Here's chapter three! I hope everyone enjoys reading it...I definitely had fun writing this one. Much thanks to DarkAngelKisses, Esme Kali Phantom, Hordak's Pupil, peppymint, and Shadowfox123 for reviewing the last chapters! I tried making this a bit longer than my other chapters, as I've had a few people point out that they were rather short.

Boom. Ghost Writer started and winced, turning around to see that his hiding spot (a large dumpster) had just exploded.

"You can run, but you can't hide, Writer!" Ghost Writer cringed at the cliché and then rushed to duck a metallic, over-sized fist.

"I'd beg to differ," was his muttered reply, before turning intangible and fleeing into the next alleyway over. Turning quickly, he sprinted towards the exit and onto the main street.

In the human world, a man rushing out of an alley and stopping to look around nervously, only to be tackled back out of sight by a blur of silver and green that burst from the ground would have been quite the spectacle. Here in the Ghost Zone it hardly earned a handful of turned heads, and even those soon went back to what they'd previously been doing.

"Oof!" The poet stared up at Skulker, who was currently pinning him onto the ground, his steel-clad knee pressing painfully against his stomach. "You were saying, prey?" Skulker leaned back, a huge net springing from his massive right arm, ready to fire.

Ghost Writer simply sighed and rolled his eyes before phasing through the floor. Skulker stared blankly at the now-empty concrete below him, blinking a few times before his mind processed that his prey had just escaped again. The hunter let out a frustrated yell as he retracted the bulky weapon back into his arm.

Floating in the cellar he'd ended up in, Ghost Writer chuckled to himself. "He can't honestly have thought it'd be that easy." Landing on the faintly damp floor, he quickly surveyed the room for a hiding place. He spotted a stack of crates in the corner, and approaching he could see that they were filled with an unidentifiable something that gave off an unhealthy glow. However, they seemed to be the only real cover in the room, and so, cursing Skulker, he slid his thin frame behind it.

Ghost Writer was well-aware his only real chance was simply losing Skulker; he was a bit cocky, perhaps, but certainly not stupid. He knew without the Keyboard it was really no match, and so he stayed as still as he could behind his luminous hiding place.

He proved to be just in time, too, for Skulker's flame-haired head burst through the ceiling moments later. Dropping fully into the dim room, he began looking around with his eerily pupil-less eyes. "I appreciate a challenge, prey," he rumbled with a toothy grin. Despite himself, Ghost Writer found a slight shiver going up his spine at the words. He hoped it was just the chill in the basement. After all, if he'd escaped Walker's prison, he could surely escape Skulker, even if he was the self-proclaimed best hunter in the Ghost Zone.

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"Tucker, will you stop that?!" The Goth hollered. Sufficiently mollified, Tucker ceased in his fiddlings with the control panel, instead contenting himself to stare intently at the Real World Item detector.

"Relax, Tuck" Danny's voice was much calmer than Sam's had been, "I'm sure we'll find it. Cujo can't have gone that far." Steering around a large floating tropical island, his pale blue eyes caught sight of a luminous green tail. Simultaneously, the RWI detector let out a beep. "There!" Pressing a bit harder on the gas, he sped after the mischievous ghost dog. Purple doors and random objects flew by the Specter Speeder, and Danny found himself wondering how the ghosts managed to find their ways around. The place was a veritable maze; except even mazes seemed to have a pattern to them…everything appeared to have been placed helter-skelter, with no real forethought as to how one would manage finding their ways around once all was said and done.

"Danny!" Sam's voice yanked Danny violently out of his musings and he just barely managed to jerk the steering wheel to the side in time, narrowly missing a mausoleum-looking building as it drifted lazily by.

"Sorry," he said, realizing he'd also lost sight of Cujo again. Looking down at the RWI detector, he saw that the dog (or the PDA, at any rate) was somewhere to the left. "Alright, let's see if we can catch up…"

"Ugh, I hope so. We still need to work on that essay, remember?" The answering groans no doubt signified that they'd hoped Sam had forgotten. "Just remember, it was your idea, Danny. You need the help."

"I know, I know," the halfa assured her, followed by a muttered, "doesn't mean I like the idea of it though."

