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ghostlyglimmer · 22 days

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Lockjaw Chapter 7: Fractured Memories

Summary:

Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home. But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.

The drive to FentonWorks was tense and silent, broken only by the occasional rattle of Tucker's car as it sped through the deserted streets of Amity Park. Sam gripped the edge of her seat, her thoughts swirling with a mix of fear and determination. In the back seat, Danny sat motionless, his eyes staring blankly out the window, his mind seemingly lost in a fog of confusion and pain.

Tucker kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The tension was palpable, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of them. None of them spoke, the gravity of what they were about to do hanging heavy in the air.

As they pulled up in front of FentonWorks, the familiar sight of the Fenton family’s home and laboratory brought a rush of memories—both good and bad. The large, eccentric building with its myriad of ghost-hunting gadgets and neon sign that read "FentonWorks" was a beacon of their childhood, but tonight, it loomed like a fortress of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Tucker parked the car, and the three of them sat there for a moment, taking in the sight of the building. The lab's windows were dark, and the only light came from the dim glow of the streetlamp outside. The place looked deserted, but they knew better. Jack and Maddie Fenton were likely deep in their research, oblivious to the world outside.

Sam turned to Danny, who was still staring out the window, his face unreadable. She placed a hand on his arm, hoping to offer some comfort, though she wasn't sure what to say.

"We're here," she said softly. "We'll figure this out, Danny. I promise."

Danny nodded slowly, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions—relief, fear, and something else she couldn’t quite place. He reached for the door handle and stepped out of the car, his movements still slow and deliberate, as if every step took a monumental effort.

Tucker followed, glancing around nervously as he exited the car. "We should be careful," he whispered. "If your parents are home, we don’t want them to see us. Not yet, anyway."

Danny nodded in agreement, and the three of them moved quickly and quietly toward the side entrance of the house. Sam led the way, her heart pounding in her chest as she fished out the spare key from its hiding place under a loose brick. With a quick twist, the door creaked open, and they slipped inside, closing it gently behind them.

The interior of FentonWorks was just as chaotic as ever, with scientific equipment scattered across the living room and kitchen. The hum of machines echoed from the lab below, a constant reminder of the Fenton family's unrelenting pursuit of all things supernatural.

Sam led them down the hallway, toward the stairs that descended into the basement lab. As they reached the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at Danny and Tucker.

"You two wait here," she whispered. "I’ll check to see if the coast is clear."

Danny nodded, his eyes shadowed with worry, while Tucker gave her a thumbs-up, trying to muster a smile despite the tension. Sam took a deep breath and crept down the stairs.

She peered around the corner. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the various monitors and machines scattered throughout the room. The familiar sight of ghost-hunting gadgets, test tubes, and half-finished experiments filled the space. But to her relief, there was no sign of Jack or Maddie.

She quickly turned and motioned for Danny and Tucker to follow her. They descended the stairs as quietly as they could, their eyes wide with apprehension. Danny’s gaze roamed over the lab, a look of recognition mixed with confusion crossing his face as he took in the familiar surroundings.

"We should start with the computer," Tucker whispered, nodding toward the large console in the center of the room. "If there’s anything on there about what happened to Danny, it would be in the lab's database."

Danny moved toward the console, his hands trembling slightly as he sat down at the keyboard. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he began typing, his movements slow and deliberate. Sam and Tucker watched over his shoulder, their eyes scanning the screen as lines of code and files flashed by.

After a few minutes, Danny found what he was looking for—a series of files labeled with dates that corresponded to the time around his disappearance. He clicked on one of the files, and a series of video logs appeared on the screen, each labeled with a different experiment number.

Tucker leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he read the titles. "These must be your parents' records of their experiments. Maybe they were working on something when… you know."

Danny shook his head, then typed out a correction on the screen: "GIW."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror. The Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW, was infamous in Amity Park. The agency was known for its brutal, unethical methods, and the rumors of secret experiments had always circulated among those who were aware of their activities. His parents were lead scientists on their Ghost Investigation sector.

