My cellmate’s book lowered. He was definitely up there in age. His eyes were the light brown of dry dirt, and there was a mischievous twinkle to them. He was scrawny, practically emaciated, but he kind of reminded me of an elephant; his ears stuck out, and the skin on his face was wrinkled and cracked. His hair was almost non-existent, and his skull tapered in a way that suggested he had a big brain. His gap-toothed smile suggested otherwise.

“As you just heard, Bucket’s the name, still kicking’s my game.” He said with an exaggerated southern accent. I blinked. “Get it? ‘Kicking the bucket’?” He laughed.

“Uhh…” I replied stupidly. He stopped laughing to sigh.

“The inmates and even the guards have bets on when I’m going to die. It’s been going on for the last 15 years.” He explained.

“15 years? How old are you?” I asked.

“Don’t you know never to ask a lady her age?” He admonished.

“Umm… are you a lady?” I asked in confusion.

“No, but I don’t see why that matters.” He replied with a psychotic laugh. I just stared at him. How did I get stuck with the old, crazy guy? Then I remembered what the guard said.

“What did the guard mean, by ‘try not to kill this one’?”

“Well, my last mate offed himself; they think it was my fault, said I talked him to death. Can you believe that?”

“Uhh… no, not at all.” I responded. I felt out of my depth, usually I was the one that confused everyone.

“See? That’s what I told ‘em. But did they believe me? No, course not. Nobody believes old Bucket. Everyone says I’m crazy, but I’m not crazy. You feel me?” He rattled. “You know what? I like you. I think we’re going to become fast friends. Maybe I’ll even share my stash with you.”

“For the love of death.” I muttered.

“Never heard that one before. I like it!” He exclaimed, tossing his book aside and grabbing my hand to shake it with both of his. I shook back, not knowing how else to respond.

“I’m Bucket, what do they call you?” He asked. I smirked at the opportunity to make a nickname. I turned my head slightly, cradled my chin in the crook of my extended thumb and forefinger, and held the elbow of that arm with my other hand. As was expected of me, the pose was amazing, awe-inspiring even.

“They call me…” I started with a lordly grin. “The Revenant.”

“No, they don’t. That’s stupid, you’re not old enough to be called that.” He commented. What the death? I finally get a cool nickname and it gets rejected by a guy named ‘Bucket’. “I’m gonna call you ‘Glaucoma’ on account of your weird eyes.”

“Nah, I don’t like that. Why don’t you just call me Jesse?” I said.

“Glaucoma it is!” He replied.

“What? No, I don’t want to be called Glaucoma.” I said.

“Look, pal. You don’t get to choose what you’re called. What you in for, Glaucoma?”

“I – I’m not done talking about the name.” I tried.

“I am and I got seniority.” Bucket said. “I’m allegedly in for drugs.” I shook my head and sighed. “They claimed I was selling the stuff, but maybe I was just holding on to it for a buddy or the cops planted it. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it.” I winked.

“Why are you winking? It’s the truth, or is something wrong with your eyes? That makes sense, with them gray eyes. You got glaucoma, right? That’d explain your nickname..” He rambled.

“I don’t – I thought – never mind. I’m not really sure why I’m here, probably attempted murder or something.” I replied. “Not that I’m judging, but you look too old to be busted for drugs. How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Too old? What’s that supposed to mean. You think you’re better than me cause you killed someone? It’s not a contest, boy.” He commented. “Anyhow, I’ve been here 52 years.”

“52 years?! How have you been in jail for 50 years for drugs?”

“Well, technically I got out on parole a couple years back, but then they claimed I violated it.” He said. “But back then, there was a lot of corruption. Cops planting evidence and the like. The judge sentenced me for life, on account of allegedly sleeping with his daughter. I told him I didn’t, but he didn’t believe me. Not that I’d blame me for it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t say you heard it from me, but I tell you what, that girl was a looker.”

“Oh – yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”

“But I was able to get out on parole a couple years back.” He added.

“You just said that. How did you violate your parole?” I asked.

“I didn’t violate parole, but allegedly I killed a guy.” He explained. “I wouldn’t blame me if I had, though. He ratted me out so he could have the judge’s daughter to himself. They had two kids together. They’re grown up now though.”

“I really don’t know how to feel about that, Bucket.” I responded.

“I get it. It’s a lot to take in. Honestly, it’s probably for the best that I’m back in here anyway. The world is scary out there, you know?” He said.

“You have no idea.” I commented.

