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Far on the outskirts of the city of Legionopolis, well beyond the limits of the Fusion Powersphere, there lies a foreboding mansion, perpetually overcast by dark clouds. Home to the resident revenant of the LMB, few others - apart from the owner's trio of macabre minions - would dare to venture within its doors uninvited. Thankfully, though, that invitation does come one night each year... the evening of October 31st.
For, on this night - known on the owner's home planet as "All Hallow's Eve" - the walls between our world and an other-worldly realm known as "The Poltergeist Area," from whence the owner arrived, weaken just enough that the normally distinct lines between light and dark blend into an almost vertiginous twilight. Summer and winter... seedtime and harvest... even life and death... become merely as abstract concepts within the walls of his abode.
When that evening arrives, listen closely to the wind whispering across the dying cornfields; mark well the shape of the shadows cast by the light of the waning moon; and, if you should hear a knock upon your door, but, upon answering, find no one there... pause a moment and look down to see whether a small black card remains at your feet.
If you dare... read the almost ethereal words engraved thereupon and - if you have been a beastly boy or a ghoulish girl - you will find that, this year:
"YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE ANNUAL HALLOWEEN GALA AT DEDMAN'S DEN..."
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"Well, you look great." Exnihil reassured Emily Sivana as they approached the front gate of Dedman's Den. He knew she was a bit hesitant about the social aspect of life with the LMB but, when he had received his "Plus One" invitation to this party, he thought it would be a great opportunity for her to break that ice. He regarded her costume. "What is that uniform again?"
"It is the official battle uniform of the Nasgerian army. Question Lad let me borrow it. Right now, though, it feels more like an oven."
"Well, why on earth did you wear your 'Red Arrow' costume underneath?"
"You have a lot to learn about being prepared, Nihil. I'm not going to get caught by surprise if we come under attack."
"It's a party!"
"All the more reason to be suspect. A huge gathering of people like that? It's a golden opportunity for a super-villain. I notice you didn't bother to dress up. I thought a false costume was mandatory for this tradition."
"What are you talking about? I'm dressed as Edward G. Robinson."
"Who?"
"He was a 20th century Terran actor. He portrayed a lot of 'mob-boss' characters."
"You look exactly the same as you always do."
"Not at all. I normally slick my hair back with 'Fop' brand pomade... tonight I'm using 'Dapper Dan'. Go ahead... touch it." Ex tilted his head toward her, as she recoiled, slightly aghast.
"No, thank you! Besides, we're here. Let's get this over with."
Ex pulled the cord to ring the front bell, as the ominous sound of a foghorn boomed out. The door creaked open as Dedman's minion, Hecubus, stood before them, costumed in a variant on the classic Frankenstein's monster. In a slow, bellowing voice, Hecubus asked the pair, "Yooooooou raaaaaaaaaang?"
"Ha! Fantastic, Hecubus!" Ex was impressed. "Deddy's got you on butler duty tonight, huh? How's the crowd so far?"
Hecubus broke character and smiled. Shaking Ex's hand, he said, "Heya, Ex. It's a great turnout tonight. Biggest one yet, I'd say. Dedman really pulled out all the stops. C'mon in, guys... take your quiver, miss?"
"No," Emily said, shrugging her shoulder away from Hecubus' hand, "I'll hold on to this, thank you."
"Suit yourself," Hecubus shrugged, showing the pair into the main hall. "By the way, Ex... great Edward G. Robinson costume!"
"Thanks!"
Emily sighed.
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"Thanks, Succubus," Ex said to Dedman's female minion manning the bar, as he took his glass.
"Careful with that, Ex," she smiled, "The dead might rise tonight, but a couple of my special Mort-inis and you'll be falling down."
"Well, let's hope..." he winked. Turning back toward the main hall, Ex was intercepted by a strange man dressed as a Jovian Octopoid.
"Ha, ha... Doctor Mayavale! Great costume, Doc! I didn't know you knew Deddy."
"Oh, yes..." the Doctor said enthusiastically. "Dedman is a dear, dear friend of mine from several thousand incarnations ago. Though, in this era, one would barely recognize him as such - at the time, he was known as the Egyptian Pharaoh, Menkaura Hotep. Simply a wonderful leader... but headstrong. He certainly was not one to heed the warnings of those ragtag prophets who were always warning of a coming plague. That, however, proved to be a bit of a judgment lapse when the 'ikizziksizznitts'... or, as you might call them, 'locusts'... descended upon the land, killing off the entirety of that year's harvest."
