“The Ghosts and the Machine”
- ️Sat Sep 09 2023
RECOMMENDED READING BEFORE THIS STORY:
“̵̰͐T̴͉͌ẖ̸̯́̐ė̸̜͠ ̷͍͔̒͋C̸̦̈́̄ô̴̝͐m̷̮̬̀͠p̷̦̈́́u̴͙̒ṱ̵͆e̶̦̊̚r̵̳̉̍ͅ”̴͖̺͌̽
“Misadventures in the Interdimensional Black Market”
“The Toymaker’s Labyrinth”
This story has been improved and updated with new scenes since its original publication.
Some dialogue in this story is rendered in unconventional formatting. Click here to view a version of this story without any typographical tricks.
If one makes a habit of travelling the Multiverse, one will quickly come to the realization that there are some concepts which exist across a great many universes, regardless of how different those universes are.
Some of these concepts are obvious – such things as, for example, sentient life, which, while varying wildly in its forms, can be reasonably expected to rear its head in any given universe that the average dimensional traveler might visit.
And, among those universes in which sentient life occurs, there is another concept which is almost universal among them, strange though it may seem.
In some form, in some shape, in some variation, almost every inhabited universe has its own version of that most unique of autumn holidays (even in those dimensions which have no autumn, or indeed any concept of seasons at all) — I speak, of course, of Halloween.
It’s not always called that, of course – in fact it is only called that in a few universes around the area of the Prime Universe, among other names – All Hallows’ Eve, Allhalloween, and Hallows’ Evening, to name a few. But somehow, through some strange quirk of multi-dimensional whim, there exists, in an unexpected number of universes, a holiday celebrating the general spookiness of things.
The greatest dimensional scholars are not sure how this happened, exactly – the Hidden Academics of the Tower of Yqwsl believe that some unwary dimensional traveler accidentally warped back to the creation of the Multiverse itself (an event which is, in itself, hotly debated) and dropped a pumpkin, or perhaps a ghost, thus sparking the whole thing, while the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids’ Department of Festivities theorise that it was caused by former time lord Thymon, who apparently threw an enormous fright-themed party on the very concept of October 31, thus spreading said party, in various incarnations, across every occurrence of this date in the Multiversal timeline (this was apparently related to them by Thymon himself). Making the investigation more difficult is the fact that each dimension has its own history of the holiday.
But one thing is for certain: Halloween means different things in every dimension. On the Prime Earth, for example, it is a time of fun celebration, while in the Neazzarack Realm it is a time of great fear and terror as the Spirit King Wrythk performs his annual Halloween “returning-from-the-Underworld-to-wreak-havoc” party piece.
And in the Cupid Homeworld, Halloween is a time of extreme busyness, as it is well-known to Cupids that on Halloween, and Halloween only, channels to the various Spirit Realms are opened, thus giving the Cupids their one chance all year to romanticise all of the ghosts, poltergeists, wraiths, and other assorted spooky-types who lurk therein.
In fact, this whole business about the Spirit Realms opening on Halloween is another theory as to why Halloween is celebrated across the Multiverse – perhaps, it is reasoned, the celebrations of Halloween began thanks to the close connection with the Spirit Realms which occurs on this date. This theory, while very reasonable, is often ignored by Multiversal Scholars in favor of the more intricate and extravagant hypotheses.
Regardless, let’s tune in on one particularly chaotic Homeworld Halloween, and see how things are coming along.
****
Although Halloween is a time of great busyness in the Homeworld, many Cupids like to celebrate in the traditional Prime Earth fashion as well, having picked up the habit from the Prime Earthers. And so it was that, as Halloween came again to the Homeworld in the year 2019, the place was decorated with all manner of Halloweenery, from sheets made to look like ghosts to Jack O’ Lanterns taken from Prime Earth pumpkin patches. Rain poured down from dark and ominous clouds, whipped up for the occasion by the Department of Meteorology.
In the Department of Postal Services’ building, Philatel-426 had cut reams of leftover paper into the shape of bats, which Lord Thymon had fixed to the walls using unknowable eldritch powers, and also tape.
At the Department of Construction’s headquarters, Foreman-964 was busy supervising his team in the carving of an enormous pumpkin, which was being accomplished through the use of a myriad of construction equipment. Foreman had wanted to carve it into the shape of a warehouse, but his team had managed to talk him out of it. Little did they know that he planned to use it as a warehouse nonetheless, regardless of shape.
In one of Foreman’s previously-constructed warehouses, Colonel-028 was hosting his annual Mark 1 Halloween get-together. Doc-012 was setting up an apple-bobbing tub, while Nostradamus-066 blathered on about his latest vision to a somewhat uninterested Technician-042.
Arganthone-056 was not in attendance at the party, as they were otherwise occupied with teaching a few of the younger Cupids the art of pumpkin carving.
“Hold the sword like so,” Arganthone advised, “take a nice running start, and then slash the pumpkin just so. The goal is to make a face, while also practicing the sword skills I’ve been teaching you. Don’t worry if you don’t get it quite right on the first try, it’s rather tricky.”
The Blue Feather, meanwhile, were holding a costume contest, at the suggestion of Dandy-432, who was beginning to regret the idea.
Dandy had dressed as Salvador Dalí, about whom he had heard from an art museum curator he had once romanticised. Ally-1243, meanwhile, had dressed as a ghost by draping a sheet over his head. He had forgotten the eye holes. Larrikin-1029 had simply jammed a cardboard box over his head, scribbled a face on it, and declared that he was a robot. Dandy had pointed out that he already was a robot, but Larrikin insisted that he was now a space robot. Acquaintanceship-982 was dressed as himself, but with a Blue Feather badge resembling the badge worn by members of the Scarlet Wings. And Pessimist-242 had not even tried.
“I’m clearly th’ winner here!” Larrikin had announced to an exasperated Dandy.
At the Department of Festivities, Celebration-665 was attempting to coordinate the decorating of the Homeworld, while growing increasingly annoyed as the Cupid Parliament continued to veto his more extravagant suggestions. They were of the opinion that creating a new line of sapient Cupids with the sole objective of staffing a walk-through haunted house was overkill, whereas he felt this to be a perfectly reasonable undertaking.
At the Department of Cinematography, a new horror flick, The Cupid who Hated Love, was being filmed. They had tried to get Pessimist for the title role, but he had refused. This being the case, Méliès-125 was attempting to make do with a puppet made to look like Pessimist (rather poorly, in the eyes of the visually-inclined). Méliès had insisted that this only added to the horror; the other actors were thus forced to tolerate its presence.
Edwin-750, meanwhile, was studying a newly-discovered creature from the Perseid Universe: a type of being which seemed to be made entirely of pumpkins. The Department of Zoology’s top theory was that it had been brought to life through magical means to serve their creator, whoever that might be. Edwin, on the outs with the aforementioned department, was attempting to prove his theory that it was a naturally-occuring creature.
