I've been working on writing a Geist: The Sin-eaters fan supplement to sell on Storyteller's Vault for several months now and part of that was creating a bunch of Geists and Sin-eaters that could be mixed and matched. One of my favourite geists was one that Roomie came up with, a Tyrannosaurus Rex ghost. I tweaked it (Originally it was named Ozymandius, The King of Kings) and worked out the stats and everything, and worked out a Sin-eater to go with it. I decided to go with a fresh faced Paleontologist who was directly crushed by the skull of the dinosaur fossil. I made her a Muslim simply for diversity's sake, and originally I was going to go with her being Indonesian, but I went with Middle Eastern instead for reasons that are forgotten to me. I don't really have much of a grasp on being a British Muslim immigrant in America, but until I have the intent to publish, there's not much need for sensitivity readers, since I don't have any readers.
I do love the relationship that Fatima has with Amy, though. Writing her was fun. I'm trying to get across that she's an actual animal, while not simply making her act like a dog. I did a lot of research for this one, or at least more research than I normally do. For instance, the fact that dinosaurs can't actually roar. That's a mammalian trait. They would growl, or bellow. The discussion about whether or not there should be multiple species of Tyrannosaurus is also something I came across in my research. AMY is also just very clearly an expy of SUE.
The other characters in the text are Joy Devivre, Hobie Kochiyama, and of course Frank, from the Sabrina stories. While Frank and Sabrina are obviously older than my supplement project, Joy and Hobie were made for it. The ringtone sound for the chat is Spooky Scary Skeletons, which is also Sabrina's alarm in the Injection Scene.
The actual fight is just something cool I felt like writing. I don't really know how much of it feels confusing without deeper knowledge of Geist, but I think that works to the scene's advantage, since Fatima is also confused. Roger, or the Reaper impersonating him, uses the Plasticity Numena. I don't actually think it exists anywhere in second edition, but it was one of my favourites in 1e. Although I don't think it's mechanically as cool as I portray it. Meanwhile, Fatima uses The Caul with the Beast Key. There aren't exactly good descriptions of actually using Haunts—or any other powers in CofD for that matter—but I really like the idea of Keys actually appearing and being physical in the moment they're used. I like the imagery, but then again, I'm sort of biased.
Fatima Khan of the Wainright Institute of Natural History heard the rattling of bones like a xylophone coming from her pocket. She excused herself from the meeting and silenced her phone before the lyrics to Andrew Gold’s Halloween children’s song started to play. Sabrina had insisted on the tone, eschewing what she told Fatima was the more traditional option of Camille Saint-Saen’s Danse Macabre. Fatima found it rather embarrassing, but went along with it. The young lady who dressed as a witch clearly knew what she was talking about.
The meeting was a discussion about the validity of tyrannosaurus regina and tyrannosaurus imperator as separate species. Eight months ago, Professor Khan would have found the debate exciting. After all, how can one even classify a species when there are nothing but bones to go on? Are the differences in temporal geology and bone density enough to constitute new species? Or was Gregory S Paul simply blowing smoke? The meeting also involved discussion of whether Tarbosaur bataar might be the Asian representation of the tyrannosaurus genus. If t. imperator was truly a separate species, that would make both the Field Museum’s SUE and WINH’s AMY members of that species instead of the more commonly assumed rex.
But that was eight months ago. When Fatima got to the women’s room and looked in the mirror, the looming shape of The Main Exhibit peered back at her, tilting it’s head. It wasn’t quite like the fossilized skeleton in the main lobby. For one, its bulky corpus often trailed into mist, as if it were too massive to maintain the image. For another, it had flesh. Colored in pearlescent scales of blue and red, with thin protofeathers sticking out like the hair on an elephant’s skin, and her teeth were always gore stained. She always seemed angry somehow, like a giant cassowary, though Sabrina had assured Fatima that it couldn’t hurt her and wouldn’t want to. On some level, she knew this, and it was almost comforting. But how could she care about discussions like that when Amy was right here with her? Sitting in the place where her soul would have been, ever since that day the skeleton itself crushed her?