"...and your family starved... betrayed by the Pharaoh's inaction?"
"Goodness, no..."
"Oh, good." Ex sipped his drink in relief.
"...in that lifetime, I was incarnated as an ear of corn. I was eaten alive by the locusts while still on the stalk."
Ex sputtered as he swallowed, nearly choking.
"But, enough of the past, my friend... you must tell me, who is that enchanting young lady that you arrived with?"
"Emily? Oh that's right, you probably haven't met her yet... she's fairly new to the LMB. Her name is Emily Sivana, but she goes by the code-name, Red Arrow."
"Sivana... Sivana..." Doctor Mayavale mused, "... not of the Fawcett City Sivanas, is she? I knew that group well. They betrayed me several times in the late 1940's. It seems the patriarch had allied himself with this Monster Society of..."
"In fact, there she is now," Ex interrupted, spying her with a group of LMBers at the apple-bobbing barrel.
"No fair, Blacula!" Lone Wolf Legionnaire was shouting, as his teammate came up with an apple firmly lanced on each incisor.
"Vat?" Blacula said, laughing.
"So... what is the object of this thing?" Emily asked.
"It's easy," Lone Wolf explained, "You just have to get an apple out of the barrel without using your hands."
"Hmmph... sounds easy enough," Emily shrugged, and withdrew an arrow from her quiver, placing it in her bow, "Stand back."
"Whoa! Sorry, Doc... gotta go..." Ex said, hurriedly setting down his drink and making his way to Emily, now taking a bite from the apple at the end of her arrow.
"Heh... sorry, guys..." Ex apologized sheepishly to Lone Wolf and Blacula, still wringing out their costumes as he took Emily's arm. "You know how it is when you get hungry... Come along, now, Em..."
"Pity..." Doctor Mayavale said sadly to himself as Ex pulled Emily past him to the buffet, "... I was just about to invite him to retire to the back balcony for a bit of the Wheeling Mists."
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"Fantastic elvabird wings, Autobus. What's your secret?" Ex complimented Dedman's third minion who was serving behind the buffet.
"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?" Autobus smiled as, without looking away from Ex, he concurrently used a slotted spoon to rap the head of the flesh-eating plant surreptitiously going for the chafing dish.
"Audrey, no!" Suddenly Seymour scolded his leafy companion. "Sorry, guys... I can't take her anywhere."
Across the room, Emily had struck up a conversation with Dedman's lady-friend, Disdemona.
"Yes, well... dating a dead man does have its moments, that’s for sure," Disdemona said, "but at the end of the day, he’s just like any other guy. Well… you know what I mean… I’m sure Question Lad has you pulling your hair out at times."
"Oh, no," Emily became a bit flustered, "I’m not seeing Question Lad; he’s just a friend."
"I’m sorry," Dis quickly apologized, "I just assumed because... well..." She laughed, "Well, you are wearing his clothes, tonight."
Emily flushed and was about to respond when she suddenly heard a commotion coming across the floor.
"Aghhhhhh!" Emily shrieked in return, as a transparent wraith suddenly passed right through her.
"Sorry, miss," the ghost said, turning his head back, before continuing on. "Excuse me... pardon me... excuse me..."
"What was that?" Emily, now almost as white as a ghost herself, asked Dis.
"Him?" Dis laughed, "That was just the Ghost of Numf-El. It's a long story, but he's one of the LMB, too. Ever since he went spectral he's had a bit of a problem reconciling his lack corporeality with the rest of the world."
"It's... it's not going to do any harm... is it? Him passing through me like that?"
"Oh, no. Numfy doesn't leave any ectoplasmic traces, but you might be a bit chilly for a while."
Emily did feel cold, though it was actually sort of a pleasant change after wearing two layers of costumes all night. "Well, thanks for happy accidents," she said to herself, and then to Dis, "but it's still sort of rude. Where was he going like that, anyway?"
Dis looked at her watch and smiled, "Oh! He was just excited. It's almost the best time of the night on Halloween... the Witching Hour! It's time for ghost stories!"