In the middle of the Mainland Cloud, Tracker-764 was telling frightening tales of his adventures in the outside worlds to a group of Mark Seventeens, who listened with rapt attention. Off to the side, Conspiracy-1263 was loudly disputing not only the existence of spirits, but the existence of All Hallows’ Eve itself.
Of course, aside from all of the fun and chaos, there were still Cupids who had to work on Halloween. The Spirit Realm was open, and there were ghostly romanticisations to be carried out.
Travelling to the Spirit Realm was no easy thing, even with the annual blurring of the boundary between the living and the dead. No Fog Ship could manage the trip alone – and thus, the Crew was forced to rely upon a specialised device created by one Frankenstein-818, the Homeworld’s resident Mad Scientist. He had met the real Baron Victor Frankenstein on one of his first missions outside the Homeworld, become briefly apprenticed to him, and had taken his name.
Generally, Frankenstein’s inventions were rejected by the rest of the Cupids – they had no use, after all, for his Automatic Shark Generator, and as for his Lightning-Powered Turbo-Toaster, it was best not to mention it at all. But on Halloween, they were forced to admit that he was not altogether without his uses.
“You Cupids mock my inventions most of the year!” shouted Frankenstein, standing atop a stage that he had set up on the Mainland Cloud, “But on Halloween, when the Prime Universe’s Spirit Realm is open, you are forced to admit that one of my machines, at least, is absolutely necessary! I present to you – my greatest invention: the Spirit Realm Gateway!”
Frankenstein gestured to a large machine, resembling a computer server, with an enormous ring attached to the top of it.
“I helped!” shouted Technophile-963 from the crowd.
“No, you just removed all the best parts!”
“If I hadn’t made a few modifications to it, it would have, by design, worked both ways – allowing ghosts into the Homeworld – and would also have had a fifty percent chance of turning any Cupid using it into a ghost themself, through some unknown means!”
“Yes. The best parts.”
Technophile himself wasn’t immune to the occasional defects and kooky side effects when inventing things. But he, unlike Frankenstein, didn’t actively try to put them there. Which wasn’t to say that Frankenstein didn’t want to help Cupidkind with his machines – he did. But he was a mad scientist, and it was simply in his nature to create such inventions.
Frankenstein stepped over to the machine and pulled a lever on the side.
The Gateway worked by targeting any nearby naturally- (or supernaturally-) occurring entrances to the Spirit Realm, and creating a tangible pathway into them. Simply jumping into an un-Gatewayed Spirit path is almost impossible to do, as they are generally intangible to non-spirits – not to mention extremely dangerous if someone does manage it.
And so, every Halloween, Frankenstein-818 emerged from his large, gothic castle and set up the Spirit Realm Gateway, and all Cupids with missions there would use their Fog Ships to fly through it and into the Realm Beyond.
This year, however – the Gateway did not seem to be working at all. Frankenstein pulled the lever again. Nothing happened.
“I don’t understand it! It’s never done this before!” Frankenstein kicked at the machine, causing sparks to fly forth from it.
“Maybe it needs to be struck by lightning or something?” Bibliophile-962, who was documenting the annual Spirit Realm Opening, suggested.
“Well, there’s not much hope of that. I don’t suppose the Department of Meteorology will approve a last-minute lightning strike.”
He looked around at the small crowd of Cupids which had assembled.
“Where’s Technician-042? Somebody get him!”
“He’s at a party!” said Pessimist’s Fog Ship, watching from the back of the crowd.
“Well, take him away from it!”
Someone went out to get Technician, and came back without him.
“Nostradamus-066 says that he’s indisposed.”
“What’s he got to do with it?” Frankenstein kicked at the machine again. “Well, at least fetch me my tools! Maybe I can fix it!”
No one wanted to go into the infamously dangerous and booby-trapped Frankenstein Castle, so Frankenstein himself begrudgingly fetched them himself, and set to work pulling apart pieces of the Gateway.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?” asked Bibliophile, peering over his shoulder.
“Yes! Go away!”
“Well, alright, I suppose you would know.”
After Frankenstein had pulled a not-insignificant number of wires and circuit-boards out of the machine, he turned it on again. Nothing happened. Frankenstein hit it with a large mallet.
At last, the Gateway sputtered, and then clanged to life – the enormous ring atop it suddenly began to glow, and a portal to the Spirit Realm appeared within it. A ring of tiny ghosts began to circle the ring, although this was less an effect of the gateway to the Realm opening than it was an effect of the holographic ghost projector which Frankenstein had installed in the machine.
“See? I told you that would work! You laughed at me – called me mad – but now you’ll see! You’ll all see! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“I don’t remember laughing or mad-calling…” said Bibliophile.
Technophile, meanwhile, was very sure that Frankenstein should not have done that. Frankenstein had, however, instructed his assistant, Igor-1612, to stop him from getting up on the stage.
“Let me by!”
“Sorry, the Master says no.”
“Oh, come on!”
The Mark 17 crossed his arms in front of Technophile, who grudgingly trudged away to warn someone from the Copper-Colored Council of the Elders that they might have a bit of a situation on their hands very soon.
Frankenstein stood proudly in front of his Gateway.
“So, who wants to go first?” he asked. “Don’t worry, it’s just as safe as it has been every year!”
And then the Gateway exploded into an enormous dimensional rift, and a horde of all types of ghosts, spirits, specters, wraiths, banshees, poltergeists, goblins, and ghouls rushed forth into the Homeworld.
****
Halloween was a rather sensational affair in the Interdimensional Tavern, as well. Because just about everyone who visited came from a dimension in which Halloween was celebrated – as that encompassed the majority of universes – the annual Halloween parties held at the Tavern were a mixing of hundreds of different versions of the holiday from across the Multiverse, and thus a spectacular sight to behold.
Jack O’ Lanterns lined the tables, as Rope-Bellied Sorpwhagglers screeched out the traditional ballad of Yorp. Shangtwisters hung from the ceiling, and the walls had been painted with the slime of the Gor-gor-gor fish. The Ancient Spirit of Gnollt, encased in a prism, cast speckled patterns across the dining area. Several live bats (and multiversal bat-equivalents) swarmed through the rooms, and a real werewolf had been hired to provide entertainment. Tavern guests performed the traditional Shurukuk Dance while bobbing for apples, and took part in the ancient ritual of Myerbamnk while drinking Glooozethyorn.
One guest had even smuggled a poltergeist in, which had escaped and was wreaking havoc in the kitchen. But even this had been accepted in stride.
“We need more apples!” called Frederick, one of the Tavern’s two waiters, to Tpxszum, the other.
“Apples? Phooey. Why couldn’t one of the more commonplace items have run out first? Where are we going to get more apples?”
“I dunno. See if ‘234 has any. I certainly don’t.”
Tpxszum turned and went back into the kitchen.
“Apples…” she muttered; “Such a strange delicacy.”