Tucker swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he navigated through the files. Sure enough, the next video log wasn’t labeled under the FentonWorks database. Instead, it bore the insignia of the GIW, and the file name was chilling: "Subject 234: Phase One."

Tucker hesitated before clicking on the video. The screen flickered to life, revealing a sterile, brightly lit lab—nothing like the cluttered, homey chaos of FentonWorks. The room was stark and clinical, filled with rows of surgical tools, advanced technology, and containment units.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat as the scene unfolded. The camera showed the GIW agents standing around a large, metallic table. Strapped to the table was none other than Danny himself, unconscious and dressed in a white hospital gown. His parents were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a team of doctors and scientists in white lab coats were preparing for what was clearly an experiment—on him.

The lead scientist, a tall, severe-looking woman, approached the table, her face hidden behind a surgical mask. "Subject 234 is prepped and ready for phase one," she said in a cold, clinical tone. "Begin the procedure."

The video cut to a close-up of Danny’s face as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in confusion. His panic was palpable as he realized where he was and what was happening. He struggled against the restraints, but they held firm.

"Vital signs are stable," another voice said off-camera. "Administering ectoplasmic infusion."

The next moments were a blur of flashing lights, machines humming to life, and Danny’s muffled cries as the procedure began. The camera recorded every agonizing second—the injection of a glowing green substance into his veins, the convulsions that wracked his body as the ectoplasm took hold, the way his eyes glowed an eerie, unnatural green.

The video ended abruptly, leaving Sam and Tucker staring at the screen in stunned silence. Danny sat back in the chair, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The memories were flooding back now—painful, disjointed images of the GIW base, the sterile lab, the cold, detached voices of the scientists.

Sam’s hand flew to her mouth as she processed what she had just seen. "Danny… they did this to you. They turned you into… whatever you are now."

Tucker shook his head in disbelief. "They used you as a test subject… like you were some kind of lab rat."

Danny nodded slowly, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could remember sneaking into the restricted area of the GIW base, curious about the rumors he had heard, it was easy since his parents had full clearance of the place. He remembered being caught by the agents and dragged into that cold, sterile lab. And he remembered the pain—the searing, all-consuming pain as the ectoplasm was forced into his body, changing him on a fundamental level.

But there was more. He knew there had to be more. He needed to know what had happened after the experiment, how he had ended up back in Amity Park, and why he was… different.

He reached for the keyboard again, his fingers trembling as he typed out the next question: "Where is the rest?"

Tucker’s hands shook as he navigated through the remaining files, searching for answers. But as he opened the next video log, the screen filled with static, and a red warning message flashed across the screen:

ＡｃｃｅｓｓＤｅｎｉｅｄ．

ＣｌａｓｓｉｆｉｅｄＩｎｆｏｒｍａｔｉｏｎ．

ＡｕｔｈｏｒｉｚａｔｉｏｎＲｅｑｕｉｒｅｄ

Danny slammed his fist against the desk in frustration, the sound echoing through the lab. His mind was racing with a thousand questions, but the answers were just out of reach.

Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her voice soft and soothing. "We’ll find out, Danny. We’ll figure out what they did to you and how to fix this. We’re not going to let them get away with this."

Tucker nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "We need to get that authorization somehow. I’ll try my best to try to hack into this, but I have a feeling they have this stuff locked down pretty tight. We might have to go to your parents.."

Danny nodded, his resolve hardening. He wasn’t going to stop until he had all the answers, until he knew exactly what the GIW had done to him and why. But for now, they needed to regroup, to figure out their next move.

He reached for the keyboard one last time, typing out a single phrase: "Thank you."

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writtenbyjos · 6 months

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Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 7

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Saturday, October fifth approached with haste, and the whole town was talking. Not because of the Jerry Spinster's mysterious heart attack he had to be hospitalized for, but of the annual Harvest Festival.