"Time for what?"
"You'll see, come on..." she took Emily's hand and pulled her along, making their way to the library.
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"...and to this day..." Ex paused dramatically, as the room full of LMBers, their faces rapt in the candlelight, waited expectantly. He took a sip from his Mort-ini and concluded, "...they still haven't found his head."
The room relaxed, as his teammates burst into applause. "Nicely done, Ex," Fat Cramer said with an appreciative purr, "That one's a classic."
"Thanks, guys," Ex said, sitting back down... a bit wobbly from the alcohol.
"Wait..." Emily interrupted over the accolades, her brow furrowed, "...I don't get it. If he had a pumpkin for a head, how did Boy Zombie eat his brains?"
Ex smiled and reached for a bowl of roasted pumpkin seeds on the table in front of him and extended them to Emily. "Care for a snack?"
The room groaned in laughter, as Emily flushed, annoyed at her drunken companion.
As the room settled down, and it was clear that all who had wanted to tell a story had taken a turn, Dedman - the host of the evening's festivities - finally stood up.
"Thanks, Ex," he began, "...and thank you to everyone who braved the wrath of the spirit world tonight to tell a tale or two of the strange things that inhabit the night. So many great stories..." He smiled, as he could feel the room's attention shifting toward him. It was a tradition at Dedman's Halloween Gala that the evening would conclude with the host himself telling a tale, and, in all the years he had been hosting it, his guests had never been disappointed.
"There used to be a saying - when I was growing up in the 20th century - that, 'Dead men tell no tales.' Well..." he tapped himself sardonically as the audience slightly chuckled, "...I guess we can say that that there's always an exception. But... for most of the dead... that old adage does hold true. The burden of telling the tales that they once would have shared with the world now falls to those that they've left behind."
"So it was with a man that I once encountered here on Legion World, a man whose sad tale is so inexorably tied to All Hallow's Eve that even his true name is all but lost to time. Sit back, my friends. Have another drink. Enjoy whatever comforts you may for as long as you can, for this is the terrible tale... of Johnny Halloween."
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Wearily, the man walked homeward... not even enough credits in his pocket for shuttle-fare.
He thought back to events of earlier this morning, as he had stood before the mirror next to his wife, so proud of the full face mask that he had fashioned.
"Ughhh," she had shivered, "That mask gives me the creeps. Why don't you just go with the make-up?"
"No, no..." he had protested, sitting down to adjust his cape, "The mask is a big part of it. That way, when I take it off, it's almost like magic. Voila... new face!'
"Yes... but does it have to be so creepy? It's so...blank... like it's just staring at me."
"That's part of the whole package, sweetheart. It just makes sense - I'm trying out on October 31st. That's why I chose the code-name, 'Johnny Halloween'. Just trust me, it will be great."
"I do trust you," she had said, sliding around to sit in his lap, "I just worry... sometimes you get your hopes up too high."
"My hopes are all I have. Three years now with this dead-end job. I only took the mortician's assistant gig because there was nothing else to be had. I'm an artist, for God's sake... the best makeup artist in three systems and I'm toiling for credits working on the dead. No, I see them all the time soaring off on their adventures. You can be sure that none of them ever has to worry about making their bills. That's where I belong."
"You belong with me," she had said, lightly punching his arm teasingly, but with a tinge of seriousness that brought him back to earth.
"Of course I do, love," he had said, wrapping his arms around her, "I just meant..."
"I know what you meant. Well, hurry up, if you're going. You don't want to miss your big tryout, 'Johnny Halloween'. How long do you think it will run?"
"I don't know... pretty long, I think. There's usually tons of applicants."
"Fine," she had sighed, "Just be careful... it's supposed to be foggy tonight. I'll leave a holo-candle burning for you. Just follow the signal... that's what superheroes do, right?"
The tryout did not go as planned.
"Yes, we understand," the seemingly infinite chain of voices on the panel had said, "Your talent at disguise is very impressive, but we do have some concern over your experience. It says here that you work at the Legion World Morgue? So... would it be fair to say that you haven't really performed any real-time, field-level disguise? That might be a bit of a problem. You see, we already have quite an experienced disguise expert in our ranks: Eryk Davis Ester - the Boy of 1000 Faces. We'd like to recommend, though, that you apply at the Legion of Message Board Posters Academy and try out again in a couple of years after training. We're sorry, Halloween Boy, but we're afraid that, for now, you're..."