“I know exactly how it is. You should respect your elders. I’m probably old enough to be your older brother.”

“I think – you know what, you’re right, I should have known better.” I said.

“Damn right.” He said.

“Language.” I said.

“Sorry, it just slipped out.” He apologized. “Can’t be swearing in front of children. Hey, why don’t you tell me about your troubles, Glaucoma?”

Since I didn’t want him to talk me to death and I had nothing better to do, I decided to explain my situation. I told him about my ability to heal and give people a second chance; my amazing billboard, which he tried to comment on, but I talked over him; my unwanted apprentice and how badly he screwed up; Al destroying my apartment; the battle with Jascia; getting arrested; and seeing Selena. I probably should have held back on some of the details, but I didn’t. I used magic and it wasn’t like I had a secret identity or anything.

“…then she melted my face off and tells me to stay put.” I finished.

“That’s quite the tale you got there, Glaucoma. I’ve seen some things, let me tell you, but magic powers? Fighting monsters? Getting your face melted off? Even I think that’s a little farfetched, and that’s coming from a guy named Bucket.” He said.

I sighed, walked over to the bunk bed and tried to lift it. It was surprisingly difficult, but by pushing even more energy into my muscles, it gave and rose into the air. It had been anchored to the walls and the floor.

“Whoops.” I said inspecting the damaged cement blocks and concrete floor. I tried to realign the bed with the holes, so the damage would be less noticeable. It was still very noticeable.

“Damn.” Bucket commented in astonishment.

“Language!” I admonished again.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Well, it seems like I’m going to need to change your nickname after all.” Bucket said.

“Finally getting behind ‘The Revenant’?” I smirked, making the same flourish as before.

“No, no. That’s still dumb. I’m gonna call you – Ghost.” He said. I tilted my head back and forth considering.

“I guess I don’t hate it. Is it because I died and came back to life?” I asked.

“What? Nah, it’s your freaky eyes.” He said. “You see, when I got out on parole, the halfway house I stayed at had us do some work with dogs. When I got my own place, I kept working there. Anyhow, there was this dog. He was an Australian Shepherd. He got hit by a car, but he got right back up as if nothing happened. He didn’t seem hurt at all. The people that crashed into him were worried though, on account of he had all kinds of scars on him. They took him to the vet, and they were amazed that he was still alive from all the abuse. He was missing a front leg and one of his eyes. He also had a chunk missing from his ear and there were burn marks all over his face. It looked like he’d been beaten repeatedly, and the icing on the cake was that someone cut off his tail. A tail makes a dog a dog. Did you know that they don’t actually wag their tails because they’re happy, they wag them because they’re excited? They might be happy, mad, anxious, hunting, doesn’t matter. Anyhow, even with all that, turns out, he was completely fine. You believe that? Well, the people that hit him left him at the vet, so he was brought to the shelter I was working at. Him and I hit it off right away, dogs can read people, you know? Well, they let me adopt him, but nobody ever gave him a name, so I did. I named him Bark Kent ‘cause he was a superpup. He survived all that punishment, and he kept kicking. Kind of like me. Anyhow, his one eye was white. I looked it up, but he didn’t have glaucoma. Turns out that Native Americans used to call Australian Shepherds the ghost-eye dog. That’s why your name is Ghost, on account of your ghostly eyes.”

“So… I reminded you of a three-legged dog?” I asked.

“Exactly.” He replied. “Anywho, I got a job for you.”

“A job?” I asked dumbly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean a job. What you think I’m talking about? It’s a job.” He said grumpily. I clenched my teeth. This guy…

“I know what a job is. I mean, what kind of job?” I continued.

“You’re just going to help me with a little problem.” He said with a toothless grin. I eyed him with suspicion.

“What kind of problem?” I asked.

“Just a small matter, don’t worry about it. We better get going.” Bucket said. “It’s time for dinner.” As if he’d commanded it, a guard called out for us to go for supper. We were directed to the cafeteria and my anxiety sense was on high alert the whole time.

We grabbed trays and some unidentifiable slop was plopped onto our plates along with a bread roll, an apple, and some water. Bucket guided me to an empty table, no one joined us. I started scarfing down my food and noticed that we were getting quite a few glares. Based on the distance everyone kept from us, I quickly realized that Bucket had to be some kind of pariah. I could understand that, but it appeared that I was about acquire the same status by association.

“Hey Bucket? Do I have to thwack the biggest guy with a tray to get respect or something?” I asked.