Sensing her uncertainty, the Main Exhibit leaned forward, gently nudging Fatima from behind. Of course, when a ghostly tyrannosaurus rex—or was it t. imperator?—nudges you, it’s quite a big difference from a smaller animal, and Fatima was knocked off balance into the sink, where she dropped her phone.
“Amy!” she yelped, nervously getting her phone out of the sink and wiping it off with paper towels. She finally took a breath and tried to ignore the dinosaur in the room and looked at her messages.
It wasn’t Miss Granger after all, it was the other one. Mister Rook, though he preferred to be called Frank.
Rook: Park, 4pm
It was not much to go off of. Thankfully while Fatima had been fretting about her missed meeting and her geist, the other members of the crew had already been getting more answers.
Calvin&Hobes: wat? There’s lk 3 parks. im in s-side atm.
BansheeMask: Jamming w/ Liam, no beuno
Rook: Memorial Bridge.
Rook: Tell Liam to get better on his own time.
BansheeMask: L says he loves you 2, old man
Calvin&Hobes: mb is huge man
Calvin&Hobes: hey u an liam wanna catch a movie?
Rook: This chat is for Krewe business
Calvin&Hobes: hangin w/ the bois is krewe business
Calvin&Hobes: were in mbpark gramps?
Calvin&Hobes: where*
BansheeMask: Hobes, Repeat’s showing Matrix, Liam hasn’t seen it
Calvin&Hobes: sweet
Calvin&Hobes: big fav
Calvin&Hobes: hey fate u wanna com?
Rook: Fatima has an actual job
BansheeMask: You don’t
Rook: Can’t you people use IRC for this
Rook: Meet me at Memorial Bridge, 4pm.
🖼️
Calvin&Hobes: wuts an irc
BansheeMask: Damn you’re old
Fatima smiled at the antics of the two younger members of this strange group of the living dead. Hobart Kochiyama and Joy Devivre were younger than Sabrina, and seemed to be some kind of crossdressers. Fatima wasn’t quite sure she understood, but she did like to see youngsters expressing themselves in such exciting ways. Though perhaps it was demanding to think of adults as youngsters. It's not as if Fatima was all that old.
She also enjoyed seeing them give Frank the run around, though from their interactions over the last few months, she got the impression that the older man enjoyed the company. Or at least, as Sabrina had said, it’s good for him whether or not he likes it.
She added her own replies:
DrDino: @Hobie: Internet Relay Chat is a chat protocol that existed long before Discord
DrDino: @Frank: Can we do 6pm? As you mentioned, I do have a job. I’m supposed to be doing right now.
DrDino: Also I would love to watch a movie, it seems like a nice way to get to know you. Will you be joining us Frank?
Rook: No.
Rook: But fine, 6.
Fatima put the group chat on mute for the time being while Hobie and Joy discussed their plans for the evening. Much to Frank’s chagrin, Joy’s friend Liam—who Fatima had come to understand was some kind of a werewolf? As if ghosts weren’t enough—was invited to the chat. Despite what she had said, she didn’t actually go back to work. Instead she pulled back her hijab and splashed water on her face.
She looked in the mirror, Amy still looking over her shoulder. Nothing about her reflection really gave away that she was sharing her body with the ghost of a dinosaur. Or that she had died. Ms Granger had said she got better. And she certainly felt that way. She ran every morning, but after accepting the Bargain from Amy, she felt stronger than ever. Sabrina had casually mentioned shrugging off bullets, and she had a selfie with a sword sticking out of her chest. Was that what Fatima could look forward to? She didn’t really want to fight anything. She wanted to research dinosaurs.
