The figure lifted his head from the tattered mattress.  He hadn’t really slept, but neither had he really woken up.  Jeremy spent most of his time now in a fugue state, and he had greater and greater difficulty differentiating dream (or nightmare, as it were) from reality.  He had turned so far inward over the past several years since the accident that he had lost his grasp of the outer world.  Nothing in it interested him enough to act as a focus for his attention.

Nothing, that is, except the fear that pervaded the world.

However, he had grown to separate the emotion from the people who experienced it.  They were simply candles, and it was their light and heat that drew him.  Occasionally it was strong enough to draw him out from his home and he would make his way in the outer world.  Such ventures never lasted long; he would soon be overwhelmed by the strangeness of it and retreat back to the safety of his lair.  Still, he felt a rush during those journeys as they collective fear of those around him fueled his power.  His own presence seemed to amplify the effect; he could sense the horror that he caused in those he came into contact with.

That sensation was the only thing that awakened him anymore.  Without it, he withdrew into his current state... neither dreaming nor awake... neither dead nor truly living.

And so, Jeremy didn’t notice at first the sounds of footsteps entering his home…

Weeks, months, years had been reduced to a simple cycle: stabs of light that punched through broken boards and windows or simply a warm silver glow from outside.  The days, and all names, had lost their meaning, so it was impossible to tell how long it has been since Jeremy had last eaten.  However, the pain in his stomach reminded him it was time to leave, and eat... and feed.

"Ahh, sweet fear."

Jeremy searched around him for the long trench coat that shielded him from the bright stabs.  Then a thought flashed in his mind.

Father?

It was downstairs.  Jeremy crept.  First he peered around the door and then leapt in a burst of speed that belied his cumbersome frame.  He perched himself on the marble banister, studied his surroundings, and breathed slowly.

From his position on the stair's banister, the being known as The Haunt was unable to see anyone moving in the mansion's hallway or foyer.  However, he could clearly hear the sound of deep, pounding footsteps coming from the direction of the parlor.  Whatever this intruder was, it was big.

An intruder?

Thoughts of the last time The Haunt had visitors raced in his mind.  Such pure, unadulterated fear came about so rarely.  THUD!  But this wasn't the step of a light-footed girl.  THUD!  Anticipation rose to anger.  THUD!  The Haunt roared.  The scream echoed throughout the stairwell, ran through the foyer, and bounced in the parlor and dining room.

Now, we both know we are here.  Let him come!

The thudding footsteps halted at the sound of The Haunt's chilling howl.

A moment later, they began again... moving toward him.

As The Haunt viewed the first floor from his perch on the banister, he saw a large shadowy figure step into the foyer.  The intruder was immense... at least 10 feet tall and possibly weighing a ton or more.  It was difficult to tell in the gloom of the mansion, but it seemed as though the its skin was rough and dense, almost like rock.

The figure stood there silently, staring at The Haunt...

The Haunt bounded from his perch onto the stairs leading down, leapt again on the banister of the opposite stairwell, and then high into the air.  He landed in a crouched position, palm flat on the floor.  The Haunt rose slowly.

"Why have you trespassed into my domain?"

Ethereal feelers reached out from his mind, looking for something to attach to, snapping left and right, looking for something to feed from.

Unable to find a suitable host, the feelers retreated slowly back into the Haunt.

The massive stranger doesn't seem to panic at The Haunt's presence.  Instead, a sneer crossed it's stoney face.  A thought flashed across Jeremy's mind...

It isn't surprised to find me here... it came here seeking me.

The brute tensed its body and rushed forward.  However, the floorboards cracked beneath its massive bulk and the creature lost its footing.  Its great arms swept past The Haunt, narrowly missing him.

The Haunt sidestepped under the brute’s large arms, grabbing a loose timber jutting out from under it.  Slightly off balance and pulling its leg free, the thing turned its head in time to catch the timber approaching with murderous intent.

The Haunt used his great strength to bring the wood beam crashing against the intruder's head with a thundering crack.  The beam splintered from the impact, but the giant seemed to shrug off the impact... grinning menacingly.

The intruder's arms reached out for The Haunt, and the two figures became locked in a fierce grapple.

The Haunt squirmed under the weight of the large brute.  He was driven by a natural survival instinct.