Rejected.
The word echoed through his troubled mind even now. All of his grand dreams dashed in an instant... and they hadn't even gotten his code-name right. The academy? Sure... and while he spent two years training on a long shot, the bank would take away his house and leave him and his wife on the street. Crestfallen, still wearing his costume and mask, he walked home through the twilight mist, toward the only good thing he felt he had in this life. Right now, all he wanted was to feel her comforting arms.
He was, perhaps, a mile away when saw the flames.
At first, he thought it was a trick of the light. She had said that she would light a holo-candle for his return. But this was no candlelight - not at this distance. In a sudden panic, he broke into a run.
He ran, as fast as he could, toward the house which he could now see was being engulfed in flames. Without a single thought in his head other than the woman he loved inside, he dashed himself against the front door. Flames shot outward as it gave way. Using his cape as a shield against the billowing sheaths of black smoke that were pouring everywhere, he forced himself inside the inferno.
Where was she? His frantic mind raced, his eyes nearly blinded by smoke. Upstairs... it had to be. She had probably given up waiting and gone to bed, oblivious to the accidental fire that had started. Fighting against the waves of heat, even now feeling the make-up beneath his mask melting into so much bubbling oil, he forced his way to the burning staircase.
Grabbing the railing for support, he pulled his body, almost by sheer will, forward up the stairs. In an instant, he felt the flames rising up his side. His cape had caught fire! He reached around to the neck clasp to try to release it but, even as he did so, he felt the stairs below him weakening.
Almost instinctually, he tried to leap forward... but it was too late. The stairs below him collapsed with a sickening groan, sending him sprawling downward. As his back hit the floor, whatever breath he had been able to gasp through the smoke was knocked right out of him. His consciousness faded, as the world around him blended into a fiery maelstrom.
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The sound of the name shook him from his reverie. He looked around the cemetery... but it was, as yet, too early. It was merely the wind whistling through the trees. Apart from himself, there was not a soul around.
With a tired sigh, he knelt, placing the flowers on her grave. It had been three years since that fateful night, but, for the heavy pain he still carried, it were as though it had happened just yesterday. Why couldn't they have left him there? Another minute or two pinned beneath that beam and he would have breathed his last. But, as always, the heroic ones had arrived in the proverbial nick of time - stealing from him that final release.
For months he had lain in the intensive care of Medicus Two, unable to speak. The fire had scorched his vocal chords so severely that, when the scar tissue had finally settled, his voice had become nothing more than a rasping hiss - a sound disconcerting to even the most experienced of hospital staff. It was several months later that the bandages had finally come off, and, whatever his ruined voice had portended, it was nothing compared to the remains of his face. The burns that anyone would have suffered in the fire would have been enough to make children run in fear, but the chemicals in the make-up he had been wearing had increased the effect twenty-fold. Though the doctors had done their best at restoration, the damage was too severe - there just wasn't enough left to work with.
But, in the end, all of that - the loss of his home, his voice, his very face - had not been what had brought him to this point. If it had been merely the loss of those transient things, perhaps he could have gone on. In the end, though, the only loss from which there was no recovery was the loss of his love.
They had said that nothing could have survived the fire. But when the site had been excavated, however, not even the slightest trace of her remains had been recovered. The official paperwork had said that she must have been at the epicenter - that somehow her body had been completely incinerated in the blaze. But, even as he had stood at the funeral watching them lower her empty casket, his full face mask hiding his horrific visage from the outside world, he didn't believe it.
It was a year later - on October 31st, the anniversary of the last time he had seen her - that he had first been given renewed hope. True, his ears were not what they had once been, but there was no mistaking the whispered tone that carried across the misty twilight as he had stood at her grave.
"Johnny..."
His eyes suddenly welled at the sound of the name that he had taken on permanently ever since her loss. He had known her voice almost as intimately as he knew his own heartbeat and, hearing the name, he had no doubt that if he were to turn around, she would be standing just behind him, waiting to take him once again into her arms. With near exploding joy, he whirled about and found... nothing.
