Rattling like an over-excited soda can, the pot in the corner began to tremble as if it were about to burst from the inside.

   The spectral presence - presumably a ghost - appeared as a shapeless mass pouring over the edge, holding off its big reveal for what felt like an absurd amount of time. Luigi began to back away as it seemed to try to wrestle itself from the jar; but a great amount of the intimidation was killed when it became obvious that it was stuck.

Is that thing...? Luigi furrowed his eyebrow and shifted his feet. What exactly was he looking at here? Unsure whether to approach or be on guard, he ended up just standing there.

   Several long and awkward moments later, the rather odd ghost finally popped from the opening. It was certainly a strange sight to behold, when it revealed itself: mostly due to the fact that it didn't seem to belong to any species Luigi had ever heard of. It was nothing more defined than a blob - like an oversized piece of purple chewing gum, complete with a portrait ghost's yellow eyes; shapeless, transparent, and apparently Scottish.

"Oi! You! With the moustache!"

Luigi started in surprise and stared at the ghost as if he'd grown a second head. What in the world...?

The ghost didn't miss an instant. "Yeah, you! Whadda ya think o' me jar collection, then? Pretty amazing, don't you say?"

Luigi blinked. He almost forgot to be afraid, all appearances considered; however weird the situation might be. And he didn't detect much hostility in his voice... at least that Luigi could determine under the goofy accent. Just roll with it... just roll with it.

   The jar collection? Getting over the initial surprise, the human glanced around now at all the ancient pieces the ghost was talking about. True, some of them were fabulous, to be sure, with glass and ceramic and even statuesque chiseled designs; and Luigi liked to consider himself somewhat of a decorating connoisseur; but what did that have to do with any -

"Uhh... w-well I guess they are pretty –

"Welly, welly, well," the odd creature interrupted nasally, uninterested in his opinion. "We can't just let you look at 'em for free, now can we? No, I think not."

Luigi looked at him uncertainly. "W-What do you want?"

The plump ghost smiled with a puckered little mouth, which was far from menacing. "If you'd like to view me jars, you'd best challenge me first!" he declared in his precise accent.

This is getting weirder by the second. "Um... what if I don't want to?"

Like a sudden bolt of lightning across clear skies, a look of displeasure, even anger, flashed onto the ghost's puffy face. "You filthy plumber! Then quit wasting me time!" he bellowed. "If ye can't appreciate me fine pieces, go back to yer pipes!"

Luigi gasped in alarm. "H-how did... how do you know –

The ghost had quickly lost all patience. "I ask ye once, boy: will ye do me challenge or no?"

Still utterly shocked, and suddenly feeling much more insecure, Luigi stammered, "Fine by me."

Magic words. Almost instantly, the ghost's attitude snapped back and he relaxed in satisfaction. "There's a lad. It's on, then!"

On? Luigi didn't want anything to be on.

   "Now listen and do exactly as we say. See how many 'o me you can freeze with that ice, boyo!" the ghoul instructed, indicating with his rotund body a large ceramic jar, which sat precariously nearby on a table. "If ye're a good shot it won't be too much trouble."

   Turning, the clueless human looked at the ornate piece he mentioned. Luigi was surprised to find he hadn't noticed the jar before; this one was visibly frozen solid somehow, with ice elemental ghosts floating about its frosty blue surface. Just looking at it suddenly made Luigi feel cold.

He looked back to the ghost. "How many of you?" he asked in confusion.

"If you can freeze seven 'o me, you win! Righty-right? But if you lose, mate, it's out the door with you!"

Luigi still didn't get it, but he just shrugged, too afraid to ask what the ghost was saying. "Um, okay." He warily took out the Poltergust and sucked up one of the icy ghosts. Still unsure what he was even doing, or why he was doing it in the first place, he turned back to the blob.

"Ready..."

"Righto! Bring it on!" With a suspicious grin, the purple ghost retracted back down into the jar and disappeared – but only for a second. Unexpectedly, he appeared again on the other side of the room, popping up like a rabbit from a marble basin.

"What's the matter, frozen solid?" he called tauntingly.

Freeze seven... Now I get it. It was a challenge then - a simple, albeit slightly weird game of hide and seek. If you insist. Luigi promptly blasted a chunk of ice in the funny ghost's direction - a skill he'd had plenty of time to hone while fighting Boolossus - and landed a direct hit. When the ice made impact, it shattered, revealing that the ghost wasn't any longer inside.

Moving to the center of the floor, Luigi watched and waited for signs of the ghost's reappearance – he could seemingly teleport from any pot he wished in the vicinity. It was basically like any little carnival game: wait for the head to pop up and shoot it.

Luigi had started counting his first few 'points'; but as the game went on it became obvious he had definitely won, despite missing a few times. It wasn't even remotely hard – something that pleasantly surprised him. There was no attacking aimed at him, no immediate death threat that he could directly perceive... Luigi actually found that when the ghost called a stop to the game a minute later, he had almost been enjoying himself – having fun.

   What kind of twisted ruse was that?

The ghost at last emerged again from his original ceramic blue pot and faced him. "Game's over, mate!"

Luigi came over confidently enough. "Well... how'd I do?" he asked.

"And the results are..." For either dramatic suspense or some sort of reference, he paused and shrunk down into his pot again for a second before coming back up. "You got twelve 'o me, boyo! I can't believe it... how could I lose?"

Luigi tried not to chuckle, wondering if he had any idea how easy the challenge had been. "Well... I won," he said pointedly.

The purple ghost now began looking worked up and angry again. "Why, you little do-gooder... You made me face red for sure, moustache-boy!" he puffed, suddenly giving Luigi a malicious stare. "Maybe you'd fancy gettin' stuffed into one 'o these here jars!"

Luigi had already begun to back away. And there it is, he thought. "N-no thanks," he said, glancing towards the door, but it was already blocked off with thorns. "I only did what you wanted me to... remember that?"

The ghost, as usual, had already decided Luigi was the antagonist. "I don't like being beat at me own game," he informed him. "You got to see me jars anyhow... now you can stay in one!"