"A little eyeliner never hurt anyone, now hold still," Kat took her charcoal liner under Lucy's crooked eyes.

"Um, Kat?" She said, looking up. "It feels like you're stabbing me in the eye with a pen," she muttered quietly.

"Honestly, what's the difference?" Kat smudged it with her thumbs and stepped back to look at her work. She smiled and turned Lucy around in her stool so she could see herself in the mirror.

"You know I used to really hate makeup," Kat said. "But then I realized it's kinda a chick's best friend; a little bit can go a long way."

Lucy touched her face and turned to see every angle, but didn't say anything.

"You okay?" Kat asked.

"I…" Lucy whispered. "I like it." She smiled softly. "I never really go the chance to go to a high school dance before. Not with homeschooling and how crazy everything was getting…"

Kat knelt down to meet Lucy's reflection. "When are you going to tell me your mysterious and trying backstory?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Soon. And honestly? Sometimes it feels like it's straight out of a horror movie or something."

"Hey," Kat said reassuringly. "I moved to ten different states with my crazy dad, who's a therapist to the dead, and now we're living in a hundred-year-old mansion being haunted by four crazy ghosts," she raised both eyebrows. "People can surprise you. You can trust me, okay?"

Lucy smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Got your mask?"

Nodding, Lucy picked up a silver Colombia mask beside Kat's old jewelry box. Kat took a crescent moon shaped emerald one. They placed them on their faces and giggled at their reflections.

"This is really weird…but in a good way." Lucy stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Ready?" Kat asked, turning the knob to her door.

"Ready."

Lucy and Kat met Casper out in the hallway. He was draped in a long black cloth with his mask sewn onto the front.

"Very dashing," Kat chuckled.

"Why thank you, m'lady," he said, taking a bow. They descended down into the main hallway where James was waiting for the three of them with his large camera.

"My goodness, is this what the kids are wearing now a days?" He chuckled.

"Dad," Kat sighed, a little annoyed. "It's a masquerade party." She eyed the camera and began inching towards the door.

"Well get together the three of you, let me get a good picture." He held the camera upside down and snapped a quick photo.

"Um, Dr. Harvey?"

He eagerly pulled out the photo as it printed and frowned with the outcome.

"The camera's upside down," Lucy said, pointing shyly.

James smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"See, that would explain…the—and—okay, okay get going."

"Bye, Dad," Kat kissed James on the cheek and Casper shook his hand.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Twiddle Dee, Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dummer!" Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso entered the room laughing.

Lucy suddenly felt vulnerable, and the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach came back when she glanced Stinkie's way. Funny thing, she could've sworn he'd been looking at her before she met his glance.

"Aw, did you guys want to come too?" Kat asked in a mocking tone.

"I wouldn't be caught livin' in one of those…whatevah you call that mess," Stretch pointed to Casper's costume.

"Hey!" Casper said. "Took me a whole hour to make this."

"Yeah and it really shows," Stinkie and his brothers snickered.

"Real mature. Don't you have some kids to scare, or some chains to rattle?" Kat snarled up at the three.

"Oh, rattling chains is so seventeenth century," Stretch said waving his hand.

"Come on, let's get outta here before the scream team decides to throw a party of their own," Kat mumbled.

"A-greed!" Casper said from under his sheet. Kat pulled Lucy's arm and fled through the door, Casper flying close behind.

"Oh, kitty-cat? Don't talk to any strange men!" Stretch waved to them with a kerchief and one hand on his chest.

"Call if you's comin' home late!" Stinkie cooed.

"And don't get any stains on your adorable costumes!" Fatso called after them. "You're father and I paid good money for those!" He wrapped his arm around James causing his to drop the camera.

Once they were out, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. That could have gone much worse. They hurried to the car and piled in, Lucy in the passenger and Casper in the back seat. Kat noticed Lucy's turning white as a sheet and gave her a look. "Don't let those guys bother you. They're just miserable apparitions who do nothing but drown their sorrows in soap operas."

