This was becoming another one of his bad habits, wasn't it? Disappearing with little more than a whimper, then poking his head out the front door once in a blue moon only to wrinkle his nose at the awfully-sunny weather and retreat indoors. How long had he been binging his favorite movies? When was the last time he went out and caught an actual meal for Audrey III? The monstrous plant had taken a penchant to the stale junk food amassed by the wishful ghost over the years, ravaging through the supply even now as Beck numbly stared at the flickering end credits of -- he forgot which movie he had been watching. Frames of excessive gore, bad acting, and massacred teens meshed together in his memory as the television's rolling display fractured into earsplitting static before fizzing out. A harsh whine emitted from his throat. What was he supposed to do without his T.V.?

    Slumping further into his nest of ratty blankets, the poltergeist was forced to turn his attention elsewhere. Without the blue glow of a film, the cramped room was swallowed by darkness. Only the sounds of Audrey struggling to free a twinkie from its cellophane prison and the throaty birdsong outside were left. Beck forced himself to stand, legs wobbly from days of disuse. Frustration sizzled deep in his chest, threatening to bubble up into his throat and slip out his mouth with snarling ire. Boredom would return soon, and whose fault was that? Obviously, the blame could only be pinned on the leader of this ghost town -- heh. The boy's delusional mind locked onto Crow; the sniveling coward was responsible for him even loitering around the poisoned swamp and therefore, his misery.

    The disheveled feline scrambled from his blankets, an old glint of mischief replacing the glaze that settled over bloodshot eyes. Directly attacking Crow wasn't an option unless he wanted to look like a complete idiot. As Beck skulked through the wilted bracken, honeycomb eyes narrowed at the sight of the town's outskirts. He could remember when it wasn't teeming with sickening life. His unscathed lips pulled back into a grimace as he failed to recognize many of the new scents drifting from the silent homes. Dawn would be encroaching soon, stirring the sleeping town and ruining his fun.

    For a creature of his rank, Crow's dwelling was rather unimpressive. Constructed years ago with wood and cement, the reclaimed home unsurprisingly appeared identical to its neighbors, save for added decorations here and there. Not for long. Beck circled the building with a devilish grin splitting his snout until he halted in his tracks at one of the side walls. Scowling up at his empty canvas in thought for a moment, the poltergeist unraveled the bandages binding one of his forearms before dragging a tooth along a closed gash line. Tar-colored blood seeped from the opened vein, beads rolling down to drip from his inner arm as he dipped his other paw into the wound. Paint cans were a luxury when in the wilderness, after all. Paw slick with oily blood, Beck reared onto his hind legs and reached as far as he could stretch to scrawl out the first letter with a sloppy swoop he needed to repeat three more times for the black blood to stain the plywood. The viscous fluid seemed to sizzle when it was slathered on the wall, reminiscent of acid beginning to burn a discolored scar into a surface.

    Five more letters, fifteen more dips into the inky gash along his forearm -- he stumbled back onto all four paws to admire his work. In dark, angry letters, a single word glared back at him, droplets of its ink sliding down the wall and disfiguring the writing: C O W A R D.

    He didn't expect an audience. Nor the fiery sensation biting at his arm now that his task was complete. Beck tore his gaze from the first onlooker -- one he failed to recognize -- and glowered at the dark gash parting his false fur and skin. He had learned to grow quite accustomed to pain in life, and while a slight mishap rendered him numb, he hadn't anticipated his system to recover this soon. Even so, death still dulled his senses. He swiped a clammy tongue along the wound once before twisting his head to study the little fox as she spoke.

    "Why don't'cha go chew someone else's ear?" the poltergeist grumbled in response, retrieving his discarded bandaging. Witnesses to his petty crime would undoubtedly result in someone snitching to Crow, ruining his fun in one fell swoop. Naturally, Arrow joined the rookie's side, a sight for sore eyes at the worst of times. Beck rolled his eyes. He wasn't being mean. Was he? A little bit of amusement never hurt anyone. Or more accurately, never hurt him. His familiar wheezy snicker echoed from his throat as he turned to depart the scene, a limp more prominent than before.

    The scent of pine and blight drifted from behind. The poltergeist froze in his tracks, his apparition bristling and distorting for a fraction of a second as he felt Crow's green gaze scorch his back. You idiot. Rather than confronting the tabby, Beck relapsed to his first and foremost instinct -- he ran. For a dead kid, Beck proved to be surprisingly quick on his feet, breaking into a frenzied dash for the safety of a neighboring porch. Crow either had the skillful aim of a sharpshooter or the extraordinary luck of a lottery winner. The stone found its target, colliding with the boy's broken ankle. Pain as grievous as when the joint was first twisted and twisted until bone splintered racked his leg, and Beck stumbled.

    His chin hit the dirt with a soft thud, failing to recover before paws pinned him to the grassy earth. Beck thrashed and writhed and kicked under Crow's weight in vain. Yet his mouth remained tightly clamped, lips peeling to force a grin as questions were spat down at him. He stopped his struggling at Crow's final biting words, dark eyes glancing from his squished position to scan his onlookers. Why not give them a show? Beck swiveled his head over his shoulder to glare at Crow from the corner of his vision, only for a breathless chuckle to escape his mouth. With the soft sound, a dam crumbled and manic laughter burbled forth. Shrill cackling filled the air as the poltergeist lapsed into uncontrollable giggling that rattled with sticky wetness from deep within his chest. His ribs ached like hell, his sides felt like splitting at the seams, but he only continued to choke on his own mocking laughter.

    It was too late. The damage had been done. And he was getting the attention he so desperately craved.

Once again, a big stink was stunk by the swamp’s hallmark spectral resident. The hound’s attendance was not required for him to immediately identify the ruckus’ perpetrator as Beck - around here, only the poltergeist held the power to draw together a mixed crowd like the one present. Though Leroy knew not exactly what was done, or who was harmed, the impact of Beck’s felony ought to be substantial, considering how Crow’s woeful whines could be heard from a sizeable stretch away.

Upon arrival to the scene of the crime, it had become apparent that the all fireworks had gone off without him. The facial expressions found in the congregation of Tanglers looked not as shocked as anticipated, and the ghastly feline’s 'wrongdoings' did not satisfy the hype that had bubbled within Leroy’s system. At least the victim was triggered enough to lay an arm - no, two arms - on the guilty child. The situation wasn’t as much as a situation as initially hoped, yet the potential for raw entertainment nonetheless bestowed itself. A pissed-off Crow made for a fantastic target for hassling, especially when he was in front of most of, if not the entirety of, his underlings. For the sort like him, you just needed to know where to strike the correct chords, and Tanglewood’s leader gave off the impression that he possessed a mentality that could be played like a ukelele.

A low chuckle rising in his throat on approach, the tall guardsman made his best attempt to discreetly join the multitude of clanmates. His smug smirk broke whilst he hollered to the general from the safety of the crowd; "Oh, step off! I think he’s got a knack for fine art!"