The Main Exhibit let out a low rumble and rubbed her nose against Fatima, which once again nearly knocked her to the ground. Ironically that was how she’d gotten into this predicament. She pushed back against the nose, which was about as useful as pushing against the hood of a truck, but more meaty. The scales were so smooth, aside from where there were scars. Fatima knew where on the skull there were scrapes from fights during Amy’s adolescence. She sighed, and rubbed that massive nose. Amy let out another purr, which was such a low bass rumble that the puddling water in the sink shivered. Part of Fatima wondered if that was simply part of the illusion, considering the ghostly creature wasn’t actually there, even if the smooth pebbles of her skin felt so real when she pat them.
“Alright, alright,” Fatima giggled, “I really need to get back.”
Just then the door opened and Abigail walked in. When she saw Fatima standing there with her hands out and her headscarf down she paused, and looked a bit nervous. It’s not like she saw her with her pants down or anything. Of course she couldn’t see the dinosaur, which faded into mist for Fatima.
She cleared her throat and put her hijab back on.
“Everything okay? Your face is wet.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Just… a bit of pain from my injury last year.”
Almost pleased to have an explanation, Dr Joar nodded, “Oh, yeah. You really recovered fast, I’m not surprised there’s still some problems. Head trauma is pretty serious.”
“Did they need me back in the meeting?”
“Oh, no. I was actually coming to find you to tell you everyone was heading to lunch early. Did you wanna come with us to O’Riley’s?”
“I appreciate it, but I think I’ll just take a walk, clear my head.”
Dr Joar stood there for a moment, and then nodded, “right. Probably good. Um, be sure to drink water and rest.” She gave a thumbs up.
Fatima returned a sincere smile, and the thumbs up, which resulted in a bout of laughter.
“Sorry, I guess I don’t really know how head injuries work. Well, we’re probably going to be at the tavern for a while, arguing about what coloration we could expect the specimens to have.”
Without really thinking, Fatima said “blue.”
“Blue?”
She winced. “Like the cassowary. They’re only barely avian dinosaurs as it is.”
Abigail thought about it, “Hm. Well, I’ll bring it up to Tom. See you when we get back. Don’t be afraid to take a rest.” And with that she was heading off to lunch.
Fatima looked in the mirror and could see Amy there. She absolutely was not capable of the same level of facial movement as a mammal, but a crocodilian jaw always looks like a toothy smile from the right angles. She shook her head, and went out.
Having made her excuses, Fatima decided she really would go for a walk. To get outside, she passed the front of the museum. There, in the lobby, was WINH 2033. Better known as AMY. Slightly larger than the Field Museum’s SUE, and the pride of the Wainright Institute of Natural History. As Fatima walked around to the front of it to look up at it, the ghost—geist—known as The Main Exhibit appeared, and playfully slotted itself right over the skeleton. It was strange to see a ghost in broad daylight, in full glory with the skylight sun pouring through her.
Even though the geist was over the fossil, Fatima could still ‘see’ through it, and she found herself starring at the crack in the skull from where it had fallen. And cracked her skull.
She looked down at her feet, and twisted her flats into the tile like she was crushing a cigarette. It was strange to be standing here. Even her colleagues were surprised she still did it from time to time, lost in her thoughts and looking up at the crack in that skull. Eight months ago, this was where she died. Not that anyone outside the ambulance and her krewe knew that. The tile was cleaned up, replaced from being shattered under the weight.
“Woah, cool! A tryramosaurus!”
A child’s voice broke her out of her memories. A school group had filtered in, and children were flocking to the main exhibit. The real one, not the geist. But all the same, Amy let out a low rumble and Fatima could feel the sense of pride. Amy knew she was being talked about, remembered. Fatima had learned that being remembered would grant a ghost essence. She had also learned it was different for a Bound geist, but all the same Amy loved the attention, and rolled around on the dais as if the permineralized version of her skeleton wasn’t there.
Fatima let her bask in the attention, but the growing crowd did get to her, and she took a few steps back.
“Hey, lady, you gotsa badge, can you tell us about the big dinosaur?” The voice cut through her unease, and Fatima looked down to see a little black girl with a missing tooth and a dinosaur hoodie gazing up at her. She could feel the rumbling in her bones. Amy, of course, liked the girl instantly.
