NOTE: Thoughts in italics, memories in italics, writing in bold, dialog is normal. Hope you understand

The several black vehicles moved liked a pack of hungry predators through the Amity Park downtown, non-descript save that they were newer SUV's with the letters NPSA emblazoned on their front doors. Moving with caution but authority, pedestrians were quick to get out of their way, as Amity Park solemnly welcomed the out-of-town visitors, the cold high-rise commercial buildings of the downtown seeming to salute in military strictness as the black vehicles moved along, the entire cavalcade of them.

The downtown gave way to strip malls and run down businesses, before finally old and compact suburbs of small snow covered houses and frosted trees standing guard against the official intruders. Moving like jaguars on the prowl, the cars silently proceeded without stop till they arrived at their destination.

A more appropriate and logical explanation for the mess that was Axiom Labs was an earthquake. The buildings still standing were stripped of their exterior cladding with their windows long shattered, some buildings stripped to their frames, blackened skeletons of charred steel girders. In the center of it all, a large concrete dome, containing the ghost portal, remarkably intact and finally the giant pile of twisted rebar, steel and perished concrete of the now nonexistent medical wing that still smoked in some areas, tall plumes of wispy smolder that polluted the sunny but frigid morning sky.

A ring of police cars had quarantined the entire place, idle police officers standing watch, clearly bored and cold. A few fire trucks remained, most had left, but a few were still checking for any fires left over from the blaze the previous night. Replacing the emergency personal were workmen, dozens of them, wielding heavy cutting torches and circular saws, reinforced by massive cranes being rolled off semi flat-bed trucks marked "WIDE LOAD", their diesel engines roaring and growling, air brakes hissing and squeaking as the heavy equipment trundled into position.

The cleanup process was going full blast already, sparks flying and the cry of metal cutting metal as the pile of rubble was ruthlessly attacked, workers in hardhats clambering across the arduous and alien landscape of destruction and cutting up the largest objects with their torches and saws, then motioning for the cranes to lift the cut up pieces away into waiting dump trucks, while excavators and bulldozers were nibbling away at the fringes of the enormous pile.

Only some news crews continued to linger, mostly newspaper reporters, but a handful of Television teams were visible, lugging their unwieldy cameras on their shoulders. They saw the incoming cars and immediately began to wander their way, their uncanny sense of being able to find news like hounds on a scent kicking in.

The black cars cautiously made their way around the mess, before finally pulling to a stop in a cleared area of the site, wheels grinding across the freezing mud and sliding to a halt.

A new arrival moved in, much nosier and with far less caution as the black SUV's but with the same amount of authority. Two large, white sedans, just as non-descript as their black vehicle counterparts with only the letters GIW emblazoned on their doors, drove quickly and nimbly past the cleanup crews and pulled to a halt in front of the black SUV's.

However plain the cars seemed, they represented the finest and most advanced ghost combat forces in the United States. Men and women in black suits and ties exited the black SUV's, carrying a plethora of equipment on their sides from what looked like Geiger counters and laptops, tool boxes and exotic metal detectors, at their side. Leading them was Richard Kathos, an African American with a shaved head, matching sunglasses covering dark brown eyes, and business suit, a grim expression on his face as he surveyed the wreckage. He was leading the NPSA, the National Paranormal and Supernatural Administration, an organization that was only a remnant of the CIA's various clandestine programs of the Cold War, but still a force to be reckoned with.

Out of the white Cars emerged several more bluntly dressed men, wearing more military looking clothing, one of them in a biohazard suit with complementing gas mask. Their equipment was more bizarre, consisting of specialized cameras, what looked like oversized Swiss army knives, drills and enormous syringe looking devices. Heading their group was the stocky and serious Tan Olso, with short cropped hair, worn and scratched sunglasses protecting grey eyes, and a grey suit that had seen better days. Even Olso had no idea where his name had come from, he wasn't even sure of his ethnicity, but to anyone who knew him, even his family, he was stuck with the name 'Mister O'. He was the proud manager of the famous Ghost Investigation and Weapons Team, Amity Park's own paramilitary force to stand watch against the supernatural dangers of Axiom Labs. Known far and wide for having a SWAT team that used the strangest of tactics to take down their foes, they were nevertheless, the only authority in America trained to go head to head with ghosts.