"I don't think I really want to," Luigi said carefully, turning his vacuum now towards his host. Personally, he didn't like the idea of being stuffed into a jar... Could the ghost actually do that? No sense taking chances. Before he could find out, Luigi attacked.

At once and almost on cue, all the pots around the room began to rattle and shake. Each one took turns flying off the shelves and trying to clobber him as Luigi captured their owner, trying to ignore the sound of all the beautiful artistry smashing and destroying themselves as they hit the floor. Were they doing it themselves, or being manipulated? If he loved his collection so much, why would the ghost use it as ammunition? Luigi wondered over his breathless exertion.

In any case, when the ghost - who really was quite a small thing - went down a minute later and the lights came on, it all stopped. It was always the same – with the exception of Madame Clairvoya, the ghosts always ended up this way, no matter how friendly at first they seemed. As soon as Luigi arrived, they just went berserk.

Luigi couldn't help looking with a little sadness over all the broken pieces of pottery that now surrounded him; until his gaze came to the single frozen pot that had never moved.

I wonder why only this one's frozen, he thought. Or how it's even frozen at all.

He knew his curiosity could never completely be satisfied. Turning his attention to the wreckage, Luigi soon spotted something he knew would be useful: a key.

So you had one too, you old funny thing. Taking his find, he turned and headed back out. He had gotten what he'd come for, surely; and he knew he didn't have time to clean up, even if it pained him not to. What was the real point?

He was beginning to think he'd just about cleared the entire third floor now - the ceramics studio was a dead end. Are there any more dark areas aside from the hallways? he wondered.

But his wondering was soon all put to rest.

When Luigi came back into the armory, he was startled by a small sound: a light, persistent rattling coming from somewhere in the room, announcing a presence. It sounded like it was coming from one of the suits of armor. Sure it is...

Carefully, Luigi passed each one by. If the lights were already on, then it had to be...

Suddenly, one of the knights turned his head directly towards him. "BOO!"

Luigi scrambled backwards a few steps, so startled he couldn't even scream. He fumbled for the Poltergust, but he wasn't able to get a hold on it before the boo flew out of the knight's plackart and swooped down, knocking him to the floor hard.

"Haha! Caught you!"

Luigi growled and brought himself to his feet to face her. Great, my favorite.

"Little Boo Peep caught sheep!" the boo declared, momentarily distracting even Luigi from his stinging ankles. The human glanced up at the spirit. Wha-?

"Little Boo Peep caught one sheep earlier. Little Boo Peep will catch another now!! Here, Sheepy!"

I give up. Luigi squeezed the Poltergust, regaining whatever sense of former strength he'd felt. The boos were such jokers, and yet... they'd caught one sheep earlier...

Luigi frowned. "You should stop while you're even," the human scowled.

"Stupid sheep! What's the matter, is someone feeling slow?" the boo snickered.

"You be the judge of that," he answered flatly, catching the boo off guard by shooting her with a blast of frozen air. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that boos moved more quickly in the dark, and slower in the cold.

Caught in the icy blast, the boo seemed to halt in place for a moment, unspeaking; looking at Luigi with surprise, as if she had never really seen him before. Then Luigi pulled her in.

With a sigh, the ghost hunter shook his head and headed again for the door. Time to get out of here.

Before he made it there, the Game Boy Horror, whose existence he had nearly forgotten about, started buzzing. Surprised, Luigi dug it out of his pocket and answered the call. The sight of the professor sitting there as usual in his lab made Luigi feel suddenly re-invigorated. It felt like ages since he'd heard from him.

"You're on fire, Luigi! On fire!" he exclaimed by way of greeting. "Seriously, do you work out? You're busting out all kinds of wild techniques today."

"Um... no, not really," Luigi replied, a little amused. So much for a proper 'hello'. It was ironic that he himself had been thinking about that earlier; if he really did stick to a better exercising regimen, maybe... just maybe Mario would let him come along with him at some point. Wouldn't that be the day!

"Well, you're like a tiger pouncing on his prey! When you catch boos, I mean," E. Gadd told him. "Did you see how that boo just kind of gave up at the end? Your reputation must be spreading!"

Luigi chuckled in exhaustion. "Well, I think everyone in the house knows I'm here by now."

"Oh, probably. But they're learning to fear you. Tip-top, my boy. You remind me of myself at your age."

There was a moment of silence as Luigi looked down, taking in the unusual praise. He wasn't used to being called good at anything – much less by an old pro like the professor.

"Well... what's going on?" Luigi finally asked. "You seem really awake for this time of night."

"Nah, it's only something like four in the morning," E. Gadd shrugged playfully. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. I hadn't heard from you in a long time... did something happen?"

"A lot of things happened," Luigi said matter-of-factly, trying to remember back to the last time they'd spoken. "But I did catch Uncle Grimmly, at least."

"Wonderful! I knew you could. Is everything alright there?"

Luigi paused. No, things were not really alright – but what was he supposed to say? He felt like he really should say something about his throbbing head, but...

"Yeah, I'm surviving. How are the toadstools?"

"Oh, they're doing fine. An awfully frisky bunch at first – when you get back you'd better help me clean up all this mess they made in the lab!"

Luigi raised his eyebrows. The professor laughed.

"Just kidding. I'd better let you get back to it, then. It's like you were born to capture boos, Luigi!"

As if hit by a sudden slap, the young man halted, froze; then looked away for a second in alarm. B-born? ...Me?

   The professor's words, while meant lightheartedly, struck Luigi to the core; and suddenly it was all he could dwell on. Born for it? ...Capturing boos? The idea almost made him shudder.

It was certainly true that for a long time Luigi had searched, yearned, to find something he and he alone was good at; something he could do that made him unique. And not just a simple talent or average skill, but something that would really set him apart.

   Perhaps it was a premature, childish dream. He already had a job, of course, at which he was just fine, but next to Mario... Luigi wanted something all his own. He wanted to stand out, to make a difference, to find his purpose; why couldn't he?

But then... not this. Anything but this.

   I can't be good at ghost hunting, Luigi thought. I hate ghosts! I hate all of this!

...So why am I so good at it?

"What's on your mind, feller?" the professor's voice broke again into his thoughts, startling him.

