"I-it 'as c-come again!" Marcellus stammered, increasingly becoming terrified of the apparition.
"Looking just like the late King Hamlet," Barnardo deadpanned, seemingly unafraid, though he had gotten up from his seated position and gawked at the ghost with wide eyes.
"'Oratio, you are a man of intellectualism, are you not?" the coyote asked the blue hedgehog, who had also stood up.
"Does this spirit not look like the king to you, Horatio?" the purple chameleon asked.
Horatio, in a mixture of fear and fascination, replied, "Y-yes, most like our departed king."
The ghost looked at the three Danes expectantly, as if...
"It wants us to communicate with it," Barnardo stated.
"Ask 'im somesing, 'Oratio," the other sentry urged.
Horatio took a few tentative steps forward, his confidence and skepticism shattered, and in as strong and unwavering a voice as he could manage, he half-yelled to the ghost, "What are you that walk-er-fly so late at night and well into the morning hours, looking very much so like the late King Hamlet of Denmark, dressed as though he had just defeated King Fortinbras of Norway? By God and all of the heavens, I bid you-no-charge you; speak!"
By the end of Horatio's interrogation, the ghost had moved away from the battlements its interrogators were standing on, and inching even further away.
"It looks like you 'ave offended it," Marcellus stated.
"Stay! Speak! Speak, I charge you! Speak!" Horatio yelled louder and louder, until the last "speak" echoed even throughout the snow-covered castle grounds. The ghost had vanished from sight.
"Horatio, you are pale as that ghost and tremble all over!" Barnardo exclaimed, his voice laced with concern. Then, with a hint of smugness, he added, "Do you still think of us as delusional fools? Do you believe us now? And what are your thoughts on the matter?"
"I would swear to God," Horatio began, but paused as he swallowed a lump in his throat, "that had my own eyes not vouched for me and I saw it for myself, I would never have believed it."
"Is it not like ze old king?" Marcellus asked.
"Yes, Marcellus, as you are to yourself," he said, "Like I told the apparition, it was wearing the exact same armor the king had donned when he defeated Old Norway and claimed his land as part of our own, and he frowned, in similar fashion I think, to the way he scowled at the Polacks he was attacking. It's utterly and unnervingly uncanny."
Marcellus reiterated how it had been like this for the previous two nights as well, appearing always at the exact time, the ghost always silently scowling.
"I have the inexplicable feeling that this is an omen that predicts terrible misfortune for our country," Horatio said grimly.
"Well, joke me zis, why is it zat ze guard schedule is so strict and tight?" Marcellus began, "Why is Denmark building so many bronze cannons, especially with ze amount of weaponry we are buying from abroad? Why are ze shipbuilders working even through a Sunday? What is 'appening zat warrants working night and day like zat?"
"Well, if you have yet to hear the rumors, let me tell them to you," replied Horatio, "As you very well know, gentlemen, King Hamlet was Fortinbras of Norway's greatest rival. Fortinbras challenged our king to a battle, where the victor, on the basis of a valid legal document, would claim the other's land for his own. As you also know, Old Denmark defeated Old Norway. Now, Fortinbras' young son, Young Fortinbras, is a bold but rather inexperienced monarch. So, to boost himself and apparently his chances of reclaiming the land his father had lost to our late king, he has hired thugs from the most vile and lawless corners of Norway. As far as what I've heard, this is why we have been assigned this position up here, and why Denmark is in a fit state of unrest."
The three men discussed the omens they have seen and heard of and their potential meanings for the next several hours. By the end of it, they were all convinced that these omens and the faint whispers of war were no mere coincidences.
"I doubt whether or not those 'rumors' have stayed rumors, especially not now," Barnardo told his comrades with his back to them and his arms crossed, deep in thought, "It must explain why his ghost, of all the souls, was dressed in that armor, out of all the things he could have donned. For it is he who had created this war and the effect it's having on Denmark, and I'd hazard a guess that the people of Norway feel the same."
"It is defnitely an omen to watch," said Horatio, "For in the mighty Roman Empire, in the period before Julius Caesar's assassination, corpses tore through their graves and meandered about the city, speaking in gibberish. The stars shot across the sky like projectiles from a cannon. Blood became mixed in the dew you found in the morning, coating your greenery. The sun cast threatening faces while the moon became eclipsed so much that it almost ceased to exist. Julius Caesar's own wife had dreamt of the citizens bathing in the blood that poured out from his statue. And here in Denmark, omens that are as bad have surfaced and is spreading fear and unrest across the land. It's as if all of the heavens and the earth are warning us all they can about imminent and impending danger."
At that moment, the ghost reappeared, as if in agreement with Horatio's latter sentiment.
"But soft, behold! It has come again. I shall converse with it if it kills me," Horatio resolved," I demand that you stay, apparition!"
The ghost then does something that make all three flinch: it spreads its arms wide, as if to ensnare the chameleon, coyote, and hedgehog into a ghostly embrace, yet its face remained stony as ever.
"If you have a voice or can articulate any sort of sound, speak to me!" Horatio barked, then continued in a gentler tone, "If there is a deed with which to let your spirit rest in peace and bring me honor, speak to me! If you know anything about whatever ill fate is in store for Denmark, which could possibly be prevented by us knowing something, please, speak to me! If you've buried treasure in the womb of this planet, and treasure has been said to make ghosts restless, please say something! Stay and speak!"
Barnardo, and a few moments later Marcellus, noticed that a faint light was beginning to glow on the horizon. The cock would crow soon and the ghost would vanish if it does.
"Keep it from leaving, Marcellus," Horatio pleaded, getting more and more desperate by the second.
"Shall I strike it with my spear?" Marcellus inquired, priming the partisan in question.
Horatio, now panicking and losing all patience, cried, "If it does not stay put, then yes!"
At which point, the ghost floated away again.
Marcellus impulsively launched the spear at the apparition, but the ghostly figure just swerved out of the way.
"There it is!" bellowed Horatio.
It was then that dawn broke and that light seemed to flood from the horizon, and as the cock crowed to signal to the rest of Elsinore castle that the day had begun, for the ghost, it was its cue to vanish, leaving nothing in its wake but Marcellus' spear stuck to the ground below and three very distraught men, rooted to their spots atop the battlements.
A/N: I guess I should put a disclaimer here so I don't get shot at or kidnapped by The Copyright SWAT team or something. I own not a single cell of any of the Sonic characters used in this story, SEGA and/or Archie Comics do. Also, the story of Hamlet is not owned by me either, although no one really knows who owns it and therefore can take credit for being the original author because Shakespeare's scripts of it are but his own stage adaptation of an ancient story/stories whose origins and credibility are still being debated today.
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