"Why are we here, Sam?" Tucker asked.

They were in her room, and that was something really strange. Sam rarely let him come there. Shutting the door behind and turning the key in the iron door, she sat on the bed, and it whined under the weight of the two.

"I wanted to show you something," the raven haired huntress smiled.

"And that will be..."

Sam dug inside her old pillow, where she had hid her newest possession. She showed it to her friend, whose green eyes widened in shock.

"Is this..."

"Chocolate. Yes."

Tucker outstretched his hand, but then stopped himself all of a sudden. 

"Where did you take it?"

"Phantom gave it..." Sam slowly said.

"Are you sure this is alright to eat the thing?"

"The expiration date hasn't yet come. Or do you think it is poisoned?"

"Maybe. Who knows what that sneaky ghost had in mind."

"Why would he free me and then kill, Tucker? I don't know that much to be of such big threat."

Tucker sighed and rubbed his temples. She did have a point, there was no actual need, but who knew what a cruel joke the ghost could make for a laugh. But while he was thinking, his friend had already unfolded the wrapping. The first bite was for her, and, guided by her seemingly flawless logic, she took it. She was in heaven, so sweet and delicious. There was also something sticky inside, of shade brighter than the bar itself. Nougat, apparently. Sam smirked smugly at her friend, as nothing happened to her.

Tucker sighed and took a piece himself.

"Well, one point to the oddity of the situation," he mumbled afterwards.

Sam decided to put away the rest - to save it for later. After shifting back to her spot on the mattress, she looked at the dark skinned teen.

"Can't help but agree."

"Sam..."

"I know, I know, he is still an evil ghost prince, no need to tell me that. He is just...so strange for one of these things."

"He sure is," Tucker crossed his arms. "Maybe he has enough consciousness because of his power. Or maybe he was born like this. If he was in the first place, that is. It's all just a game to mess with you, to entertain himself."

"He was pretty straightforward with me. And he said that next time he will kill me."

"Then there is no need to go looking for him. Not that there has been any in the first place."

"You are right. But the problem is, we have to know more about him. Fright Knight we know of. His powers, character, weaknesses...But the prince...he could be a huge threat."

The reminder of their vulnerability was still fresh in her mind. Their compromised hideout was still in grave danger. The question remained — how much time they still had before the prince got bored of his game.

The following days were filled with hard labor. The known entrances must be shut, and that's what had happened. They also were obligated to go through harder trainings from that moment on. Exhausting, tiresome trainings. No complaints were received, especially from Sam, who had been the last one to even think about it. An example to Tucker, who had to be taught at least self defense. Once again, being the technically inclined and talented in his field, he didn't need to fight outside.

But it was unbearable to sit on an explosive barrel. Sam hadn't told anyone about the threat, just as instructed, but the anticipation was killing her. Maddie was just as cryptic, even Jack - the most perfect finding for a spy with the chatty mouth of his, wasn't sharing much. They did seem concerned however, and their fear also affected Sam as well, as hard as she was trying to deny that. What was known however, is that some things were being moved. To where, she didn't know. Probably to the hideout no one knew about. But what about the people, a question was nagging her. They had to relocate, too.

The entrance was sealed shut, just as planned. No one was going in and out except the high ranking members. Sam wasn't planning on violating the rules anytime soon, but the anticipation would one day make her a ghost herself. From her constant contemplation she was interrupted on the shooting practice. There was no shortage in ectoplasm. So they could fire on low power to train their aim. The raven haired huntress was nudged to the side by someone else while she was reloading.

Sam looked there and her expression darkened. She just had to be put near Valerie Grey of all people. Valerie wasn't much older than her, with chocolate skin color and curly dark hair reaching the shoulders. She was wearing a red jumpsuit, unlike Sam's purple one. Colors weren't something of choice, they just happened to always be the same. From under the clothes muscles could be seen. She had been putting a lot of effort into this.

"What do you need?" Sam asked, returning to her job.

"Oh, straight to the point Manson. I heard you are now a sight to stay away from."

"What do you mean?"

"People are saying that you caught an eye of the ghost," Valerie let out a snort.

Sam froze. "Who told you that?" She snapped.

"These are rumors, and since none of these idiots had the guts to confront you, I took it upon myself."