"Oh... I'm just... I don't know," Luigi said skeptically. "I don't think that's really what I'm meant to do."

"Oh, but obviously you have a gift," E. Gadd replied. "I'm serious! You've got a real knack for dealing with the spirits."

"Well... if that's my destiny, I don't think I want it." The lad seemed unsure in his answer.

"Perhaps you'll change your mind later on," the professor mused, waving him off. "Anyhoo, you can't change your task at hand, so get to it!"

Luigi sighed. "Yes sir."

E. Gadd laughed. "Don't be too lighthearted now, Luigi," he scolded playfully.

At this Luigi managed a tiny smile. "Thanks, professor. I appreciate it."

"Appreciate what?"

Luigi shrugged. "Everything. You staying up for me and helping me all this way. You didn't have to torture yourself over it."

The professor shook his head in wonderment and smiled simply. "Well, that's what friends do."

~

A few minutes later, far below, the uneasy quiet of the foyer was disrupted when the mirror by the stairs began to glow with purple light. It opened, a portal from another place; and from the light and the glow Luigi emerged, stepping out onto the foyer floor. Key in hand, he glanced around and without second thought headed for the heart doors.

He had quickly realized what lay in store for him. There really wasn't much to do left: after checking his map, Luigi had come to the realization that it was down to the homestretch now - he was almost done.

   Every floor, nearly every room had been visited. There only remained two more small ones in that tiny basement hallway, and one more near the safari room; one of those fake doors in the attic hallway must not have been a fake after all.

   But according to the Game Boy Horror that was all, and the rest was left empty and explored. It seemed crazy; could it really be true?

   Since Luigi had found a mirror in the armory, he decided it better to take the shortcut back to the foyer, and from there walk to the creepy basement. His key must have opened one of those dungeon doors.

As he passed again through the first floor hallway, he glanced at one of the same old vases that decorated all the end tables around the house. Now, after having seen the much nicer ones upstairs, he shook his head.

"If that's an antique, I'll eat my hat."

Luigi had come to a good appreciation of all the rare and expensive things he had found – if there was one thing, albeit small, that he had enjoyed doing all night, it was getting to see all the fancy and often antique decorations throughout the mansion. Luigi loved the finer things; he loved cleanliness, he loved beauty, he loved perfection. At least, even in a forsaken place like this, there was some beauty to be found.

Luigi kept as silent as possible as he carefully crept down the stairs and through the cellar. When he opened the door once again into the dark, cold passage, he was unable to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine.

There was little to admire down here. The harsh, dank conditions felt taken from another world; and the feeling Luigi got as he began to traverse down the hallway was beyond unsettling. Just a little further... just a little ways beyond this point and he would reach it. Stopping outside one of the rotting side doors, Luigi cast his beam farther ahead, unable to keep from looking at the tantalizing, beaten prison door only a few paces away. It stood silent and still, all alone at the end of the hallway... he could even make out horrible, raking claw marks of some sort, gashes across its metal surface as from a monster.

Not yet, Luigi thought. Soon... With a shudder, he turned his attention to the other doors.

   His key certainly was the answer to his suspicions; Luigi found that the old, moldy door closest the end accepted it. When he opened it a minute later, however, he was surprised to be welcomed by the sound of rushing water.

   Well hello, what's this? Luigi thought curiously. He let himself in to find a small, dimly illuminated little utility room of some sort; the map called it the pipe room.

Sounds like my kind of place, Luigi thought. Indeed, here at last was the center of the mansion's water system; the cobwebby stale atmosphere and sulfuric smell appeared uninhabited for decades. Mounted on the ceiling and along the stone walls were numerous water pipes of varying sizes, running through the ceiling. They looked as old as they likely were: out of the largest grime-covered pipe water still gushed, almost in torrents, down into a large drain on the floor in one corner, behind a mesh wall. Shocked, Luigi looked around in a hurry. That wasn't supposed to be happening!

Somewhere around here there's gotta be... aha! Quickly, Luigi spotted what he was looking for: a valve attached to the big vertical pipe in the opposite corner. The only problem was that there was a big stream, almost a river, of festering sewage water separating him from it, running up to the wall and disappearing into a metal grate, presumably into the rest of the sewers elsewhere.

Well, not exactly the most professional system I've ever seen, but if it works... Luigi paused for a moment's collection, then jumped over the river in one skillful bound. His landing was heavier than he'd expected, but he'd managed to not fall in – surprising.

   Unfortunately, he'd completely forgotten that his ankle was still healing; and a second later, he doubled over beneath the Poltergust's weight and cringed.

"Ow," he whined, nevertheless drawing himself up to focus. Quickly, Luigi got to work: with a grunt, he began turning the rusted wheel, trying to turn off the water. After several long moments of rather uncomfortable exertion, his efforts proved successful and the waterfall trickled to a stop. With a sigh of relief, he drew his arm across his forehead and dusted his dirty gloves off. There was no point trying to keep them clean now – plumbing was a dirty business.

Just to make sure, he came over to inspect the pipes a little closer. They weren't busted, just very old – they could have really used a good replacement. Ah, well, at least I managed to turn that off.

Trying to get back to his first task, he glanced around and realized he didn't really have any other business here. No ghosts to catch, and now everything had calmed down... it was okay. Nothing else here needed his attention.

I'd better try that other room down here, he thought. Jumping again carefully across the sludgy sewer river, he made to leave. Sure, the place was old, dirty, and definitely not without its leaks, but Luigi found overall that he liked this little room. Any room with working lights was good in his opinion, although it was nice to see something he could understand.

Luigi shook his head as he left the pipe room, chuckling the tiniest bit to himself. The mansion is lucky, to have an owner like me who can service it.

Heading out now to the other side room off the gloomy underground passage, he was glad to find this next door unlocked. He noticed, however, that as he laid hold of the handle, the metal was freezing cold; it sent a shiver running along his skin, even through his clothes.

Although it was unlocked, the door still offered some resistance; Luigi had to force it open. That probably wasn't a good sign... Why was it so-?

   All in one second he discovered why: and it briefly took his breath away. The room beyond was, quite literally, freezing.