“Of course, young lady, I’m actually one of the researchers on this specimen.”
“Oh wow, you’re from Englum!”
Fatima felt her cheeks flush, “well, actually I’m originally from Tehran, but I was raised in London, and I suppose I picked up the accent,” she clapped her hands together, “this specimen is W-I-N-H twenty thirty three, but we here at the Wainright Institute affectionately call her Amy. She’s one of the largest specimens of tyrannosaurus rex found so far. She’s also on the older side, possibly older than the Field Museum’s famous Sue, though not as old as Trix, found at the Naturalis Biodiversity Center in the Netherlands. Amy here was discovered in the dramatically named Hell Creek formation in the badlands of Montana. If you notice on her snout there are indications of damage, and we suspect that Amy lead quite an exciting life…”
As she talked, she barely looked at the fossil, instead watching over the real thing, which walked among the gathered crowed of preteens. It was unsettling watching the large creature move among them. It didn’t care if it stepped on any of them, and even though Sabrina had assured Fatima that the Amy she saw was really only a projection into Twilight, whatever that meant, it was always a little worrying when it bent down and sniffed the crowd. Why do that if it couldn’t actually smell? But over eight months, Fatima had gotten used to Amy’s behavior, and was only slightly worried about her ability to bite into a child.
After ten minutes of giving an impromptu lecture—which seemed to thrill The Main Exhibit—Fatima was drained. Halfway through, she had seen other ghosts show up. Some had anchors close enough to wander into the entry hall, others were simply anchorless. The way Sabrina had explained it, simply having such a large geist meant that the things she called Reapers wouldn’t bother them, and so they hung around Fatima and Amy hoping to stay safe. She didn’t want to talk to them at the moment, and once she could get away from the children, she really did go outside for fresh air, and to think.
Of course, grabbing a cup of coffee from the Starbucks kiosk and going out to the courtyard to sit didn’t really accomplish much. It did give The Main Exhibit room to stretch. Fatima wasn’t really sure what that meant, though. Amy wasn’t actually real. The walls never seemed to bother her, and she wasn’t solid, even as far as the many ghosts Fatima had seen in the last several months went. She could see them now, even, wandering among the people enjoying their mornings. Her dinosaur companion didn’t seem capable of extending her presence too far from Fatima, either. After that she faded off into mist.
She took a seat at a park bench, and watched Amy. Observing her. She did still study the creature’s bones, after all. Or at least, similar specimens. But how much of the dinosaur was simply her own conceptions? Could it really be a 67 million year old ghost? Or was it, as Frank suspected, some kind of ‘collective psychic projection’? Though Fatima suspected he made the phrase up on the spot. Amy had tried to crush him between her jaws, but Frank simply ignored it with barely a flinch, smoking away at one of his Marlboros. Nasty habit.
Was Amy’s interest in the birds due to her drives, including curiosity, or was it due to Fatima’s subconscious belief that the little dinosaurs should capture the attention of the bigger non-avian one? Amy looked up at her, able to feel Fatima’s emotions, just as Fatima could sense the primal curiosity. Amy was somehow so alive, unlike other ancient reptiles. None of the turtles or crocodilians Fatima had observed working at the London zoo had ever behaved so much like a juvenile. Was it because this world was so new to her? Or, as Sabrina had suggested, do the Bound change their geists?
The head of the dinosaur floated closer, massive feet not disturbing the ground or the birds, and rested in front of Fatima, lowering to the ground. Amy closed her eyes, but Fatima could still feel the hot breath and wind that wasn’t really there. She smiled. It was never good to humanize a wild animal, but still she looked around the courtyard to see if anyone might watch her and laid a hand on Amy’s snout. The world vibrated so much that it hurt her arm as a contented low rumble sounded from within her.
“I come here to watch the birds, but that’s one I haven’t really seen before…”
The voice startled Fatima, and she took her hand away Amy’s snout.