"Right." Lucy said, dropping her shoulders.

"Okay, you two. Lets get this party started!" Casper cheered. Kat turned on the first FM station and "September" by Earth Wind and Fire blasted through the speakers.

"What is this?" Lucy yelled over Kat's loud singing.

"It's called music," she replied, tapping her hands on the steering wheel to the beat. Lucy rolled her eyes and scrunched her brows together.

"It's really loud," she made a face at Kat.

"Yeah, so?" Kat laughed watching Casper dance in the backseat. "Come on, it's like an instant classic!"

Lucy relaxed her her shoulders and felt the bass jingle in her bones. Maybe she could use a night to relax. Besides, at a masquerade ball in the sleepy town of Friendship, Maine, what could go wrong?

Arriving at the building lit up with lights and filled with people, the Ghostly Trio could barely stand the excitement of reclaiming their title as the scariest, and the most daring ghosts in the afterlife. They made themselves invisible and hovered over the building watching those air suckers enter through the doors, all clothed in their ridiculous attire.

"Step one, find a sucker," Stretch said cooly looking around.

"Quite a selection tonight, eh Stretch?" Fatso smiled devilishly.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I think I'm going for that guy ova there," he laughed, spotting a tall, shamelessly handsome guy sporting thick black hair all gelled around atop a purple suit.

"Hey that looks like the airhead from Grease!" Stinkie joked. "Aw, he's got your nose. You'd think they'd have to have one 'a dose masks custom made." He nudged Fatso in the stomach and they burst into a fit of giggles.

"We'll see whose laughin' when I got da best lookin' dame on my arm at midnight," Stretch smoothed his head and grinned.

"Hey, hey, hey! What about Paul Bunyan over there?" Fatso pointed to a large, board shouldered man strutting at least a foot higher than every guest at the party.

"Go get 'em kid!" Stretch pushed him into the air and he flew into the large man. Fatso struggled to gain control of his victim and spun around a couple of times, hitting his head with his meaty hands and cursing out-loud. Once he gained control, and a few concerned glances, he gave his audience a thumbs up and a large and confident smile. He strutted over to a nearby tree and nonchalantly looked at his fingernails.

"Wish me luck brotha," Stretch carefully snaked his way amongst the crowd and slipped into the large gaping hole that was this charismatic cat's mouth. Making his way comfortably inside, the man bent backwards and waved his hands around resisting his new found 'roommate'. Finally, he found his way and took control. He straightened up and looked around, smiling widely. He liked the feel of this guy, he could tell it was gonna be a wild night. On his way to his brothers, he spotted a thin younger woman and approached her with ease taking her hand.

"Hiya, doll-face," he bowed suavely and lightly kissed her gloved hand. "Catch you on the dance floor later?"

"Sure," she said dumbfounded, her cheeks flushing a rosy red.

He clicked his tongue, pointed her direction and walked away with a wide stride and a kick in his heels.

"Hey, the chicks out here ain't half bad," Stretch elbowed his brother excitedly. "I'm gonna make 'em melt like hot fudge on a ice cream sundae if ya catch my drift." He cockily lifted his shirt collar.

"Mmm, sundae…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey, eyes on the prize you big ball of bleach," Stretch hit him on the back of the head and Fatso winced.

"Hey, that actually hurt," Fatso massaged the place where Stretch had smacked him. For a moment, Stretch looked quite taken aback but quickly regained his posture and yelled in Stinkie's direction. "Oi! Stink! Get movin'!"

Stinkie had to admit, he was having a little bit of trouble regaining his focus much less his confidence. They hadn't done this in years! Swallowing his fear he saluted to his two brothers and flew above the crowd, praying not to be seen. In a fit of panic to find someone suitable, he dove in for the nearest person he could find. He was tallish, had messy black hair, a large nose, and a large, black leather jacket. Stinkie collided into him and sent him sprawling to the ground. He'd never met such an impressionable one before, and such a hollow-headed one, at that. Much to Stinkie's surprise, he easily gained control and stood up on his feet, wobbling a bit. He turned around and was met eye to eye with a large black motorcycle.