   Freezing.

   A wave of cold air surrounded him as if he'd opened the door to Sherbet Land, and all the warm air that had been in the hallway, if any, was gone in an instant, submitting him to a frigid new reality.

   He had found the walk-in freezer.

Whoa!... Instantly cold, Luigi recoiled in shock for a moment.

What is this place? How is it even... The drastic temperature and atmosphere change inside was astounding; and it poured out on an arctic cloud to meet him, chilling his face with a frigid wind.

The room wasn't big, but it was surely a sight to behold: walking slowly forward in awe, Luigi found every last inside surface was sparkling bright white and blue, coated in thick, solid layers of ice. Beneath it all, it looked like little more than another storage room. The brick walls, the old junk in one corner, even the ceiling was frozen; dangerous-looking stalactites hung down overhead, sharp and threatening to break.

A cold storage?? How is this even possible? Luigi wondered, testing his weight on the icy floor which was white like marble. It was frozen over in a smooth, solid sheet, more perfect than a skating rink – and it looked mighty slippery. Moreover, a heavy mist lay over the floor and seemed to have settled there. It was as if someone had unleashed a blizzard inside and kept it contained here for years – there was no source of the ice or cold that Luigi could see. It was just a frozen room.

Without entirely wanting to, Luigi stepped fully inside. As soon as the door shut behind him all the heat was gone, and it rippled through him with a shiver.

   Instantly Luigi felt as if he'd stepped into a different world; a decidedly more bright, wintry one. Taking another step forward, his shoe slipped and he almost lost his footing.

"Whoa... have to be careful," he muttered, never taking his eyes from the slick floor beneath him. When he did, he noticed the icy crystals that formed on the air. "Hey! I can see my breath!"

Wrapping his arms around himself, Luigi shivered. And with good reason, he thought. It's freezing in here.

It had to be at least zero degrees, and in an environment that hostile Luigi knew he shouldn't be messing around. Come to think of it, was there anything of importance in here?

Glancing around, all he found were some old camping tools – frozen solid, of course – in one corner with a huge chunk of ice. A couple of frozen pipes were mounted on the walls leading elsewhere – what were they for?

The last thing he noticed was a strange little frost-covered pump of some sort by the door – it looked like it might contain gas or something. Interested, Luigi carefully walked closer. When he did, he was surprised by the thing suddenly emitting a rather loud whoosh, followed by a small burst of flame, along with a fire elemental ghost which crackled in the cold air and lingered around it. Fire!

The warm sight of it made Luigi feel already like an arctic explorer who was nearing his last reserves. Instantly attracted, he came closer and sucked up the little fire spirit. That might come in handy – maybe was he supposed to melt the room?

...That's pretty impossible, he thought, glancing around at the rock-hard walls. Then he spotted the large chunk in the corner with the camping supplies and got an idea.

Shivering, he turned away from the fire and came closer, now inspecting the ice with new interest. It was really quite big and had a bit of an odd shape...

His body moving ahead of his mind, Luigi brought up the Poltergust and ignited it on fire, letting the flames lick the wall of solid ice. At a rate quicker than expected, he watched as the ice sizzled in protest and rapidly shrunk, giving off an steamy mist in the air. Soon it was all gone, and Luigi was left standing there rubbing the handle of the Poltergust for extra heat. So... c-cold...

But just when he was about to consider that perhaps he'd been mistaken, a shrill voice cried out, filling the small room and echoing off every icy surface.

"HOT! OH VERY HOT! You! You're making it too hot!"

In the frigid air, Luigi did his best to jump backwards out of harm's way, but he soon saw that he likely wasn't in immediate danger. Out of nowhere he had appeared; a portrait ghost like all the others, a hunching figure dressed very warmly in an explorer's anorak above an ambiguous tail. He was swaddled like an eskimo, and wore a heavy pack on his back, as if still on a long journey. He was very white and misty, and strangely so; it made his face almost completely incomprehensible. Either that or there was so much ice crystals in the air that the mist was starting to obscure Luigi's vision.

The figure stayed frozen where the ice had once stood; but although he seemed still incapable of movement, it was as if his consciousness had been awakened, and now he seemed quite peeved that Luigi had melted it.

"I'm going to cook in this heat! I'm going to melt!" he shrilly cried, almost pathetically.

"C-cook?" Luigi asked incredulously, unable to keep from rubbing his arms. "Are you s-serious? That fire's the only th-thing keeping me alive!"

"Did YOU light these fires?" the unfriendly ghost rasped. "What were you thinking?"

Without giving Luigi a chance to respond, he continued, "People who start fires in this mansion had better be ready to pay the price! Now... learn your lesson!"

Oh no... here we go, Luigi thought with a shuddering moan. Grabbing the Poltergust, he steeled himself for ice – snow, wind, whatever the solitary explorer had in store. But he hadn't been expecting the icicles on the roof to start falling.

Unexpectedly a big one smashed on to the floor right beside him, missing Luigi's shoulder by inches. The pieces scattered everywhere like sparkling confetti across the slippery floor – and that was only the beginning. Suddenly everywhere they started to fall; crash after crash the icy stalactites began to break away from the roof in an almost merciless onslaught.

If there's one thing... I thought I wouldn't have to deal with tonight... it was this. Struggling to stay upright, Luigi scrambled for the nearest wall and tried to stay there, out of harm. Those things were huge – some almost as long as he was tall. Sharp as daggers, too – if one of those needle-like points struck him, it might be Luigi frozen in the ice for the rest of time.

Cold... cold everywhere. Luigi was already beginning to wonder if he would ever know the definition of warm again.

Then he remembered – fire! Of course; the ghost hated fire. Now!

The frozen explorer, who had seemingly forgotten Luigi at the moment, let out a howl at the flames – something Luigi couldn't have ignored, had the person been human. Luckily, there was no flesh, no substance to burn.

Then abruptly, the fire stopped and the attack began: in an instant Luigi had switched from the fire to vacuum. This ghost likely had the iciest heart of all, but any ghost could be broken with enough force.

Luigi was almost beginning to believe in that.