“Yeah, I suppose that’d do it.” Bucket said. “But it’s pretty likely that you’d get shivved.”

“Got it. No thwacking.” I replied with a nod. The gap between us and everyone else widened and there were a lot more eyes on us. “So… Why is everybody looking at us?”

“It’s a sign that something’s about to go down.” He said, to which I perked up.

“What do you mean ‘something’s about to go down’?” I asked nervously.

“It’s just a rumor, mind you, but word is, Atom’s coming for me.” He responded.

“Bucket? Who’s Adam and why would he be coming after you…?” I asked with even more concern.

“It’s Atom. A-T-O-M. And it’s no big deal. He’s just the leader of a group of guys. He thinks I took something from him.” He replied. I threw my hands up in exasperation.

“Why would you do something like that?” I asked incredulously.

“Who said I did?” Bucket defended.

“Because of course you did!” I replied. He eyed me for a moment, then nodded.

“He stole it from me first.” He admitted. I facepalmed. “Oh, c’mon, don’t get all upset. You have magic powers. You’ll be fine.” I groaned and that’s when I understood why superheroes don’t go around flashing their powers to everyone.

“No. No, no, no, no, no. I’m supposed to keep a low profile and I’m pretty sure roughing up some guy named Atom is the opposite of low profile. Can’t you just give back whatever it is?” I asked. Al would be livid if I disobeyed her immediately after she explicitly told me not to stand out; especially after she literally melted my face off.

“Here he comes.” Bucket whispered while standing up. “Here’s the plan: you kick his ass and I’ll make a run for it. You know – just in case you die.” I stood up to protest both his plan and his language, but before I could say anything, he shoved me toward a group of men and took off.

I stared at five pairs of shoes that stopped as I ran into the man leading the pack. As my eyes rose from the ground, I noticed that none of the men’s legs or torsos seemed to be all that muscular. In fact, they were quite thin. They weren’t the bruisers I expected hardened criminals to be. My gaze continued to rise until I stared into the face of the man I’d run into.

To describe him, I’d use the word pretty, instead of handsome. He bore a smile, that on the surface didn’t seem, at all, that sinister; it was more business-man-like than anything else. There weren’t any discernable scars marring his clean-shaven face. Wavy brown hair was tied back behind his head and looked to be a little over chin-length. He had an average sized nose, and atop its bridge sat a pair of thin, frameless glasses. To my dismay, there was no color difference between his pupils and his irises, they were both black. You have got to be killing me…

I quickly took a step back. My eyes darted from side to side to inspect the man’s posse. Every single one of them had black eyes.

“Uhh… hey fellas.” I chuckled nervously. “You must be Atom. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

“Oh?” Atom said. He had a professional voice, not at all like a murderous monster from another plane. “What sort of things?”

“That you’re benevolent and merciful?” I hoped. He shook his head with a wide smile.

“I’m afraid that you’ve been lied to.” He replied. I gulped. There was a long pause. “Those are some interesting eyes you have there.”

“You know – a lot of people tell me that.” I said nervously, trying to keep all five of them in sight. “You must get that all the time too.”

“You could say that.” He smirked. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” My mouth opened to respond, but another voice came from nowhere.

“His name’s Ghost! He has magic powers and he’s going to kick your ass!” Bucket shouted. My shoulders dropped and I looked to the ceiling for strength. Once again, I didn’t feel like chastising Bucket for his language. Not because I was scared or anything, mind you.

“Ghost? Is it?” Atom chuckled. “What an interesting name. Can you walk through walls or turn invisible?” He asked, his entourage laughing along with him.

“No, he can’t, but he’s super strong!” Bucket responded from some unknown location. “Get him Ghost!”

“Bucket! Shut up; you’re not helping.” I shouted. “Just give the man back his stuff.”

“No way! It’s mine.” Bucket yelled. I looked back to Atom as if it couldn’t be helped. I hoped my eyes conveyed that he didn’t have to kill me. He laughed again, knowingly.

“I tell you what, Ghost . If you kill Bucket and get me back my property, I’ll forgive this little encounter.”

“Don’t listen to him, Ghost! He’s lying to you.” Bucket yelled.

Why was this happening to me? The only thing I wanted was to run a semi-successful business and be left alone. All I had to do was give a teenage girl a second chance, but no. Somehow, I ended up in prison about to be atomized over a pack of cigarettes or something.

“This just isn’t my week.” I murmured to no one in particular. Atom eyed me curiously.

“Do we have a deal?” He asked.