"This fleshie's deluxe! Wheels and everythin'!" He said a little too loudly. A couple people started starring, and he turned on the intimidation card.

"Whataya you lookin' at?' He spat. He puffed his chest and stuck his hands into his pockets, jiggling the pair of keys inside them. "Hiya fellas." He said cooly.

"Lookin' good boys!" Stretch said. "I'd forgotten how good this feels." He shook and swayed his hips around slightly.

"The smells, the music, the babes," Fatso's tongue was hanging out like a dogs in summertime.

"Gentlemen?" Stretch pulled his newly 'fleshified' brothers into a large bear hug, but admittedly it was harder considering how tight the suits were—and Stinkie's skinny jeans. "Let's go rustle dat hornet's nest."

Strung together like a candy necklace, arm in arm, Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso strolled into their newly found surroundings with confidence and ease. They burst open the doors and pushed past a large group of fire-themed, feather ridden folk.

"Somebody cancel da medication and up the booze, because we're just what da doctor ordered!" Stretch said throwing his hands up to the crowd with Stinkie and Fatso behind him.

"Do I spot a dance floor that needs some attention?" Fats tapped his large fingers on his stomach and gazed.

"Go to 'er…" Stretch set his head on Fatso's shoulder and gazed at the vacant dance floor. "She's calling your name." He snickered.

"What if they don't like me?" Fatso fiddled with his fingers.

"You shake 'em up with da old 'buttercup' and even Michael jackson'll be runnin' for 'is money," Stretch smiled.

"You really think so?" Fatso straightened up, beaming.

"Whataya think I'm an idiot? Get out there and tear up dat dance floor!" He pushed him off his heels and into the center of the room.

"Now if you'll excuse me I've got some dames I gotta 'shake up' myself," he smiled, extending his index and thumb outwards towards Stinkie. He left him standing there, vulnerable and awkwardly scratching his now-numb crotch. How the hell do these fleshies wear such tight clothes?

Stinkie maneuvered his way through the crow spitting out "hello's" with an extra smelly breath. The sound of people gagging and choking at the whiff of his ghastly stench was absolute music to his ears. He moon walked his way through the crowd and interrupted conversations at tables just to get a good breath in.

"…you know," he said sitting down at one table, propping himself up on his long elbow. "You guys look a little too cheerful for this shindig. Here, let me help lift the mood." He let out a belch that sent a wave of green air amongst the table that made the flowers wilt and the people flee their seats, holding their breaths. "Where yah goin'? We was just gettin' to know each othuh!" He held up a wine glass and took a large gulp, shaking his head violently forgetting for a moment the buzz that alcohol gave him.

"Hey!"

Stinkie heard one woman gasp.

"What the-?!" Another one shrieked. Stinkie gazed back over his shoulder and saw Stretch scooting from one woman to the other from behind. He had a devilish grin on his face as he ran his hand over each of their backsides, causing gasps and shrieks to come from behind each mask. He took one poor gal into a spin-n'-dip and suavely kissed her neck before gliding her over to the center of the dance hall. Stinkie quickly turned around as she cursed and kneed Stretch in the groin before storming away. He knew it would make Stretch angry if he caught his younger brother watching.

Fatso, obeying Stretch's wishes, was indeed 'tearing up' the dance floor; as everyone's favorite songs came on, he led the crowd in a series of dance moves, as his large stature made the ground shake with every step of his large feet. From the 'Reebok', to the 'Roger Rabbit', to the 'Hammer' and the 'Sprinkler', Fatso was the star of the show. The perfect way to reel in their victims to a night of fun before they scared their dancing feet away.