Frederick looked back at the guests. He just hoped that no one else showed up. They didn’t have enough supplies for any more people – the turnout for the party this year had surpassed any others that he could remember.
Suddenly, a gigantic flash of light obscured the room.
When it had cleared, Frederick saw almost two thousand more guests standing there.
“Need any apples?” asked Doc-012, dropping a tub full of the same.
****
The spirits had taken the Homeworld by force, haunting every building and frightening every Cupid. After a hasty Parliament vote conducted right where the members stood, the Cupid Prime had been forced to utilize the Emergency Transport Button, the powerful last-resort device entrusted to him by the Creator herself – and had sent every Cupid to the Interdimensional Tavern. The Prime himself had not accompanied them – he had seen to it that the button sent him to a safe and relaxing locale, far away from anywhere the ghosts could possibly reach.
Now the Cupids filled the Tavern, trying to explain all of this to the extremely bewildered staff.
“So… ghosts have invaded your home dimension?”
“And other assorted spirits!”
“Will you have to abandon the place, then?” asked Tpxszum nervously, worrying that the Cupids might hang about the Tavern forever.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Cupid #006, one of the members of the Cupid Council, “Certainly not! Now that would be an absolute disaster!”
“Hmm;” mused Pythagoras-858, “Well – ghosts and other related spirits can’t persist in dimensions which they aren’t anchored to – except on occasions when the Spirit Realm is directly connected to the dimension that they’ve entered. Occasions such as, well, All Hallows’ Eve. And I doubt any of those spirits originate in the Homeworld.”
Juliet-178 nodded. “We figured all of that out after the Great Ghost Disaster of ’78 – that’s a story for another time. As soon as Halloween is over, those specters and ghoulies will be forced back into the Spirit Realm by the very laws of reality that govern them.”
“So… there’s no problem, then?” Frederick inquired, “You’ll just pop back over there as soon as the night’s over?”
Frankenstein-818 looked concerned. “Well, hopefully, but, well – we did leave all of our Fog Ships behind, and a good lot of ghosts and the like are entirely capable of operating such devices…”
“But that shouldn’t be a problem, should it? Even if they go to another universe, they’ll still be forced back to the Spirit Realm, won’t they?”
“Well, yes, but I know a fair bit about spirits myself – got to do something to pass the time between Halloweens, you know – and if a spirit manages to possess a sentient being…”
Pythagoras looked startled. “They can remain outside the Spirit Realm as long as they please! I hadn’t thought of that!”
“Hey, wait a moment!” shouted Philatel, “We left a few sentient beings behind in the Homeworld, didn’t we? Some of those spirits won’t even have to use the Fog Ships to stick around for good!”
“I doubt if Thymon could be possessed by mere spirits…” Pythagoras scratched his chin pensively.
“But what about Pessy’s Fog Ship?” asked a Cupid with a cardboard box jammed over his head.
“Don’t call me that.” grumbled Pessimist.
“And don’t forget about CS-NA!” exclaimed Tracker.
Pythagoras thought about this. “Maybe… our research is insufficient as to whether inorganic beings can be possessed, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Spirits have a way of getting around the basic laws of reality – it’s just the more advanced laws which stump ’em.”
“Oh, great!” shouted Juliet, throwing up her hands, “We’re doomed! The spirits are there, probably wreaking havoc on the Homeworld and possible the entire Multiverse, and we’re stuck here, with no way to get back! What was the plan there, anyway? No Fog Ships – were we going to steal a ship to get back or something?”
“I’d’ve been fine with it.” mumbled Foreman-964. Conquest-932 nodded in agreement.
Suddenly, a second enormous display of light blinded the fine patrons of the Tavern (who were beginning to clear out, thanks to the preponderance of Copper-Colored Cupids among them), and an enormous glowing eye appeared in the center of the room. A writhing flurry of tentacles appeared around it, as unreadable glyphs circled the being and a thousand ancient tongues began to chant an unknowable song. The tentacles gained material form, thrashing wildly as they corporealised. Finally, a tiny hat with “Cupid Post Office” written on it materialized above the abomination and floated slowly down before coming to a rest upon the thing’s head.
“HeY, gUyS! tHeRe’S a BiT oF a SpIrIt PrObLeM iN tHe HoMeWoRlD!“
“Thymey! Good to see you, old boy!” shouted Pythe. “Could you, perhaps, take us back to the Homeworld? We’ve got a few things to take care of there.”
****
The staff of the Tavern began to clear up the mess left behind by the Cupids and the Eldritch Being – primarily the ectoplasmic splatter so often created by the type of dimensional transport that the latter had undertaken.
At least they had been nice enough to leave the apples.
From the upstairs quarters of the building, the Tavern’s most loyal and most infuriating customer appeared.
“What was all of that terrible racket? I’m trying to build a ship up here, and I need to focus!”
“Oh, nothing much, Darius.” grumbled Tpxszum. “Just an entire dimension’s worth of those Cupids that show up here occasionally, and their pet demon or whatever he was.”
Darius stared, dumbfounded. “What? The – the whole crew of them? Were – here?”
“Yep. You just missed ’em.”
Darius decided that he had better go back upstairs and lie down a while. Otherwise, he feared that he might risk getting kicked out of the Tavern by, for example, destroying the entire building in rage at having once again missed his chance for revenge.
****
As spirits of all descriptions tore through the Homeworld, leaving chaos in their wake, one ghost in particular – the first out of the rift, as a matter of fact – surveyed the situation into which he had stumbled. How fortunate that such a fracture in reality had formed just as he and his legion were preparing their escape. This was far preferable to braving the twisted Spirit Realm pathways one-by-one, trying but probably failing to anchor themselves to the Prime Earth before Halloween came to an end and they were forced to wait another year.
Yes, it was a lucky thing indeed that the Great Ghost and his lot had been given the means to flee the doomed Spirit Realm. But there was still much to be done. Halloween would not last – and, with its passing, they would be right back where they started. It was time to enact the rest of their carefully-rehearsed plan – with a slight twist.
After all, they were no longer limited to the Prime Earth alone. With the void ships of this realm in their possession, it seemed that they had been given the opportunity to get creative with their choice in mortal vessels. And the Great Ghost was never one to pass up such an opportunity. Summoning his legion from their frenzied haunting, he led them, wailing, to the nearest collection of ships.
It was time.
****
“Our suspicions were correct.” Pythe muttered, surveying the Celestial Foam Network’s Fog Ship Parking Garage. The Halloween rain continued to pour down outside, and a frightening wind had begun to whip up. “Quite a few of ’em are clearly missing. Including yours, Pessimist.”
“Good riddance.” Pessimist grumbled. Perhaps he didn’t really feel quite that way, deep down, but no one could be sure.
Larrikin, on the other hand, was rather torn up about it. “Oh, no! Not ol’ Foggy! Say it ain’t so!”
“I’m afraid that it is, in fact, so.”
Tracker hurried over.
“CS-NA’s gone, too!”
