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the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

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3 _ 44 _ Not the Best News

The light flashed green, but Arthur wasn’t paying attention. The action didn’t quite ignite in his mind, though he was looking right at it. Lost in his thoughts, searching for guidance to connect the now to a future he didn’t understand. Did Lewis not trust him? He didn’t get it.

A crackle of static burbled through the radio.

“Lights green.”

Arthur shivered. “Yeah. Just checking for traffic.” There was no rebuke on that, though the intersection was bare of vehicles aside from one car creeping forward. The town shut down pretty fast following six PM.

Streetlamps flashed through the windshield at off intervals, flooding black through the van interior. The rose tinge of Lewis eyes glittered, his shape near insubstantial within the periodic dips of flare bursts. Sometimes, Arthur thought he saw the death suit and skull, despite knowing Lewis would not drop his living guise unless his focus broke. It must suck, maintaining that sort of concentration.

“Y’know, you don’t have to look that way around me,” Arthur admitted. “I actually don’t mind Sir Bones Esquire.” Lewis generated a sound, but he couldn’t place if it was a hiss or static.

“I prefer to look not like I crawled out of a grave,” he muttered. The face didn’t move, but the shimmering ember shifted to check Arthur. “Thanks for the offer.”

Arthur shrugged his shoulder. “I try and keep the board clear. Whatever works for you, I’m game.” It wasn’t resentment, it was something else seeping off of Lewis.

“You too,” Lewis uttered. He leaned back a little in the seat and crossed his arms. “You got a lot on your mind. You wanna, I dunno, talk?”

Arthur sniffled. “Not really. It’s, well….” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe later, I gotta tell you some things. Not bad or anything, but it’s pretty heavy. I might… y’know, never mind. That pizza was heckin’ good. How many times did you burn ‘em.” The radio sputtered.

“Five, I think….”

“Awesome.” Arthur pulled into the carport for Kingsman Mechanics. The lights were all out, the parking lot empty; the space barren, but for the vehicles dropped. He climbed out of the driver side and shut the door. On the other side, Lewis swept through the grill of the van in a swell of light and embers.

“Dude, c’mon,” he uttered. “Don’t risk the gas tank.”

“It’s ethereal fire,” Lewis rasped. “Absolutely harmless.” He walked with Arthur to the front doors, the keys already twinkling.

“Hard to tell with you.” Arthur slotted one key, then the next. Until, Lewis brought his hand close, sparking a smoldering ember at his palm. Arthur jolted. “Shit! Warning, next time.”

“Siento.” At the entrance Lewis waited, while Arthur popped inside and gave the building a brief exploration. Within seconds, Arthur returned and beckoned.

When exiting out the entrance corridor, Arthur flicked a switched on the panel and activated the lights throughout the main work floor. “Okay, the boxes are upstairs by the door of my work room. Stacked. I meant to grab them, it didn’t happen. You can’t miss them.” The details dropped, he skittered out of Lewis company, sprinting across the work floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Need parts for my arm. I was kinda in a hurry, excited I was gonna get out of here before Viv started texting me. I didn’t want her to worry.” He spun around, throwing a finger gun Lewis’ way. “I’ll be up in a sec.”

“What else did you forget?” Lewis departed on his alternate route to the dark corridor, leading to the stairway. “Should I grab the kitchen sink, too?”

After a beat, Arthur called back in a sharp whisper, “It couldn’t hurt.”

The worktable was as he left it, which was what he liked. He pulled open the drawer where he kept a sturdy case for the tools he routinely transported in or out, depending on his schedule. There was a specific method for undoing the clasps without the aid of a second arm, it was a little awkward to do since it required the use of his knee. It mostly kept the case stationary while he pried up the latch, but his movement was so practiced it took a mere five seconds. In a smaller drawer beneath the table surface, he kept the soldering wands for minute detail work. If he could, he wanted to get the remedial delicate stuff. It was simple enough, but tedious—

Crack!

Arthur jolted and whipped around, instincts on high alert. His eyes flashed around the room, studying the vehicles left prepared for tomorrow’s shift, the rotary lifts and supply carts spaced throughout the work floor. What was that? It was loud, the clamor reverberated through the hollow garage, emphasizing isolation and a prowling threat.

“Um… Uncle?” he called. No response. Not good. Arthur reached behind him and clenched a wrench. “Who’s there?” He didn’t risk calling the name of the one that should be, but the fact an answer was NOT forthcoming was worst of all. It was okay. It would be okay. He took a breath and crept forward, moving behind a small car and checking through the windows – searching through the tinted glass for an amateur hasting to relocate amidst his momentary ‘distraction’. The silence peeled apart his senses, he should pick up someone breathing or even their deepest thoughts. Was anything missing? He couldn’t tell, and it wouldn’t matter. Someone was here, he was certain.

After taking a short trip around the work floor, he scurried to a far wall and set the wrench down on a table, then jammed a fist into his vest pocket. Before his fingers could grasp at his phone, the hair on his nape prickled, spurring him to whip about. With a yelp, he backpedaled from the hulking shape. His yelp was more of a ‘YEEE!’ and his retreat sent him staggering, when he brushed against the corner of the desk.