Richard and Olso crossed the distance between them, eyeing each other with an indescribable look, hidden behind their sunglasses. Behind them, their respective teams moved out, lugging their equipment with them and beginning a study of the rubble and destruction.

The men faced each other, glaring the other down.

They broke out into a hearty laugh and embraced with a masculine hug as they slapped each other across the back.

"Long time no see Agent O!" Richard chortled as he took off his sunglasses.

"Same to you Agent K" Olso chuckled as he did the same "still remember our old nicknames?"

"How could I forget? It's not as if we could forget the old college days right?" Richard, or Agent K jovially elbowed his comrade.

"What's with the names?" an inquisitive reporter asked, sidling up to the two men. She couldn't help but notice how complementary they seemed to each other, being roughly the same build, height and even facial features. She idly wondered whether they were somehow related.

Agent O and K scowled as they heard the question and turned to face the reporter "We were friends in college, and as such, we made up nicknames for each other" Agent O explained before sobering up. "But I'm expecting you have some other questions pertaining to" he motioned behind him towards the destruction "the explosion. So to stop an endless and annoying flow of questions without end…"

"We're not accepting such inquires at this time." Finished Agent K in an irritated tone. He cleared his voice, just as Agent O sniffed slightly. The wind shifted, bringing on the strong odor of diesel fumes. The news personal scattered around ground zero had began to wander around the two men, and now were attentively listening, much to the visible displeasure of the two men.

"So to that end, as you with the media know" Agent O began. "There is a press conference set up later this afternoon, so if you will, we have to prepare for that" Agent K finished.

The media personal shrugged, and only a few of the reporters barking out a question or two in vain, as the two men turned away in a huff, not at all happy to see the media. "Well Richard, let's get down to business, so enough with the happy greetings, I must tell you that the GIW is in something of a fix right now" Agent K said solemnly as the two men paced forward, arms behind their backs, unaware of their stalker behind them. "I awoke last night to my telephone ringing off the hook and the mayor furious at me.

"Better" the both of them stopped in front of a truck, both looking forwards, the atmosphere becoming tense. "And worse. Before I got on the plane here, I got a call from Secretary of State. He's not happy, and wants answers. Fast." Agent K's tone was blunt and to the point, clearing conveying that something or someone was going to pay for the disturbance of the peace.

"And that leads me to our assets."

Agent K suddenly swung around and grinned almost maliciously at his partner. "The Department of Homeland Security gave us a black check…and do you know what that means?"

Agent O smiled broadly, delight crossing his face and satisfaction on his lips. "Our chance" He breathed, his eyes locking with Agent K's, their faces matching in hope and excitement.

"Indeed" Agent K's voice was rich and oozed of nostalgia, slow and deep. "For years we have waited for our chance, but now…now I think we can revisit the old CIA days with relish. The Department of Homeland Security said that we have access to funds, the National Guard, and the ears of the Pentagon if necessary. It means a return to our former glory Olso, a return to what we once were…before the debacle."

Agent O scowled as the unpleasant remembrance bubbled up from areas of his mind that kept dark secrets. Darkness crossed his face.

The CH-47 Chinook Helicopter thundered its way to the ground, dust and gravel flying far and wide, the scrawny plants of Afghanistan flapping wildly in the fierce wind of the two giant blades of the helicopter spinning hard.

The date was June 18th, 2003 as Richard Kathos pressed the receiver on his walkie-talkie. The static buzzed in before Tan Olso's deep voice cackled in.

"Come in Bureaucracy, come in Bureaucracy, this is the Corrupt Banker do you copy?"

"Alright Olso, Bureaucracy checking in, how's things at the field post?"

"Ready to go, you landed?"

"Roger that, squads D and F moving out"

Squad D and F, both of them composed of war hardened US rangers, their faces grim and tense, their arms and hands weighed down by heavy bullet proof vests and of course, the heavy automatic weapons in their hands, began to hustle forward as the whirring sound of the rear ramp opening, sounding to any man heading into enemy territory like the boom of a funeral bell, preceded the blinding light and dust that swirled in. Their boots clunked heavy on the metal floor as they left the safety of the helicopter. Agent K pulled on his trademark shades and moved out.