How could this be? He knew he had heard her. Maddened, he scanned the area, but still saw nothing at all but the evening mist. Refusing to believe that he had only imagined the sound, like a man possessed, he searched the cemetery all night. He was found the following morning by the groundskeeper lying upon her grave.
Though he returned to the site each day, it wasn't until exactly one year later that he again heard the voice.
"Johnny..."
As before, he whirled about, absolutely certain in his conviction that she would be there. But again, nothing... at first.
He stared into the dense depths of the mist with tears welling from his glazed eyes. After a time, ever so gradually, he began to see a change. There, in the distance, he saw a small light. His heart raced at the sight, as he arose to his feet and continued to gaze into the abyss before him. Yes, it was the warm light of a candle. She had returned!
With his tears now transformed into those of joy, he ran forward toward the light. Deeper, deeper into the forest surrounding the cemetery, never taking his eyes off the light before him. But, as he moved forward, the underbrush below become denser and more difficult to manage. With his feet becoming entangled in the brambles below, he watched in agony as the light continued moving away at a steady pace. No, he would not be denied his reunion! With a sudden surge of effort he pushed his body forward but, in doing so, was tripped up by the tangle of weeds about his feet. Losing his balance, he fell forward and, by the time he had recovered, his guiding light was gone.
And so, here he had come again this year, on All Hallow's Eve, as the sun had sunk below the horizon.
Three years had passed since his world had been taken from him; since every vestige of the life he had known before had been stripped away leaving this hollow husk of a creature known only as Johnny Halloween. The one thing they could never take from him, though, was hope. Tonight - even if the hounds of Hades should bar the way - he would be reunited with his love.
Even as the church bell tolled in the distance, the mists began to roll in, thicker than he had ever seen them before. He looked again at the headstone before him, a monument to what he knew in his heart was a lie. He turned about and, pausing only to touch the polymer mask - his constant reminder of what he had once been - he closed his eyes to welcome what lay ahead.
"Johnny..."
The voice whispered across the grounds. It had returned - his yearly harbinger of hope. Beneath his mask, the shredded ruins of his face contorted into what could only be described as the sickly remains of a smile. This was it, the time was again upon him.
He opened his eyes and gazed ahead into the mist. At first, nothing but the impenetrable density of the evening; then, again - as he had seen a year ago tonight - the small light. His heart filled with love. He began to walk forward as the light grew stronger - a glowing ember of hope before him. He approached, as first hesitantly, then, as he drew closer and the flame resolved into the warm reassurance that he knew so well, with a more confident stride.
As the light continued into the forest, he continued to follow, pausing only to draw the long knife from his belt. This year he would not be impeded by the weedy snares of the forest. Step by step, he advanced toward his guide, the light growing ever stronger. Come what may, he thought, I will not be held from you. Tonight we will be together. Tonight you will be mine.
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"...and so it was, following the light that he was certain held the promise of reunion, that Johnny Halloween disappeared into the forest. And it is there, unfortunately, that his known tale trails off into mystery."
"What did he find that night, following the trail of his guiding light? Some claim that he did, indeed, find his lost love and together they lived happily ever after - but the types who tell that sort of tale are hardly to be trusted. Others claim that ending is only half the story, and that what he found was merely the spectre of his beloved and, unable to go on living in our world without her, he followed her echo into the realms beyond. Still others claim that the light was never his love at all, but something far more horrible. But - whatever the truth - the fact remains that, since that night, Johnny Halloween has never been seen on Legion World again."
Dedman paused for effect, scanning the room of his nearly entranced audience for unbelievers, slightly smiling to himself as he saw the skepticism on the face of the newcomer, Emily Sivana. He continued.
"But, it is said that when the moon hangs full on Halloween night; when the mists roll in so heavily that you can not seen your own hand before your face; that then, should a young maiden, with a touch of the spirit within, hold a candle to the darkness and call the name, 'Johnny Halloween,' that he - so long disappeared - will follow, mistaking this call for the voice of his beloved, returning to our world anew."
Fat Cramer slightly chuckled. She had been Dedman's teammate for a great many years, and was well acquainted with the story of Johnny Halloween.
"Ah!" Dedman took advantage of this cue and turned toward Cramer. "I see there is a brave woman in our midst tonight. Would you be the one who tempts the fates this evening by daring to summon the long tortured spirit?" He smiled at his old friend and, with a bit of theatricality, extended a candle to her.