“Blast. I was hoping that little robot could tell us where the spirits had gone.”
“So… we’ve got no leads whatsoever. They could be anywhere in the Multiverse.” Juliet noted.
“They could. We’ll have to think this one over thoroughly.”
Pythe and the other Problem-Solvers adjourned to their Laboratory.
“You know, I sort of regret pulling all of those wires out of that machine…” Frankenstein said.
Technophile glared at him.
****
Clutching a whittling dagger in her gauntlet-covered hands, the Queen of the Black Market put the finishing touches on the head of her brand-new bone spear. Fastening the sharpened end to the pole, she spun it about experimentally.
“Perfect! At last, a weapon to match my personal style!”
Banging the end of the spear against the ground, she thrust open the door of her throne room. It had been another successful day of sales (or night, perhaps – there wasn’t really any true passage of time at the Interdimensional Black Market), and the Queen was getting ready to take a well-deserved rest. First, of course, she had to call her wraiths back from patrolling the Black Market, so as not to sleep entirely unprotected by her spirit bodyguards.
“Wraiths! Return to me!”
The Queen scanned the market. Over the horizon, she could see the swarm of spectral minions flying back to her.
They kept coming. More and more of them.
The Queen was a bit puzzled at first – this seemed to be quite a few more wraiths than she remembered having – but then again, she had been wraithifying a lot of people recently. Perhaps she had lost count.
But as the wraiths continued to pour across the market, the Queen realized that something was wrong. Looking closely, she realized that some of these approaching things weren’t wraiths at all – in fact, there were all manner of spirits coming towards her.
The Queen’s eyes widened, and she drew her new bone spear. Ghosts and poltergeists were a tad immaterial for spearing, but she could surely take down the wraiths, banshees, ghouls, goblins, and other corporeal types. As the flock of spirits descended upon the Black Market (which was fortunately empty, as the patrons had long since gone home), the Queen leapt into action, slashing at spirit forms and sending them flying into each other. Her own wraiths, finally responding to her calls, joined her, clawing at their own kind (and related beings) to protect their master.
Although they fought valiantly, they were far outnumbered by the invading forces. The Queen, skilled warrior though she was, began to tire. Still, she continued to push back against the spirits, even as they threatened to overwhelm her entirely.
From the back of the ghostly army, a warbling voice emanated.
“MAKE WAY FOR HIS ECTOPLASMIC SPIRITUALNESS! THE SUPREME COMMANDER OF THE DISPLACED MASTERS OF THE SPIRIT REALM! THE ONE AND ONLY – GREAT GHOST!”
The invaders parted, and a large and powerful-looking ghost emerged from the back of the crowd. With a narrowing of his hollow eyes, the Queen’s wraiths were forced away through telekinetic means. He circled her. She raised her spear.
“Hmm…” he intoned. “Yes… I think this will do nicely as a vessel.”
“Vessel, nothing! If I were you, pal – “
“Oh, don’t worry.” the Great Ghost chuckled. “You will be.”
With the flick of a wispy finger, the Queen was hoisted into the air by an ethereal force. The Great Ghost drew closer. The Queen sighed.
“My third possession in fifty years. I have got to invest in a couple of sturdy warding amulets.”
The Great Ghost dissipated, and the Queen’s eyes filled with viscous tar-like shadow. A pinprick of light appeared within, expanding until the entire sclera glowed with an unnatural white light.
The Queen’s mouth grinned.
“Come, my legion. At last, it is time to forge a new path.”
The spirit army, led by the possessed Queen, floated off to their stolen Fog Ships. The Queen’s wraiths, forced to follow their master, reluctantly joined the ranks of the otherworldly legion.
****
In an enormous workshop, a woman in a jester’s cap and soldier’s uniform was working on a new toy.
The woman was, of course, none other than the great Madame Tarsa, and the toy was her latest creation, just in time for Halloween: a wooden pumpkin which could be carved as easily as a real one (without the mess), and which could, by a simple twist of the carved stem, be reset so that the carving was gone. A fresh start for each new year.
Unfortunately, she was a bit late finishing it – she had been hoping to get it in shops across the Multiverse before Halloween, but had run into trouble making the face disappear without also causing the face of the carver to go along with it, and was only now putting the finishing touches on the thing. She supposed she’d have to bend the space-time continuum a bit and send it back to herself in the past – a simple thing to do, but rather messy, especially with things how they were now.
As she worked, Tarsa’s thoughts were interrupted by a wailing emanating from beneath her table.
She glanced under it.
There was a tiny ship parked there – and a swarm of tiny spirits were flying forth from within.
Well, they probably weren’t tiny in their home dimension. Tarsa really had no way of knowing.
Anyway, her workshop was clearly being invaded by ghosts and other assorted creepy types. And Tarsa couldn’t have that, not while she needed to focus on finishing her pumpkin toy.
She waved her hand at the spirits, banishing them into her toy box. They’d be trapped in there for some time, she supposed. The walls were ghost-proof, after all.
Tarsa turned her attention back to the toy. She had, by now, finished the practical aspects – all that was left was aesthetic.
Just a bit more detail on that stem…
The toy box’s lid burst open. Tarsa grumbled and turned around. “What now?”
Emerging from the box was a few of her smaller marionette puppets. Their eyes had a strange, unnatural glow to them.
Tarsa sighed. Oh, that’s right. Ghosts can possess things. Wonderful.
Powerful as she was, Tarsa had to admit that she wasn’t quite sure how to go about de-possessing things. It hadn’t come up in a few decades now, and spirits were always finding workarounds. As she pondered this conundrum, the marionettes tumbled out of the box and made a dash for the table. Tarsa tried to stop them, but they slipped between her fingers and dived into the ship, which disappeared with a flash.
Tarsa thought for a moment.
She hated to lose any marionettes, but she really did have to get the pumpkin done. She decided to deal with the spirits later.
This plan was ruined when three more ships full of spirits suddenly materialized. Flying forth, they invaded every corner of her warehouse, possessing every remaining marionette.
The possessed puppets flopped to the floor and began to shamble towards Tarsa.
“Oh, so it’s a fight you want, is it? Gladly.”
Tarsa snapped her fingers, and her cane transformed into a sword, which she began to swing at the possessed marionettes.
The marionettes, powered by the spirits within, began to soar through the air, dodging.
Tarsa herself began to hover, but the spirits were too nimble. The fled back to the Fog Ships and vanished once more.
Well, isn’t that just great. My entire stock of marionettes, stolen by roving spirits.
As Tarsa grumbled, one enterprising spirit, still hanging about, dashed toward Tarsa and attempted to possess her. The toymaker chuckled. Any spirit that thought it could take her as its vessel was a foolish spirit indeed. The ghost simply dissolved into mist upon contact.
Tarsa supposed that she’d have to get those puppets back, and teach those spirits a lesson. She cast a forlorn glance at the still-unfinished pumpkin, and then banged the end of her cane upon the floor and vanished in a shower of purple smoke and confetti.
