As an odd energy was within the air, the Ottawan Army was struggling to contain their hero. The singular eye of his, peering through the ripped-open potion of the OCPA MK II's helmet, revealed to his dad just how gone his son's sanity was.
"Ghost! WE NEED YOU! SNAP OUT OF IT!" The cries and pleads of the army weren't enough. Even Daniel had been thrown as if he was a small stone, standing in the way of the raging might of the Ghost's tidal wave of insanity. Scott, the Ghost's father, watched his son lose his mind. That once happy-go-lucky child he'd raised, the teenager he'd had a falling out with, the broken man his son had left the military as, and the adult who'd recently been in college, trying to navigate this difficult world, had all been replaced with a dormant seed of hatred and overwhelming anger.
Scott tossed one of the soldiers the rifle he'd been carrying. He ran in front of his son, now the only thing still standing in the Ghost's path down to pure, hysterical psychosis . "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, SON! LOOK AT ME!"
The Ghost's visible eye snap-locked onto his father. "...YOU." The Ghost doubled over, the amount of pain and rage flowing from his heart, for the first time, was greater than the light of his soul. "DID YOU FORGET HOW YOU PARTICIPATED IN MY DOWNFALL! BECAUSE I HAVEN'T!" The Ghost lunged at his father, armored fist cocked back, ready to deliver a punch even Mike Tyson would've died from. Daniel and the others watched what looked like the end for Scott. They cried for the older man to move, all falling upon deaf ears. Scott stood there, watching his son come at him with everything he had. He took a deep breath, then opened his arms.
The Ghost's eyes suddenly soften, allowing himself to think, entering his mind.
"W-what's gone on?" The current version of the Ghost heard the words echo around his head. He stood up and walked into the dense red mist, only to find the past versions of himself. The child and military versions were enraged, both overriding the power he had over his own mind.
"Stop this! Those are our friends!" As the words reached the duo, they looked at him, speaking in an overwhelming, dualtone voice.
"THEY LET HIM DIE! YOU LET HIM DIE! Mom...Mom?.... MOM MADE THIS HAPPEN! YOU ARE A TRAITOR TO US!"
The current version, rather than raise his fists, walked towards them. "You think you've seen pain? You think you know heartache and suffering? The current version of himself was hit by a wave of rage. While the other versions were brought to their knees, he, alone, remained standing. As he arrived at the two of them, he took a deep breath, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Yes, losing him hurts. However, we lost someone far more important. An irreplaceable cornerstone that drove you both forwards." His hands swiftly gripped them both by their faces and held them up. Allow me to show you... the weight of my greatest pain.... October 2nd, 2022."
"NO! DON'T!" The cries from those versions that couldn't stand when ignored as he revealed his greatest tragedy.
The gentle autumn wind blew leaves across the road of his old apartment. The two watch as the current version of him, within the memory, gets into the wine-red Ford Bronco II he used to own. He was on the phone just before leaving his parking spot.
"Yea.. It'll be fun, RJ... Uh huh.... I'll be there in five minutes." The phone was hung up and put in the cupholder. As the little Bronco II was at the second stoplight, when the phone refused to stop ringing.
"Hello?" He answered.
"You need to get to Grandma's... It... Time."
His father's voice tugged at words he'd heard once, words a car series tv show host once said, "When I arrived in Sheffield, the chicken was still warm...". As he slammed the throttle pedal of that little old bronco onto the floor, the stoplight turned green. He flew through the downtown area, speedometer climb, 40, 60, 80, 100.... the red streak flew across the bridge at 110 miles per hour, (177 kph). For a cube of steel with a roll-over problem and built in the 1980's, it was flying. As all four tires screeched the Ghost arrived at his grandparents house, wasting no time at all. As he walked inside, the two younger versions of him got to watch.. As he rounded the corner into his grandparents living room, he'd beaten death by seven seconds. After those seven seconds were up, the frail, elderly woman took her last breath, eyes closed, squared away with her Lord.
However, the memory jumped to shortly after everyone else had arrived. Archie and the Ghost's Uncle approached him, saying what was supposed to be words of comfort. "That memoir, that's what she needed to hear... to let go." However, that's never how it was taken. They heard a different interpretation of those words scream louder than anything in their two lives. "YOU KILLED HER!"
The current version dropped the two back onto the ground and left silently, leaving the other two crying for the teenage version of himself to clean up.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got work to fucking do. Keep them from interfering with me, EVER again." As the current version vanished, time seemed to begin again. He landed behind his father, letting a deep breath out, tears running down his face.
"Daniel?"
"Yes, Ghost?
"Call in a chopper." The Ghost turned to his ex's lifeless corpse, "He's come back with us."
Once they'd returned to Greater Ottawa, Dr. Sue was frantically trying to find the Ghost. The fair was on hold, as everyone was assisting getting people into safe areas.
"General Daniel, is the Ghost..." She was cut off by the Ghost walking out of the helicopter, carrying the lifeless body of his former boyfriend. She covered her mouth as he walked past her. He paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder. "What you need, I will help with." The Ghost allowed the Preacher to carry the body.
She looked at him, knowing he was hurting, but even this superseded his pain. "Ghost, the world is about to enter a new age of darkness... The Carrington Event... hits the atmosphere at midnight."
"What of the project?"
"It will survive, Dr. Von Schneider reassured me. Ghost, we're taking down transformers, killing power relays and substations, but...."
"Lasalle Lake Nuclear Power Plant." The Ghost nodded and let out a breath that could be classified as a declaration of war, "Get that prototype armor out of storage. I will defend the nuke plant."