"Oh, all right, Deddy," she smiled, taking the candle, "I'll put a call in for you to your spooky friends. It's been a little while since I was considered a 'young maiden,' but, fine... Johnny Halloween!"
There was a moment of silence before Dedman spoke again. "Hmm... it would seem that Fat Cramer's siren song isn't quite enough to lure Johnny from the beyond. Perhaps you, my dear, " he said, now turning toward his lady-friend, Disdemona, "I have it on rather good authority that you have a 'touch of the spirit within,' wouldn't you say?"
Dis smacked him playfully. "Ugh... you are horrible!" She smirked, and all but snatched the next candle away from him. "Hello? Johnny Halloween? Are you out there? Hurry up and make an appearance so you can take me far away from this guy."
Another moment of silence. Dedman grinned. "I'm sorry, love, but it appears you are stuck with me for at least another year. But who remains? Are there no other brave maidens within our midst that would risk the wrath of the spirit world by daring to summon the long lost..."
"I'll do it." Emily interrupted, standing up. Exnihil smiled a drunken smile. He was glad to see her coming out of her shell.
"You?' Dedman asked with mock incredulity. "No, I'm sorry, Red Arrow. You're still fairly new to our ranks and I, for one, am not going to be accused of unnecessarily putting our newest member at risk."
"Oh, for the love of..." Emily reached out to Dedman's hand and took a candle. Holding it up, she said in a very determined voice, "Johnny Halloween!"
A moment passed in silence and, for half a second, Emily almost expected something to happen. But, as the silence continued, she lowered her arm, just a bit disappointed. She handed the candle back to Dedman.
"Well," he said, smiling at Emily and then to the room, "It would seem that another year has passed with no reappearance from the..."
Suddenly, the table in front of Dedman slightly bumped. He paused a moment, but quickly regained his composure. "As I say, another year has pass..."
The table bumped again. Then again more violently. It started to rattle violently as Dedman stepped back. A commotion started to spread though the room, as Emily reacted instinctually.
"Everyone down!" She shouted, leaping up from the divan she was sitting on.
"Emily, no, it's just..." Ex started to say, but it was too late. Already, she had drawn her bow and had taken an offensive position. She drew back the arrow, as the table rattled out of control. With her eyes trained on the target, she was just about to release when, suddenly, the wraith broke through.
It was the Ghost of Numf-El.
"Sorry, guys..." Numfy said, his spectral form arising through the table, "There weren't any seats left, so I just settled in down there. I must have been sitting still too long and my aether started to desublimate. I got caught on the way up."
The entire room started to laugh, as Emily lowered her bow. Feeling her anger rising, she leaned over to Ex, who was also laughing, and said pointedly, "We're going. Now."
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"What the hell was that?" Emily demanded as Ex drunkenly fumbled with his coat in the foyer.
"What are you on about?" Ex squinted his right eye and lined up his arm with the sleeve of his coat. He pulled it on, realizing a moment later that he had put it on backward.
"Oh, for the love of... come here." Emily took Ex's coat off his arm and held it out for him correctly. "I'm talking about this whole night. I blow off my plans to go home to see my family. I trust you that this party would be fun - that I needed to start being more social with the LMB - and what happens? I spend the whole night being humiliated. Ghosts? Zombies? Vampires? This is exactly what my uncle Lex is always talking about. The Sivanas and magic just don't mix."
"Emily, relax. It was just a bit of fun." Hecubus held the front door for the pair. As they exited, he shot Ex a quick look, as if to say, "Everything OK?" Ex just shrugged, and smiled awkwardly. He continued to Emily as they walked down the front stairs. "Nobody was looking to humiliate you, Em. Everybody jokes around, you can't be so serious all the time. It's just the LMB's way. Halloween just makes it seem more pronounced. Everybody just wants to let off some steam."
Almost on cue as he said the word, "steam," the pair reached the bottom of the stairs and were greeted by a veritable wall of fog.
"Ugh... what now?" Emily coughed.
In response, a voice called down from the balcony above, "Apologies, my dear friends, the winds are rather still this evening. The Wheeling Mists seem to be lingering more heavily than usual."