Tucker was talkative, but he could keep secrets. So it wasn't him. But who then? She had told it to no one but him and the Council members. The latter were secretive as well. So how did this even come out? Alright, calm down, she told herself. At least they didn't know what ghost that was, it was at least some relief.

"I didn't 'catch an eye' of it. I just was held captive, and got out while they weren't looking. Hid for some time until they stopped looking. That's it."

"Why do I not believe it?" Valerie asked sarcastically.

Sparks passed between their eyes. They always were like that. They should have been allies, and no one knew the exact reason why they couldn't get along. Maybe it was Valerie's arrogance. She had the right to be like that, she was always on top of everything, in her age category, at least. She wasn't that bad, and fully loyal to their cause, but it was off putting for anyone who would have made friends with her otherwise. Maybe it was Sam's stubbornness and straightforward nature. She always spoke her mind, including annoyance at her main rival's attitude.

"I have no time to defend myself from your ridiculous assumptions."

"Oh, don't you look away, Manson. Don't think I haven't noticed the fuss. And it began RIGHT after you came back."

"I already looked away, Grey," Sam said, aiming for the drawn ghost, not sparing her a glance.

Valerie growled, but realized that kicking her for such attitude wasn't going to end well for either party involved. The teacher was still there, even if he was looking the other way. Sam meanwhile tsked, thankfully unheard. What did Tucker found in her was the question of the day. Not day, actually, more like of the last couple of years. Maybe he was striving for womanly attention, who knew. As she hit the green specter's head, the door in the left end of the room slid open, revealing panting Tucker.

"Mr. Foley," the balding trainer said. "Why, may I ask, you are disrupting our training?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just...It's about Sam. Mr. Masters asked to find her."

It made everyone stop to take a glance at her. Sam could feel her blood drain from her face. Vlad, despite being the figure of the highest priority, was rarely talking with anyone. And him wanting to see her probably meant that she was in deep shit. Valerie chuckled smugly behind her. She probably thought that Sam was about to get what she had deserved. The teacher just waved his hand nonchalantly, although curiosity sparked in his eyes as well. That was surely interesting. The people just watched two friends exit the room.

Only there Sam took her first breath.

"What happened, Tucker?" She asked without any enthusiasm.

"I don't know, Sam," Tucker mumbled, fright evident in his voice. "You don't really think..."

"Tuck, they have told me that my adventure is forgiven. Besides, have you seen anyone being kicked out?"

"True, but...never hurts to be careful. You better go. I have to return to the maintenance room."

With that Tucker left her alone. Alone with the dreadful feeling in her stomach.

Taking a familiar route through the corridor, it took her a little to no time to get the room. Taking a deep sigh, she entered it. The place looked like an office, but without many traits claiming to be aesthetically superior. Although the wooden furniture must have been complicated to find in such condition. They cost like hell. In the chair behind the desk sat the same man in the black suit.

"Ah, Ms.Manson. Once again we meet," he said dryly.

"You needed something, sir?" Sam asked respectfully.

"Yes. Take a seat."

The girl did just as instructed, sitting on a chair in front of him. Sam kept eyeing the man. When she met him on that council meeting, she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Vlad was known as a brilliant strategist. It earned the man his role. Fentons made weapons, he was putting them to good use. Thanks to him they still lived despite all odds, and it was why he was still holding the key position. The man was also sizing her, before finally speaking.

"Before I say anything, no you are not in trouble."

Sam was probably not good at hiding her emotions, because a smirk crossed Vlad's features.

"But I won't say that my request is simple."

"What is it?"

Vlad rose from his chair, going around the desk, filled with all sorts of papers. Sam watched all his movements, and she knew that he watched hers.

"That Ghost prince...how far did your interaction go?"

The question caught her off guard.

"It was nothing of...that sort."

She wasn't at all comfortable with telling him more details. Phantom must have seen her naked to change her clothes.

"He only seemed...interested. But he rarely showed it and even then laughed at his own assumptions."

"Hm," Vlad rubbed his chin. "That's all I needed."

"For what?"

"This is the point Miss Manson. This...Phantom is interested. With how ghosts are, and he is doubtfully an exception, he will continue with this. So I'd like you to stay away for the time being."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed.