As a CIA agents, this was among their earliest missions. Agent O was coordinating the covert operation from a field post while Agent K was in the field to try to raid a large weapons catch of the enemy and secure one of its highest ranking members. Both of them didn't know what awaited them, but they wished they had never even suggested the mission.

The squads stormed out of the helicopter, lugging their packs and guns as they cleared the landing zone, Agent K among them, the sweat already beginning to flow from his forehead as the intense Afghanistan heat blasted the 25 or so soldiers. Back at base, Agent O sat back in his rolling chair and studied the formation of men on the satellite link move into position. His earpiece cackled with the sound of pounding boots and the holler of Agent K as he ordered the men to move up. The sound of helicopter also came through, increasing in volume as it lifted off, departing.

Weshiiiissh TCOoorckrrr!

"Agent K!" Agent O shouted, reverting over to his partner's nickname as the sound of gunfire erupted in his ear, followed by the sickening sound of a helicopter spinning out of control and crashing into the ground, analogous to a overcharged fan spinning till the blades sang in their rapid vibration before disintegrating.

Meanwhile, the desperate cries of his partner were nothing but a small buzz in his ear as Agent K lifted a hand to block his sight of the Chinook helicopter being struck by an enemy rocket, its back engine disintegrating in flame, bright, hungry fingers of burning fuel, before the entire machine began to spin, turning and turning like a giant sling, the hum of its engines turning into a high pitch as the helicopter vanished in a massive ball of shredded steel and exploding aviation fuel, bits and pieces of the helicopter taking off like small fireworks.

Agent K meanwhile was diving to the side as he saw in peripherals a concealed machine gun open fire and cut down two US soldiers, their bodies falling clumsily onto the hot ground, while bullets whizzed over them, slicing the air with the sound of mosquitoes on steroids. Agent K felt a blow to his chest, as though he had been punched hard, before collapsing behind a rock.

Looking down, the CIA agent watched in near fascination as, from a small hole in his uniform, the cloth was saturated with a red liquid. Raising his head in a daze, he watched three more American soldiers go down. His mind began to lose grip on reality as the pain set in, slow and agonizing. His vision dimmed like a cell phone screen losing power and the CIA agent fell limp as the squads of men around him returned fire, the air filled with the ripping noise of slugs.

Back at base, Agent O was filled with images of his Agent K's tombstone as he shouted for air support.

"Let's not recall that day shall we Richard?" Agent O said darkly. "It doesn't matter, now that we have another chance"

"We can't forget that I nearly got killed that day, only surgery prevented my untimely death, and 10 others in that squad weren't so fortunate. Only your quick thinking saved us, and then what happened?" Agent K ground his teeth as was tempted to bellow his frustration, only halted with the thought in mind of being in the open. "WE were the ones blamed, WE were the ones upon which responsibility for the compromise of that operation was laid, when really we told them it was a CIA mole, and what do we get for months of work, working our way through the training program and then on that mission, plus getting shot? Demotion! Demotion of me to the NPSA and demotion of you to the cul-de-sac GIW, Demotion to two government subsidized or funded organizations where the government thought they could sweep us aside with a hand broom!"

Agent O mused on it, before putting a hand on his partner's shoulder. Agent K was breathing hard, working against instinct to calm down, the adrenaline of rage flowing through his veins. "Well…I don't suppose the CIA or the government ever imagined that the GIW and NPSA would become important, because now they are coming, crawling towards us and we have the chance, the opportunity to show the world just what we can do."

The two of them stared at each other, Agent O looking hopeful, Agent K with a blank look on his face. Agent K licked his lips and looked about, stared at the giant amount of wreckage and then looked back at his long time friend. His voice was gruff, but sincere.

"We will not stop, we will not cease our mission here to bring to justice whatever disturbed the peace of this city. Whether by accident or not, we have a real monster on our hands, one monster of a mission, one monster of an enemy, so shake my hand Olso, that we will not let up in our persistence or determination to find the culprit for this and take our rightful places in the government as heroes." He finished on a thundering note, and Agent O eagerly shook his hand.

"Let's catch a monster shall we?" they said in unison, bonded together by a single goal that they would not halt at nothing to achieve.

…..

…..