“Sorry, pal.” I said with a resigned sigh. “No deal.” Atom tsked and shook his head, disappointed.

“Gentlemen, it appears we weren’t able to strike an accord.” Atom said to his group of lackeys. “Please welcome Ghost to his new home while I pursue our old friend Bucket.”

After all the battle I’d been through and the various magics I’d used lately, an unknown confidence rose in me. I knew I was against impossible odds. Even with Al and I working together, we struggled to fight one demon. Now, I was standing in front of five . It didn’t matter though. I was on the side of good; protecting those that can’t defend themselves was what it was all about. Besides, that’s how every good underdog story starts right? The hero makes smart aleck comments, defies all odds, and emerges victorious.

“Can’t we figure something else out?” I pleaded, heroically, of course. “Nobody has to die.” It wasn’t the clever, smart aleck comment that I’d hoped, but I was under pressure. Humored, Atom turned to me and laughed.

“I like this guy.” Atom said to his group, thumbing over his shoulder. They chuckled with him. Then without warning, I was impaled. When I looked down, the floor had morphed into a spike that extended from Atom’s feet directly into my chest. I didn’t have a chance to react, let alone, how to do so. How do you defend against getting murdered by a floor tile spike? Atom stepped close and patted the side of my face and whispered in my ear.

“Everyone dies.” He said, which, I’ll admit, was way cooler than ‘nobody has to die’ then getting impaled by the floor. Not knowing what else to do, I took the opportunity to bring the fight to my home turf. While his hand tapped my cheek, I jumped into Atom’s soul.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I entered, but it wasn’t what I saw. I stood in a sterile lab environment. An egg-headed alien sat at a white desk reading what appeared to be a science textbook. It wore a silver jumpsuit with a metallic sheen to it. The clothing covered everything except the pallid gray skin on its head and hands. The creature had four long double-jointed fingers on each hand which skimmed across the page it was reading. Massive black eyes protruded from its bulbous head, and its nose consisted of two slits in the middle of its face. The monster looked exactly like an alien that you might expect to have escaped from Area 51.

“Are you Atom?” I asked hesitantly.

“Just a moment.” It responded, raising a finger. The response perplexed me, but I took the opportunity to look around the room. The only thing that stood out was a glass tube with cloudy green liquid. There were panels with levers and buttons next to it. It looked to be straight out of a sci-fi movie. I eyed it quizzically and approached to better inspect the contents. What I saw didn’t shock me in the least, but I could only make out the silhouette of a human which floated inside.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” The alien’s voice said beside me. I jumped out of instinct.

“Don’t do that!” I chided. He chuckled.

“To answer your earlier question, yes. I am Atom.” He introduced. “I find it quite curious that you’re here.”

“Yeah. Curious is kind of what I do.” I responded, shaking away the jump scare. I didn’t sense any hint of malice from Atom, so I gave the liquid chamber a more thorough gander.

The silhouette had a somewhat feminine build, but upon closer inspection, it was a man. The man had delicate features, and I only recognized him after wiping away condensation from the glass. It was the inmate that Atom was possessing. I quirked my lips in thought.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to let this guy go and go back to where you came from?” I asked. Atom smirked once more.

“I’m afraid not.” He said. “Ghost, was it?”

“Yeah, that works, I guess.” I shrugged noncommittally.

“You see, Ghost, I was invited here, and I intend to stay.” He explained. “This world is significantly more comfortable than mine.”

“I can imagine.” I agreed. What Jascia had shown me of their side of the veil, didn’t scream comfortable. “Unfortunately, I don’t need more monsters running around the city. I’m a little fuzzy on how it works, but I’ll just release this guy and go from there.” I said, cocking back a fist.

When my punch connected with the glass, however, a jarring sensation rocked me. I tried to stagger back, but there was a ceramic spike holding me in place. It dawned on me after a couple seconds that I’d just been ejected from the man’s soul. Had I done something to warrant that? The subconscious of the soul’s owner was incapacitated, it shouldn’t have been able to react to my actions, even if it had been illusion breaking.

“Confused?” Atom asked. “As I said, I was invited. Erik was overcome with pain and anguish over the abuse he endured here.” Atom smiled at my furrowed brow. “I assume you thought he was imprisoned and intended to set him free? Well, your assumption was wrong.”

“I don’t get it.” I replied. His smile widened.

“You’re the ones that call us demons. Don’t you know how demons operate? There is some truth to the myth. Erik made a deal for my help – in exchange for his soul.”