Sorry for disappearing on you all, my depression got really bad to the point where I could barely bring myself to get up in the morning. I'm back tho, and alive. Hope y'all aren't too angry. I'll try to keep writing but some plot stuff is probably gonna be changed, I don't really have the energy to edit this rn I just want to post it. So it's unedited and probably messy, sorry I'll fix it later

Momentum

Chapter 23

Retribution supposed, that what he was doing was most likely not exactly the best of ideas, but he was mad and feeling stupid and nothing would stand in his way. He had meant to kill Phantom. To squash what little of his life that he still had, and blow out the light of his candle. Of course though, that didn't happen. Phantom had blamed everything on Freakshow.

Retribution had panicked, though he'd never admit it, he was afraid. He'd spent his entire after life building and creating his new self, and he created that new self out of a false sense of hate and spite. Everything was far too confusing and complex. Could he really believe Phantom? Trust that he wasn't a cold, black blood killer. Or was it all a lie? A rouse.

He felt a growl bubble in his throat, and with a valiant swing he punched the wall of the train cart. His fist exploded into pain, and Retribution was forced to cringe. Glancing up at the wall revealed a dent. Nice.

His mind was left a whirling mess. Sheik had come back only a few hours after he had. She's burst into the cart babbling stressfully in French before finally managing to ask him if he'd seen Phantom. He hadn't. Not at all. Not since—well, yeah. Apparently, according to the lady, he had gone missing or something.

Big muttering something foul under his breath before phasing through the cart to go look for Phantom, hopefully before he did something stupid.

-0-

It was silent in the cave when Megan stepped out from her room, most of the lights were out, and no one seemed to be near, or even in the cave at the moment. She had been napping, avoiding the team since they seemed to not want to interact with her. When she had tried to speak to them telepathically they had reacted almost violently, Conner stormed out of the room yelling at her to get out of my head. It was like they were afraid she'd somehow infect them with a hypnotic spell, she no longer had.

She moved slowly, getting ready for the coming days at school, fun.

School was dull, moving in almost a drag. Molasses and sand, slow and painful. She found herself yawning, only sparing a glance towards Conner—who had moved himself to the other side of the room—every few minutes.

Life really had gone down hill fast.

-0-

Phantom sat, he had been thinking—he'd been doing that a lot lately, which wasn't at all good since he wasn't supposed to—about the Bat. They had met on a rooftop. Things had gone down and suddenly he was being offered help. Help. From a real person who could really help him. Phantom had been offered help before. Passing glances and false promises of we'll get you out of whatever you've gotten stuck in and we can all the police, they can help you. He didn't know how to feel.

Freakshow had told him, from an early on point in his remembered life, that he—Freakshow—has saved him—Phantom—from some greater evil. Some being so terrible, so awful that he couldn't even remember it's face. Phantom of course did not know whether or not this was true. Whether these were just cloven stitched velvet lies from the tongue of a man that knew only deception. Or if they were truths so delicate, like single lone snowflakes drifting through the wind, that with a single thought of doubt could be shattered.

The ground was cold, the air; colder, harsher, more real, almost more real than he was. Almost real enough to make him doubt himself. Phantom breathed in harshly. It hurt. Everything hurt, but that was okay. He rose, standing from the old hammock bed stitched at some point prior to his arrival with the circus. It was late out, the moon high above the midnight laced sky. He drifted out the train cart, floating through the still open door, moving quietly and quickly through the surrounding trees.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? This was stupid. Go back go back go back. A quiet voice echoed in the back of his head. Go back. He didn't listen though. Powering through the branches and bushes and trees until he hit street light and highways. Phantom broke though the tree line like a fish jumping to far out from the water. Almost panicked in his realization that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Go back go back go back. He didn't.

Phantom breathed heavily, trying to calm the thumping of his heart—he was a ghost—and the adrenaline in his veins—he was a ghost—and all the body things about his body that didn't make much sense. He was a ghost. Phantom closed his eyes. Choosing to instead breath in the deep smell of the city streets. Smoke, street food and gasoline. He walked.

What to do, what to do. It was the first time a hero had actually reached out, actually wanted to help him. Help him. Not just anyone. Him. That had to count for something. He knew that this line of thought was bad, dangerous even but he couldn't stop it. The idea of escape—from what—was enticing. Fascinating. Where would he go though? If the Bat was to save him, what would be next? He remembered being told of a ghost zone. An area, world, dimension just for ghost. Where he could live out his days in peace.

Something about that seemed wrong though. The thought of living there seemed bad, had he come from the ghost zone? Somehow, he found it hard to believe. The simple idea of him coming from a place where the sky was green and the ground only existed if one wanted it to was baffling, odd. Did he have a family? A place to stay? Someone that loved him? Missed him? Look and searched days over days wondering when he'd come back? Did he even really exist before Freakshow. There was the ghost, Retribution, the one he had killed. Bad bad bad no no no bad no stop I didn't want to no stop ba—the one that didn't exist before the circus. Was he like that? Did one of the others kill him? Guide him, lure him, down a dark alley unexpectedly just to jump him. Take his life. Kill him? Kill kill kill kill him? Him?

His face was red, sweaty with rage. Phantom grabbed at his hair bending over as he yelled furiously. This was all too much. Too too much he wanted out. Up was down and left was right and right was wrong and he wasn't sure what was real or not.

What was Batman even doing outsi—

A shadow passed over him before he could even think to finish that thought. What? Phantom spun turning around as light cackled at his fingertips. His eyes scanned the area. He was deep in the city at this point. There was a sound. Electrical, the buzz of something going wrong. A light caught his attention. Up on the powerline, holds of bright yellow snapped across it gliding through the line like some kind of electrical snake. It seemed to pause, coming to stop over top of him. Then, it dropped down. It's form seeing to flow over the street like a liquid before collecting itself. The electrical mass changed, moving and morphing into a vaguely human shape. It opened its mouth, but only static came out.

There was the sound of a siren then, and the creature, thing, person suddenly leapt, jumping to the powerline, its form moving quickly across it in a snaky static line. The sirens grew louder and Phantom suddenly realized it was time to go.

He ran, sprinting through the forest barely managing to dodge too low tree branches and fallen logs. Hitting and screaming parts of his body more than once. His blood stained green on the forest surfaces. A pained neon colour.

The sirens grew closer, hovering outside of the forest. There were men, yelling and lighting their flashlights along the woods edges.

They were following him.