Unfortunately, the fire was only the easy part. Once he'd caught on, the ghost finally found his legs for a struggle and began dragging Luigi out into the floor, undoubtedly trying to run him into the falling icicles. Holding on for dear life, all the while running on the ice to keep from falling, Luigi tried to get a grip on the ghost while avoiding the sharp obstacles falling from above. The cold wind and air they stirred up stung at him, turning into a slow, numbing burn, but Luigi held on until his arms nearly broke off. It was easily one of the toughest, most uncomfortable catches he'd made.

At last, and none too soon, the ghost went down and the icicles all stopped. A lightbulb overhead went on, providing a small light that shone on the ice and almost seemed to illuminate the floor a dazzling white. It would have been beautiful if it weren't already so painful.

"Freezing, freezing, freezing," Luigi complained as he tried to come to a standstill. He finally couldn't pull it off and slipped, crashing to the floor like an inexperienced figure skater. The frozen ground only served to freeze him to the core – let alone the probable bruise from the fall. Completely covered in goosebumps, he huddled into as tiny a ball as he could to try to work some heat onto his face. There wasn't much to speak of.

What am I thinking? I should just get out of here. It was getting so cold by now that he could barely breathe.

Vigorously rubbing his arms, Luigi glanced around for just a second and spotted something – a key, twinkling among the other pieces of ice surrounding him. Carefully, he got to his knees and scooted over to grab it.

Of course, it was freezing cold too, but he nevertheless put it in his pocket. Time to go, time to go...

Deciding not to risk falling on his rear again, or angering his numbing ankle, Luigi crawled across the ice to the door, never more grateful for his gloves than he was then. Cold places are definitely not for me... Almost there.

But luck never seemed to favor him. Just when he was about to reach for the handle, a boo's cackle sounded behind him, causing him to freeze in more ways than one.

   Shivering, he turned back to see the hated creature hovering on the other side of the room, smiling as was usual... but he seemed to be bothered by the cold too. Luigi could see it in his movements: even boos were slowed by ice.

It didn't seem to slow his wit. "Boy howdy, I'm Booligan! Most wanted boo," he wasted no time in introducing himself. "Well, would we look what the snowstorm brought in!"

Luigi let out an icy breath and fixed the boo with a loathing look, but he couldn't manage to speak. The ghost's white complexion was almost misty against the ice; it appeared transparent, as if he was merging with the frosty air.

Booligan's smile grew even bigger. "Aw, what's the matter? Is little Luigi cold? Does he need a hug to make him all warm?"

Luigi's electric eyes turned icy. "Stop it! Don't touch me!" he hissed. Even though I really could use one, he thought in exhaustion. Visibly shivering, he slowly rose, using the door as a hold.

"Well, so-rry for asking," the boo snorted.

"What if I told you that you're among the last of the boos left?" the human asked quite abruptly, a hint of arrogance beneath his voice.

Booligan squinted at him. "Yeah, I doubt that," he said. "There's like, thousands of boos in existence."

"You know what I mean, dunderpate," Luigi replied.

The boo seemed almost taken aback by his boldness. "Well, even if I am, there's still the king, so ha!"

"And he'll be all alone," Luigi murmured gravely. Then, through the misty air, he easily pulled the boo away.

Of course, he wasn't sure if that really was the last boo. But he had to have caught a few dozen; there had to be very few remaining, if any.

There had to be.

Chattering all over, he turned at last to leave the frigid place. When the door opened to a rush of warm air, Luigi didn't think he'd ever been so glad to see a damp, dark hallway.

What kind of portrait ghost would want to hang in a freezer like that? Luigi wondered, thoughts turning back to the lonely man. He must really love the cold. Unless... Luigi shivered as an awful thought occurred to him, something he was surprised he hadn't considered sooner. Unless he was locked in there...

Pulling the door shut safely and tightly behind him, he quickly began to shake off the ice crystals and such that had formed on his clothes. It felt so good, and bad at the same time; his limbs that ached now seemed to burn. Trying to shake it off, Luigi tried to turn his attention to where he needed to go next.

Finally remembering the Game Boy Horror, he took it out and prayed that it still worked. Luckily, despite the cold, it did.

It didn't take long for Luigi to figure out where he needed to go. The room on the third floor; the last one he'd overlooked! Surely the key had to be for that.

   The pieces were all falling into place.

Rubbing his hands together, trying to knead some warmth back into his bones, Luigi sighed in exhaustion. That would be a really long walk!

~

By the time he'd reached the stuffy safari room several minutes later, Luigi had thankfully warmed up quite a bit over three floors. With it he felt the return of some energy – whatever little he had to speak of. At any rate, he was awake now.

Upon finally arriving at his destination high above, he stopped by the last door in the dark attic hallway and fished out his key. This better work... what could this room be holding?

As Luigi creaked open the waiting door he felt a strange cold feeling; it wasn't literally cold in the same way the freezer had been, but it was chilling, like passing over a threshold of shadow.

The darkness in the room beyond was still and silent: nothing unusual there. Surprisingly, it wasn't stuffy in here like all the other attic rooms; it was actually quite peaceful. How had he managed to overlook this door?

   Could it really be, in all honesty, much different from all the others?

Using his flashlight, it was instantly obvious that he had found an artist's studio of some sort; for lined against one wall were several opened easels, each sporting varied colorful paintings of - surprise, surprise - ghosts.

   ...Wait.

   Huh? Luigi squinted at them in confusion. They were paintings - fresh paintings, familiar and eerie faces he had seen plenty of throughout the night. They were the very ghosts that had been harassing him: blue twirlers, purple punchers, and the like. Only this time they were merely an artist's rendition; his eyes swept over every flawless brushstroke, every lifelike hue, and he shook his head.

What...? Why would there be-? Who would make...?

Their fangs and evil gazes stared back at the viewer in an all too animated way, causing Luigi to shiver. He loved art, and he liked the creative feel of the room, including the faint smell of paint, but it still disturbed him. Something wasn't right...