“Who the fack?! Hey—” He tumbled to the floor, as the shape snatched at the wrench abandoned upon the table. He rolled until his arm was situated under him, and sprung onto his feet. “Who the—” His voice sputtered, the wrench gave a menacing CLANG! upon skipping across the concrete floor.

At first, he did believe in his heart that this was Lewis. In the dark and sinister parts of his memories, Arthur believed that the spirit had crept down to invoke some cruel ploy to torment him. But as the shape swept through the dull glow of light, he could cleanly distinguish that this was a grunting, breathing, agitated man in a mask. The intruder person kept weaving in and swiping for his arm, intent on incapacitating him through crude means. A shame that Arthur was much too spry and hardwired for evasion, the vandal didn’t expect such resistance either.

The irony of everything, that a masked person would intrude in the shop and assault him. What the hell? He got enough of this crap on rando assignments, this was break from that drama. So much for that fantasy.

Did something crash, elsewhere? Oh boy, oh shit!

“Man, you don’t wanna do this!” Arthur vaulted over the hood of a van and zipped around the side. The big guy was quick too, though not as agile. He huffed and puffed, pursuing like a bear on honey. “You really don’t wanna! I’m warning you! Yikes!” With a lunge he crashed to the floor - he cleared the table, but got snagged by an impact drill and its cord. “YOU! You’re getting into some bad shit!” He screamed bloody murder and scrambled to his feet. The intruder hauled up a whole muffle and swung it down – cracked the concrete and missed his foot by an inch.

Arthur sprang one way, then the other around a small convertible. Intruder followed, swishing the muffler like a damn katana. In a risky slide, he dove by and scrambled to one of the rotary lifts with a jeep suspended. He shimmied up one tower and clambered through the vacant side door, scarcely hauling his legs out of the way before Intruder with muffler could swing and knock his knees off.

“I’m tellin’ you! You gotta leave,” Arthur went on, speech breaking. A fleeting glance surveyed the room, but established no sign of eyes or fury. Still time before this guy got cooked. “For your own—” The muffler collided with the arch of the jeep and the jointed pipe glanced his shoulder. The world twisted as he toppled backwards, and off the hood of the jeep. It was oddly reminiscent of those dreams, the nightmares. He knew what came next.

Unexpectantly, his body collided with a stack of empty boxes.

The masked intruder gulped down cold air, more excited than winded through the exertion. They glanced around, where was it? In all the ruckus, their mind blanked on where they dumped it. Turning, they spied something that made them abandoned the search cold turkey. This was entirely due to the large hand snagging their shoulder, and flinging them like a doll. Heat and an overwhelming scent of char clouded their senses, dissipating only when they descended from the short flight.

The trajectory sent them on a collision course for a flatbed cart, which they tumbled off and skidded across the floor. They didn’t stop, barely checking that their legs remained connected to their spine before retreating from the scene. Exit! Escape! Where was the way out! As they fled, they patted at their sleeve and mask, embers scored their clothing – The hell? The intruder was unable to make sense of where they went, and crashed into a work bench. With admirable grace, they recovered, a pronounced limp following; metal parts and tools clanged in a cacophony of symphony across the floor. They kept going, not chancing a look back and barely examining the area through the sparks dazzling their eyes.

Posed from throwing whoever that was, skull and death suit, eyes blazing, and fire still crackling at his ribs. Lewis would have given chase and done some real damage; there might’ve been something like self-control, perhaps even a capture if he was feeling generous. However, he couldn’t detect Arthur, and the figure buried under boxes was unresponsive to all the horrendous business afoot. He was not playing possum; Arthur couldn’t fool him.

“Arthur?” his tone withered, and became distorted. He glided closer to the comatose figure and towered, gazing down. With hesitance and some second thoughts, he reached down slowly—

Right through the heart he’s shot! A full slug punched directly through his facade and tore the locket clear off his coat front. WOW. What a mistake that was. Lewis twitched, fists clenched tightly at his sides. The last time he felt a sensation like that, it was after falling a considerable amount and choking on his last breath. He could almost feel the heavy tempo of a heartbeat fade out a second time.

DID

NOT

THAT

Directly behind Lewis at a two-meter pace, Uncle Lance stood with a rifle, barrel smoking. It was a good and clean hit, the gray wall on the other side visible through the incision torn through. He waited, uncertain what should happen next. The thing in front of him, how could it be described? It looked vaguely man-like, it had the shape of a person. Except for the ‘head’, and the gap above the open collar where a neck should occupy.

Lewis cocked his head and let his skull swivel, peering back. Another igniting thunderclap, and the spirit snapped around fully, cowering. Fist trembling beside his hip.

“Yu step back from m’boy, ya reject Hall-oh-ween Deck-ARATION!” Lance gave the rifle a crank and took aim. As he watched, the vacant hole in the torso filled in with a strange, glossy light. The chunk in the shoulder sizzled, and what looked like fire crackled over the rich color of the suit. A skull and suit; a very malevolent and pissed looking skull. “YA HEAR!”

