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typewrite-dragon · 6 months

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Ghosts Get Lonely Too - TMA Lonely Ghosts AU

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Jonathan "Jon'" Sims has discovered a new statement left behind on Gertrude's laptop. In an effort to stop the Unknowing, he reads it in the hope of finding clues to stop the Ritual.

The Statement of Vlad "Plasmius" Masters in regards to the relationship between Gerard Keay and himself.

Statement Begins

[Click]

I’ve come home from the States. I was definitely being followed. I am not sure what was following me, it looked like an officer but it felt… wrong. I think something else distracted it or perhaps something happened to it after the stop on the way to Washington D.C. I had not seen it since.

I’ve tried to find more information from the laptop that Gertrude left behind. What was curious was that when I turned it on, there was something new in the emails that had not been there before.

Or perhaps I missed it entirely because I was looking for something else…

In any case, when I had intended to comb through the device again for anything I had missed, it connected to the nearest printer and started printing out what looked like… emails between a Vlad Masters and Gertrude. It may hold clues or at least… another piece of the puzzle.

I never was able to find out what really happened to Gerard. Not beyond what the hospital staff mentioned. Though from what they said about Gertrude’s arrest and the odd book that vanished, I could hazard a guess. Perhaps that information is in these emails as well. Perhaps this won’t be another dead end.

Statement of Vlad Masters regarding the relationship between Gerard Keay and himself. Original Source from Email Correspondence between Vlad Masters and Gertrude Robinson found on her Laptop. Audio recording on July 05, 2017 by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement Begins.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Gerard Keay Sent: November 27, 2014

Dear Ms. Robinson,

I hope this finds you well. It has come to my attention that you are the one that may have the answers I seek. I am aware of your working relationship with Gerard Keay. I am also aware of what that work entails. I have attempted to contact him many times to no avail.

I have something of his that I believe he would like returned to him. If you would be so kind as to assist me in getting into contact with him, I would appreciate it.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 27, 2014

Mr. Masters,

How did you get this email?

I am afraid I cannot help you. It is best you dispose of whatever it is. I recommend the latter if you know what is good for you. If you truly know of our work, then you are aware of the risk it may hold.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 28, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

As I said, I know of your working relationship with Gerard. I made an educated guess. I know very well what is good for me, and at this moment it is getting in contact with Gerry. I imagine he would like his coat back. Please ask him to contact me.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 29, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Gerry, hm? Interesting.

He must have been quite distracted to forget that ratty old thing. Perhaps you may be in too deep now, but that still does not change the fact I cannot help you. I recommend you forget him. It is for the best, Mr. Masters.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 29, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

I know you are working to stop some grand ritual, The Unknowing. Perhaps you will make sense of what I have found. It is not just the coat I wish to give him. I had offered to help him with his research. A solution that contained as much certainty as dealing with any primal source such as Fear has to offer. Especially one that falls into the Uncanny.

I do not understand your insistence to ‘forget’ him. I assure you, I have no intention to do so.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Mr. Masters,

You are a persistent man, I will give you that. I suppose at least one person ought to remember the boy.

So, he has told you about the Fears. There is a price to Knowing such things like that. Tell me what you know, Mr. Masters. About Gerard and about The Unknowing.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

What do you mean by ‘remember’?

Yes, yes, I know how capitalism works. The Fears carry little difference to any other predatory being, they are simply bigger and nigh unfathomable.

You want to know what I do? Tell me how to reach Gerry.

Please.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Hm. Very well.

You will want to find the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead. Then you will want to read the last page. It should still be in police evidence so you may have trouble getting to it. Or perhaps not if you have a propensity for getting into places you shouldn’t.

Though it is said that those who are bound to the pages aren’t themselves. So you may not really be speaking to Gerard.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

You abandoned him.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Here I thought you had taken my advice and forgotten about me. Did you find what you were looking for? Are you going to tell me what you Know?

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

You had best hope that our paths never cross, Ms. Robinson. You are, arguably, a smart woman. I am certain you can figure out the Unknowing yourself.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters, You will have to try harder than that to scare me. Better than you have tried and they have certainly failed. You will do no better.

Now then, if you are done posturing: Will you let Gerard's death be in vain? Let the world, that he tried to save, end by yet another ritual?

Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Ms. Robinson ,

He preferred to be called Gerry. Do not pretend now that you care . If you had, then he would not have been left unclaimed as he had been.

You will get nothing more from me.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters,

I dislike having to do this, but you have left me little choice.

