Cold? He thought it was cold? 

His body must have still been used to the mortal realm. Still, that shouldn't have made him cold. 

He shook slightly but he didn't seem afraid, which was very un-Luigi-like. Perhaps this was Mr. L. Knowing Luigi, he had probably been ashamed of that darker, harsher version of himself. I wouldn't have been surprised if he found a way to banish that persona to the Underwhere. All those heroes were so one-dimensional, so focused on being "pure" and "good."

Mr. L wasn't "bad," though. I never believed he was. Just desperate. He wanted to be seen and heard, he was tired of being overshadowed not just by Mario, but by Luigi as well. 

Him being Mr. L would explain why he wasn't shrieking in fear at the sight of the ghost. Luigi was a well-known ghostbuster throughout the worlds, but he was also famous for his cowardly attitude. The Luigi I briefly knew would never have held a ghost so closely. 

He wasn't dressed as Mr. L, though. Actually, he wasn't dressed as Luigi. His traditional white gloves were gone. I never knew how long and bony his fingers were. His knuckles were slightly purple, probably bruised. His nails were short and rough. Ugh, he probably chewed at them. What a disgusting, immature habit. 

He was older, too. I remembered the plumber to be in his mid-twenties. He must have been closer to forty now. He didn't age poorly, though. Sure, there were a few strokes of silver in his mustache, but for the most part he had retained that youthful appearance. If he told me he was only thirty, I wouldn't have been surprised. Not that he would speak to me. 

The traditional overalls and green shirt were missing, having been replaced with what looked to be navy blue jeans that were just slightly ripped, black combat boots, a deep forest green shirt, and an unzipped black jacket overtop it all. If I squinted, I could spot a few hints of stubble on his chin and face. Instead of Mr. L's traditional green bandana, a long green scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck, though this shade of green was closer to the color of late-spring leaves than the deep forest green of his shirt. The famous green cap was also missing. He felt off without it. 

He briefly glanced around which allowed me to get another look at his eyes. Deep blue, like the ocean. He was definitely Luigi. Mr. L's eyes were the color of a cloudy winter sky, not that summer-like hue. 

A wave of relief washed over me, followed closely by a crash of anxiety. 

No one remembered me, but he had to. And not fondly, at that. 

The fear quickly turned to bubbling rage as my eyes fell back to the ghost he was holding. 

He just arrived and already had one. It wasn't fair, wasn't right. I had been waiting for what looked to be decades. He had no right to just show up and take a ghost before my very eyes. I did my time, I waited my turn. 

Get in line, Luigi. This ghost was mine. 

If he thought he was going to take this chance from me, then he was even stupider than I remembered. 

He smiled and continued to pat the ghost dog's head. 

"I don't even remember what happened... oh well! I'm just glad to see a familiar face!" he chimed. His head briefly bobbed in my direction.

My hand instinctively went to the broken half of my mask. 

He couldn't have meant me. I was hidden. Besides, he'd never be "glad" to see me; Not after our history. Maybe he could have come to forgive what I had done to Bleck, but he'd surely never get over the fact that I technically killed his brother - even though it was a means of reuniting the two.

Luigi must have arrived ten minutes ago at the most from the way he was acting. How did he already know how important ghosts were? Did his time as a professional ghost capturer teach him that? He probably had all kinds of unfair advantages on top of being one of Grambi's favorites. He was a legendary hero, one of the "chosen ones." 

I couldn't spot a diamond dagger on him, though. And there was no intent to kill lurking in his eyes. Not that Luigi ever had that look before. Even as Mr. L, he never wanted to murder. Sure, he acted all tough, but all he really wanted was to prove himself, to show the world that he should have been the chosen one, the "main character" if you will. 

Maybe he really didn't know the value of what he was holding in his arms.

Perhaps I still had a shot. 

If so, then I couldn't give up. I had to keep close and make sure no other souls could take this chance first. I couldn't just jump out and attack, though. I wasn't physically strong enough to play that kind of game. I was a strategist, the smart kind of player. Luigi could overpower me in five seconds tops without my magic to back me. I had to wait for him to distance himself from the ghost. 

Luigi set the dog down. My fingers twitched slightly, but I didn't grasp my blade. Not yet. I could be patient. I had lifetimes of practice. 

"I'm going to be honest, Polter," he breathed. "I didn't expect to find myself down here again."

Polter. Had he actually named the ghost? How pathetic, and uncreative even. What, he couldn't have given it a normal dog name like Spot or Rover? Did he have to choose something that directly called out its existence as a ghost? 

That's almost as bad as being named "Dimentio" because of having dimension-related magic. 

Though my name was given to me before I was assigned my powers. Or was it? It's hard to remember those first fourteen years of my life. Magic was such a strong aspect of who I was that it seemed impossible to recall a life before it.