Terrible and antagonistic ruminations boiled through Lewis’ consciousness. An endless fall, the impact – mind fractured and every piece of his body dislocated. Shadows sweeping in, swirling around that bent figure high-high above, and the jewel glittering at the center of its sneer. Wild, unruly cackles clattered across the walls of the abyss, mocking his pain. Drinking up the agony spilling across the sharpened stalagmites, as every ounce of care and thought drained away.

He glided toward the attacker, taking another bullet seamlessly in the abdomen. Ribs next, splintering – each patch of destruction inflicted, vanished in a swell of heat conjured by his blazing soul. The pieces and sharp fragments of Lewis fitted back, reworking a bizarre pattern of that day many-many moons ago. Rising, the bitter aversion for this betrayal. Abandoned, isolation and pitiless grief that followed. The loneliness, and sense of loss saturating his very essence. Corrupting, robbing him of warmth and tenderness, replacing everything with whispers and fire. Another piercing bolt, to his lower arm – a wild shot. Panic infused.

Someone was very deserving of all this pain. It would feel better to share it, cleave a sliver loose. Release a portion of that fury threatening to boil over like a raging, scalding tsunami. Let them feel a taste of the bitterness that plagued him.

As the thing approached ominously – clear malevolence burned in the pits of the skulls eye sockets – Lance became steadily more alarmed. There had to be a way to stop it. Someway, he had to put an end to it. But it was apparent brute force wouldn’t do it in. He backed away, nearly colliding with a supply cart.

“Stop!” he snarled. “You can’t do that! No! S’not possible! I won’t believe it!” The next projectile tore through the apparition’s center, but before the echo faded the gaping breach vanished. Lance buckled backwards, gun dry. “ARGH! What are yu made of!”

The rifle swept from his grip and the spirit hosted him up by the front of his vest, yanking him clear off his feet. It glared into him with those intense, blazing embers bristling deep within the cavernous eye sockets. “The souls of the innocent….” Lewis wound back an arm, fingers twitching—

“A bagel?”

Lewis froze. “Artie!” He dumped Lance and whipped around, shooting to the cluster of busted boxes. Before he could lean down, he hesitated – the lights about the work station flashed. “What… happened? I, uh… you’re hurt.” Arthur was sitting up, holding his neck and quivering under the drill of pain in his head. It was vibrant, he could almost feel it in his own skull.

“Honest, I don’t… remember. Oof.” His hand reached over and touched the empty spot of his shoulder.

The confusion was apparent, as well. Lewis needed to wait and see what Arthur came forward with. It might confuse Arthur if he bombarded him with questions, or prompts; he didn’t get a good view of the whole scene. Aside from the flush of rage that compelled his reaction. This couldn’t be rushed, and the other needed time to adjust and come around. Especially since Arthur appeared uncertain of what happened, despite his poor negotiations.

“Did you… try to dump me off somewhere? High?” Now, Arthur peered up at the looming shadow. He couldn’t gather much of Lewis’ features, aside from a towering silhouette and the heated fuchsia orbs peering down. It was super unnerving. “That seems like somethin’ you’d do. Fuk… m’back.”

Lewis smashed a fist into his palm. “That person! This guy!” A puff of flame sparked at his collar, and the embers in his skull snapped into hostile pinpoints. “I don’t know what happened, but he threw something. And then, you FELL! It – uh, I thought….” His speech sputtered into harsh screeches, staccato and hard to distinguish.

“I’ll go ahead and take your word on— No, wait. I don’t remember some guy.” Arthur flinched, his head ached too. “I remember running, and I know I was scared shitless.” Lewis gawked down at him, for once it was endearing and mortified despite circumstances. “Some… guy?”

“In a mask?” Lewis cocked his skullish brow.

Arthur nodded. Ooh. Hurt. “That I remember, I think. Fuck… damn. You didn’t go after him?”

“You. FELL.”

Arthur pinched his brow. “Okay. Shut up. You… I can barely understand you. What? I’m the one that—” He withered, trapped in place by the barrier of boxes bent around him. The barbaric cry could terrify morally questionable crocodiles.

The wild and furious snarl was Lance’s doing. He crept in closer to the spirit with his arms outstretched and two fingers locked together forming a significant and easy to recognize T. Or X. No, it was a definitely a T. A crucifix, like in the movies.

“Evil… BOO! I banish yu!” Lance scooted in closer, edging out around at an imaginary tether which directed him toward Arthur. Determination in his eyes and sweat on his brow, his beard frazzled, that glare did not loosen from the invading spirit. “I don’t believe in this spook fun house nan-sense, but I’ll not have yur sort here terrorizing my kid!”

A touch annoyed Lewis drooped. He debated straight up punching Lance’s lights out or stuffing him in a car trunk. Anything to get him out of the way, if only for a couple minutes. They didn’t need this.