A Statement, if you would please. Tell me what you know, Vlad Masters.

Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

I know many things, Gertrude Robinson . I am aware of your power of compulsion. That ever-burning desire to know things, even as you work to resist using such abilities to find your answers. You find the power repulsive, even when it removes such troublesome barriers.

It would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? To sink into that which your position allows. You are the Archivist. The one who focuses so much on her own work that the rest of the world goes away. You pretend altruism, but clearly those who work with you are expendable. You wish to keep you precious humanity as if anything Other is detestable.

To you, Gerry , was expendable.

He was not .

He was mine .

So badly he wished to trust you. Wanted someone he could perhaps rely on. That did not simply look past him and truly saw him. You saw your work and you saw how he could be useful to you.

I saw him.

The first time I saw him was in Chicago, you were with him. I was burning time while in the area on business. I imagine you must have been searching for books then. They are a common enough find in an Antique Shop. Sometimes I have come across such strange books. Not your Leitners, but other tomes with secrets that others would consider fantasy. Things that would have been tossed aside as some sort of fairy tale. I believe they overlapped; your Leitners and my Occult.

It was that small shop, easily missed, tucked between towering buildings as though it was left behind while the modern era rolled in. It was what drew me to it, that distinct feeling that called to me. Perhaps it was not even that shop that drew me, but those who were within.

I no longer recall what I had been looking at when we met. Not really. Something among the dusty piles of books in the back corner made my entire being itch. I ached to find the reason. Picking up books and a passing glance over each one. Page through them to see if anything caught my eye. Most had been mundane and disappointing.

I hadn’t gotten a chance to touch the source of what made me itch. The next thing I knew, a scarred hand covered in eye tattoos on every knuckle flashed out and snatched it before I could grab it myself. It would have been easy to be indignant, I was feeling the emotions bubble up in my chest. Nearly lashed out at this unknown who so rudely pushed his way into my space.

Then I saw him. Tall. Pale. Thin. He looked even paler with the long black leather coat and the hair. The hair was dyed black, although badly. Patches of roots missed, mostly towards the back where he could not see. The color faded in places that didn’t become saturated enough and some portions washed away with hot water.

I knew immediately what he had done wrong, I recognized the effort that was made to dye pale hair black. Clearly, he had not been ready to give up as I had already done. The color stopped taking to my hair a long time ago.

He must have sensed the impending ire, I remember his eyes meeting mine, looking far too tired. I recall wondering how often he actually slept. The smile that he gave had caused my core to stutter in a way I had not felt since college.

It was just a simple thing. A smirk in my direction as he held up a leather-bound book with a cover so worn, the letters were difficult to discern. A little quirk of the lips as though it were just simple happenstance. It should not have caught me off-guard as it did, but there was something about him. As though perhaps in that moment, he saw me too.

“You don’t want this one. Boring read really. I suggest something more exciting, like that encyclopedia set. Heard the Encyclopedia Britannica is a real page turner.” He told me. His voice was soft and sounded as tired as he looked, but there was a certain intensity to it. Its effect was startling to me as his smile had been.

Clearly, he was just trying to keep me from taking home a cursed book. I think it was something along the lines of corruption. Some cursed copy where a man slowly became a cockroach if I recall correctly. Probably for the best, as I wouldn’t want to have to spend the next decade resolving that. They don’t make suits for giant cockroaches.

My brain still had not caught up with my mouth and all I could do was stare at him in dumbfounded silence. Not my proudest moment, although not my worst. It wasn’t until he was walking away that I found my words, though my brain had not yet engaged enough to place any filters before I ran my mouth.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already read that edition. Absolutely riveting what lies within Q and T. However, I was looking for something perhaps a little more my speed.”

It sounded terrible, and I knew it did the moment the words left my lips. Yet… he laughed. It wasn’t a particularly loud one, but that smirk became something a little more real . It touched his eyes when he huffed a small chuckle.

“I suppose someone has to find whatever is between Quilts and Trains interesting.” There was that core stuttering smirk again, playing at the corners of his lips as he spoke, “What is more your speed?”

I had really wished my brain had enough function to stop me before I said anything stupid. Yet, with full confidence, I found myself uttering the words while holding up one of the encyclopedias, “U, if you can keep up with me.”

If I could have died the rest of the way, I would have. The way he stared at me made me nearly vanish then and there. It was a very near thing, but I managed not to blow my cover in public. Then he laughed . Not the soft short breathless chuckle. Not the soundless single huffs that someone may do. A full, albeit short, laugh. I think he was surprised he could even make the sound. As if he had forgotten he could.

