The Secret Trio

Chapter 1

A stained copper cauldron fizzled and hissed. A bubbling, thick crimson mixture was swirled by a wooden spoon held by a gnarled, thin, and jaundiced fist. The fist was covered in lacerations, bumps, and callouses. The mixture was becoming thicker and harder to stir. Finally, it ate away at the spoon, forcing the fist to release it. It fell, fractured, and disappeared into the mix. Bright orange eyes observing from under a pitch black hood did not waver as the hand retracted and he watched in silence.

This was taking place in a single room stocked with all sorts of ingredients lining overfilled walls and shelves, some bottles spilled on the floor. The single room was part of a relatively small bastion with one tall tower floating on a rock island in the vast plane that was the Ghost Zone. The bastion was a bit smaller than Skulker's island, heavily fortified by barbed wire, gnarled thorns, and sharp, black metal spikes. No one, living or dead, had dared go near it in decades. It looked like a rather small castle, what should have been noble and majestic like the centuries-old castles of Europe. Alas, ivy had crawled upon and between the stony bricks, which were long since faded. It was unkempt and unsanitary, and the dweller inside had not a care to clean it up at all.

The inside was worse than the outside; murky, dank, and humid. Dust and cobwebs gathered in corners and from light fixtures freely. In fact, the small single room where a mixture was being created was, in all its stains and spills, the cleanest part of the entire bastion. It was where the resident ghost spent all his time without a sound other than the sounds of popping, fizzling, and gurgling from a cauldron.

A cauldron worked on by the dweller hissed and began to subside for only a moment before boiling over. The mixture overfilled its pot, and the alchemist backed away. Bubbles popped and foam climbed out of its home and finally it stopped and the pot overturned, all liquid spilling out onto the floor. The ghost didn't acknowledge the spill, and rather stared into the pot expectantly.

Two orbs of white opened, and a ghastly creature climbed out. It was only about four feet long, ears pricked and long like an elf's. The creature's eyes had no pupils, only pure snow white orbs. Four fangs were protruding from behind the lips, two upper ones and two lower ones between the upper fangs. For such a small creature, its arms were thick and tough, legs the same.

The hairless imp finally croaked a gasp of its first breath of air and looked towards its creator. The creator's face was hidden by his cloak, glowing eyes only casting a minimal glow over his features. "...Master," it hacked out, "what are my orders?"

"Go fetch all the cauldrons from the cabinet. I've got for you a recipe to create in each one." The responding voice was gravelly and low. He waved a hand and pieces of parchment appeared and hung in the air. "Follow these recipes exactly and report to me when you are done. For now, I'll be on the opposite side of my citadel, working on a portal to Norrisville and Amity Park. When you're done, I'll explain to you my plan. Make this-" he pointed to one of the recipes, "-first. I need a few assistants to aid in my portal creation. Then I want you to make some of your kind to continuously make soldiers. Report to me when those soldier-makers are operating."

"Yes, sir."

"You have your orders." He floated away and the imp set to work creating more of creatures like himself: completely vile monsters. The purpose for such a thing was unknown, but he didn't have to have a purpose for his actions. He was created to follow orders, and nothing more. At the moment still a nameless being, he hauled a cauldron out of the nearby closet, taking care not to slip on any of the many multicolored spills on the floor.

The creator of the creature phased through rooms and to the opposite side of his castle. Inside were two nearly complete portals and one halfway done. Each one had a label to where they went on the underside of their rims. The portals were merely circular metal pieces outlining an empty center, about two feet wider than the proto-portal the Fentons had made twenty years prior.

Attention was turned to the portal labeled for Norrisville. He tinkered with it for awhile and finally when he deemed it ready, the gnarled hand was lifted and waved over the portal. It began to glow and hiss, and a swirling green vortex filled the inside. The resulting prideful smirk that came to the ghost's face was obscured. As he turned his attention to the next one to Amity Park, smaller versions of the first imp phased through the wall, waiting orders. They were about three feet tall, a foot shorter than his first creation, blankly staring at him. They bore a different skin tone than the first of their kind; theirs was a more mottled, sickly green tone.

The ghost pointed to the New York portal. "Get to work now. Schematics are taped to the wall."

They obeyed without a single word and began their labor. Attention returned to the Amity Park portal, the alchemist's eyes were alight with delight. His time was neigh, and so was his return and revenge. He plucked at a few wires and gears of the Amity Park portal, and finally he waved his hand and it, too, came to life. Rather pleased with his work, he turned his attention to the New York City portal. The imps were working hastily on it, picking and pulling at pieces and mechanisms of it, following directions exactly. He stood back, hands behind his back, in silence.

Feeling he earned a short break, he sat down in the room and observed. Within another hour, the first imp phased through the wall and looked to his master. "The task has been completed. All your soldiers are waiting for your word."

"Wonderful. As for the portals, right now the New York portal is coming along slower than planned, so we'll have to settle for the next few days on the other two completed portals." He looked directly at the little monster he made. "Since you have behaved well so far, I think I shall make you my personal assistant. Your name is now...Ensio." He turned his head back to the portal and got up off his feet. The alchemist strolled up and gingerly slid his hand over the currently inoperative New York portal silently. Ensio frowned and slowly approached, trying not to offend his master with his next question. "Sire, if you don't mind my asking, why have we have a portal to Amity Park? There is one already made not too far away from here. We could just use that one."

"Ensio, that one leads straight into the lair of ghost hunters. Not only will we be immediately located, they can shut off the entrance. I had to labor to make one myself."

"Ah, yes, foolish of me."

"We are all fools at times, and you were one now. Forgivable." He clucked his tongue. "Alright, the plan. Yes. I said I would tell you." He turned to his personal assistant. "Yes, yes...here is the plan indeed..." He spoke, no one else but Ensio in earshot. As the alchemist spoke, his eyes turned a mysterious white. No one to stop them before they caused havoc, no one suspecting a thing was about to happen at all. Just as it was planned to be.