Despite the effort made by The Haunt, the giant gained the upper hand, pinning him beneath his bulk.

At that moment, The Haunt sensed another movement.  In the murky gloom of the mansion, he had not previously spotted a subtle green vapor hanging in the air nearby.  Suddenly, the gaseous cloud moved with its own will... its whisps like tendrils, enveloping The Haunt.  He managed to stay conscious, but the toxic fumes began to burn his lungs.

The Haunt struggled to escape the green vapor.

The Haunt called upon his inner strength and put everything he had into breaking the pin.  It turns out to be enough, though he was still locked in struggle with his massive opponent.

The giant's strength was too great, though, and it managed to force The Haunt back down, pinning him once again as the green vapor enveloped his head.  His lungs began screaming for air, but he managed to find the strength to resist.

The Haunt let out an angry cry, drawing his last precious breath and struggled to escape.

The Haunt struggled against the intruder, attempting to escape the pin.  However, the giant's strength and mass were just too great.  The effort finally overcame The Haunt, and he succomed to the toxic vapor that had wrapped itself around his head.

As darkness closed around him, Jeremy's mind was filled with visions of his home as it was when he was growing up... a place of safety and security before his world turned into a nightmare...

The climb back to consciousness was long and painful.  As his vision cleared, he could see that he was no longer in his home.  He was in a small, dark cell... and he was chained.

The Haunt woke to his nightmare everyday with little to distinguish between tattered mattresses or shackled chains.  He screamed a bestial cry, and in a violent frenzy, he struggled with the iron embedded in the wall.  The Haunt drove his body beyond the point of injury.  Raw skin rubbed against black iron till it bled and then some more.

Despite his struggle, The Haunt was unable to escape the chains which bound him.  Clearly, his captors were used to dealing with beings of great strength and exceptional "gifts".  Force alone would not be enough to gain his freedom.

As he stood there staring at the manacles and the blood running over his hands, a feeling crept over him.  It wasn't the sweet taste of fear that he knew so well, but it was a similar sensation... apprehension.

He saw nothing and heard nothing that would indicate the presense of anyone outside the cell.  Yet, a tiny voice spoke in his mind...

"Oh!  You're awake!"

The chains rattled as The Haunt gave a brief startle.  He slowly scanned the confines of his cell with eyes suited for spying in the dark.  His berserker fury quelled to a quiet murderous rage and blood washed over his clenched fists.  He whispered out loud to the voice in his head:

"Oh yes, I'm awake.  Come close so you may see for yourself."

As The Haunt looked around for the source of the voice, he was able to get an impression of his cell.  The room appeared to be approximately 10' by 20', with a 15'-high ceiling, and walls of solid concrete.  There was a single metal door with a small, barred opening at eye level.  There was nothing else in the room... no mattress, no chair, no toilet... just a small drain in the center of the floor.  The stink of former occupants pervaded the air.

There was no movement, no sound that indicated anyone else was present.  The Haunt wondered whether he had simply imagined the voice, but then it spoke again.

"I'm Paz."

The voice's owner entered his cell, not by opening the door, but by passing through it.  The figure was ghostly white and somewhat translucent.

It looked very much like a seven-year old girl.

"What's your name?"

The simple question struck The Haunt like a blow to the head.  In his hostile world and years alone, proof of his existence came from his daily pain.  Niceties only visited in dreams as memories that rise like ghosts.

Is this a dream?  But I don’t recognize this ghost or shade.

The Haunt struggled for an answer:

”J... Je... Jerem... my.” 

The ghostly visage of the girl stood silently for a moment, staring at The Haunt's tattered features and clothing.  Her eyes seemed to fill her face, and there was great sadness in them... moreso for seeing The Haunt in this place.

"Did they hurt you, Jeremy?  You look hurt."

“Hurt?”

The Haunt recalled how he ended up in his cell.  He remembered the ambush that was laid in his home.

“A rock thing and a green gas: they came for me.  Why?”

The Haunt forgot about Paz for the moment.  Rage overwhelmed him.  He threw himself against the wall, “And now these chains!”  He gripped the chains and leapt against the wall.  His body was snapped back like an animal on a leash too short.  The Haunt fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

“These chains.  These chains.”

The ghostly visage of Paz was filled with pity for the tormented being kneeling before her.  She walked over and reached out with her spectral hand, touching his head.  He felt her touch as a soft tingling in his mind.