Arthur groaned. Everything was loud and annoying, it wasn’t just Lewis. His grumbling kicked up into a theatrical scream, “A g-g-ghost! Here! You’d better leave, disgruntled… apparition? Fuk, I don’t have the pharmacy enough for this bullshit.” He leaned to the side, moaning. “I mean, eeek! Argh! Spirit! You had better leave, before… I dunno, you’re banished by my dear Uncle’s very clear, um… exorcism. Or whatever he’s doing. OOoooOOooOOOOOoooohhhh….” Under his breath, he spat, “For fuk’s sake, you’re compelled to obey!”

Lewis crossed his arms and leaned a little away from Lance. “Yeaaahhhh, gunna hit that up with a hard no. Not really in the mood, capiche?” He glowered directly down on Lance, right at his face with gloved hands outstretched with that ridiculous T. “Stop that or I’ll give you something to bitch about.”

Arthur took a sharp breath. “Why do you hafta be so pissy?” Everything. HURT.

“Stop with the language, and I might consider an attitude adjustment.”

Arthur screwed his eyes shut. “Uncle Lance, that’s not gunna work.”

Lance fizzled out. “Ehh.” He gawked at the skull, and the skull glared back. For the life of him, he could not begin to figure how it was suspended there. “Then… what will work?” He shuffled the remainder of the way to Arthur and crouched down, protectively. His gaze never wavered from the hostile… it was a ghost, wasn’t it? “What d’we do? How d’yu get rid of it?”

“We don’t get rid of HIM,” Lewis huffed, pointing at Lance. “HE gets an ice pack for Arthur. Keep an eye on him.” In a flash of sparks, Lewis vanished – the extinguished cinder formed an outline before the ash hit the floor.

The unexpected flare forced Lance to recoil, more from the vibrancy than any anticipated retribution. Once the haze faded, he searched around. No sound, no evidence of the spirits presence – aside from that familiar burning. That wasn’t important, what was important was Arthur.

“Yu’re the expert. Is there… a pesteecide? Tell me, and I’ll get it done.”

Arthur struggled to get up. “It’s a….” He flopped back, it was worse than a ballpit, made worse by the throbbing in his head and shoulders. He could remember up to the jeep, then it all got somewhat fuzzy. Lance assisted in easing him off the crumpled mold of his shape, nice and easy, careful not to rush. “He’s like a thorn bur, you try plucking it off and you’ll get third-degree burns.”

Lance blinked. “WHAT?! Is that whut happened to your neck?!”

This was not needed right now. And the guy, their mysterious assailant. Where was he now? Arthur couldn’t debate it out too hard, though some of the ache was fading, subsiding into a monotonous drum. He groaned in his throat.

Then, on the floor. He noticed it beside one of the crushed boxes, snowed in by packing peanuts. The cracked locket. Despite dislocation, it persisted to pulse in time with the throbbing in his ears.

“Shit-shit!” He scrambled out of Lance’s grip and snatched the thing up; it took a beating by the looks. The hinge creaked and unexpectantly the door swung open, threatening to pop off. Cursing, he struggled to hold it one handed without the whole thing coming apart. Without meaning too, he saw within. There was a photograph. He inched down, squinting at the textures and shapes, trying to make sense of what was there. He didn’t know there was—

A dark hand snapped the locket from Arthur’s grasp and shut it. He bristled. Lewis had returned. The spirit looked downright sinister, as he set the ashen artifact back to his chest.

“I didn’t—” Lance grabbed Arthur and heaved him back. Lance’s valiant efforts halted, when Lewis unceremoniously shoved him off. An icebag settled on Arthur’s head.

Lewis knelt on one knee, one hand loaded with supplies. “I’ll invoke my deeply nefarious plot for revenge at a later time. When you’re fixed and patched, and likely better apt to outrun me.” He adjusted the last few items in his hand, by tucking a water bottle into the crook of his arm and twisting open a pill bottle. “You get one of these.” He set aside the pill bottle and popped the cap on the water bottle, enough to break the seal.

Sprawled on his back, Lance observed with a perplexity beyond known rational. “Okay. What is goin’ on ‘ere?” He moved upright and jabbed out a hand toward the spirit. “What is this thing, really?”

Lewis glared. “Rude.”

Arthur swallowed the pill and took the water bottle. “It’s not the strong stuff.” Rather sip, he pressed the chilled bottle to his neck.

“The strong stuff will put you in a coma, and as much as I’d prefer that, I need you awake for awhile. It’s a concussion, not a concession.”

“Mmm, I’m lovin’ the bedside manner. You’re such a dish.” He took a sip and let the water warm before he swallowed. “Oof.”

“Thank you for noticing, I’ve been wor—”

“What in blazes is goin’ on!” Lance exploded, figuratively. “Arthur Kingsman! Explain! Should I call a priest, a medic! Or… what! What m’I suppose to do? Yu’n Viv-vi dealt with this’n supernatural mischief! Professionally! I can’t have these….” He jabbed a hand the spirits way, grasping for words, “…these critters, creeping into my shop! I need somethin’!”

Arthur hung his head and sipped more water. On the sideline stood Lance tapping his foot, veins popped on his face. This was such a mess he wasn’t sure what to say or do, where to begin. “I need another pill.”