Stinkie rose from his seat and headed for the buffet table, but for food this time. He filled his plate with brussels sprouts, cheese and fried asparagus piled on top of each other. He licked his lips and turned around quickly, not in enough time to realize there was someone standing next to him, filling her punch glass. Bumping into him, she squeaked as she spilled her punch onto his jacket. Simultaneously, Stinkie dropped his plate on the floor, scattering food everywhere. They both sank to the floor and began to remedy their mistake.

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Yeah you better be! This jacket's worth—" as he looked up, he met her nose inches from his.

The world suddenly fell into slow motion as their eyes met. He noticed a small trail of faded freckles lining the bridge of her nose below the mask. He noticed that one of her blue eyes was paler than the other. Her lips were painted a pale shade of pink; they were small and perfect. He hadn't been this close to a fleshie in years. He stood.

"I mean, it ain't a problem, Miss," he extended his hand and she looked at the floor before grabbing it. Her gloved hand was small and soft and quick to retract back to fixing her long, white-blonde hair.

"Thank you…" She said awkwardly. He was completely dumbstruck. This mysterious stranger wasn't half bad for a fleshie.

"I'm…" he began extending his hand a second time but froze in his tracks, realizing he had no name to introduce himself with. "Tom��" he nodded. Yeah that was good, but what about a last name? He looked around for inspiration. He caught sight of a sign over the door that read, 'Browning Community Center'. "Browning. Tom Browning, yeah," he said frowning slightly. The girl shook his hand and smiled shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lucy Gilliam." Stinkie froze. The world's motion was changing but not slower, it was speeding up. His heart was racing, his head was pounding.

The dame he'd fallen for was the same air sucking intruder who he'd seen naked in the bathroom just last week? The weirdo who hung around with his nephew and Kitty Kat? The one who's face he'd thrown chewed up pancakes at? No this was not happening. Stretch had warned him and Fatso to steer clear of her, there was something fishy going on. Something dangerous. But what? This girl didn't seem dangerous. She smelled like lilies, and her hair was soft, her glance was kind and gentle and her silk dress curved in all the right places— and he had to look up. He realized he was looking at her hips. He shot his eyes upward and-oh god, even behind the mask he could see a sparkle in those eyes.

"Lucy! We've been looking everywhere—who's your friend?" Kat wandered up behind Lucy and shot Stinkie and suspicious look, breaking his train of thought. He straightened up and adjusted his collar.

"Kat, this is Tom," Lucy nodded looking at her feet.

Kat sized him up and sighed, looking towards Casper. "Well come on, we were gonna go dance."

"Yeah that guy's a maniac!" Casper said, from underneath the cloak. Lucy looked form Kat to Stinkie and flattened her lips.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna stay here, you guys go ahead."

"You sure? This guy isn't giving you any trouble?" Kat asked cautiously.

"Who me?" Stinkie put a and to his heart and pretended to look offended.

Kat rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Lucy said.

"You know where to find us." Kat gave her one last look and disappeared with Casper into the crowd of people surfacing under the disco ball. Lucy turned around and fiddled with her hair some more.

"So tell me, Lucy," Stinkie poured them each another glass of punch to fill the awkward silence that had settled. "What brings you here dis fine evening?" He took a slower, steadier sip than before.

"Well, I'm really not one for parties…" she shrugged. "But, my friend wanted to get out of the house for a change, maybe get some human interaction for once."

"Well ain't it a good thing she did," he felt a wave of confidence in his new form. Lucy giggled softly and avoided his glance.

"You know I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said raising an eyebrow. Maybe in this form he could get some information out of her. She stalled hard and adjusted her mask.

"Well," she began. "I'm new to Friendship. I''m just here as a drifter, I guess. Um…this party's nice," she said looking Kat and Casper's way.

"Yeah," Stinkie could tell she was trying to change the subject, so he dropped it. As she turned her head he found his gaze outlining her pronounced neck line, then wandering a little ways down…

"So-what about you?"

Stinkie immediately met her glance again feeling his cheeks flush. He stuttered and took another sip of his drink.

"I'm sorry…?"