The voice had come from an old man, who just sat down at the park bench beside her. She hadn’t even heard him come up. He sat with a lunchbox in his lap, and his hair was thinning on top, but white and wispy on the sides, standing up. He had a faded sweatshirt from the Wainright University Athletics Department, and looked like he was here on a day off despite it being a Wednesday. He smiled with his eyes behind square rimmed spectacles that looked like they belonged in a previous decade. Of course, this man had died in a previous decade, though Fatima couldn’t quite say how she knew that.
She put a hand to her mouth in surprise, “Oh, you’re…”
“What’s wrong young lady,” the old man teased. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Haha!”
“You’re aware of your condition? Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners. I’m rather new to this whole necromancy business.” She wasn’t really sure what to do, so she offered her hand. “I am Fatima Khan, of the paleontology department. And this,” she gestured to The Main Exhibit, “Is Amy.”
The ghost shook Fatima’s hand with more force than she’d expected he’d be capable of. “Roger Englund, paleobotany! And it’s nice to meet you, Amy. You arrived well after my time. Though I suppose you both did.” He went to pat Amy, and she nudged back against his hand. Of course, unaware of her own strength, she sent Roger back through the park bench. He drifted back through as mist and reformed with good humor. “Oh! Lively, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I’ve had quite a time getting used to her,” Fatima said, giving Amy the stern look one might give a dog that jumped on a guest. The look didn’t do much, but the connection that she had with Amy, fresh as it was, did get the message across and she looked as contrite as a dinosaur might have been capable of, bowing her head.
Roger took a bite of his sandwich, which Fatima found odd. “It’s a lovely day out, isn’t it? Sometimes I sort of forget days like this.”
“I suppose it is,” she thought. “Is that sandwich… real?”
Roger looked down at it, and laughed, “oh, hah, it’s about as real as I am. Depends on how you look at it. It’s just a memory, and so am I.”
“A memory can forget what a nice day was like?”
Amy found the conversation boring, and curled up in the hollow of Fatima’s soul. She’d never really been sure if those were real, but then again she’d never really thought ghosts were either, and yet here she was with one nestled up where the other used to be. According to the witch girl at least.
Roger laughed again, a full belly laugh. “Something like that. You really are new, aren’t you?”
“Well, I d… I died a little over eight months ago. It all sort of came fast, though Miss Granger has been teaching me.”
“Hm,” Roger said thoughtfully, looking up at the campus building across the way. “Is that the one who dresses like a witch? I can’t say I know much about her, but she makes me uncomfortable.”
Fatima blinked, and leaned in a little. Sabrina had always been rather helpful, if a little crass. But there was so much she didn’t know. “Uncomfortable?”
Roger shrugged, and took another bite of his memory sandwich before continuing. “She does dress like a witch, after all. And some of us Absent don’t really trust the Bound to begin with.”
“I’m a Bound, aren’t I?”
“Oh, sorry, sorry, it’s nothing about you personally. Just that a lot of them… meddle. They like to get in your business, speaking as a ghost.”
Fatima leaned back, a little disappointed that was all. “Oh. I don’t really want to meddle. I have had ghosts come up and ask for help, but I don’t really know what to do. I’ve been apologizing and letting the others know.”
“There are more? Oh, my. I wonder if…” he trailed off, looking away.
“Wonder? Wonder what?”
“Well, it seems that some of the Absent have been going missing.”
“Absent are… is that what gh—what you prefer to be called?” Fatima looked out among the campus herself, trying to pick out which of the people milling about were alive and which were dead. Even at this distance she could simply tell who was a ghost and who was alive. There were a lot more ghosts than she ever thought.
“Oh, some of us. We trade in Memories, passing them back and forth between ourselves to remember what it was like being alive. There aren’t as many these last few weeks. I do hope nothing bad is happening.”
Fatima tilted her head. “Bad? But, pardon my asking, you’re already dead, what bad things can happen to… Absent?”
“Oh, we can die again. Forever. It might be better if we just went to the Underworld, where it’s safe.”