“No,” Lewis grated.

“Arthur,” Lance grumbled, tone stern but considerably nerfed since the eruption. “Tell me somethin’. What am I supposed to do here? I wan tu help.”

“It’s me, Uncle Lance. Lewis Pepper.” Arthur choked on the water he was sipping. “You shot me, by the way.” Arthur made a sound, but if it was human or not was the riddle. “Maybe don’t inhale….”

Lance stiffened; teeth clenched. For a full minute he didn’t say a word, but his sturdy outline quaked. “No!”

“Well,” Lewis chattered, “You didn’t… kill me, I’ll give you that. Don’t worry. But you did shoot me, like, twenty times.”

“It was four!”

“Whatever.” The Lewis spirit fixed Lance with his scalding ember eyes, not looking pleased. And there was some familiarity in that expression, despite how feral and agitated it was now. Despite it being a bleached skull, lacking traditional and easily mapped expression. “It didn’t feel nice.”

“Impossible! Yu can’t be Lewis!” Lance stamped a foot. “Yu are not Lewis! That dusn’t work!”

Arthur exhaled, catching the attention of both. “Can you not shout?” He pinched the water bottle in his arm crook and adjusted the ice bag on his neck, before it slid off. “He’s Lewis, okay? He’s not alive, but he is Lewis. We sort of… Viv-vi and I, ran across him awhile back.” How to explain THAT mess! “He was there, and we had car trouble….”

“Funny story,” Lewis broke in. “Thrilling in a lot of ways. Quite the adventure.”

“No! No-no-no-no-no- no-no-no-no! And NO!” Lance swung his arms out, declaring, “Lewis Pepper is dead, gone! He’s never coming back! You said so yuserlf! Yu and Viv-vi, you kids gotta let that go.”

Arthur face palmed against the water bottle. Oh boy.

Lewis rose to his full height, was it possible he made himself taller? He became a looming, malevolent shadow with piercing eyes. “And maybe I don’t want to let them go. Have ya ever thought of that? Uncle Lance?”

Arthur dumped everything and leapt up. He caught Lewis by the tie. “That’s it! I’m calling time out!” To Lance, “Uncle, this is Lewis! He’s dead, it’s a long story, and it is my— ”

“A bitch!”

“You! Lew? What’s gotten into you?”

Lewis hunched over placing his skull inches from Arthur’s face. “He. SHOT. Me!”

“And? You can’t feel it!”

“It hit me right in the feels! Nineteen times!”

Lance hooted, “It was four, ya dumb spook!” He flinched when Lewis looked his way, eye sockets flooded thick with flames flickering. “I don’t BELIEVE in this bogus heebie-jeevies! Why d’I hafta look at it, when I don’t believe in it? This ain’t right!”

“That’s offensive,” Lewis shrieked, “I don’t appreciate your tone!”

A ringing chimed loud and brilliant in the momentary calm amid the fury of the storm. Arthur staggered away, first jamming a hand into his pocket and realized his phone wasn’t there. Of course she would call. They were super fucking late, they should’ve been back days ago.

Arthur pushed through the office doorway and fumbled for the light. In his alarm, he forgot it was on the side of his left arm. He gave up, and went straight to the buzzing receiver on the desk.

“Lords, I hope they don’t kill each other….” He shifted around and checked out the doorway. “Or, I hope Lewis doesn’t— Viv-vi! HEY!” The icepack was sorely missed. “No, everything’s fine. What, uh… gave you that idea? What about my voice?”

Lance squeezed into the office, rifle in hand. “It doesn’t belong ‘ere. End of discussion.”

Lewis hung in the doorway, eyes flashing and flames swelling off his shoulders. He was going to ignite something. The whole shop would implode, just like the mansion. “I’ll tell you what doesn’t belong here! We need to exorcise that nasty attitude! See how you like it!”

Arthur pulled the phone from his ear and fitted the mouthpiece into his palm. “WHY! Did you two follow me.” He shoved the phone to his shoulder. “No! We, er… yu see what happened here, we’ll— I really can’t explain. I need an adult.”

Lance reached for the phone. “Lemme talk to her!”

Arthur sprang back, holding the phone high above his head. “No!”

“Te satisfaría? If I show you? Arthur, I need a mirror.”

Arthur climbed onto the desk, screeching into the phone, “Vivi, for the love of holy doughnuts, please come here, asap! I don’t care if someone sees Mystery! You! Here! NOW!” He slammed the phone down and scrambled off the desk, completely losing his footing in the process and nearly faceplanting. “Can you both NOT SCREAM bloody murder for two minutes! Five minutes? S’all I’m asking!”

After that outburst, both Lance and Lewis clamped up. Arthur shoved his way out the door past Lewis, and crossed the floor back to where he abandoned the ice bag and water. He plopped down on the ground with his back to them, his lone hand fastened to his springy hair, and wilted.

“Fuck.” Lewis swayed, drawing a hand up to the front of his suit. He eased a ways out beyond the portal but paused, once more fiddling with his tie. To the side, Lance was inching out.