"I know you're scared, Jeremy.  I get scared sometimes, too.  You've been scared a long time, haven't you?  It's why you're like this.  You can do things when people are afraid."

Her hand left the Haunt's shoulder, and her voice cracked with despair.

"This place makes people afraid.  That's why they brought you here."

The Haunt's nerves fired at the thought of people’s fear like a junkie thinking of his next hit.  The jolt brang him back to the present.  He stood and stared towards the dim light outside his barred door.

“But you’re not afraid, Paz.  You’re afraid of neither this place or me.”

He walked towards the door, as close as his shackles allowed him.

“Who brought me here, Paz?  And who else did they bring?”

Invisible feelers extended from The Haunts mind.  They searched for a host: for the fear to feed on.

The Haunt's senses reach out, seeking a source of fear, but didn't find any strong focus he could take hold of.  Instead, those senses seemed to return to the cell and to the tiny ghostly figure before him.  It wasn't fear that she felt, but her feelings of sadness and despair were so strong that the Haunt couldn't ignore them.

The girl called Paz spoke once more.

"I used to be afraid, Jeremy.  But now I'm just sad.  Brother Ivory keeps me here and makes me do bad things to people.  I think he wants you to do bad things, too."

She looked as if she was about to say more when the sound of a door opening could be heard a short distance away.  A look of shock appeared in her eyes, and the apparition vanished.

The sound of footsteps were approaching.

"Oh, and I do intend to do some very bad things, unmentionable things."

The Haunt listened to the approaching footsteps and turned back toward his wall.

But first I must meet my captor and host.  I must bid my time and wait.

The first set of footsteps were thunderous, and the Haunt suspected who they belonged to.  They stopped outside the cell's door and a voice spoke that sounded like gravel.  Its tone was malicious.

"Huhrr huhrr sorry 'bout the beatin' I gave ya back at yer ol' broke-down house.  Hope ya like yer new home!  Lemme know if I can make yer stay more comf'terble!  Huhhr huhhr huhhr!"

The brute was cut off by the harsh rebuke of another voice.

"Enough!  I didn't bring you down here to gloat, oaf.  Carry that one to the lab and strap him down."

The giant lumbered off, his thudding steps echoing through the corridor.

The new voice approached the cell door and addressed the Haunt.  The voice was cultured and strangely soothing, despite the fact that it came from the Haunt's captor.  There was a powerful confidence in the voice, and it seemed to command respect.  At the same time, the voice hinted at great maliciousness and cruelty.  It was both wonderful and terrible.

"His mind is that of a schoolyard bully, but he has his uses."

The voice paused, as if the speaker was examining his prize.

"Now then, let's have a look at you."

The Haunt paused and looked over his shoulder.  Red eyes stared from out of the darkness to the source speaking behind the barred door.

"Careful how you look.  You might not like what you find peering back."

"Hmmmmmm you are an impressive specimen, Mr. Saint.  I must say that the 'ghost stories' that circulate about your former home don't do you justice.  You're much more fearsome in the flesh."

As the Haunt turned toward the voice, he could see the face of his captor.  He was a middle-aged man, perhaps in his mid-40s.  He had the face of a movie star, topped with snow-white hair that was slicked straight back.  Strangely, despite the gloomy light of the corridor, he wore dark glasses.

"No doubt you're wondering why I've brought you here.  Well, if the stories are to be believed, you have a particular talent for inspiring fear in others.  This is an ability that may be useful to me in the course of certain... experimental... pursuits of mine."

A terrible smile spread across his face.

"You see, I've brought a 'volunteer' with me so that we might see just what you can do."

A torrent of visions flooded Jeremy’s mind at the mention of the Saint name and “former home.”  He recalled a house full with people and life till the memories strained his brain.  The Haunt whipped around and crouched; chin to his chest, he clasped his hands behind his head with arms raised to his ears.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The Haunt really did not know.  Yet, the mention of a “volunteer” excited him.  A sense of anticipation swept over him and his mouth watered.

The strange man in white smiled at seeing the Haunt's obvious confusion and dementia.  Obviously, he took great pleasure in the suffering of others.

He shouted to his hulking companion down the corridor.

"Wake him!"

Moments passed as the brute complied with his master's command.