Sam gave a small smile of amusement, before motioning out the "ecto-bullet-proof" window. "Think he went there?" Danny and Tucker both turned to look where she was pointing to see a sprawling, city-like chunk of land. Glancing back at the controls, Danny saw that the dot signifying a real world item was, indeed, in that direction. "Looks like it." Guiding the Speeder towards the floating metropolis, he made sure to keep an eye open for the elusive dog. "Anyone see him?" A chorus of no's as his answer, he was starting to wonder if going over to the landmass fully-visible was a good idea. He didn't doubt his abilities (there probably weren't any particularly powerful ghosts there anyway) but they were sure to be outnumbered.

"There he is!" Tucker's outburst caused Danny to almost fall off his chair. "I have got to stop drifting off like that." "And he's still got my PDA!"

"Oh, thank goodness," Sam's sarcastic voice jumped in, then "…where?"

"Right there!" the beret-capped boy gestured (somewhat wildly) towards the far side of the area, and Danny and Sam both obediently squinted at it. A pale green blur shot down an alleyway-Cujo. Ignoring the nagging doubt from before, Danny sped after the dog. "No way is he getting away this time!"

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Ghost Writer frowned in his cramped hiding place. He hadn't heard a sound from Skulker since he'd entered, but he was equally sure the large hunter hadn't left. "What is he doing?" This was answered seconds later by the ghost's huge head suddenly bursting through the crates, his terrible grin gleaming in the light they gave off. "You breathe rather loudly for someone who's dead, you know," he said simply, before grasping a startled Ghost Writer's jacket and yanking him bodily from behind his cover. Holding him at eye-level, it was clear the 'Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter' was preparing to toy with his prey. "Foolish Writer, you can't really have thought tha-"

"Sorry to cut you off, but I figure I'll just save both of us some time." The last word came out as a grunt as Ghost Writer charged his hands with plasma and shot Skulker in the chest. Caught off guard as his til-then non-aggressive target fought back, Skulker let go and staggered back several steps. Ghost Writer immediately dove through the nearest wall, finding himself in a wine cellar of sorts. Speeding over to the other end, he entered into the next adjacent cellar, trying to put as much distance between himself and Skulker as possible. "It's a good thing he wasn't expecting an attack," the poet mused to himself. "I just hope that that doesn't make him hold more of a grudge…"

No such luck. As he stopped in one of the seemingly endless basements, slowly dropping back to the floor and leaning himself against the wall, he paused and listened intently. A slight rumble sounded beneath him. "What is that noi-" The wind was abruptly knocked out of him as the rough equivalent of a two-ton cannonball hit him, roaring something about Ghost Writer's pelt soon adorning his wall.

The two bodies shot out of the cellar, back up into another abandoned back alley. Still keeping his hold on the smaller ghost, Skulker flew at the wall just as Ghost Writer stopped being intangible (which he had done instinctively as they'd neared the ceiling…er, floor?).

Ghost Writer let out a grunt of pain as his thin body was slammed between a wall and the metallic ghost. Not nearly satisfied, Skulker almost immediately removed the pressure of his body against Ghost Writer's only to fling him at the opposite wall. Too disorientated to go intangible fast enough, the master author instead hit it full-force before falling onto the ground below it. "Ugh…" cradling his now-throbbing head, he looked up with eyes narrowed in pain in anger, only to have them widen in shock as he saw a bright green ecto-blast heading for him. Bolting upright headless of the pain that caused his back, he thrust out his hands and managed to get a shield up just in time, Skulker's attack bouncing off it harmlessly.

"Now this is more like it!" Skulker laughed, eyes ablaze. Ghost Writer knew now that his chances of simply escaping were slim to none…he'd have to battle it out with the metal-clad hunter. Ghost Writer had never been much of a fighter and he felt a thrill of fear go through him as he realized what that probably meant for him, though he tried not to show it. He stood up and bared overly-sharp teeth, prepared to fight. He'd be damned if he gave his larger opponent the satisfaction of an easy catch. Despite that, as he charged up some ecto-beams and a new gadget sprung from Skulker's armor, he couldn't help but think, "This is going to end very badly…"