Turning to look around a bit more, Luigi shook his head doubtfully. Scattered on the wooden shelves everywhere were more unused canvasses and old art supplies, including a couple of impressive-looking stone busts. Pausing to look on them with his flashlight, Luigi recognized the people: one of Biff Atlas, the bodybuilder he'd met a while back, and the other was an admittedly pretty one of Lydia. The flawless chiseled features were certainly admirable, to say the least, even if they were ghosts. Who had made them?

Made them...

   In an instant Luigi halted. Hang on... Paintings... Ghosts... The artist -

   He knew what this was.

But there was no time to speculate over his memory. As if he'd asked out loud, a voice abruptly spoke: "It is you, no?"

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Luigi gasped, but he wasn't entirely surprised when he turned around to see his silent observer. Seated before an unfinished painting in one corner, wielding a paintbrush that seemed to glow in his hand, the portrait ghost appeared in the darkness and turned to face Luigi with an ugly sneer.

   Luigi stared. He can't.

   First and foremost, the ghost's accent - beyond the odd waver of a voice from beyond the grave - was very distinctly French, so that Luigi almost had a hard time understanding what he'd said. His strikingly red beret also drove the point home that he was of distant origin. Sharp green eyes like emeralds penetrated the air. His sandy hair and beard were unkempt, and his baggy clothes were messy as if he'd been away up here painting for days during a slow descent into madness.

   The things the professor had mentioned a while back sprang afresh to his mind - the artist... the paintbrush... bringing life... the ghosts! - and Luigi instantly knew he had guessed correctly: Vincent van Gore...

Then this was the one responsible for the 'fake monsters' that had plagued him. This was the one with the 'magic' paintbrush - undoubtedly the very the one that the portrait ghost now twirled impatiently in his hand.

You... how??

   The human blinked, trying to keep his fear to a low. The ghost had spoken to him -

   "M-me?" he stammered.

"You interfere with my afterlife's work!" the sallow man snapped without missing a beat.

A little startled at this, Luigi shifted back uncertainly, wondering what the painter could mean. He didn't look especially dangerous, but after the concern the professor had expressed over him - and all the terror he had caused - Luigi wasn't going to be careless.

   "You mean these?" He swept his arm, indicating the paintings of the familiar ghosts behind him.

"Yes! My gorgeous creations! You are the despicable one the king promised would come," the ghost murmured, pale green tail flicking crazily back and forth. Luigi almost began to question if the guy really was mad.

   "I have been waiting. I knew you would arrive, you... you... horrible ghost slayer!"

Luigi was visibly taken aback by the outburst. Huh??

He was expected? Well, perhaps that wasn't so odd anymore, but the other part certainly was. I'm the despicable one?

Was the man - or the ghost, rather - actually acknowledging his skill? For some reason, despite all he'd done, Luigi had never thought that the ghosts might learn to start taking him seriously; show him any respect. But now, this ghost he'd never met, only heard of, was clearly ruffled by his presence!

Ghost slayer. Pausing to consider, Luigi couldn't help a secret thrill. He actually liked the sound of that.

The idea of being looked on with more power than he'd ever felt suddenly filled him with... confidence? The ghost hunter stood up more firmly, fixing the artist now with a sharp eye.

"You'd better believe I came," he said. "I'm Luigi."

"Well, Luigi," the ghost spat. "My careless adversary! You filthy swine; you are blind to the life I give my creations!"

Well, so much for respect, Luigi thought. Still, he thinks I'm a threat... "I'm not blind to the beauty of art, but there is hardly anything rewarding in those monsters you're creating!"

"They're not the monsters, you are," the artist replied contemptuously. "You, and all of your selfish kind. Very well then... I will show you the mastery of my art!"

With a theatrical sweep of his paintbrush, Vincent van Gore rose from his seat. At once there was a ghost's cackle behind him; and Luigi whirled to face the trio of gold ghosts that had suddenly appeared, summoned by their creator. He soon realized with a jolt that the blue canvas behind them was empty; they had come forth from the painting.

Widening his eyes, Luigi gaped. No fair... he really can create a whole army!

   But this was no time for gawking at enchanted artwork: gold ghosts had been awakened and hovered in eager wait. Brandishing his weapon with determination, Luigi faced them boldly. They were only the weak little orange ones, after all; he had taken a million like them, so what was three more?

It's come a long way since I first arrived, he realized, stepping forward now to trade air for their blows. Back when three of the very same had appeared to harass him and E. Gadd, in the parlor when they first met...

   Well, they're not so tough.

Easily dodging their advances, Luigi quickly put the three gold ghosts to rest for good, thankful that the artist didn't make any unexpected moves. But before he had even sucked the last one down, he knew exactly what was happening: and his task was far from done.

On the gold ghosts' defeat Vincent van Gore struck again from his seat, indignant but clearly not out of ideas yet. After the gold ghosts came the purple punchers: three of them, from the painting as expected. Real as life, they emerged from the canvas and instantly eyed Luigi with playful snickers.

   We're really gonna play this game, aren't we? These were more aggressive, so as always Luigi had to be more careful at dodging their attacks. Unfortunately, he quickly got caught up with capturing one and was hit, hard, from behind.

Knocked to the floor, Luigi gasped and scrambled to get up, anticipating a hit or two. But then something very unexpected happened.

   As he got up on one knee, he suddenly felt a shocking chill run through his body; as if a wave of cold air hit him from behind, penetrating down into his very bones. It wasn't only air, though; it was a sensation, a feeling that swept through him in a moment. It was weird, it was startling, and above all it nearly jerked him to his feet.

"Ack-!" he jolted backwards with a rippling gasp as one who had been zapped.

But another moment and it had passed. Luigi, feeling strangely exhilarated, spun around in confusion, but it only lasted a moment. He soon realized just what had happened: he had gone through a ghost! Or had the ghost gone through him?

That was even possible? How had it never happened before?

The visibly confused specter paused in front of him and looked around, for a moment staring at Luigi in something between shock and horror. Luigi could only return the look agreeably.

Well, if he could help it, he never wanted to experience that again.

Luigi wasted no time finishing them off after that. When the purple punchers were put down, he turned back to their creator, who stood watching the whole thing with his paintbrush as if conducting with a magic wand.

"Is that all? I hate to destroy artwork, but if you insist, bring on your ugliest creations yet!" Luigi regretted the words immediately after saying them.