Then the screaming started, and the Haunt felt the familiar taste of fear wash over him.

The Haunt turned and paused, crouched like an animal that hears a distant movement.  And like a predator he slowly moved without a sound.  Not a single chain link clinked as he stepped into the darkness that practically filled the cell.  From the dark, a low voice uttered a simple command:

“Release me.”

The man in white laughed softly.

"Oh no, my tattered friend, not yet.  I want to see just what you're capable of.  Go on... reach out to that poor pathetic soul.  Take control of his fear."

The sensation was growing with the man's screams.

The chains rattled and became taut at the old man’s refusal.  The Haunt heard his laughter and despised him, but the hunger was so strong… and the fear was so sweet.  The Haunt couldn’t help but to feed.  Ethereal worms lashed out; led by a scent, they passed through walls to find their quarry and burrow into his brain.

The worms burrow and fed, piercing the victim’s frontal lobe.  As they spun, the old man’s laughter rang in the ears of the victim.  The laugh grew louder and louder, encroaching on him from all sides, forcing the victim into a fetal position.  His eardrums felt on the verge of bursting and then a heartbeat began, beating faster and faster like a drum between his temples.  The world went on fire, and the laughter antagonized him further.  He then heard a voice as cool as winter:

“This can all stop.  Kill the old man in white.  Choke the life out of him!”

All along, The Haunt stood in the darkness, clinging onto the wall.  He scratched against the concrete in an effort to get closer to his prey and caress the fear between his two hands.

The screams from the "test subject" grew increasingly intense as the Haunt's psychic tendrils pierced his mind.  He was overwhelmed by nightmarish visions conjured by the Haunt and the warped sound of laughter from the man in white.  He would have blacked out from the terror, but the Haunt wouldn't let him sink into oblivion.  The torture went on for what seemed like hours, and the screaming stopped only because the man's vocal cords burst.

Throughout it all, the man in white stood before the Haunt's cell.  He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and smiled.  It was almost as if he was being showered by the terrible fear being unleashed.  The haunt could sense something strage... as if the man in white was glowing with even greater power.

When the torture finally ended, he spoke.

"Yes.  Yesssssss!  You are everything I had hoped for, Mr. Saint.  That was delicious!  I can see I was correct in bringing you here."

His head lowered and his eyes opened with a look of maliciousness.

"I hope you like it here.  You won't be leaving."

And once again he laughed.

The Haunt slid down the wall, his legs swept under him from the orgasmic experience.  He realized how similar they were.  Jeremy saw himself when he looked into the eyes of the old man.  He wondered for a moment what is it he has become and what was he before.  Jeremy felt he might find some answers here.

“Yes, it was delicious,” The Haunt said to himself.  “I don’t intend on leaving until I’ve tasted your fear, Brother Ivory, and how sweet that fear will taste, dear brother.”

The Haunt closed his eyes and slept.

The sound of Paz's small voice woke the Haunt from his sleep.

"What did you do, Jeremy?"

As he looked up, he could see her ghostly image standing by the door.  Her head was turned to the side, facing the wall, as if she was looking at the poor, tortured soul down the corridor.  Despite her intangible state, it appeared as if tears were in her eyes.

"What did you do?"

The Haunt turned away.

“I don’t know, Paz.  I only know what I needed.”

In a sudden movement, he scuttled toward her.

“Like I need to get out, Paz,” he pleaded.  “I need your help to get back to my home.  I need to escape these chains and this cell," he said and fidgeted violently. He paused.  The Haunt looked past her and muttered, “Like I need to take care of a few matters before I leave.”  He looked back into the face of the saddened Paz.  “I count three, to be exact.”

Still a bit frightened by the Haunt's actions, the spectral figure stepped back as he crawled toward her.

"I can't help you, Jeremy.  I can't get out, either.  I don't even know where I am."

The small figure sank to the floor and sobbed.  Her cries lingered in the room long after her visage disappeared once more.

From his crouched position, The Haunt fell back onto the wall and sat.  He thought back to the ambush at his home, Brother Ivory, and Paz.  He looked to his wrists.  The skin has mostly healed.  The only evidence of his past struggle with the chains were the still-moist torn pieces of flesh that clinged along the shackles' edge.  With a cry, the struggle began anew.  Exhaustion finally overcame The Haunt.  He lapsed from nightmare into dream.

