfortably, pointed one back. "Sure."

Flicker turned around and walked back into the school. He closed the side door behind him, and slumped among the rubble. He didn't even want his next two minutes. Lewis could have his stupid humanity back.

He was thrown back into the fog, and stabilized a scene around where he'd left Lewis. The human was standing up, with tears streaming down his face.

"Whoops," It was so easy to slip back into the role, "leftovers, my bad. I had a really good burger."

"Where am I?" Lewis asked.

"The school." He waved a hand around the darkened destroyed gym. "Your phone's back that-a-way, I used you to eat a lot of junk food, gamble, catch up on that old Ghostbusters cartoon... and that about covers it. Peace." He held up two fingers and dropped the scene.

There was no emotion in the fog, and no pain. Unless you were like Flicker; then, unfortunately, you felt everything.

Hand in his pockets, Flicker blew a loose strand of hair from his face. "Just for a bit longer," it didn't matter if his voice broke. He was alone, no one could judge him. "I'll be out soon. Just a little bit longer."

The ever helpful voice in his mind reminded him that he'd been stuck saying 'just a little bit longer' for longer than he'd even been alive.

See? I told you Flicker was a good person! A very, definitely good person who is definitely collecting ghost cores for a noble purpose. There's no evil purpose he could need those for!

I'll let that joke die eventually. And then I'll bring it back as a ghost!

Alrighty, that's enough from me. So, thoughts?