The artist growled in anger. "You naïve little pest! What do you think of... blue and red?"

With another flourish, the two paintings next in line appeared to swirl and sparkle, releasing three ghosts of each that dwelled inside. Widening his eyes, Luigi again took up his Poltergust and backed to the wall, facing them with what he hoped looked like tact. Three blue twirlers and three red grabbers... gulp. No fair.

But by some miracle his agility wasn't all diminished yet. When the approaching six began to get close enough to dance, Luigi stepped forward with his flashlight and engaged them fiercely, always light on his feet. It was mostly a game of keeping the upper hand while weaving among them: Don't let them grab you... Don't let them grab you...

Luckily, his good fortune was with him for once, because he was able to catch them all without ever feeling the terrible arms seize hold of him. However, the blue twirlers, which were bigger and admittedly stronger-looking, took to a different tactic and sent powerful shockwaves along the floor and through the air with their arms. A couple of times they knocked him from his feet, but Luigi was able to stand fast enough for a retaliation.

When at last the melee was over, Luigi paused for a second to catch a breath... but the next wave was already coming.

Oh, come on, he thought in exhaustion. It was those shy guy ghosts this time – armed with spears and prods as usual – and a trio of those enormous green banana-throwing ghosts. Luigi still thought they were ridiculous, including their proper name - the garbage can ghosts - but still, they were pretty dangerous to be around.

Glancing for half a second at the row of paintings, he felt a burst of revival to see that this was the last of them. At least, he hoped so...

Jumping quickly to avoid a sudden swing of their spears near his ankles, Luigi turned his attention – one last effort – to defeating them. The strange little squawks and noises they made, similar to actual shy guys, almost made him want to laugh... in a strange, painful sort of way.

After getting their masks off, which was no easy deal with the garbage can ghosts romping everywhere flinging banana peels, Luigi managed, one by one, to catch the little buggers. It took many minutes to maneuver them the way he wanted, but since these were smaller and less aggressive he soon became quite comfortable and lost himself to the dance.

Patience – that was a virtue Luigi had long ago learned to live. Or at least to pretend to. Watch, wait, take your chances... and ignore your fear. Save it for another time. Right now you fight.

He was the most wary of their weapons, which came dangerously close to his head sometimes, so that there were moments he couldn't believe his mustache was still in one piece.

Then he had only to deal with the green ghosts. They were the biggest normal ghosts he'd seen, and apparently the biggest Vincent van Gore could make. Catching their hearts off guard with his flashlight wasn't hard at all, it was dodging their litter all over the floor that was the challenge. While sucking down two at once, struggling with some difficulty to pull them down, he slipped on one of the numerous banana peels and fell, of course breaking the connection.

The ghosts cackled at seeing his mistake and disappeared momentarily, giving Luigi a second to pick himself up and get oriented. Uggh... I sure hope this ends soon. He glanced over at the artist, conducting away with his paintbrush in the corner as if he didn't care to fight himself.

Luigi shook his head. All the better for me. Then he abruptly turned and swallowed the ghost that had thought it'd managed to sneak up beside him.

As Luigi, with a decisive burst of strength, finally put the last big ghost down, he wrestled it backwards and landed with a spectacle-finishing crash onto one knee. In a moment all the noise and the chaos of man at war with monster ceased, filling the room with strange silence. And there he stayed, panting for several long seconds, worn but clearly victorious.

That was the last of them... surely it was the last. He could take half a second to breathe.

   Finally, he looked up.

Vincent van Gore watched him from the corner with utter abhor in his green eyes. "My... my creations! You..."

Though tired, Luigi rose to his feet and allowed a small smile. "Well... is that all you wanted to show me?"

The ghost's face hardened now, searching his young opponent disdainfully. "Well played, runt. All night I have sent challenge after challenge... and you have conquered them all," he muttered in upset contemplation.

   Luigi only watched the ghost with a furrowed brow, wondering what all this praise could mean.

"It was said that you would be fierce. Strong, unwavering, someone who knew how to deal with the spirits like a master of the art. Now I see this was no joke. Tell me my green fiend, what is it that you desire to see most from art? Color? Beauty? Expression? Or maybe..." Here he raised an eyebrow. "Life?"

Luigi widened his eyes, never taking them from the ghost's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he paused to intently study the end of his paintbrush. "What do you look for?"

Luigi blinked, thinking for a moment. "Well... all of those things can be good in art," he answered. "But above all, I like it when art makes the viewer feel good."

"Ah," Vincent observed. "So, you like art to make you feel good. Well, what did you think of my paintings?"

Luigi frowned dubiously. "I think your talent could be better employed elsewhere."

The ghost smiled pleasantly. "So, you dislike looking at them?"

Where is he going with this? "Well... yes! It's all ugly and... terrifying. I don't see the point of making -

"Aha!" Vincent interrupted. "So you hate it, and decide to destroy it. Well, what about my opinion of them?"

Luigi glanced away uncomfortably under his interrogating stare. "I don't know."

"I, for one, have a reason for every painting I create, and breathe life into them lovingly," he informed the ghost hunter. "It matters little what you think of my handiwork. They have turned out exactly as I intended. Why must you be so hurtful?"

Luigi now straightened his gaze, conviction returning to him. "Because no painting ought to be meant to harm actual life."

Here Vincent van Gore laughed. "Oh, please," he chuckled. "Do not think I am the only one guilty of this sin. Your stupid professor himself 'harms more life' by means of his paintings than I do. Why, he traps every one of us inside frames! And is this somehow right?"

But the indignant human was at no loss for an answer. His old friend's words coming back to him, he replied, "I can't say anything for sure, but according to Madame Clairvoya, it is."

   There was a moment of odd silence, and as the portrait ghost seemed to be briefly stuck by his assertion, Luigi went on. "I know I could never speak for you... and if I were to be honest I would agree with you. But I don't believe you can tell me that your kind suffers any real evil within those frames. For those restless and rebellious as you are, it is a justice that you have to endure."

Here van Gore stopped. He studied Luigi's firm expression with some surprise apparent on his face, and for a while he seemed conflicted as to how to respond.