Said monster was staring, wild eyed at his sister, who was currently in a corner, her back pressed hard against the wall, hands up in a defensive position as the monster desperately tried to cope with the circumstances. Everything about the situation seemed to mock him, the way everything seemed to fog up, his vision obscured by strange mirages of colorful mist that centered around his sister, the way none of his senses were working right, the way he couldn't feel his lungs or heart functioning, the way he felt cold blasts of feeling rush to and fro across his skin, dancing across his nerves. Thoughts were racing unbidden from the depths of his mind, screaming and whispering, insinuating and ordering, wrestling for control. Thoughts of death, of dominance, thoughts that Danny had every right to go over and relieve his sister from the duty of living, thoughts that Danny should cleanse his territory of all competing spirits and living entities, humans included.

His psyche was like a reflection in water scattered by a splash, or a mirror shattered. A thundering clamor of voices within his brain, bombarded from every side by inhuman trains of thought and unknown senses.

He had frozen, unable to apply his thoughts to actually do something. Jazz simply stared in shock as she pressed harder against the wall, wishing that she was gone, away from the spot. She was staring at, where her brother had once been, a strange creature that was gazing at her, having appeared in a blinding flash of white light. Its appearance was fake, horribly unnatural and artificial, a form forced into the human plane of existence, not born into it. It wasn't so much gruesome or repulsive to look at as it was unnatural. There was something within her that said that the creature before her had no right to co-exist in the same dimension, and it struck to her core.

He…she thought it was a he, in the few scattered thoughts that still remained with her, she observed as being young, a humanoid being, with strange, wavering hair a ivory white that came almost all the way down into indescribable green eyes, stealing the attention away from the printed black and white scheme of the rest of his body.

"Mom! Dad is so unfair to take me to work today, of all the days…when we have a snow day! I should be with Carla at her house right now, not messing around here, I mean, even Dad's coworkers took the day off, it snowed nearly a foot outside and Dad had to take me into work. Why?"

"Well" her mother laughed at loud at her 12 year old daughter who was most displeased to be in the empty Axiom Labs. "it was the scheduled day to bring your kid into work, so Dad thought it was your only chance to see this place"

"Yeah, just like last year, and the year before that, and for my entire life I have come here and done nothing all day!...where is Dad anyway, and why are you here, I never see you when I come"

Maddie sat down in the rolling chair, smiling as she pulled her lunchbox out and began to unpack. "Lunch break Jazz…I wouldn't pass up today to see you, besides, I don't have much work to do anyway, since most of my coworkers took a snow day"

Danny was jolted to life as Jazz motioned to scream. "Jazz, no don't!" his voice hollowly echoed, reverberating and alarming what sane part of his mind remained.

"How come you never come and see me, how come your always working in another part of the building mom?" Jazz huffed as she uninterestedly scribbled a pencil on a scrap piece of paper. The lunch room and kitchenette were silent, and even for Jazz, who was always finding something to do, was bored out of her mind, and she didn't mind a bit when Maddie began to lecture.

"Well you see Jazzy"

Jazz rolled her eyes at her mother's display of affection.

"I study ghosts"

"ooooh, big discovery there Mom, of course I know you work on ghosts!"

Her Mom laughed "Well aren't you the bit interested?"

"No"

"Ah well, since you don't have anything else to do, maybe you can learn a bit about ghosts anyway"

Danny began to clamber off the bed, pleading silently for Jazz to do something, anything to indicate that she still knew him. His mind cleared as a base instinct to protect himself arose, and he focused, being able to speak clearly.

"Jazz, I know I look like a freak and I swear this only happened once before, but please don't look at me like that, you're scaring me. Please?"

"You see Jazz, have you ever heard of heaven, hell and purgatory?"

Jazz nodded absently while her mother enthusiastically continued. "They're real Jazz, I know it. You see, when a person…well, kicks the bucket, their soul lives on. The soul is immortal Jazz, it always lives on. The body may decay but the soul is always there. Therefore, a soul must go somewhere after the grave, not to scare you, I know it's a heavy matter for a twelve year old girl, but you should learn. The soul can do 3 things; go to heaven, hell, or purgatory. What purgatory is, that's something we will never know, but for some souls, their life on earth was so tumultuous or ended so violently, that their purgatory is to remain on earth as a soul, drifting on."

Jazz began to pay a bit more attention as her mother lost touch with an actual conversation and began to delve into a more complex lecture. Her voice became loftier and Jazz became awed by her mother's utter fascination with the subject.