****
The members of the Gang of the Green Gorilla were not celebrating Halloween. They were sitting about in a stony silence.
One of them had suggested going to a costume contest and pretending that they were wearing scientifically-accurate gorilla suits, but this idea had not been met with much enthusiasm.
The Green Gorillas did not particularly like Halloween. It tended to remind them of the time the Cupids foiled their plot to go door-to-door, say “trick-or-treat”, and then brainwash whoever answered. The Gorillas did not particularly like most holidays – generally for reasons quite similar to this.
There was nothing stopping them from trying that plan again, they supposed, but none of them were really in the proper mood for it, and besides, the Cupids would probably just show up again.
Last year the Gorillas had thrown a rather wild Halloween party, but it had gotten out of hand and several brainwashing devices were destroyed in the chaos. After that, the heads of the Gang had forbidden Halloween parties. This had eliminated the last of their potential Halloween fun, leading to their current unhappiness.
“Do you ever wish,” said one of the Gorillas, “that something really spooky would happen on Halloween? Something altogether chilling? Just so as to cast off these doldrums?”
Before any of the others could answer, they all heard a bit of a howling sound coming from beyond the walls.
The Gorilla who had spoken got up and opened the door to their secret base, forgetting as usual to ask for a password.
Standing outside was a large army of ghosts, ghouls, and other such creatures, accompanied by a group of walking marionettes with glowing eyes and a women dressed in bones.
The Gorilla slammed the door shut.
“I’ve changed my mind. These doldrums are perfectly fine after all.”
One of the ghouls tore down the door, and the whole lot of them rushed in.
The Gorillas fought, but one can only do so much to fight ghosts when one is in a bit of a slump. Soon, they, too, had all been possessed by the spirits.
The legion of ghosts, all of them finally equipped with corporeal vessels, walked back to their stolen Fog Ships.
****
“This is impossible! They could be anywhere, absolutely anywhere! I’ll bet they’ve all found bodies to possess already! They’re anchored permanently!”
Edwin-750 yawned. “Does it really matter?What can they do, anyway? We’ve got the Homeworld back – surely that’s all that matters.”
Pythagoras rounded on him.
“We can’t just leave the rest of existence to fend for itself! Spirits have strange powers, and this group is obviously out to displace by force – it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve got a few tricks up their sleeves, tricks that we really don’t want to deal with. And there could be any number of spirits still in the Spirit Realm that are part of their conquering force, and looking to join up with their commanders. It wouldn’t surprise me if they try to open another gateway. This could mean a full-fledged Spirit War!”
“You mean to say that all of those invaders… wasn’t every spirit?”
“Of course not! The Spirit Realm is infinitely vast. If every spirit had come out, we’d really be in trouble. The Homeworld would’ve been destroyed by the sheer force of their ectoplasmic energy. Lucky thing the Department of Rifts managed to close that fracture before any more spirits noticed it and decided to take a jaunt through the lands of the living.”
“Getting back to the point,” Juliet added, “We’ve got to figure out some way to stop this army before they rustle up any more recruits.”
Edwin started to say something else, but was interrupted by Frankenstein’s voice calling from outside.
“I’ve done it! I’ve created something which will send the spirits back to the Spirit Realm!”
“Well, let’s see what this is about.” Pythe sighed. “Although I must say that I’m not… particularly hopeful.”
The Problem-Solvers left the building. Outside, the other Cupids had assembled around Frankenstein, who was standing in front of Igor-1612, who was holding a large machine of some sort.
“This is my new One-Way Forced Spirit Realm Gateway! Just flip this switch here, and it will suck spirits tight back into the Spirit Realm! Er, of course, first we have to find the spirits – but…”
The crowd of Cupids grumbled.
“But fear not! Surely they can’t have gone far – by a multiversal perspective, that is! We can find them!”
“We can’t find them!” shouted Juliet, “That’s the whole problem!”
“Well, eventually someone will find them, and then this thing will be very useful! You’ll see! You’ll all see!”
Igor set the machine down, and the two turned and began to walk back to Frankenstein’s castle.
Pythe turned around, too, and was greeted by the sight of several Fog Ships materializing.
“Uh-oh.” he muttered to himself.
Frankenstein noticed this, as well, and turned back around.
“Ha! You see! They’ve returned already! Igor – ready the machine!”
His assistant happily complied, turning a dial and sending electricity coursing through the strange coils and antennas situated atop the device.
The door of one of the Fog Ships opened, and a woman wearing bone armor stepped out. Her eyes glowed eerily as she gazed over the crowd of Cupids.
“She’s possessed.” Juliet muttered to Pythe.
“Why, that’s the owner of the Interdimensional Black Market!” Tracker exclaimed.
“CUPIDS!” shouted the woman – or, rather, the ghost possessing her – without moving her mouth. “YOU HAVE RELEASED MYSELF AND MY COMPATRIOTS FROM THE SPIRIT REALM AT A MOST OPPORTUNE MOMENT! FOR IT WAS ALREADY PLANNED – NAY, FATED – THAT WE WOULD ABANDON THAT DOOMED PLANE!”
“And so you’ve come to thank us?” asked Carter-1277 hopefully.
“NO! WE HAVE COME TO RELEASE THE REST OF THE INHABITANTS OF OUR HOMEWORLD! WE HAVE EACH POSSESSED A TANGIBLE, CORPOREAL FORM! WE ARE NOW ANCHORED PERMANENTLY TO THIS PLANE OF REALITY! AND AFTER WE HAVE RELEASED THE REST OF THE NEAR-INFINITE NUMBERS OF SPIRITS LEFT WITHIN THE REALM, OUR ARMY SHALL BE UNSTOPPABLE!”
The possessed queen gestured broadly.
“OUR LEGIONS OF SPIRITS SHALL CONQUER THESE CORPOREAL UNIVERSES, AND TRANSFORM THEM INTO A NEW REALM. A REALM FOR THE SPIRITS – ONE IN WHICH WE RULE SUPREME!”
“Well, you’re out of luck there.” Pythe told them. “The rift is gone, as is the machine that opened it!”
He cleared his throat, hoping against hope to find a diplomatic solution.
“Now… why don’t we all try to work something out?” he offered.
“NEVER!”
The possessed queen scanned the crowd and pointed at Frankenstein-818.
“You! It was you who created the device that did this, wasn’t it?”
“Well… technically it was, but…”
“THEN YOU SHALL BUILD US ANOTHER GATEWAY TO THE SPIRIT REALM!” the Great Ghost declared. “SEIZE HIM!”
Two possessed Green Gorillas leapt from the Fog Ship. Frankenstein felt a burlap sack go over his head, and the Gorillas seized him, dragging him back towards the ship.
“Stop them!” shouted Pythe, spotting Lord Thymon across the Mainland Cloud.
Heeding Pythe’s command, Thymon cast a beam of light from his eye, illuminating the spirits. He began to recite an eldritch incantation.