Maybe my parents also had dimensional magic, hence the name. Could forms of magic be genetic? That must have been it. Count Bleck came from a long line of dark magic users, so I must have come from a similar background. Or maybe I changed my name upon earning my powers. Different groups of magic users operated in vastly different ways. Bleck's group had been one of the most exclusive, organized ones. Coincidentally, they were also one of history's most hated groups. They loved nothing more than to gatekeep and praise themselves for being the "best." In reality, their ways were limiting. By refusing all other forms of magic, they bound themselves to only darkness. Exploration of the self and the infinite possibilities being alive provided was deeply frowned upon. What a horrible way to live. They might as well have been where I was now, trapped without possibility and power.

"Welp, I suppose it doesn't matter," Luigi chimed. 

His overly cheery voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and just before I could get into the deep stuff too. What a selfish jerk he was. Couldn't he have waited just fifteen more minutes before speaking aloud like an idiot?

"Come on, let's find Mario!" he continued. 

Mario? So the man in red was deceased too? 

Why were they in the Underwhere? 

The man in green started marching toward Queen Jaydes' castle. He crossed the new stone bridge that had been built recently to prevent skeletal hands from grasping souls and dragging them down into the depths of the river. I followed, but at a distance so he wouldn't see me.

For any other soul, seeking out Queen Jaydes would have been a waste of time, but Luigi was the man in green. One of the prophecy's "chosen ones." He was born with privileges no one else had. The Queen would surely make time for an important person like him. 

Maybe he wasn't dead. He said he needed to find Mario, so perhaps he was simply on a quest. It could explain why he was feeling cold instead of overwhelmingly hot. That could also spell out why he clearly didn't care about killing his little ghost friend. 

Luigi would be the kind of person to travel to literal Hell for his brother. 

But there weren't any prophecies listed in the Dark Prognosticus that foretold the man in green's return to the Underwhere. Had a new book been written? Merloo, the original author of the Light Prognosticus, was long gone. Sure, Merlon and Nolrem still lived, but neither of them was qualified to just crank out new prophecies. 

But no, Luigi couldn't have died. If he did, he'd surely be in the Overthere. Mario, too. The only reason the brothers ended up in the Underwhere when they died before was because the prophecy commanded it. They were heroes of the stars. Grambi would never allow either legendary hero to rot for eternity alongside the universe's deadliest criminals. Fortunate as Luigi was, he'd probably get a long life filled with friendship, adventure, and joy. He probably never had to worry about starving or freezing to death. Yes, he had fears, but they were all stupid. He was afraid of ghosts and ghouls, not of being betrayed by his closest companion and having no one to turn to. He always had people behind him. Never had he ever experienced being truly and completely alone. Even now he had that little ghost in his corner. 

Grambi would never assign him the same fate he assigned me. His majesty wouldn't let something like that happen to one of his favorites. Mario and Luigi were guaranteed an afterlife of perfection. They never seemed to fear dying because they knew that they'd be greeted by warmth and comfort. 

I glanced at his bruised hands. If I still had my powers, I probably would have been able to sense the life force within him. Luigi had electricity magic. One of his main attacks was, as Mr. L called it, thunderhand. It was the reason he called himself "The Green Thunder," as stupid as that sounds. He was obsessed with his power, so much so that he made his entire personality orbit around electricity. Everything he built could be fueled by the energy he created. In that sense, his stupid Brobot was almost like a brother because it was using his life force to operate. When Mr. L got excited, small blue sparks would crackle at his fingertips. He had more power than he even knew. He put it into everything without even noticing. It made him jump higher, shout louder, and even power his mind. Sometimes I used to wonder what Mr. L would be if his magic didn't live within him. Would he have been an idiot? I mean, he was an idiot, but the kind of idiot who is also a genius. Maybe without his magic, he'd just be an idiot like O'Chunks. 

Although, O'Chunks wasn't really an idiot. He wasn't smart, but he knew he wasn't smart. He didn't try to be. Still, he applied himself. He knew to work out to keep warm, he was well aware of where his strengths sat. He knew what tasks were and were not possible for someone like him. Mr. L was never like that. He took on any task he was offered, even if those tasks didn't apply to his strengths.

Luigi didn't look behind him as he walked. This was one of the few things I remembered about him. It was actually one of the key differences between Luigi and Mr. L. 

Luigi was far too trusting. He was a coward, but he only feared what was ahead of him. He never glanced back. 

Mr. L on the other hand was always checking over his shoulder. I think that a part of him knew he was never safe with us in Castle Bleck. He never completely trusted any of us the way Luigi had completely trusted Mario. I think he was smart enough to know that if he was in danger, none of us would risk ourselves to save him. Yes, he was loyal to Count Bleck and his cause because Nastasia made him be, but he still was cautious. He hid it well, but I could still sense it every time he checked over his shoulder. 

Luigi didn't look back, but his dog did.

We locked eyes, but neither of us spoke. 

Surprisingly, it didn't yap to alert its owner.

I couldn't understand why.