"Continuing Jazz, the drifting soul has moved onto another plane of existence. The physics of that dimension, the mechanisms of that alien world that drifting souls reside, those subjects are what have had me in fascination for the last few decades. The power that souls hold is unimaginable Jazz, and it reflects on what you can do in life. Just think Jazz, put all your mind energy and emotional energy forward as will power and you can do some amazing things. Now imagine all that energy on the physical plane, talk about raw energy."

Jazz felt the memory of her mother stir within her and she bit her lip, hard as she began to slowly wrench her body up the wall into a standing position. The creature had addressed her by her nickname, and was now trying to pretend to be her brother. The mere ludicrousness of the chance that the creature…the ghost before her could be her brother was only a thought in the back of her brain, but it was motivating her to take a stand and face the alien, to face the monster, to try to clear away the emotion and size up the creature on a logical level.

"Heaven and Hell are eternal, but a soul in Purgatory will move from there eventually. Whether that is millions of years or a matter of days is a question that science will probably never answer, but it is clear that all souls produce energy, power. It defies the law of the conservation of energy, but it is true. As time passes, most souls move on from Purgatory, like prisoners having done their time, some of that energy they produce is left behind. We can refine it as ectoplasm, which like all else we know about the field of ghosts, there is so much to learn."

Jazz was now listening intently, as her mother had lifted a hand to her chin and was looking away, her voice now a near internal thought. She was contemplating all of it, thinking about it.

"The ghosts that remain in purgatory can draw upon that residue energy and they evolve. Over time, like true evolution, strong and weak ghosts evolve. The weakest are the first to go, and the strongest live on. The older a ghost is, the more likely it is to be powerful and exclusive to that time period. It's a pyramid scheme, very few ghosts living past a certain amount of time. Theoretically, there is single, almost ageless ghost at the top of that pyramid scheme."

"Is the ghost zone purgatory?" Jazz asked. Maddie was surprised, not expecting Jazz to take interest.

"No. How did you hear about the ghost zone Jazz?"

"I'm not stupid Mom, I can hear you telling Dad about your stuff"

Maddie laughed and reached over to ruffle her daughter's flame red hair. "That's my girl Jazz, paying attention to details. Anyway, no, the ghost zone is a place for ghosts, souls, that do evolve and artificially live on past the time they can move on. Why they continue to live on like that is unknown, but we assume it has to do with the psychology of a ghost."

Danny stared at his sister with pleading eyes, hoping that she would do something, anything to indicate she knew he existed, that he wasn't some inhuman monster. "Jazz, calm down, its me…Danny. I live here, you and I go to Casper High, I have locker 675, and you have locker LL1293 with a picture of Justin Beiber on the inside."

"Psychology, of a ghost?" Jazz asked incredulously. "Ghosts can think?"

"s-stop it. Y-you a-re not my b-brother" Jazz stuttered out, her heart racing, the sound of the creature's voice sending horrible shivers up her spine and racking her brain with waves of unnerved sensations. Worst of all was that Jazz could feel her soul; her soul seemed to be cowering in her chest, almost giving deference to the entity now standing before her.

"Yes Jazz, it's assumed a ghost is tied to the ghost zone through an obsession over something. But that's all we really know."

"What's a ghost like up close Mom?" Jazz asked, now fully engaged in the conversation.

She had seen pictures, but nothing had prepared Jazz for the real thing. The air around him seemed to bend, the way it does above a hot surface, bent by the heat and shimmering to make objects at distance seem distorted. At the surface, countess snaking lines of energies danced across its skin, barely visible but real all the same.

Danny couldn't care less about what he looked like. He cared more about just getting his sister to accept him again. "it's me Jazz! Don't do this 'I don't know you' business with me, please don't, look I'll explain everything just talk to me, please"

Jazz was emboldened by the creature's pleadings, no matter its apparent power, as it had no visible or implied intent to harm. She was now standing fully and they were face to face, only a few feet from each other. Though her soul was cowering away, her mind warning her against it, she extended her hand in a wobbly handshake.

They grasped, hands folding around each other. Danny felt a flood of strange emotions pour across the link his entire body being electrified by the touch, while Jazz gasped at the steel cold that the creature exuded, freezing her hand with its icy temperature.