“The Underworld is a safe place? Sabrina says…” Fatima stopped herself when she noticed Roger’s expression sour at Miss Granger’s name. “Sorry.”
He gave a halfhearted smile, “no, it’s alright. Besides, you know her better than I do.”
“Oh, I don’t know her very well at all, which is why I was hoping you’d be able to tell me more. I don’t like gossip, but… I would like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“Hm.” Roger sat for a moment, and then stood up, the lunch box having disappeared. “Would you let me show you something?”
Fatima was confused, and got to her feet as well. “What is it?”
“Oh, I think it’s best if you see for yourself,” he said, stretching even though his muscles were likely miles away and rotted. It was strange to think about, so Fatima tried not to.
“Alright, lead the way then, Roger.”
And so the two of them went through to the side entrance of the museum. Roger walked, which Fatima found unusual on some level. In movies you always saw ghosts gliding. Or sometimes they even flew above the ground. But then again, he didn’t really look much like a ghost, either. He looked like a retired school teacher. Eventually they came to a door in an alleyway and Roger simply walked through it.
That is, through the door. Now that was more what Fatima expected of a ghost. She on the other hand found that it didn’t open for her.
Roger stuck his head through the solid mass of the door and then looked down at where Fatima was trying the handle.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, and went back to the other side. There was a click, and this time Fatima was able to open the door.
“Where is it that we’re going?” she asked, stepping inside a darkened hallway. The lights were off. That was unusual. This was the section of the building undergoing renovations. Plastic sheets and scaffolding hung in the rooms. It was an unsettling place, though Amy rumbling sleepily in her chest gave her some comfort.
“Just up here, to my old office,” he said, walking through construction equipment that Fatima had to go around. “You see, you were talking about that friend of yours, and I remembered something horrible…”
“Horrible?” Fatima stopped for a moment, almost tripping over a toolbox, then hurried to catch up. But she couldn’t find Roger anymore.
“Oh yes. That little bitch has been throwing a wrench into our plans for this city.” The voice seemed to come from behind Fatima, and she spun around. His tone had changed so suddenly.
There was a breeze, and Fatima turned again, feeling Amy rumbling in anger. “What? That’s not very nice, what are you talking about? What plans? Roger, what are you talking about?”
“I’ve been watching your little pet. She doesn’t like to come out when there isn’t room.” Roger’s voice changed into something distorted as he spoke. “But then again, she’s just an illusion anyway, even in Twilight.”
True enough, Amy didn’t come out, but her low rumble pervaded Fatima’s bones. Fatima stopped and put her back up against the wall and knelt down, grabbing onto a screwdriver from the floor. She didn’t say anything, too afraid to give away her location.
The thing that was Roger laughed maliciously in the shadows. “It isn’t every day I run across a Sin-eater so fresh from the slab. I bet this is all so confusing for you. But don’t worry, when I kill you again and feast on that big bird of yours, then it’ll all make sense and I’ll take you down to the Underworld where you should have gone months ago.”
Fatima looked out from her hiding place, but felt a sharp growl in her stomach. Just before she could figure out what Amy was telling her, hands came from the wall behind her and pulled her back against it, talons tearing her dress jacket and digging into her flesh. Almost by instinct she poured plasm into the wounds, and wisps of white poured from her wounds like steam from dry ice. Still, it hurt, and she screamed. She’d never felt pain like this, she was posh!
One of the talons went up to her throat, and started to squeeze. Amy panicked, thrashing against Fatima’s ribs. In a moment of terror Fatima thought she might break free, and destroy the whole building.
Before that could happen, Fatima brought the screwdriver up and stabbed it into the hand at her throat. The fingers spread and shook, and the hand faded into mist. Fatima rose to her feet and stepped away from the wall, but there were more hands. Not just two of them. They were all over the place. Two more grabbed at her feet, and she tried to kick them away but they grasped at her again. Pale and black veined.