The look on Arthur’s face, he’d never seen an expression on his nephew quite like it. Except when…. Lance’s first instinct was get to him, the lad was distraught – the intuition an understatement – Arthur needed… a word. Support. But an arm slashed through his path, stalling the reflexive drive. He nearly refuted the action, the protest was on the tip of his tongue. But something snatched the words away, his throat became dry. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

Given the chance to observe the spirit – as it were – a moment to examine the features, it’s strangeness; a sense of familiarity soaked into him. When it wasn’t glaring or coiled up, he could get the feel for something else. Like a shadow stamped into the world he understood, a vivid memory of someone he could easily recognize from a distance. An unmistakable figure, distinct from a crowd. This… thing, it looked nothing like Lewis Pepper, but the gait it carried, the movement of its arms, it was unmistakable. Somehow, he knew this… thing, but dissension saturated the connection, and its presence was disjointed. It wasn’t alive, yet it was here. Most important of all, it wasn’t going away.

“You, uh… I think he’ll be fine.” When Lance spoke, the smoldering returned. It did NOT like him. So, what was it? What, not who. It couldn’t be…. “I’m… gunna sit down, fer a bit.”

Lance left for the breakroom and made himself a pot of coffee. When he returned from the recess, pot in hand and a stack of Styrofoam cups; Arthur was still seated far from the office, but updated to a stack of boxes that bore his weight. He gave a brief nonintrusive examination, only to confirm he was still breathing and not in any sort of apparent pain. From there, he went to the office to clear his thoughts and keep an eye on the area.

The lights hadn’t been turned on at all, and he almost forgot about the… thing. In the shroud, he nearly missed it seated at one of the chairs facing the desk, eyes aglow, the faint shimmer of its stylish hair. It sat arms crossed tightly, one leg slanted over the other. It didn’t respond when Lance entered.

“I think you have a story to share.” Lance sat one cup in front of the spirit and poured some coffee. The spirit refused to acknowledge his presence, and almost appeared photographic in its uncanny stillness; it wouldn’t even look at him. He reached over the side of his desk and pried open a drawer, and from the drawer, pulled up a small tray with containers of sweetener and nondairy creamers. “You a lil sour? What’s up?” He poured a cup for himself and blew at the harsh steam. “Not doin’ nothin’ but broodin’.”

There was a change in the spirit. The gleaming eyes were now locked on the white cup steaming in front of it.

“I don’t understand how this works,” Lance admitted. He plucked up the dislocated phone from the desk and set it back to the receiver. “Am I supposed t’say a special codeword? Is there a ritual, an uh… Ouiguh board.” The lamp on his desk flickered, came on, and then the bulb popped in a firework splash. Lance winced, sharply withdrawing his hand. Okay, what the FUCK. “Did yu do that?”

“Not on purpose.” Praise the stars, it spoke. “Check on Arthur.”

He wasn’t certain if that was a hint, or a direct command. “Juz did. He’s fine. This is mah office, by the way.” He managed to get a sip of his coffee. “I won’t harass him with this, not now. And I won’t wait for Vivi-vi. Before we get tu this…. Yu say a person….”

“Guy in a mask.”

“All right.” Lance nodded. “Before we pop that can of worms, before any of that. You’re here. I’ll go so far as admit that. But,” he gestured vaguely. “How did this happen?” Those vibrant eyes flicked up to him.

“It’s complicated.”

“Hmm. Don’t like t’way you said that.”

“Funny. I could care less what you think.”

Lance took another sip, and set his cup down. “Listen. Ghost Lewis.”

“Just Lewis,” the spirit had a wispy, sometimes airy way of speaking. The voice didn’t come from it, which made sense, because it didn’t have a mouth. “I’m still Lewis. The only difference, I lost custody of the body.” He huffed, and a bright flame flashed from its neck collar. Lance leaned back in his chair, uncertain what to make of… everything.

“Lewis, then.” He moved his line of sight out of the office, once more checking on Arthur. “Y’know Arthur’s m’boy, and I won’t have yu tormentin’ him.”

For a few minutes Lance sat, mulling through a history he thought was sheltered away in the deep parts of his memories where he preferred not to dwell. His fingers pressed tighter around the defenseless cup in his grasp, the warmth seeped through the insulated material and into the thick gloves he wore. The white of the cup cut through the bleak patterns of the gloom, reminding him of the brightest sheets he’d ever seen – specks of crimson and brown, where the bandages couldn’t stifle the work to recreate a shoulder. Arthur delirious and agonized, unaware that he was maimed as badly as he was. The details were unattainable, shattered and cast out a window. Nothing helped, no amount of medication.

Something happened. Vivi lost her memory. It was awful. Mystery was gone, vanished entirely like a… well. Arthur was beyond consoling, overrun by trauma, nearly splint in two. There was no way to construct a complete narrative, aside from it being a terrible Accident. Irreversible. Lewis never came back, and Arthur insisted that would never change. And they had to accept that.