Her vision went white for a moment and her soul did a flip flop before…

Her brother stood, once again, gasping before her, holding her hand, his grip intensifying till he collapsed. Jazz stumbled back as Danny fell into her arms, his heart literally making his chest throb. She felt hot tears running down his face, even though his expression was one of trauma.

Jazz felt her own body react accordingly, breath and heart rate rising to a peak before slowing down. Danny's room seemed uncomfortably small and dimly lit as the only sound came from brother and sister, panting and slumping to the floor, both of them emotionally drained from just a few minutes of turmoil.

"D-Danny" Jazz gasped "you have a story to tell me"

….

….

Maddie…the name was like a mountain among plains in his mind, a single all consuming consideration that was consuming him. How was he to carry on…without her? She had been bringing in the lion's share of the pay, doing the lion's share to the house work, of planning budgets, driving the car, making decisions…

The tears were on something of a biological faucet, turning on and off as his mind felt like a wild roller coaster, flipping from dismay to full blown despair from one second to the next. The kitchen was covered in her possessions, her smells, her attitude, her ability to lead and make him laugh. That freshly prepared fudge in the fridge, that small 'Mom's cooking rulz' trinket he had gotten for her during valentine's day one year, a hastily scribbled list of numbers and emails that she used when answering the phone, her work papers indicating projects on paranormal research stuffed in the corner, a half finished mug of her coffee sitting next to the sink.

Jack took a step forward before stumbling and letting out a heart filled sob as he absently put a hand on a yellow paint peeling cabinet to support him. How…how was she gone just like that? How was he going to live? What was the point, how was it even possible to live life without…

A sliver of white paper sticking out of a drawer attracted his attention. Jack pulled it open on a whim, not really realizing what he was doing, before sliding the wrinkled sheet in front of his watered eyes.

March 5th, 1998

Dear Jack

I suppose you are rather alarmed to know that I left for a business trip without really notifying you, but there is a report of a ghost hunt in Africa and I couldn't wait. Not even phone service around here, but I sent a letter. I'll be gone for almost a week, so I hope you get this before I get home.

As a scientist I have often denied the existence of unexplained miracles and belief in things that you must only believe and cannot prove, but last night I had a dream, in which we were separated. I cannot explain why, but I am compelled to say a word or two to you in the case that we are separated.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. My love of ghosts and the pursuit of knowledge often seems to trump my duty to home, but realize that my love for my family abounds like the waters of the sea. And above all, it goes with my soul, my immortal spiritual side that shall exist in God knows where I shall go when my earthly life ends, and therefore no matter where I am and what I am doing, or whatever time it is, you can consider that my thoughts and hopes go with you.

Jack, my love for you, like my dreams, prayers, thoughts and hopes, is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and therefore do not feel alone when I leave for long periods for my care, my thoughts are always with you, hand in hand, by your side.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, please forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! Forgive me for the periods of conflict we have had. But remember me for the many times to goodness between us, the times when we sat together and enjoyed our company together, and the sharing of our family life. If it comes to the case, in which I must leave for a long period of time, you must carry on. I want to see our children grow and become a man and a woman we can boast of, and you must do this, you must carry the mantel of the family when I cannot, you must lift up our children and carry on. Make do, be strong, for I know you are.

Oh Jack, shall one day I leave this earth, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Jack, I am only considering what may happen, not what will, but know that whenever we are separated, by wall, by sea, or by dimension and death, do not mourn me gone but wait for me, for we shall meet again.

Make sure Danny brushes his teeth and that Jazz is enrolled for the writing club at the community center.

I will send more letters this week, this is just the first one.

Your loving wife

Maddie Fenton.

Jack's resolve hardened. The tears didn't stop as he placed the letter, sent so long ago and forgotten beneath countless other scraps of coupons and receipts, tenderly in his pocket. "Kids!" Jack shouted. "We leave for school in 5 minutes."

Life would carry on, as Maddie was still there, maybe not in body but her legacy would be with all of them. For her sake…Jack would carry on as if life had not been interrupted.