Ex looked up at the wildly grinning Doctor Mayavale. "That's OK, Doc," he called up, "Stay safe up there."
"Ah... you are departing so soon? Mind the road before you, my dear, dear friends. Try not to betray me."
"Ugh... come on." Emily grabbed Ex's arm and pulled him forward. "I've had enough maundering madness for one night."
"Oh, don't worry about Doc M." Ex said, stumbling forward as Emily guided him, "The Mists always make him a little paranoid."
"Yeah, well, 'paranoid' seems to be a theme with you, huh? Do you really think I'm supposed to believe you that they weren't making fun of me in there?"
"Making fun of you? No way. Like I said, everybody jokes around with everybody. Teasing is just a form of affection. Didn't you ever experience that in school growing up?"
"No," Emily said, with a touch of melancholy, "I sort of had a... strange... childhood."
"Yeah, well... you, me and half the LMB. Trust me, you'll fit right in, sweetheart."
Emily mused. She suddenly got an evil idea. "Sweetheart?"
"Yeah," Ex said, reaching into his coat for a pack of Carggite trigars, "It's a 'noir' thing. You know, Bogey and Bacall, and all that."
"I know what it means," Emily said. She stepped closer to Ex. "Ex... why did you invite me to this party tonight? Everybody knows you've got a thing for My Whee Fem."
"What?" Ex blustered, "Where did you get that idea?"
"Oh, come on. It's so apparent. But you didn't invite her, tonight," She moved closer, straightening his coat, "you invited me. You said that teasing is a form of affection, right? Well, you were teasing me pretty hard about that Boy Zombie story you told."
Ex started to flush. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but as she moved closer it was like he was seeing Emily for the first time. "I... uh... Emily...?"
"Yeah?" She said, looking him right in the eyes, "What's on your mind, Ex? You asked me to touch your hair earlier... that offer still stand?"
Ex looked up, and met her eyes in return. He knew he would regret this in the morning, but... it was Halloween. He leaned in toward her.
Emily couldn't keep a straight face. "Yeah, right, Nihil!" she suddenly laughed, pushing him away. "In your dreams! Not so nice when you are on the other side of getting teased, is it?"
Ex laughed, flustered, but at the same time relieved. He wagged a finger at her and winked, "Nice one, Sivana. The LMB better keep an eye on you." He pulled out his fili-lighter to light his trigar, but, drunk as he was, fumbled and dropped it.
"My god, Nihil," she said bending over to pick it up for him, "you are just a mess."
"Good thing I've got friends to help, eh?"
She smiled at him begrudgingly and fired up his lighter, extending it out to him to light his trigar, "Come on. Let's get out here... before 'Johnny Halloween' jumps out and gets us."
Ex laughed and, holding on to Emily's arm for balance, starting walking home into the night.
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Stumbling forward through the heavy fog with a lumbering gait, the man fell to his knees beside the stream bank. How long had it been? How deeply had he been tested after all this time? After a time he had lost track, as the days and weeks and even years had blended into a seemingly never-ending torture. But he knew that, someday, this would all come to an end. Someday, all the pain he had felt would be revealed to be nothing more than a trial of his faith... a test of his devotion.
Wearily, he bent over the stream and, using his one good hand to lift the polymer mask, he leaned over to drink. As the cool water flowed over the remnants of his ruined lips, he listened to calming sound of the water trickliing over the rocks. So pleasant, so tranquil. If you listened long enough it almost sounded like laughter, a sound he almost forgotten.
He leaned back, his thirst sated, but still the sound continued just as clear. Wait... was that laughter?
With a great effort he rose to his feet and stepped forward toward the sound. Yes, there were voices just ahead. He peered deeply into the mist before him to get a better look. Slowly the shapes of two people began to resolve. He could not see them clearly at all, but was certain from the way she moved that the form closest to him was female. Suddenly, even through the mist, he saw the female form extend her arm outward as a flame lit up. His heart raced.
He dare not go any closer, he couldn't bear to be wrong another time. Desperately he strained to hear their words.
"... fore 'Johnny Halloween' ju..."
He froze just for a moment. From beneath the polymer mask, his lips curled back into a twisted smile, as he breathed the words, as much to himself as to the heavens themselves. "My... love."
He stepped forward toward the road.
The End...?
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