“YOU CANNOT STOP US, ABOMINATION!”
The possessed beings, with the exception of the queen, all joined hands, forming a ring, and began to recite their own incantation. A second beam shot forth from the center of the ring, countering Thymon’s.
As the two beams fought for dominance, the possessed queen grabbed Frankenstein and pulled him into a Fog Ship. It disappeared.
The two beams continued to beam at each other. Lord Thymon pushed. The spirits pushed. Suddenly, Lord Thymon’s beam faltered and vanished.
The spirits rushed into Fog Ships of their own, which dematerialized.
“Thymon, what happened?” asked Philatel.
“I… fOrGoT tHe NeXt WoRd Of ThE iNcAnTaTiOn.” Thymon admitted. “I hAvEn’T pRaCtIcEd My ElDrItCh InCaNtAtIoNs In a WhIlE fOr FeAr Of DeStRoYiNg YoUr DiMeNsIoN. nExT TiMe I’m In ThE vOiD, i’Ll HaVe To ReFrEsH mY mEmOrY.”
“Well, this is a fine mess.” Pythe muttered. “If Frankenstein builds them that gateway… and they’ll undoubtedly force him to… oh, we’ve got to do something about this.”
He paused for a moment, thinking – then slapped his face.
“Oh, of course! Now that we know the ghost army is still using our Fog Ships, we just might be able to get access to the Ship’s logs, and then we’ll be able to track them down! And Frankenstein, too! But we’ll still need a plan… hmm…”
The Problem-Solving Prefect walked over to the machine that Frankenstein had introduced moments before his capture.
“I wonder if this thing would really have worked.”
“Oh, it would have!” Igor exclaimed. “I saw how he built it! It was flawless!”
“That’s what you said about the Lightning-Powered Turbo Toaster,” said Technophile-963, wandering over, “before it turned all of the toast into mutant toast monstrosities.”
“Well, if we want to see how it works, why not just turn it on?” asked Foreman-964 in his usual straightforward manner. He flipped the switch.
“No!” chorused Pythe and Technophile (and Philatel, who hadn’t seen what it was that Foreman was doing but was sure that he’d be opposed to it nonetheless).
A glowing dome of light surrounded the machine and washed over the Cupids standing closest to it. When it subsided, Pythe, Technophile, Foreman, Philatel, and Igor had vanished from existence.
****
Pythe regained consciousness and looked around. He could tell at once that he was no longer in the Cupid Homeworld – but this new place wasn’t so much another universe as another state of being. It wasn’t exactly a location – but it wasn’t the absence of a location, like the Void, either. Pythe could make out other beings near him, but beyond that was imperceptible haze. The strange new place could only be –
“The Spirit Realm.” Pythe breathed.
He realized that the other beings nearby were the other four Cupids who had been hit by the blast.
One of them began to speak.
“If I had built that thing, I would have made it so that only spirits could be pulled into it.” Technophile muttered. “But I suppose I must commend Frankenstein for the fact that it actually works.”
“That stupid mad scientist! That utter fool! I can’t be stranded in the Spirit Realm!” Foreman shouted. “I’m too important back in the Homeworld! I need to build more warehouses! Warehouses don’t even exist here!”
“Oh, shut up about warehouses!” Philatel grumbled. “This is a real problem!”
“My master made it this way on purpose, you know.” Igor helpfully explained. “So that it could send ghosts possessing organic beings back to the Realm, too!”
Pythe stood in front of the others. Well, he was pretty sure he was standing. Maybe.
“Listen – we’ve got to find a way out of here, as should be obvious. Igor, you were there when Frankenstein built that machine – is there a reverse switch?”
“There is, but…”
“But what?”
“But… the reverse switch is hidden beneath a secret panel, which can only be removed if the levers on the side are pulled in the right order.”
Pythe rubbed his temples to stimulate his head cooling fans.
“Why, Igor? Why would he do that?”
“Well, it’s so if a spirit was accidentally left outside the Spirit Realm, they wouldn’t be able to free the other spirits again.”
“Well, I suppose that makes sense – but how is anyone back in the Homeworld going to free us?”
Igor wasn’t sure about that.
Pythe scanned his surroundings.
A wispy spirit of some sort floated by. In the distance, an enormous ghostly jellyfish propelled itself onward, its tentacles trailing beneath it.
(Well, distance wasn’t exactly a concept in the Spirit Realm. But Pythe could somehow perceive that the jellyfish was further away, in some sense.)
Pythe pondered.
“Well, obviously we’ve got to tell them, somehow. And we’re trapped in the Spirit Realm, which means that we are, technically, spirits. And how does a spirit get its message across to the living?”
Everyone stared blankly at him.
“It haunts them! We should be able to haunt the Homeworld, since it’s our home dimension! We’re anchored there, you know! I think that’ll work as a broad interpretation of the laws that govern spirits.”
“But how do we do that?” Technophile asked.
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to try. Focus, everyone, focus!”
****
Back in the Homeworld, Juliet paced around her office. She and the other Problem-Solvers had inspected the machine, but couldn’t figure out a way to undo whatever it had done. Pythe was gone, and they didn’t even know where he had gone. Was he still alive? Did he still exist? Juliet couldn’t be sure.
So she paced. Around and around. Across the rug, behind the desk, over a pile of papers that she had been meaning to sort, someday, when she didn’t have anything better to do.
As she paced, she became aware of a noise. A low, howling sort of noise, like wind rushing through the branches of a tree.
Juliet looked around. There was no wind in her office. There were certainly no trees.
The sound continued. And grew louder. And began to form into words.
“Juuulieeeet! Juuuliiiiet!“
“Who’s there? You’d better reveal yourself before I decide to use the Department of Problem-Solving’s brand-new anti-spirit elixir!”
There was, of course, no anti-spirit elixir, but Juliet figured that the spirit wouldn’t know that.
She probably would have been right, if not for the fact that this particular spirit was very well acquainted with the works of the Department of Problem-Solving, indeed.
“Juuulieeet! It’s meeee! It’s me! I’m heee-here!”
The voice began to grow steadier and less ghostly.
A form took shape. At first it wavered and flickered, like static on a television set, but it soon coalesced itself into a steady, if transparent and intangible, form.
It appeared to be the ghost of Pythagoras-858.
Most would have been startled by the sight of their recently-vanished best friend’s ghost, but Juliet was skeptical.
“How do I know it’s really you and not some sort of shape-shifting spirit? Prove it to me – tell me how we solved the Case of the Blueberry Squid!”
“Well, we simply adjusted the temperature of the squid’s flux gels, and it transmorphed itself right back into a Strawberry Squid!”
“Pythe! It is you!”
Now Juliet grew curious.
“So, you were transported to the Spirit Realm, huh? That was one of my theories! And you’ve managed to come back and haunt me, eh? Very clever! How’s it feel being in the Spirit Realm?”