   "Well spoken... and yet, your philosophy is not foolproof. So I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he said at last. "To each his own artwork - we are all of different opinions, after all. But do tell me..." Now his voice took on a slightly arrogant edge. "What think you of the new piece recently acquired by the King Boo? I'm sure you've at least heard of it," he said tauntingly. "I had a chance to see it myself, in fact. Not bad at all. A real prize, as I understand - the king watches over it always down below... as he probably is this very second."

Luigi stared in newfound dread as the artist pretended to think. "A very fresh take on humanity - what was it called? ...'Mario'?"

Luigi couldn't stay silent any longer. "My brother is not another art piece to be judged!" he snapped. "He is a person - a living, breathing... irreplaceable individual who really suffers and really makes differences. More than I can say for some," he added glibly, before slowing down to assume a softer tone. "And he has so much - so much that no artist could ever recreate. He's strong, smart, kind... he's like a better version of myself. So I suppose he's a masterpiece – but he is not a painting!"

After this unexpected mouthful, the ghost before him chuckled, seeing the boy nearly breathless in a fit of indignation. "Aw, what a beautiful passionate speech," he praised. "So you sound as if you've all the angles covered then - to each his own artwork, as I have said. I think I will let this go past me, so you might take it to the very end. Well played indeed, Monsieur Luigi. I wish you luck of sorts, though we do not need to go labeling it good or bad. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, remember. But if I let you go... will you not at least do me the favor of sparing the rest of my works? That way, even if I disappear, my work will live on... That is the hope of every artist. That is right, n'est-ce pas? Art is eternal!"

Luigi, suddenly confused and encouraged by these words, said, "Your works? But... there's only one left!" He pointed to the near-finished painting on the easel before him, which depicted an image of a treasure chest.

Vincent turned, then did a sweeping once-over of the room. "Honh? But this cannot be!"

   It could, and it was: there were no other paintings left.

Luigi looked on him with some pity as the ghost lay down his paintbrush in disbelief. Part of him was glad - but still, Luigi wasn't as happy as he could have been. After all, he hated to see someone's life dreams ruined... even if they were slightly twisted dreams.

Vincent van Gore sighed. "It does not matter now. Zut alors!" And then, quite abruptly, his spectral heart appeared, as if it could no longer bear the thought; and Luigi had caught him in his beam before he even realized it.

   For one last moment the ghost slayer stared at the depressed artist in alarm. Then that was it? Surprised, and only then realizing what the ghost meant, he began to suck him away.

When the artist was gone the studio at last came to light. All this time he had been painting in the dark... Poor man, just giving up, Luigi thought with a sigh. He knew it wasn't ideal, but he couldn't help it: he saw so much humanity in these portrait ghosts sometimes. Determined to move on, he glanced around for anything else interesting.

   The floor was stained all over with various colors where the ghost had sat: streaks of paint that adorned the boards. This place was rather wonderful; how fun it must have been, to spend lots of time up here.

With yet another sigh, Luigi turned now to each easel, looked at each empty painting; each one signifying all the work he'd done to clear this place. All night he'd been fighting; all night he'd worked toward an end it seemed as if he'd never achieve. He, too, was tired. He longed to rest; he longed to get out of this place. This was his adventure he'd badly wanted... but now he was ready for it to end.

And then, quite suddenly, a realization hit Luigi for what seemed like the first time that night. He realized how alone and lonely he'd become in this place. Suddenly he saw how much he missed: he missed Toad and the others. He missed the professor and the lab. He missed the sunshine and the afternoon sky; he missed his home. He even missed the way things used to be; he wanted everything to go back to normal. He missed his brother; he missed Mario.

I shouldn't waste time, Luigi thought, trying to shake the thoughts away. He didn't have time to be digging out fragile memories.

Pulling up his Game Boy, he began to scour over the map to figure out where else he had to go. Okay... what? As he scrolled through all the floors, he frowned. No, that couldn't be right.

   All of them were colored – everywhere he looked there were no unvisited rooms. Going over everything again, scarcely daring to hope, he came again to the tiny floorplan of the basement. Only one last room remained.

Luigi stopped and looked away in disbelief, heart beginning to thump wildly. Then... that was it. He was done. He'd seen all else there was to see.

   He had been to every last room, possibly caught every last ghost. He had caught Vincent van Gore... the last portrait ghost. He had lit up the artist's studio: the last normal room. Then that only left...

Looking up to where the artist had been, he spotted the painting he had been working on of the treasure chest - and paused. Luigi gasped to see the purple surface now nothing but empty swirls on canvas. The painting-! Taken aback, he looked down; and there on the floor before him rested a small treasure chest, as real as life.

   Suddenly it was all laid out before him.

Spellbound, Luigi crouched down and carefully lifted the gilded lid. There on a cushion inside lay a gorgeous yellow diamond sparkling like a star... and nestled next to it was another item beyond compare.

At first Luigi was completely still. He stared at the little box's contents with disbelief; and slowly his hand reached for it. Not for the diamond; he didn't care to take it at all. Leaving the jewel where it was, he claimed the other object and shut the chest.

Heart racing in excitement and nerves, he held the thing up to the light. The key was golden; it shone in the light like liquid sun. Its weight was genuine, as could be expected of a key so large. Its regal design was evident in the red gemstones embedded along the handle, leading up to the elaborate shape on the end; that of a great spade.

This was it. That key which for all night he'd searched.

Looking up again at the painting from which it had come, Luigi was astounded for a moment to see the painting had changed again; it now showed an opened treasure chest, used and empty. Had Vincent van Gore painted it for him as well?

This is it... the key to everything. Feeling suddenly a little dizzy and a lot confused, Luigi got to his feet. Nothing was stopping him now. He'd eliminated every obstacle; nothing else left undone. It was time.

Stomach churning like there was no tomorrow, Luigi thought of the single walk he had to take. Just one last trip to the very end.

Slowly, he looked down as his fingers curled around the gold key. His eyes began to catch fire in the yellow light it glinted back at him.

"I'm coming for you, bro," he whispered just under his breath. "I'm coming right now."