Vlad looked at her sternly. "Now, no need to get loud, girl. Anyways. You are not being exiled or anything of the sort, we have already decided that you are coming out of this endeavor unscathed. However, henceforth you are a target to one of the most powerful ghosts, if our suspicions are anything to come by. But...whilst the henchmen of the prince can be avoided, I think that this particular ghost is very observant. I would love to take another path, but...at this time you are putting us in danger..."

"I...I understand."

The man looked at her curiously. "Really now?"

Sam realized that she had to do it. It was a daring thing, no doubt, and there was no telling if it would work or not. Phantom could just kill her if he wanted. She was obviously no match for him. But Sam was going to die anyway, be it from him or the moment when the hideout will be swarming with the bloodthirsty specters. What a positive way of thinking. But it was truth, there was no point in running away from it. She could at least do something of value before that. Being as far away as possible. And, once faced with such inevitability, there was no point in resisting. Fate had a twisted sense of humor, Sam just hoped that the culmination of this joke wasn't going to be a disaster.

The woman nodded. "I'll do it, but what shall I do exactly?"

"Simple. I'll give you a sum of money. After this, I have little advice."

So that was decided. God, she hated this plan with all her being, but it was for the best, she kept assuring herself. She was ordered to leave as soon as possible. Without telling anyone. And it hurt her to see Tucker like this, paranoid and scared. At least she had some time to tell him that meeting with Vlad went okay. Somehow it left a sore taste in her mouth. She was lying to him for the second time. Sam wasn't sure if Fentons were aware about the scheme, but she didn't pry so as not to test her chances. Better just leave it be. After all, they would eventually meet again. Can't blame her for hoping it would go just fine.

Why was she afraid? It was nowhere as close to the fateful day when she sneaked out and violated the security. Where was this feeling of fright when she came to the surface to hunt the undead herself? All alone? It was probably attributed to the fact that the last time she nearly died...or maybe her inability to defend herself. She couldn't attack her probable stalker. If he was even going to stalk her, not send some henchmen to simply kill her. It would be the most pathetic end she had ever imagined for herself.

But the questions were left like they were, because Sam didn't want to hear the answers.

It was to be done at the night. It didn't ease her worries, because, as she remembered maybe too well, the ghosts tended to roam the world of the living at that time. Sam didn't have much on herself, only a duffel bag with food, usual clothes and some currency. And a blaster in the hidden section just in case. She was dressed in dark clothes - a black and purple tank top and a black skirt. Under the control of the undead, people were wearing what they could afford in such poverty. She was given the first thing found.

The streets were so void of any life. They often were, especially at night. No one wanted to be on some wandering ghost's path. Sam didn't recall much of the town as it used to be. Last time she had no time for observation. But now the huntress had all time in the world. Despite the moon shining in the center of the sky, she didn't feel sleepy at all. Sam wasn't even sure if she would be able to properly sleep outside the safe confines of her home. The cold was wrapping its hard fingers around her thin frame, she hadn't anything warm on herself. There was still a couple of miles for her to walk.

And speaking of which, there were some patrolmen. Sam managed to stay hidden this time. Cowering behind a trash bin was nasty, dump and gross. But safe. This she could not deny. The ghosts's sense of smell this time was their weakness. Not enough to scare them off, it should be blatantly obvious, but enough to keep the unaware specters away from looking extra time. She was not going to jump at them once again. Sam was about to get up, when she noticed how they were dressed.

Their pitch black armor was shining under the moon, it was exemplary clean, void of a single scratch or bent. Their faces were hidden under black helmets with green horns. The cloth beneath was white, making the entire outfit seem strange. Reminded about the goons of Fright Night, Sam guessed that by the pieces of cloth the ghosts' legions could be distinguished from one another. Then it dawned upon her who was in charge of this one. Better stay away...

"Well, hello, Sammy."

A playful whisper made Sam squeak, but then a white gloved hand closed her mouth.

"Tch, tch, tch. We don't want extra attention, right?"

Phantom roughly pulled her deeper into the alley, without her even being able to make a sound. Finally he released her, and Sam regarded the white haired specter with a glare. In reality, she just didn't know what to do. He just stood there, in the middle of the alley, his ever-present smirk was still shining maddeningly before the trapped girl. The prince crossed his hands, leaning against the broken bricks of the nearby house.

"What have we here, hm?" The ghost prince smiled innocently. "Have you actually been kicked out?"