She chuckled lightly. "What do you do here in Friendship?"

"I—I—I'm a toilet…uh…engineer." Well that was stupid.

"A toilet engineer…?" She laughed the cutest laugh Stinkie he'd ever heard. "You mean like a plumber?"

"Yeah, yeah a plumber. That's the word I was lookin' for."

"That's so cool!" She grinned.

"Yeah. Do you wanna dance?" He interjected quickly. She looked surprised. "Um…"

"I've got a friend in common wih' da DJ," he half smiled, tilting his head.

"I'm not much of a dancer…" she shrugged, her cheeks turning pink.

Stinkie dropped his chin and took her small hands in his. He kissed each one lightly. She looked caught off guard and weak-kneed all at the same time.

"Come on, I'll teach ya!"

She smiled, and picked at her lip nervously. He had to admit, as much as he hated walking in this guys shoes, (literally) it gave him a surge of confidence he'd never had before.

"Well, okay," she met his gaze.

Stinkie felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt in over a century. No one had ever made him feel this way before, at least not a one he could remember.

They danced for a while, and Stinkie almost felt like a normal guy. For once in his afterlife he almost missed being alive. He twirled her around to the upbeat song and caught her mid fall. They danced for what seemed like ages, not even growing tired. That is until Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a rock. The plan… he sighed and pulled Lucy close so she could hear him.

"Hey, you wanna get outta 'ere?" He asked.

Lucy frowned and looked around, her whole demeanor changing.

"For a milkshake or somethin', I mean," he elaborated quickly.

"Tom, that's real sweet of you, but I—" before she could respond the lights all went out with a flash.

Stinkie and Lucy looked around but it was pitch black. When the lights returned, Stretch was on top of the stage still inhabiting his sucker's body. He smiled and his teeth sparkled almost blinding the audience. He tapped the mic and leaned over.

"Ahem?" He beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen…I'd like to introduce," he put his head down and held out his hands. "Me, and my pals." He grinned and nodded at the DJ. He motioned for Stinkie and Fatso to join his side.

"I gotta…" Stinkie boldly kissed Lucy's cheek and headed for the stage to join his two brothers.

"Come on boys, let's rock this mother!" He said into the microphone making the crowd cheer. "Sometime's, when I'm feelin' a little low, I gotta head down to a little ol' place I call…" They all dipped their heads, just like they'd rehearsed. "The love shack," they crooned in unison. The music on the speakers began to play 'Love Shack' and the crowd reeled with laughter and excitement. Everyone began to clap and stomp their feet to the contagious rhythm.

"If you see a faded sign that says, 'fifteen miles to love shack'," Stretch sang out, in a beautifully strong voice as Stinkie and Fatso 'doo-bopped' to the beat.

"Love shack, yeah, yeah," Stinkie and Fatso joined in sounding better than ever. As they sang, they patted, twirled and dipped each other suavely, receiving several hoots and hollers from the dancing crowd.

Stretch grabbed the mike and fell to his knees, soaking up all the attention from the screaming girls letting down their hair.

"The love shack is a little place where we can get togetha…love shack baby," he thrust his hips forward as he got to the chorus.

The crowd was going absolutely nuts as they sang in butchered harmony. Nearing the end of the song, just as the trio had planned, the lights began to dim.

"Bang bang!" They chanted with their fists. "Bang bang!"

Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a boulder as the lights went out completely.

This was the end, the last chance he's ever have with Lucy. She'd never notice him, never look his way, and would never speak to him again. Unless…

When the lights came on and Stretch and Fatso began to cackle delightedly, Stinkie felt his heart pounding like a drum. Would he ever be able to win his brothers' trust again? Maybe not. But it was worth it. Every second he could spend with Lucy - he'd take it. He dove from the stage and fell flat on his face. He could feel the tension like a thick fog and knew that what he was about to do would change his afterlife forever. Nevertheless, he ran into the crowd, found Lucy, grabbed her hand.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered. He saw her pale face with every flash of the lights grow more serious.