He wasn’t the only one who forgot himself. For the first time in my life since college, I had completely forgotten about the woman I had claimed to love in exchange for the man before me. I am not saying it was love at first sight, but there was something that… drew me to him.

It certainly didn’t stop me from making a fool of myself, and I recall feeling my cheeks burning and I nearly vanished on the spot. I very well could have, despite the fact I had made such an effort by then to have control over that aspect of myself.

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” He finally told me. His accent became a bit heavier with his amusement. It was then that I noticed that the book looked heavy in his hand. It wasn’t a terribly thick book, but it simply seemed to weigh more than it should. It demanded to be seen.

I wanted to pull it out of his hands. Lighten the load.

Somehow, I had enough self-control not to. He must have noticed where my gaze was going and moved it out of sight. I tried to busy myself studying the book I was clutching onto like a prop.

“Really? Well, most people want a name first, if you would please.” I countered, trying to save face. It wasn’t working.

“Does it really matter?” He countered, seeming amused by something he was seeing. I realize now that it wasn’t really me he was looking at then, but whatever was around me. Whatever aspect of your Fears that was drawn to me.

I don’t know why that question brought me to my senses. What about it sobered me up so much? Perhaps the deceptive simplicity of those four words uttered while two complete strangers stood in an antiques shop had done it. It was a question I had asked myself often as I had grown.

Perhaps variations on the same words, a rearranging of the phrase to fit more closely with whatever fresh hell in my life made me ask myself that question. Endless debates on if anything I did was worthwhile. If anything, I did would ever change my situation.

Finally, I told him, “No. I suppose not.”

I think he realised the mistake he made as I had suddenly schooled myself and had started to try and make my escape from the awkward situation I caused.

Then he told me his name. Blurted it as though he was revealing, perhaps, that he was just as nervous about making a fool of himself. Perhaps from the outside we were not nearly as awkward as we perceived ourselves to be.

Perception is funny that way.

“Gerard.” He said it quite suddenly and almost forcefully, as though being louder took more effort than he was used to using.

Fate rarely has ever cooperated for me when I wished it to. I had been about to respond in kind when my phone started to go off. I was running late for my meeting. Somehow, I had lost track of time and I had begun to curse myself.

Thought I was being clever when I answered, throwing a glance his way when I greeted whoever was on the other line with my name before I left the shop. With that infernal encyclopedia I might add. Found out later that he paid for it. I would have liked to think he thought I was being clever, but I was sure he just thought I was an idiot.

I thought that was the end of it. Nothing to come of a chance meeting between two strangers. We simply knew each other’s names and continued on with our lives.

Never had I been so glad to be wrong.

Unfortunately, the short time between our paths crossing did not lend me an ability to conduct myself in a more charming manner. Somehow, I was destined to act the fool in front of the man. Looking back on it, I supposed it worked in my favor, though I would not be able to begin to tell you why.

It was just a couple days later. I imagine you were busy with something else. I had vaguely recalled you lurking about somewhere near him in the shop. At the time I had thought you were his mother. How wrong I was. Though I suppose there was little difference between the two of you in the end.

There was a local cafe I had begun to frequent during my stay, the coffee was strong enough to wake the dead. It held the right kind of bitter notes. It was a decent enough start to my mornings.

It was made better when I had walked in that morning. I would have never expected to run into the same person twice in a place I did not live. Yet, there he was, standing alone by the counter while he waited for his order. Somehow, he looked even more tired where sunlight could reach him. Accented just how pale he was in contrast to the black leather coat.

Yet… he was still quite beautiful.

It was early enough to not be too busy. I hadn’t needed to wait in line too long. I must have caught his eye, well, one of them. He seemed to almost… brighten when he recognized me.

It is nice to think so, at least.

There was a companionable silence as we stood together, the kind that comes from the mutual agreement that it was too early for conversation. Anything said before caffeine would have likely been a nonsensical disaster. He had no reason to wait there with me, as he was already holding and sipping his coffee. Yet, I imagine he was graciously waiting for me to have my own source of liquid wakefulness.

Though as I said, neither time nor apparently caffeine graced me with any charm.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you came here just to see me.” I told him.

He laughed at me and pointed out that he had gotten there first. I hid my embarrassment by drinking my coffee. Surely more caffeine would have made it better.

“But I may make a point to come here more now that I do know you come here.” He mused.