He was now wearing a black outfit with white trimming, gloves, belt and boots. All in all, he did seem to wear something very old, but not worn out. Sam supposed that while wearing this the ghost had saved her, her vision had been blurry back then, but she still could make out some details. The boots especially. The clothes somehow made him look even more dignified in appearance. He was a prince, after all.

"And what are you going to do now, ghost?" Sam asked. "And how did you find me?"

Phantom tilted his head in thought. Then he grinned. "Just passing by," the ghost said in a voice implying that he was anything but. "As for what I'm going to do...now that's a good question. I haven't yet decided. Once again you are up here."

"You said you would kill me."

A strange gleam jumped in his neon eyes. "I said that I would probably have to," he leaned closer to her. "I can always see to it, if you want. I'm confident you will make one beautiful ghost," he whispered softly.

Sam could feel her stomach tie in a tight knot at his words. At least he was giving her a choice. Suddenly she felt so helpless, reminded that she was like a lamb for slaughter. She had expected to prolong this dreadful meeting without sabotaging anything...but the troubles in the deceitfully handsome face of the ghost prince found her first.

"I'd rather you won't," Sam mumbled, trying to get some distance between them.

Somehow it amused the specter as he made a step closer himself, shortening the distance.

"Are you trying to get away?" He asked.

"Why are you stalking me?" Sam looked at him angrily.

"Stalking?" Phantom laughed, not loud enough for the other ghosts to hear. "Girl, you know nothing about it. I've merely taken interest in why you are here all alone."

"I'm going home."

"Your home is in the pathetic and foul vault beneath. Yet you stick around here. Something does not add up."

It was infuriating. He treated her like a joke. But like she expected something else. It did not mean that she would just let him behave like that, getting his enjoyment from her predicament.

"I...I'm just going to my new place. Leave me alone."

Sam wanted to get away. For him to ignore her and just let her be. Once again she felt helpless, as if his very being made her feel the crushing grip on her heart, as if she had no chance of even scratching him. That wasn't far from truth, honestly, she was almost defenseless, her gun was laying within her bag, so unfortunately dropped on the ground, and it was but a mosquito bite to the specter of his power. And yet...there was her task...

"Are you not afraid?" Phantom asked with an amused eyebrow. He lifted her chin with one of his cold, lifeless fingers.

"Get off me..."

The human could feel her skin getting burned from the cold grip, as he took the lower part of her face. She tried to pull away, attempting to muffle her own scream. The ghost's face was split by a grin, his eyes were showing a childish joy at her pain.

"Do not try to evade my question, girl," Phantom's voice rang louder. "I can taste your fear. Literally, might I add."

"Then why do you even ask?"

"I am curious just for how long you will be lying to my face."

Sam did not respond, knowing how much she was risking, but to her relief, Phantom retreated.

"Just what should we do with..."

"Your Highness?"

The Ghost Prince looked to the side, only to see another patrolling soldier of his. Sam noticed a change in his face, he calmed down and his look turned apathetic.

"Yes? What is it, soldier?" Asked Phantom.

"Are there any problems here?" The ghost inquired.

"Well, one actually, and she is right by my side. But it is nothing to concern yourself about, go on with your own task."

The soldier bowed deeply and wandered off, radiating probably as much fear as Sam did. To her it became obvious that this white haired monster was the apex predator around. The girl was surprised, unpleasantly so, to see him chuckle.

"We might have gone overboard. A bit."

"What's going on with you? One second you want to kill me and the other you..."

"I have few social skills," The prince huffed, "Little point in that when you help ruling a vast empire from the shadows. I am not interested in scaring you all day long, atop of that. But I am intrigued, cannot deny that. Where exactly do you live now?" He crossed his hands.

"Why would I want to tell you?"

"Because I could just track you there," Phantom rolled his neon eyes, "But shall you take my offer and be polite, no ghost will harm you along the way. Certainly it is better, saves us both the trouble."

Sam looked down on the ground thoughtfully. That's what Vlad wanted, she got his attention. Besides, those new patrolling ghosts were not a joke from the seems.

"Fine. Not like you would take "no" for an answer, Your Highness."

The man smiled once again. "And you don't have a place to stay yet, do you?"

Sam deflated one more time. For someone who had few interactions, he read everyone as an open book.