Danny and Jazz stumbled down the stairs ready to go, backpacks resting on strained spines, but it was the faces that got Jack puzzled. Usually such an ebullient family was now so subdued…

Jack was silent, face without expression as he inspected Jazz, her red hair in twists and knots, not at all the ideal of the perfect student she usually was, eyes exposed, eyelids retracted back to their full extent to allow the eyes to stare at the world as if she was seeing the mirage of water in the desert. Her forehead was crinkled back, absolute shock across her face. Danny was the exact opposite, eyes averted, hidden beneath a tipped head and dark bangs of somewhat greasy hair, posture slouched and devastated.

Jack felt his resolve drain as if the plug had been pulled on the bathtub. But still, he stepped forward and grasped his children's shoulders and squeezed them lovingly. "Now Danny, Jazz, I know mother is gone for the present time and will probably not be returning for a while." Jack paused as he felt both children shudder beneath his meaty hands. "But that does not mean that she is not with us, and if she were here, she would want you to go to school, so chin up, keep your chests out and challenge the world like a Fenton does. We must be strong, so no more tears, only endurance and value of the life we currently live"

The kitchen seemed to brighten, the sun moved from beneath a cloud and streamed through the window with divine light, every corner illuminated a bit more, shadows fleeing. The aging stove with its electric filaments, the noisy fidge and chrome handles on the cabinets seemed to regain a wonderful shine and gleamed in hope.

Smiles went around, Jack wiping away the tears, Danny trying to hide his facial features while Jazz reached up to give her Dad a light peck on the check.

Jack went out, grabbing the car keys from a drawer and heading to the garage. Behind him, Danny and Jazz looked at each other with deep eyes and expressions.

"I will not believe, absolutely refuse to believe your story Danny, I will not admit to having faith that you caused the explosion yesterday and that something is seriously wrong with you"

"Whether you believe it or not Jazz, not a word to anyone, especially Dad."

Danny's eyes flashed that horrible green, sparks of other dimension energy flying in his icy blue irises as if to enforce his command. His sister shivered, her soul once again creeping away as Danny's own soul exuded a hint of the power locked beneath his skin.

Brother and sister nodded in understanding and headed off. A new era for the Fentons had begun, and Clockwork rubbed his hands in excitement as he continued to watch the unfolding drama.

"Unfortunately my dear halfa" Clockwork's voice dripped in complexity and mystery. "Inevitability cannot be denied. Soon you will be incorporated in a game much larger than you, and you must rise to the challenge. Good luck…you'll need every iota of it."

…..

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this is kinda late, but blood warning! Hope none of you threw up when Agent K got shot.

To any readers, if any, I sincerely apologize for you having to wait 3 weeks instead of the usual 2. School, excuses, homework up my wazu, creativity and heavy need to modify plus other pointless excuses are my reason but you can yell at me If you want.

CONGRADUALTIONS to Kiomori, for becoming my wonderful beta. She's wonderful and wonderful then again.

On this chapter…ah it wasn't the best, but I earnestly hope it wasn't the worst. It wasn't that terrible was it?

Please review, just spend less than 30 seconds to press that button and say hi, and I'll write your name down here!

Blood of Dawn thank you very much for stopping in, and yes that was my point, to try to write more realistically, no matter how over the top my story is. Silver tongue's daughter holy cow I realized how prolific and well read a author you were and I was jubilant. YES SOMEBODY COOL IS READING MY STORY! Samara thank you for seeing the emotion that I inject, I hope you enjoy. You get a virtual cookie for being a regular reader and reviewer! PROPHET OF GREED You always make me blush. A epic author reviewing me? Ah shucks...I'm bashful! Please stick with me, you are one of the reasons I get excited to write this. Kiomori is my beta so you all should be gaping at her glorious awesomeness. The Ice Cold Alchemist Welcome aboard, and thank you for at least considering being my beta. Amazing people like you make my day Pterodactylyour review is in the top 3 best reviews I have received! Thanks for the tips and encouragement, I wish I could shoot it back straight at you. Yes, my grammar has oopsies, I'm sowwy.

For any of you who notice, the letter section at the end seems not my style. If you did notice, you have one heck of an eye because yes I did steal that. That letter from Maddie to Jack is a HEaviLY modified version of a letter from Sullivan Ballou to his wife during the Civil War. I fell in love with it and decided that I would take a bit of it just because it nearly made me cry. Read the original, it is very sad.

Next chapter…the great ghost hunt begins. Danny's in for it now!