Chapter Text
You woke up on a rainy Tuesday morning to the typical sound of your mom yelling at you.
“Y/N!” she yelled.
“Coming!” You shouted back, throwing on your slippers. You walked down the stairs and were greeted by your mother standing at the front door, and some mysteriously, and near identically, dressed individuals. They wore scary masks with glassy eyes and matching black outfits.
“Y/N, you cost too much money to feed, so I’m selling you to these clearly upstanding church officials. Bye.” Your mom kissed you on the cheek and a burlap sack was promptly thrown over your head, and you were shoved into what you assumed was a white van.
“Please, don’t hurt me!” You begged as the car peeled out of the driveway.
“Oh, sorry about that. Just a formality.” A voice spoke up. The bag was taken off your head and you squinted, taking in your surroundings. You were in… a hearse? A man in the passenger's seat with face paint and one white eye craned his neck to look at you, holding the sack. It still had a label on it, ‘potatoes’, but written above in sharpie was ‘EVIL’. Evil potatoes.
“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were squished between two of the masked figures, but thankfully, they had put on your seatbelt for you. The white-eyed man turned around properly to face you.
“We are gho-“
“Cardi, put your seatbelt on!” The woman in the driver's seat scolded. “You know how I feel about road safety.” The man frowned and sat back down, the click of his belt punctuating the movement. You watched the raindrops drizzle down the window, imagining they were racing. The rest of the ride was silent.
As the car slowed to your destination, the sack was thrown back on your head once again, and you were escorted out of the hearse, up a set of stairs, and into a building. The air in the building was cool, giving you goosebumps. The bag was removed, and you took in your surroundings once again. In front of you, the older woman from the driver's seat, the man from the passenger's seat, and four new men, the oldest looking of which wore… a pope costume?
“Welcome to the abbey, Y/N. I am Sister Imperator.” The woman reached out, enveloping your hand in hers to shake. ‘What is going on?’ You thought to yourself.
“Hi…? Sorry, I’m just. Very confused.” You looked from one unfamiliar face to the next. ‘Is this really my new life?’ “AH!” You felt a weight on your shoulder and whipped around, coming face to face with one of the masked figures. Their hand was lifted just above the height of your shoulder. ‘Did they just… pat me?’ They raised their hands defensively and gave you an apologetic look, or at least as apologetically they could look with a near fully-concealed face. You looked from them to the rest of the figures, there were eight of them, and- wait. Were they all standing behind you this entire time? You looked back at your more human-faced captors. ‘Surely, this was all some sort of prank. I just had to play along.’ As casually as you could, you pointed a finger at the eldest man in papal robes. “Why are you dressed like that?” He looked at you open mouthed like some sort of sad fish and shook his head.
“I told you nothing good would come of this.” He said to Sister Imperator.
“They’re just confused, give them a few days- oh come back here!” The old man began to hobble off without her, and she leaned toward the four remaining men, muttering about introducing themselves, and trotted off after the pseudo-pope. The slightly more normal looking men shared glances amongst themselves, before the passenger seat guy stepped forward.
“I am Papa Emeritus IV, but you can call me Copia.” He reached out to shake your hand, but just kind of poked your fingers, then went for a fist bump. The silence was deafening. The next man came forward and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.
“I am Papa Emeritus III. Terzo.” The corners of his mouth upturned into an almost-smile. The next man didn’t bother shaking hands.
“Papa Emeritus II. Friends call me Secondo.” You furrowed your brows in thought. He reminded you of someone, but you couldn’t put your finger on who. The last man did not step forward to greet you. His gaze was cold, expression indecipherable. RUMBLE! You jumped at the sound of the thunder. Finally, you could see his lips had pursed, holding back a chuckle.
“I am Papa Emeritus I.” The words felt heavy. ‘Did he not have another name like the rest of them?’ You pondered. Something told you that perhaps it wasn’t time for you to ask, yet. Copia’s gaze fell above your shoulder.
“Oh, yes! These are the ghouls!” He ushered them forward to stand with the ‘papas’. “Together, we are Ghost.”