If he held the Styrofoam cup any tighter, it would spill all over his desk. Lance rubbed at his face, trying to quell his thoughts. Those nightmares kept him up some nights, but he was a master of not showing on the worst days. Arthur had enough to deal with, and apparently more so these days. He sighed, still refusing to raise his gaze to the thing seated across from him, trying to dwell on the mystery of how it could be so devoid of warmth despite what looked like an ember wavering near its shoulder. He tried once more:

“He’s said some things I don’t fully grasp, admitted stuff I don’t have a full spectrum or insight intu.” He rubbed a thumb over the rim of the cup, gazing into the dark depths of the liquid within. “‘E’s been through enough, he’s regretted t’things that happen’. Losin’ you… I don’t even think he realized ‘iz arm was gone, not until—”

“Uncle Lance.” It was almost heartening, the way the spirit – Ghost Lewis. Just Lewis – persisted to refer to him as Uncle, same as his friends. The same way he did when alive. “I lost my life, and all of that had a negative effect on me, on my… prospect for living, and being.” The spirit moved, uncoiling his arms and gently caressed the vibrating heart at its chest. “It’s a topic we try not to touch on. I tend to stray far away from it all.”

How easy it touched upon the subject of its demise, as if it was all a matter of inconvenience. Was it meant to comfort him? Lance took a sip. “Juz curious, but… was there plans to… accept and reconcile, or something?” The eyes narrowed at him and the bristling embers constricted into a needle point dot.

“What are you getting at, now?”

Lance blew at the steam in his cup. The eyes of the spirit flashed, agitated by something, some unknown insult. “I’m not getting’ why your still ‘round. Aren’t spooks supposed to do’n the, is it the crop circle thing?”

Lewis cocked a rigid eyebrow. “Cross… over? No. Nope, it’s not a requirement for certain cases.”

“I have a suspicion that there’s more tu it than—” Without warning, Lewis bolted up from the seat – the flash of movement shocked Lance, in that it was vacuum less and silent. Only the light dousing out, as Lewis’ wide shoulders zipped out the doorway. The embers once swirling his space extinguished altogether, plunging the room into total darkness.

The catalyst must’ve been the racketing dog yaps, which entered onto the work floor. Soon after there was Vivi, racing over to the middle of the room and dashing her eyes around. Mystery was her guide, leading directly to the side wall where Arthur had remained hunched over. Arthur gave her the barest attention when she reached his side and leaned low. An exchange of words followed. Then, Vivi raised her sight to the office doorway.

Without a word, Lewis approached the group, arms clasped behind his back. When Lance emerged from his quarters fully and the light ensnared him, Vivi set her eyes upon him, and they became saucers. In retrospect, it did explain some things, though not nearly enough if Lance was honest. Something about all this didn’t settle right, and at the core of this drama was his boy, Arthur. If he couldn’t enlist Vivi’s aid in this, he might have to pursue other drastic means. But it wouldn’t work to be reckless. Being reckless is what nearly got him socked in the face, by something that claimed to be Lewis Pepper.

#mystery skulls fanfic #mystery skulls #msa #fanfic #fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfic #msa fanfiction #mystery skulls ghost #mystery skulls animated #msa lewis #mew arthur #msa vivi #msa lance #msa mystery

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dramallamadingdang · 6 years

Text

Replies!

Some overdue, as usual. :)

For @blackswan-sims. @wiksims, @celebkiriedhel, @deedledops, @declarations-of-drama, @dunne-ias, @deedee-sims, @hemfbg, @strangetomato, @youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart, and @patjustpatposts.

blackswan-sims replied to your post “Would you mind uploading you rotated garage tutorial shell house? :) I...”

I'm not the requester, but I wouldn't mind having it packaged as shown in the title pic. :)

Well, now that I think about it, I could pretty easily do it both ways, so maybe I’ll just do that. :) Especially if I don’t hear back from the anon before I get around to doing it.

wiksims replied to your photo “Pixelhate’s mesh: No white lines, doesn’t fade…but boy howdy does it...”

I kind of like it stretched. It fits dormen right in my opinion

It does look all right for that dormer, yeah, which is 12 clicks tall. But there’ll be a problem for ones meant for shorter walls, especially for foundations and foundation-height walls. So, I’ll need to experiment to figure out how to compensate for the stretching for those shorter walls and then I can decide whether to allow the stretching or not. I’m thinking maybe the trick to compensate for the wall stretching that the game does might work, since the texture image for the overlay is the same size as the standard image size for walls, but I’ll need to experiment.

celebkiriedhel replied to your post “hugelunatic replied to your post “Halp?” ...”

The other overlay you may want to consider is the EA Butterfly Decal Mesh. It's a Half-Wall, and doesn't fade.

That’s a possibility, although for 12-click-high walls I need taller than half-wall height. Although if that thing shifts, since it’s a painting....

deedledops replied to your post “Halp?”