Amy reverberated so loud it felt like Fatima’s flesh would be torn from her bones and a wave of understanding came over her. In one hand was the screwdriver. In the other clenched fist was a Key. One was more meaningful than the other.
From the darkness in front of her, Roger stepped out. Now he was a horrid thing, looking like some kind of atavistic throwback wearing animal furs and necklaces of teeth. The pudgy man eating lunch while watching birds was gone and here was a caveman wearing the skull of a Smilodon fatalis painted with whorls of pigment.
“You’re not Roger… wh-what are you?” Fatima clung to that Key, and though it was cold it felt like a beating heart in her hand.
The voice that came from beneath that skull was gravely and coarse, “I’m the Pangaean Hunter. Roger gave me his memories before I dragged him back to the Underworld. They’re so helpful when luring little Bound like you into a trap.”
Fatima felt Amy rumbling again, and it was like she could feel the tip of the dinosaur’s nose nudging her hand with the key. She forgot about the Pangaean Hunter for a moment and looked down, opening her hand.
“What is that?” he snarled, thrusting a spear into her shoulder.
Fatima winced as the razor of obsidian dug into her shoulder, burying itself up to the feathers tied on the shaft, too big and colorful for any modern bird. “It’s a key… a Key.”
She said the words and looked back at the Key. It was ivory, not iron. Worn and smooth milky yellow, aged. Scrimsaw whorls. The teeth were carved by claw. It’s a Key.
Amy rumbled in Fatima’s chest, and she took the Key in hand and plunged it right into her heart. The bow of the key was wrapped in leather and Fatima pressed it between her fingers and turned it in the lock.
Amy came pouring out of her chest, the low bass growl threatening to shake the flesh from Fatima’s bones, but instead it strengthened her as tendrils of plasm wrapped around her body and sank into her flesh, merging with it. The Key was gone but The Main Exhibit was all around her now, and she could feel the raw power of 67 million years of primal glory. The sounds of a jungle from before the dawn of time rang in her ears, the shrieks and howls of terrified prey and the beating heart of a hunter.
“Wha… no!” The Pangaean growled, and this time the spear went right through The Main Exhibit’s heart.
She didn’t care. The heart simply moved out of the way. Fatima Khan was no more. The thing that stood in her place tilted its head. Feathers and teeth. It took a step forward, shaking off the grasping hands at the floor. The spear squelched as it dug deeper into plasm infused flesh.
“Hunt…” Amy and Fatima said together, two voices overlapping. Another step forward.
The Pangaean Hunter pulled with all his might and the shaft of the spear broke. He use the broken haft to swing at The Main Exhibit’s head. It did nothing. It tilted it’s head the other way and then back, like a chicken eyeing a particularly juicy bug. Its mouth opened, and then continued opening wider than was humanly possible.
The Hunter stepped back.
“Hunt… Eat…”
The Main Exhibit lunged forward and snapped at the Pangean Hunter. Its head was torn clean off.
The Hunter regained its head as it transformed back into Roger—or whoever—and took another step back. “No! No, my mask!”
The Main Exhibit dropped the smilodon mask into it's claws and looked down at it with raptoran eyes. The gaze combined an animal inquisitiveness with the intelligence of a human scientist.
Not-Roger lunged for the thing in it's claw and the other limb shot out, longer than it should have been, and pinned him to the wall. He thrashed and struggled to no avail and The Main Exhibit ignored him to focus on the mask. A hateful thing. A powerful thing. Death twice over.
“I'll get that back!” The ghost snarled, voice choked despite the lack of need for respiration. “And when I do I'm going to kill you, all of you!”
Amy didn't like him. So she snapped his neck. He discorporated in a mist of plasm. The hands that had formed on the ground and walls splattered like ripe fruit.
The thrumming of the jungle receded from Fatima's mind, and she could feel Amy wanting to stay, her feathers became the hair beneath her hijab and scales became skin beneath her now torn dress. She stumbled and dropped to her knees, hand over her mouth. Then she doubled over and vomited.