The moment he said those words, I swore I had heard it wrong and managed a stuttered, “O-oh?”

The answering smile made me try to find my footing. I knew I would not be in the area that much longer. Perhaps a week at most. The caffeine must not have yet kicked in, as I hardly knew the man, yet I proposed we go on a date. The cafe we were in was well and good, but I suggested perhaps there were better settings in which I could make a fool of myself.

To my delight, he agreed .

The next thing I knew, I was giving him my number and he sent me a text message with a little book emoji. I had his name. I had his number.

I had his number .

I had not gone on a date in an embarrassingly long time. Circumstances prevented it at first, health reasons. After that, it was no longer a focus of mine. Sure, I have flirted from time to time, but there was no real interest involved. Just pretty words to get others to swoon and oblige to my asks.

The rest of the day had gone by far too quickly after that. I hardly remember it. Same old business meetings and my thoughts drifting off to what I would wear. What I would even say? I could plan a business meeting down to nearly every beat. Anticipate what would be argued about and how to counter them. How to win deals and continue to gain wealth.

Yet with him… he was different. He caught me off guard in a way I had not allowed myself. However, I was firm to remind myself that it was simply a date. Not to get my hopes up for anything more than a night I was bound to stumble through.

The date had gone surprisingly well. I had picked somewhere quiet. While I was no stranger to fine dining, something convinced me to pick something that was more of a hole-in-the wall. The atmosphere was far more relaxed which seemed to bode well for both of us. I do not think he would have cared for any of the places I tended to frequent for business dinners.

Do not misunderstand me, I still feel like I made an utter fool of myself. I had half expected him not to show. I would like to think I would not have faulted him for it, but I know I would have tried to rationalize things to make myself feel better.

I think he knew that too.

Yet, there he was. He really showed up and, well, at the end of the date actually kissed me.

I hadn’t been expecting it, and I was rather glad no one but him noticed my faltering control. The loss of control had been the way my hands went intangible and I dropped what I was holding. Completely unable to get ahold of myself for far too long. My eyes flashing into an intense red that he later, affectionately, described as ruby.

I remember kissing him back. I remember the taste of our meal on his lips, the aftertaste of cigarettes that would always be there from the sheer frequency of his habit. I remember finally getting my hands back in order so that I could feel how soft his hair was.

It was a wonderful kiss.

It was a wonderful night after the date. We had agreed to finish our date at my hotel.

I had not realized he had noticed the lapse in my control until there was a lull and he asked me, rather bluntly, what I was. That I, in his words, ‘Feel like I was touched by the End, but not’.

You would think that would have ruined the mood, but he was calm as he asked. Genuinely curious and not overbearing like some I knew. So… I risked letting someone else in on the secret. Showed him the man behind the curtain as it were. Showed him 'Plasmius'.

Except what many would not understand is that the Man behind the curtain is the same as the one outside of it. For I am what one calls a ‘Halfa’. The only one as far as I am aware. A result of a college incident with a small scale interdimensional portal that was turned on by my so-called best friend, exposed me to a burst of ectoplasmic radiation.

I suffered from radiation poisoning or a “kinder” term, ‘Ecto Acne’ for two years. Two years alone in a hospital. Two years slowly dying as my body continued to reject my existence. Treatments did nothing but perhaps take the edge off. I was angry and hurting and easily forgotten as an unfortunate casualty of science.

At the end of two years I died and I… became something else. Stewing in the emotions of abandonment, a broken heart, and anger with the ectoplasmic energy turned me into a ghost. Except I was not entirely a ghost. No, I was also alive. I imagine it had to do with being exposed to what was effectively a threshold between the living and the dead.

When I showed Gerry what I was, I had expected skepticism or shock. Instead he was relieved. While he was no ghost, he seemed relieved that I was not among the “normal” masses. I admit, there was as much comfort as there was confusion in realizing that he too was part of a small circle who “Got it”.

The awkwardness melted away near instantly when he asked me how I came to be this way. It was not so much invasive as it was curious. The memories hurt, certainly, but there was something… freeing… about telling someone .

In exchange he told me about his mother. His childhood. Why he was in Chicago. About you and this Unknowing Ritual. He explained the Fears and explained that I felt, well, like a prime candidate for something called The Lonely.

I wanted to scoff.

I wasn’t afraid of being lonely . I knew plenty of people. Yet… as I found myself trying to argue it, I realized he was right.

Admittedly, it was a painful realization. Especially as his list of what I could focus on to combat it would help me none. Anyone I could have possibly relied on was absent from my life or not worth my time. I didn’t even have a pet to speak of.