I could swear the object fade was a simpe thing. I know there's an option in game that affects it as well, but I have found that some stuff I recolor, like paintings doors etc would do this depending on how I imported new textures. I think it was to do with the dxt format I used (dds utilities). The most used ones are dxt1, 3, 5 IIRC. I could be more helpful if I had recolored anything recently smh, I'll look into it

It is a SimPE thing, in that it’s a BHAV thing and that BHAVs can be altered in SimPE. I don’t really know how to alter them, though. It’d be easier to clone an object that doesn’t fade and then replace the mesh with the wall writing one. Then you don’t have the fading behavior. But I don’t really know how to do that, myself. I know how to clone stuff, but I don’t know how to do the mesh-replacing thing. Soooooo, it’s probably easier for me to just use a different mesh that doesn’t fade. :)

But, it doesn’t have anything to do with the texture (I pretty much always use DXT3 when I make recolors; even if there’s no transparency, the image quality is better), and some things (stairs, ceiling plants) still fade even when you have fading turned off in the game settings (which I do). I understand why, for playing purposes, since stairs especially can block a lot of your view, but it’s annoying when you want to take pics and stuff. :\ Especially previews for recolors.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “This is an idea I have. I’ll often build decorative-only dormers on...”

Gene Wilder would say "Cleeevvvveeeerrrr!!" (Willy Wonka saying 'clever' to Mike Teevee)

Heh. I prefer to think of it in the Jurassic Park “Clever girl” sense. ;) OK, not really. I don’t tear apart and eat people. So we’ll stick with the Willy Wonka sense, I guess. :)

dunne-ias replied to your post “My Sims-Related New Year’s Resolutions”

both me and holley have shared posebox images with each other, so just give us a shout when you're going to get started, in case we have some DeeDee doesn't have. I have 2-300 poseboxes though, and I don't have pictures for all of them. I strongly suggest collection folders for poseboxes, because they clog up your misc categories something awful. Also, any posing advice needed at all, don't hesitate to ask, I love talking about that stuff!

deedee-sims replied to your post “My Sims-Related New Year’s Resolutions”

Oh, I have a separate folder called posebox swatches, because I have way too many, and never know which is which, so I think that's perfectly normal XD (also, fortunately most of the poseboxes come with such picture that I can add to the folder)

We need, like, a database for this stuff. Not that *I* want to put one together, mind you, but it’d be helpful. I have this very old thing, a Word document IIRC, that I found on the web somewhere many years ago that has links to poseboxes (which no longer work, of course) and descriptions and some reference pics, but....Yeah, it’s like 8 years old, at least. But I like its format because it has notes about stretchskeleton settings needed and stuff like that, so that’s kind of what I want to put together for my own uses.

But thank you, Dunne-ias for the offer and the advice. And I’m sure that when I end up screaming in frustration and wanting to kill things with my brain, I’ll end up screaming for you and/or Holley. :)

hemfbg replied to your photoset “OMG, I went into my building neighborhood to start on a...”

This is glorious. I wanna rebuild it but I don't think my game could handle a lot that big.

It is fabulous in its sheer awfulness, isn’t it?? :D But I totally would never play something this big, as I’m sure that once furnished, landscaped, and populated with Sims, it would choke my poor Simming computer to death. :) I mean, it’s on the largest possible lot, outside of Lot Adjusting it to 6x6, and it takes up most of it. Even if it didn’t choke my computer, it’d take Sims a Sim-hour, at least, to walk from one end of it to the other. Then they’d be missing carpools and school buses and it’d piss me right the hell off. I mean, that’s mainly why I’ll never play a lot larger than 4x3, preferably not larger than 3x3.

Nah, I built that thing mostly as a furnishing/decorating challenge, which will require approximately 1000 retextures/recolor of some very old and (now) nasty-looking “fancy” objects. I would never actually play the thing.

strangetomato replied to your post “loonyjelly replied to your post “So, um…I need an image host so that...”

I wouldn't recommend Tumblr for this. I've done it in the past and then my images disappeared later. They were still on Tumblr, but not the post that links to them.

That’s kinda what I feared, that it’d work for a while until Tumblr noticed the off-site hotlinking and changed the path to the images or something. I mean, that’s what I’d do, if I ran Tumblr, set up bots to look for that sort of thing. So, in the end, I went with Imgur. Even opened an account. Even if I only ever use it for storing pics for Secret Santa gifts...Well, at least it’s there. :)

youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart replied to your photoset “I needed these for my cabin/”hotel”-building project. Thought I’d...”

I need it for ts4

patjustpatposts replied to your photoset “I needed these for my cabin/”hotel”-building project. Thought I’d...”

These are amazing ! Wish they were for Sims 4 :(

Well, I’m not sure what Inge’s policy on converting for other games is. Heck, I’m not even sure if she’s in the Simming community anymore at all. But if she’s amenable and someone wants to convert those beds for TS4, people are totally free to swipe the textures I made for such conversions. I don’t even own TS4, myself, because I have no interest in it, so I’m afraid that’s not something I’ll ever do.

#blackswan-sims #wiksims #celebkiriedhel #deedledops #declarations-of-drama #dunne-ias #deedee-sims #hemfbg #strangetomato #youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart #patjustpatposts

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