“Strange. It’s not so much a place – it’s an alternate plane of reality, a state of mind almost. It’s very…”
“Strange?”
“Right.”
“So, have you got all the powers of a spirit? Can you pass through walls and such?”
“I don’t know. I wish we had time to test it, but I suppose we’d better hurry. I’ve come to tell you that I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer. You will be haunted by Three Spirits.“
“Pythe? Are you alright?”
“Huh? Oh… sorry about that. The Spirit Realm is messing with my head. I’ve got to get out of here. So, to aid me in that particular venture: I’ve come to tell you that you have to pull the levers on the side of the machine in a certain order, so as to reveal the reverse switch.”
The ghost of Igor appeared in the room.
“Yeeeessss! Firsssst – ahem, first, pull the yellow lever three times, then the green one twice, and then the purple one. Ignore the red one, that’ll detonate the machine.”
Pythe rubbed his temples again. It wasn’t having much effect, the cooling fans didn’t exactly work on a ghost.
Technophile’s ghost materialized.
“Staaaay faar awaaaay frooom the maaachiiiine aaafter pulling the swiiiiitch!” he wailed. “It – miiight – ahem, might have some chance of sending you into the Spirit Realm. We can’t be certain. It was never tested.”
“Well, we didn’t have much chance to test it!” Igor replied.
“Oh, of course, it was quite impressive, how fast you finished it.” Technophile assured him. “Still, be careful.”
“Got it!” Juliet dashed from the room.
Ghost-Pythe glanced around.
“Hey, where are Foreman and Philatel?”
Igor and Technophile shrugged.
Meanwhile, in the Department of Postal Services building, the mail was being destroyed by the vengeful ghost of Foreman-964, while in the Department of Construction’s headquarters, every warehouse blueprint was being torn to shreds by the fearsome shade of Philatel-426.
****
A few minutes later, after Juliet had pulled the reverse switch and the Cupids had been restored to their material forms, Pythe, Juliet, the rest of the Problem-Solvers, Technophile, and Igor boarded a Fog Ship. Igor lugged the One-Way Forced Spirit Realm Gateway along with him “just in case”, which seemed reasonable, assuming they could get it to work properly. The Cupids checked the ship logs.
Each Fog Ship came equipped with a computer which automatically detailed the dimensions visited not only by that Fog Ship, but also by any other Fog Ship – it was easy to keep track of all of their whereabouts using this computer database.
Pythe looked at the logs for the Fog Ship which the possessed queen and the captured Frankenstein had taken, and saw that they had gone to the Prime Earth. He input that destination, and the Ship dematerialized.
It reappeared outside a derelict, abandoned building. The Cupids walked to the door and saw that two possessed Gorillas were guarding it.
“Blast! How are we going to get past them?” Technophile whispered.
“I haven’t a clue.” Pythe replied.
“Can we romanticise ’em?” Juliet asked.
“No, it wouldn’t work – the Gorillas would be romanticised, but the ghosts inside would be entirely unaffected.”
The Cupids circled the building at a distance, trying to find another entrance – but there were none.
“Let’s go back to the Homeworld and get some sort of laser cannon and blast those guards away.” Juliet suggested.
“Maybe I can build one right here!” said Technophile, already searching for parts.
“No, no!” Pythe shouted, “We’d just kill the Gorillas, and the ghosts would be fine. We have to think of something else – something…”
At that moment, a shower of purple smoke and confetti erupted behind Pythe.
Madame Tarsa glanced at the Gorillas guarding the door. She scowled. Her gaze fell on the Clockwork Cherubs before her.
“Oh, hello, Cupids.”
Technophile glanced at her.
“Oh, you’re that toymaker Larrikin was telling me about a few weeks ago, aren’t you? The one who made those Thymon plushies!”
“Yes, that’s me! The Magnificent Madame Tarsa! And I’ve come to retrieve my puppets from those spirits that are hiding in that building. They’ve taken every marionette – my most popular toy!”
“We’ve come to retrieve something, too.” said Pythe. “Well, not something. Someone. Frankenstein-818, our resident Mad Scientist. But we need to get past those possessed guards first, and – .”
“Easy!” Tarsa exclaimed. She waved her hand towards the guards, and they transformed into muffins.
She glanced at her gloves.
“Seems like my new Conjuring Gloves for the Magically Inept are working well. Although I’ve still got a few kinks to work out. Those were supposed to be doves.”
“Er – you can turn them back, can’t you? I don’t like the Gorillas, of course, but I’m sure they won’t be very happy that way.”
“Oh, I suppose so.”
Tarsa marched into the building, and the Cupids followed. The muffins, still possessed, hovered in the air and launched themselves at the Cupids – but it wasn’t of much use in stopping them, and they didn’t dare risk leaving the safety of the baked goods with so few hours left of Halloween night. A vessel was a vessel, after all.
Entering the building, the Cupids saw that the entire interior was one enormous room with a stage in it – it must have been some type of theatre in the past, before it was left to rot. Upon the stage was a dejected-looking Frankenstein-818, sitting in front of an enormous device.
“Uh-oh.” Juliet muttered.
The room was filled to the brim with possessed beings, mainly marionettes and Green Gorillas, but also beings from other, unknown dimensions – picked up by the remaining vessel-less ghosts before the capture of Frankenstein. The Cupids even recognized Tavern regular Alistair Neezley among the possessed.
The possessed Queen of the Black Market stood on the stage in front of the machine.
“SO, CUPID – WILL THIS DEVICE ALLOW ALL OF THE SPIRITS OF OUR NATIVE REALM TO ENTER THE LANDS OF THE LIVING?”
“Yes.” said Frankenstein sadly.
“WONDERFUL! SWITCH IT ON!”
Frankenstein stepped over to the switch.
He reached out.
He laid his hands on it.
An enormous marble rocketed forth from the back of the theater and knocked Frankenstein sideways.
“WHAT WAS THAT?”
The possessed queen looked out into the audience.
Tarsa leapt onto the stage.
“Return my puppets at once, fiend!”
“FIEND? NOT AT ALL! I AM A SPIRIT! AND… NEVER!”
The possessed queen drew the bone spear and slashed at Tarsa, stabbing her straight through her chest.
Tarsa backed up, and the spear wound disappeared.
“Nice try!” Tarsa transformed her cane into a sword once again, and the two began to duel. The rest of the spirits in the building rushed to the aid of the possessed queen.
“Now’s our chance!” Pythe whispered to the other Cupids, “Technophile, Juliet, Igor, go destroy that machine! Edwin, Carter, Valerius, and I will rescue Frankenstein!”
The Cupids dashed off.
Meanwhile, Tarsa was using her Conjuring Gloves to transform all of the possessed beings into other things. Never the things that she intended to turn them into – the gloves really did need a bit of work – but harmless things, nevertheless. She couldn’t quite manage to transform the Queen — perhaps because the ghost possessing her was particularly powerful, or perhaps because the Queen’s body itself was magically resistant to some extent — but she was managing to win the sword fight, partly due to the fact that she had generated six more arms and six more swords, as opposed to the queen’s single spear.