Unfortunately, the Haunt's sleep is quickly interrupted by pounding at the door of his cell.  The giant had returned to taunt him.

"Huhrr huhrr!  Wake up, you!  You gettin' hungry?  If yer fast enough, mebbe you can catch some of them rats.  Huhrr huhrr huhrr!"

His insults were interrupted by the sound of a phone ring.  It was strange seeing this massive creature hold a tiny cell phone to its ear.

"Huhrr.  OK.  I'll be ready for 'im."

The giant put away the phone and turned to leave.

"Good news!  I think yer gettin' some comp'ny.  Huhrr huhrr."

The Haunt thought out loud, unconcerned whether he is heard or not:

"The good news would be if you step close enough for me to wring these chains around your neck."

The brute's thundering footsteps echoed down the corridor and then stopped.  After a brief pause, the Haunt could hear a sound as if a door was sliding open.

Then the screaming began.

With the screams, came the delicious waves of fear.  The rock thing’s words echoed in The Haunt’s ears, "I think yer gettin' some comp'ny."

“Yes,” The Haunt whispered.  “Bring him to me.  Bring him to me,” he repeated.  The Haunt screamed, “Bring him close!  BRING HIM TO ME!”

The Haunt paceed frantically, chains clanging behind him.  He retreated into a dark corner, crouched and gripped his knees to control his excitement.

The sensation of fear swept over the Haunt as the screaming continued down the corridor.  However, here was no response to the Haunt's call to bring this poort soul to him.

While the sensation of fear continued, the screams suddenly became muffled.  The sound of the giant's footsteps approached once again and stopped just outside of the Haunt's cell.

The Haunt shifted in the dark, ready to pounce.

"Won't you come in?  Or are you afraid of what the dark might have in store for you?

The brute smiled and stood squarely in front of the cell, peering into the darkness where the Haunt crouched.

Then he spoke.  However, to the Haunt's surprise, it was not the gravelly voice he was familiar with.  This was another voice entirely... one he heard inside his mind.

"I have nothing to fear from the darkness.  Let's see what secrets you have to offer."

The Haunt could sense tendrils of psychic energy reaching for his mind.

Red eyes glared from the darkness.  The power The Haunt felt was unsuspected… and unwelcome.  Mental tendrils lashed out.  They wrestled with the ones trying to invade his mind and a psychic duel ensues, invisible except to the Gifted locked in battle.

“The only secrets spilled will be from your split skull, if you but open my door and come in.”

The brute paused for a moment, obviously impressed by the Haunt's power and aggressiveness.

The mental voice continued.

"Your a fiesty one! I like your attitude.

"Here's the deal, my friend:  I'm not one of your guards, I'm just 'borrowing' Bloc here for a bit to look around.  I have no problem releasing you.  If you like, you can come along with me or wait in the cell until I get back.  But I don't need you causing trouble and attracting attention right now; this is a quiet poke about."

The stranger reached over and put Bloc's massive hands on the cell door, giving it a shake and testing the lock.

Borrowing?  The Haunt thought of the voice in his mind and realized it must be the one controlling Bloc.  He replied in a tone as chilling as ice:

"Very well.  Release me."  The Haunt stepped out of the shadow and held out his shackled wrists.  "I can be quiet as well.  But you would still need to come in."

The brute rummaged through the pockets of his outfit, searching for keys.  His manner was strange, as if he had no idea what he might be carrying.

As he searched, he asked in a very casual non-threatening mental "voice".

"So what should i call you? I'm Ronin."

His thick fingers managed to pull out a key and he opened the cell door and released the Haunt's restraints.

"What do you know about what's going on here?"

Ronin’s question brought images of screaming teens, inspectors, and homeless all yelling different things: ghost, spirit, haunted.  He turned to the Ronin-occupied brute and stepped within inches of him.

“The Haunt.  You may call me The Haunt, and I know I don’t like the look of you.  I also know that when you step outside of that body, I will bury it, plus two other.  But what of you?”  The Haunt turned toward the door and peered outside.  He looked back into the cell and at the brute.  “I was taken here.  Why do you come in such an unappealing aspect?”

All words, pictures, characters, tiles and just about everything else was created by and is copyright Stephen Rice and Electric Comics, 1996

Bytes and Bandwidth by Saturn5