Rest in peace you orange soda of a man...

You may remember Agent Savage from her previous exploits and assignments. Thanks for reading, all! If you've been enjoying Paranatural over the years, please consider chipping in to support the Paranatural Patreon to help it keep going! Thanks again!

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[Transcript]

        “DEATHTAKER LASER!!”

        Crush returned to reeling consciousness in a burst of bright red light. He stretched his atrophied senses, blinking blurry colors into focus. He’d been in the woods. In a fight. But all at once the trees had become a forest of skull-masked silhouettes, and the sounds of Mayview’s autumn night the din of conversation.

        He felt a firm grip tug him upright, to his nonexistent knees.

        “...Hey,” Crush smirked, breathing heavily. He looked back over his shoulder. “What gives, big guy? Th-thought I left my mark on you... but you’re as clean as your dang whistle.” He spat out ectoplasm and a tooth that faded into a wisp of purple, then to white, and then to nothing. “A real man oughta... wear his bruises... like badges of honor—”

        “Silence,” Coach Oop muttered, his voice breaking. “B-be quiet.”

        Crush followed Oop’s faltering eye contact to the towering creature floating over both of them. Razor Rex was leaning on her scythe like a greaser on a jukebox, contemplating murder methods like the next song she should queue. White spectral energy swirled off her shoulders in sinister plumes.

        “This the big cheese?” chuckled Crush. He whistled sarcastically. “N-never seen a wight in person... not outside my dreams, at least. Master made ’em sound a lot more scary.” He looked to Sister Cat, who was clinging to Razor Rex in an overeager attempt to look like arm candy. “THERE’S the scary one. Heya, toots. S-sorry the big guy... got all the attention. Don’t worry—you’ll get what you deserve before long, too.”

        Sister Cat giggled coquettishly, hiding half her face in the robes of her goddess.

        “That’s the plan, hot stuff!~<3” she purred. Her eyes glowed with a gleeful menace.

        “HEY, SISTER LIZARD,” Razor Rex suddenly screeched, snapping her own neck ninety degrees to the left with a crunch that would undoubtedly concern her doctor. “DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS DWEEB? HE’S NOT ONE OF BOSS LOSER’S PAJAMA BOYS, IS HE?”

        “...How should I know? I can’t see him.”

        The familiar voice that had answered stole Crush’s attention. He turned to see a cultist fresh from stepping off a stage. She hoisted a guitar strap from her shoulder and a reptilian skull mask from her face, revealing a punk rock visage dripping stage light sweat.

        “Endless bloody encores,” the woman whispered to herself in apathetic irritation. “You’d think a lifeless ghoul would lose his breath a little faster.” She looked up from a wad of cash she was counting (her normal fee, plus extra for deigning to play in a cover band, plus tip—Davy always gave a generous ten percent as a public service, since he was too rich to owe taxes). “What’s going on, then? Thought I was off the clock tonight.”

        “Agent Savage...?” Crush laughed, shaking his head in bewilderment—but his former Consortium colleague paid him no mind, as if she hadn’t heard him speak.

        “OH RIGHT,” sighed Razor Rex. “UGH! YOU MINIONS NEED MORE MAINTENANCE THAN MY XBOX... AND YET YOU’RE MUCH LESS FUN TO PLAY WITH! WHAT GIVES?!” She whirled on Sister Cat. “I GIVE! AND YOU ALL TAKE AND TAKE AND TAKE! WELL, NO MORE! GIVE ME BACK THE SPECTRAL SENSES THAT I LENT YOU. GIMME GIMME!”

        “Aww!” cried Sister Cat, tugging on her robes and pouting like a spoiled child. She pointed at Crush. “But I wanted to watch you devour him, your hungriness!”

        Rose’s goddess was indifferent to her pleas. Razor Rex clutched Baxter’s forehead, chanting random eldritch gibberish. There was a sound like a noisemaker propelled out of its spiral shell by a birthday boy’s breath, and then a pop like a bursting piñata as she mimed throwing something at Sister Lizard. All spectral substance left Baxter’s awareness, including her goddess’s lovely white aura—though Razor Rex and her great scythe remained.

        “Oh,” droned Agent Savage in the brief ritual’s aftermath, looking over at the ghost Oop held restrained. “Agent... Crush, wasn’t it? Pajama boy for sure. Yeah, he works for Boss Leader.”

        “Over my dead body,” Crush hissed through a smile, evidently forgetting he’d cast his dead body aside. His ghostly form was faltering, too, losing detail in Coach Oop’s grasp—the fight before had pushed him to his limit. “W-what a waste, Savage. If I knew your rebel act was real offstage, I c-coulda given you a better cause than... than trading one wight for another.”

        Agent Savage shrugged.