I could see there was some recognition in his eyes. Loneliness was something he was all too familiar with. For the first time in… such a long time… there was warmth that came from someone outside of myself.

He offered, then, to be my focus should the Lonely come to try and isolate and drown me. He asked me for nothing more than to call him Gerry. That, if he had friends, he would have liked to have been called such.

What could I have done but offer something in exchange. I had plenty of resources that may not have been tapped. May have had some unexpected overlap with what they were searching for. So I offered to see what I could find for him.

Then we stopped thinking about all of that for the rest of the night.

There were a few more dates after that. We snuck in more time together between my work and his research with you. I was… happy. We had never put a label on whatever it was we were doing. Friends with Benefits did not quite seem like it covered it, but dating almost seemed too far a stretch. Though perhaps it was just because we were both afraid of losing something again.

I stayed in Chicago perhaps longer than I should have. I gave myself more reasons to stay. My initial stay of couple of weeks turned into a month. He didn’t seem to mind it. At times we were researching together… pulling out old books and records to find anything that would solve his particular problem. It reminded me of the old days… of college. I always enjoyed that aspect of work. Of figuring out solutions to problems, and it was better having someone to bounce ideas off of.

Then with no leads there, he had to go to Pittsburg. With you.

I wish I had noticed it sooner, the symptoms. I imagine we had attributed some of his sensory issues with the near full body scars from burns. The headaches from staring at books too long and forgetting to eat.

We had one more night together before he left with you. I promised to keep searching back home. To find the answers he sought. Perhaps some part of his unconscious knew something was going to happen. Perhaps it was just the simple fact that we knew it may be a while before we would see the other… if we would see the other again.

I am sure we would have found a way, if given the chance.

I didn’t want to let go of him that night. I had held him tight against me, my face buried in freshly dyed hair that I had helped him with.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have let go at all.

He had forgotten his coat in my hotel room. His pack of cigarettes too. Though I now wonder if that was intentional. An anchor. A reminder of him if the Lonely were to come for me. Perhaps it had already come. Perhaps its method was to simply consume my anchor.

I recall texting him, and he simply told me that I could give it back the next time we would meet.

You left his body unclaimed. Abandoned by the one he would have followed to help stop the end of the world.

I should not have let go.

I will not do so again.

As for your little Unknowing Ritual. Its basis has nothing to do with logic. It is meant to confuse and twist things unto the unreal.

You want to stop it? Shatter its fantasies with cold hard reality. The louder the better. Thorough destruction.

I am sure you can figure it out if you apply yourself. Perhaps your answer lies hidden in whatever storage unit Gerry had mentioned.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must find this so-called Catalogue. It was not where you said it would be.

Do not contact me further. It is for his sake that I do not hunt you down. The world can burn for all I care.

Instead, I simply leave you with this reminder: He wanted to trust you.

He was right not to.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

Statement Ends

Well that was… certainly something. Perhaps I should have stayed in the states longer and investigated more of Chicago.

Ghosts. Halfas. The latter was not something I could find concrete evidence on. The name was familiar and I asked Martin to dig into some records, and it seemed as though Vlad Masters had indeed claimed Gerard’s… Gerry’s body.

Martin tried to find out more on Vlad Masters. It seems as though he was CEO of a large company and was based in Wisconsin. It appears that he suddenly went missing sometime last month, in June. It was linked to several other disappearances of that of old college colleges of his and their children. Apparently his work revolved around a new energy source based on this ‘ectoplasm’.

Research about that seems to have a lot of missing records. At most, anything that survives at this time were written by those missing colleagues, Jack and Maddie Fenton. They were from Amity Park, Illinois and it seems they all vanished as well.

There was reports of something called a Phantom. Perhaps that is a Lonely Avatar.

Anything other leads we have tried to follow seem to turn up cold. I could go back and search Vlad's home for more clues, but I have a feeling it would just be another dead (heh) end.

Perhaps the Lonely did finally get to him.

I suppose I could look into that storage unit angle. See what this key goes to. I’ll ask Martin and Melanie to help me look into it as well.

[ Click ]

#DP x TMA #DP x TMA Crossover #Danny Phantom #The Magnus Archives #Fanfiction #My Writing #Vlad X Gerry #Vlad “Plasmius” Masters #Gerard “Gerry” Keay #Cross Posted #This has been gnawing on my brain all week #There is an entire playlist I made for this for the vibes #Lonely Ghosts AU

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