The spirits in the transformed bodies decided that, at this point, they had better risk emerging from those bodies to stop the interlopers. They did, and began to swarm the room menacingly, wondering whether they should help their leader win the fight or stop those small metal people who were currently making off with the mad scientist. Spirits can be a rather indecisive sort in times of peril.
Pythe and the Problem-Solvers (minus Juliet) had managed to sneak Frankenstein off of the stage (he would have left himself, but was feeling rather dazed after the marble blast), but Technophile, Juliet, and Igor had not yet managed to get to the machine, as the sword-fight was occurring directly in front of it.
The spirits, meanwhile, had come to the third decision that they should probably stop the other group of small metal people who were trying to destroy the machine.
Forming a howling cloud, they swooped downwards towards Technophile, Juliet, and Igor.
“Lucky thing I brought this, isn’t it?” said Igor, flipping a switch on the One-Way Forced Spirit Realm Gateway as he threw it at the crowd of spirits.
The dome of light appeared and spread outward, surrounding the spirits, who were banished back to the Spirit Realm.
The Gateway fell onto the ground and broke apart.
“It’s probably for the best.” said Technophile, “When he rebuilds it, maybe he can make it so that it targets only spirits.”
Tarsa, meanwhile, had managed to knock the spear out of the possessed queen’s hands.
“Fine. Kill me.” The queen sneered. “Or rather, kill this body. I’ll be unharmed! You’ll not be rid of me that easily”
Tarsa rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to kill you, or your body. I just came to get my marionettes. And the sword fight was, I’ll admit, mainly for sport. I could have destroyed you far more easily than that if I’d really wanted to.”
Tarsa waved her hand at the transformed beings, turning them back into their now rather dazed true forms – the gloves, luckily, worked rather well for turning things back. She gathered all of the marionettes, and then strolled to the back of the building and leaned on her cane, having decided to stick around and see who’d come out victorious.
All of the Cupids rushed towards the machine. The queen picked up the spear again and blocked their path.
“YOU’VE NOT BESTED ME, CUPIDS! SO YOU SENT MY SPIRIT ARMY BACK TO THE SPIRIT REALM? SO WHAT? ONCE I ACTIVATE THIS MACHINE, THEY’LL ALL RETURN, ALONG WITH EVERY OTHER SPIRIT IN THAT REALM! AND THEN THIS MULTIVERSE THAT YOU CALL HOME SHALL BELONG TO US!”
The possessed queen reached behind her back and flipped the switch on Frankenstein’s new Reverse Spirit Gateway.
Juliet gasped. Pythe winced. The portal powered up, and, with a horrible wailing, every one of the near-infinite legion of spirits began pouring out of it.
And were promptly transformed into small clockwork wind-up toys.
The possessed queen turned around, gazing at this spectacle in utter disbelief.
“Wh – what – why?”
As she stammered, Igor crept up behind and shoved her.
With a scream, she fell into the portal, and popped out again a moment later as a toy.
“Nice work, Igor! You deserve a promotion!” said Frankenstein, patting him on the back. “I can’t give you one, mind. I haven’t got any authority in anything. But you deserve one!”
Technophile was staring at the wind-up toys, looking rather bemused himself.
“How – what – why did this happen?”
“I’m wondering much the same thing!” Pythe exclaimed. The other Problem-Solvers nodded.
“Well, you remember that my original Spirit Realm Gateway had a chance of turning Cupids into spirits? Well, since this is a reverse of my original Gateway – that was also reversed, of course. But my machine hadn’t the resources to turn all of those ghosts into full Cupids, so it simply turned them into small clockwork wind-up toys.”
“Brilliant!” Technophile exclaimed. “I never would have thought of something as amazingly mad as that!”
“To be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about it. I just programmed it in subconsciously. It’s in my nature, you know – I am a mad scientist!”
“Well, if you ever want to team up on some new invention, my friend – I’d be happy to have your outside-the-box input!”
“Thanks! But first I’ll have to re-build the original Gateway. Got to have it by next Halloween, you know! Maybe I can dismantle this new Gateway and use the parts…” Frankenstein strolled around the side of the device, mumbling to himself.
“Well, I suppose we’d better shut this thing off.” Pythe suggested, noticing that the machine was still spewing clockworks. “If we turn every spirit in the Spirit Realm into a toy, well, the Prime Universe won’t be enough to hold them all!”
Tarsa stepped over.
“Say, these ghost toys are great! Mind if I take ’em? I need to get something out for Halloween – my pumpkin toy still isn’t finished. I’ll spruce ’em up a bit, of course – maybe make it so they really fly and pass through walls!”
“Sure!” said Frankenstein, scooping up armfuls of them and handing them to Tarsa, who dumped them all into her apparently hammerspace-equipped hat.
“Thanks, Cupids! Once again, you’ve given me a great toy idea!”
Pythe reached down and picked up the wind-up toy of the Queen of the Black Market.
“Hmm… we should figure out a way to turn her back – without freeing the ghost, I might add.”
Tarsa examined it.
“This is worth a shot!” she said, pulling a magician’s top hat from nowhere. She dumped the toy in, produced a magic wand, tapped the hat, and dumped the contents – a rather disgruntled, unpossessed, flesh-and-blood Queen of the Black Market – onto the ground.
“Great! My hat and wand still work!” Tarsa exclaimed. “They’ll be part of a set with my gloves, once I get those working properly! Consider that my thanks for the ghost toys!”
“So, er… is the ghost in your hat now?” Juliet inquired.
“Who knows?” the Toymaker shrugged. “Could be. Maybe not.”
Tarsa made the hat and wand disappear, then slammed her cane into the ground again, disappearing in another shower of purple smoke and confetti (with a few festive fireworks added into the mix this time, for good measure).
“Right, then!” Pythe exclaimed. “Let’s get back to the Homeworld! After bringing these poor, formerly-possessed folks back to their home dimensions, of course.”
Juliet glanced back at the Gateway.
“Whaddya think he meant about the Spirit Realm being doomed? Almost sounded like they were fleeing something, which, I think, is the opposite of what ghost invaders are meant to do.”
“I’m wondering the same thing.” Pythe admitted. “But, for now, it might be best to avoid the matter entirely if we don’t want to invite any more trouble into the Homeworld. I think we’ve had enough spirit shenanigans for one day – let’s try our best to enjoy the rest of All Hallow’s Eve without any supernatural incursions, for a change.”
****
A few hours later, in the Homeworld, Frankenstein unveiled his newest invention, a gateway to the Demon Realm, to rather mixed reactions from the Cupids.
Colonel-028’s party was a great success.
And Foreman-964 chased Philatel-426 across the Homeworld with a steam shovel.
And, as for the Great Ghost – and his plans… well, that’s quite another story.
Fin