        “Working for free for an angry old has-been isn’t my idea of rebellion, love.”

        Crush struggled against Oop, grinning with bloodthirsty fury. Just as the hulking cultist began to relent, however—weakened by guilt and uncertainty—Agent Savage spun her museum gift shop tool up to her sightline. Its plastic t-rex jaws snapped halfway shut, and Crush found himself ensnared anew, imprisoned by the truth of her perspective.

        “YEESH, YOU REALLY ARE PART OF THAT MASTER GUERRA FANCLUB, AREN’T YOU? YOU GUYS ARE LIKE A CULT. IT’S KIND OF SCARY.”

        Crush spat a wad of defiant ectoplasm in Razor Rex’s face; the goddess snapped it up with her cavernous maw like a dog that had been tossed a tasty treat.

        “MMM. DON’T GET ME WRONG. I APPRECIATE THE SNACK.” She turned to Brother Ape, shaking her scythe towards Crush. “BUT DANGEROUS PREY LIKE THIS SNACK? I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE CLOSE TO ANY SUN IN YOUR LIFE—WHY FLY RIGHT UP ON ONE ICARUS-STYLE NOW, YOU SILLY MONKEY? DID YOU WANT A BUNCH OF SWEATY SPECTRAL FIST MEATLORDS KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR?!” She jabbed Oop with a pitch-black finger. “I TOLD YOU TO TAKE ANY LIFE YOU WISHED, NOT POINTLESS RISKS!!”

        “...P-please, forgive—”

        “Why not go all in, then?”

        Coach Oop looked down to Crush, who met his wide-eyed gaze with fierce intensity.

        “Take an even bigger risk. I like the odds. Don’t you?” Crush grinned, flaring with daunting tenacity despite his battered state. “You and me, big guy. Right now. We could take down all these clowns together.”

        Coach Oop gulped. He felt a spark in his chest. Its heat was so much worse than simple hopelessness. He shivered. Blinked hard. Looked away.

        Crush let his shoulders slowly sag, no longer seeming superhuman.

        “Suit yourself,” he scoffed. “Hope it haunts ya, big guy. Woulda been the kinda fight worth livin’ for.”

        The corner of Coach Oop’s mustache twitched. His watery eyes grew still more swampy.

        “ON THAT NOTE,” Razor Rex screamed, “ANY LAST WORDS?” She raised her scythe, which suddenly began to tremor strangely in her grasp. The goddess held it still with effort, scowling at her weapon like it was a fussy child. “QUIET, YOU,” she whispered loudly at its handle. “IT’S DINNER AND THEN STRAIGHT TO BED. MOMMY HAS WORK TO DO TONIGHT.” Razor Rex gave Crush an apologetic nod. “SORRY, GO AHEAD. LAST WORDS, CHOP CHOP. WELL, JUST THE ONE CHOP SHOULD SUFFICE—”

        “Last words, huh? Don’t need ’em. I got nothin’ more to say.”

        Crush hung his head, shedding scattering sparks of ectoplasmic matter.

        Phase through the floor...! Coach Oop begged in his head. He’d let his grip go slack. Agent Savage had relaxed, too, once Crush’s fire had died down. Please! Just get outta here, you friggin’ stubborn jerk! Don’t you get it?? This is the most that I can do—

        “It’s my own fault gettin’ got for gettin’ cocky, and Master Guerra’s gonna thrash the lotta you... so I got no regrets on either front.”

        “What’s he saying?” Sister Cat whispered to Sister Lizard. “Is he mad at me?” She scowled when Agent Savage poked her back with her weird dinosaur toy.

        “I had a pretty rad life, all things considered... and then an even radder one right after that.” Crush shrugged, flashing one last smirk at Coach Oop. “...Never too late to take a second chance.”

        Razor Rex scratched at her skull.

        “I MEAN THOSE SOUNDED LIKE LAST WORDS TO ME,” she said, and sliced through Crush with one swing of her scythe.

        Coach Oop flinched... and kept his eyes closed after. He only felt the ghost’s remains drifting around him for a moment. The scythe soon swallowed every last wisp with a horrid sucking sound, as if the air was frightened into fleeing for its life. Then there was silence. The soft murmur of the party. Clinking drinks and smalltalk, stately muzak on repeat.

        “FOR YOUR LOYALTY,” Oop heard his goddess whisper, “ANOTHER MASK.” He felt cold bone encapsulate his face. “AS YOU WISHED, NO LOSS—ONLY NEW BEGINNINGS. RISE REBORN. RENAMED. FROM NOW ON, YOU SERVE ME... AS BROTHER HOG.”

        Coach Oop bowed his head.

        “As you command,” oinked Brother Hog, and all was gray and cold inside him once again.