"Wait, what? What's going on, Tom?"

Taking her hand he shed his jacket and put it around her. "We gotta get outta 'ere before we become yestaday's garbage." He pulled her behind him as they rushed out the front door and away from the commotion.

Stinkie heard glasses breaking and screams erupting from hundreds of guests as he led her quickly to his motorcycle. He scrambled to find the fleshie's keys and handed the spare helmet to Lucy.

"Rather safe 'den sorry," he said, flashing her an awkward smile.

"What is going on?" Lucy demanded again, pushing the helmet away and flashing him a glare.

"I told ya, you gotta trust me!" He snapped back, mounting the seat of the motorcycle.

"I met you two and a half hours ago!" She yelled above the noisy street. "You expect me to get on this machine in blind faith?" She held on to his jacket tightly. At that moment, hundreds of screaming people came flooding out the door. A baseball bat came flying through the window and slammed to the ground, dangerously close to Lucy's feet. A fouls stench filled the air, one that Stinkie knew all too well—the stink bomb he'd spent days perfecting with his brothers. Lucy squeaked and jumped onto the bike, clenching her nose tightly.

"Scoot over!" She yelled wrapping both her arms around his torso. Stinkie stopped to catch his breath, losing himself for a moment when she touched him.

"Put this on!" Stinkie plopped the only helmet onto her small head and she adjusted it, tightening it to the very last fixture.

"Go, go, go!" She hit his back repeatedly and out of impulse he started the motorcycle too fast, jolting them both back quickly.

"You know how to drive this thing, right Tom?" She pleaded.

"Nope!"

Lucy held on tight and together they fled the scene hearing a series of loud cackling behind them, as well as breaking glass and tornado like winds.

Stinkie had never driven a motorcycle before, and he felt the chunks rising from the pit of his stomach like a volcano. He dodged car after car, almost knocking them both off the wheels. He hit a couple of newspaper stands and hit his head with a tree branch once or twice, but somewhere along the way, he found his ground. They zoomed into a parking lot and straight towards a lamp post. Stinkie slammed the breaks and it sent him tumbling over the front of the shield and onto the asphalt.

"Tom!" Lucy squealed, running to his aid. She knelt down beside him, taking off his helmet. His hair was in disarray and he was missing a tooth, but he was still in one piece. She held his head in her hands and Stinkie opened his eyes, dazed.

"Wowzah," he said dizzily looking into her face. She laughed and pushed his hair back.

"You're mental," she said softly.

"Does that mean you gotta take care o' me?"

Lucy blushed and stepped back. "It means you need help, silly," she laughed and pulled him up.

"Nah, I'm fine, I'm fine," he stood and brushed off his jacket. He stood there awkwardly and stuck his hands in his pocket. He made a few inaudible sounds as he inched closer to Lucy.

"I, uh—I—," Stinkie stuttered.

"Tom," Lucy said quietly. She looked up at Stinkie and he felt her eyes burn in his stomach like a hot dog that went down the wrong pipe.

"Thanks for the—ride," she said not breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, uh huh…" He said unable to use his words. Lucy blinked a few times and leaned in. Stinkie felt his heart race, his palms sweat and his thoughts go completely blank. He closed his eyes and leaned in.

It was soft, and quick like a kiss from a bunny, but still…It was magical. She smiled and began to inch backwards, the wind was barely seeping through her hair as the moonlight outlined her whole body making it glow in the dark night.

"Wait," he pleaded regaining his posture. "Where are ya goin'?" He shook his head slightly.

"Home." She said matter-of-factly.

"Ya don't want me to take ya home?" He furrowed his brow.

"Not after that ride." She laughed. "Thank you for the dance though. I'll see you around, Tom." And with that, she turned on her heel and bounced in the direction towards the main road barely making a single noise. Stinkie looked at his watch: 12:30 am. He looked back up in Lucy's direction but she was gone. In fact, she was nowhere in sight.

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