Ghost

[Blackadder.]

 

Awesome, this is definitely at the top of my list in order of favorite story right now. Love it, adore it, could CUM all over it.

<3

Your issues are worse than Ghost's.

 

Forgot to read it for a while, finally caught up. Great stuff.

[Rhoda]

I'm not responsible for any stains or blemishes on your keyboard matey. New chapter coming later on hopefully, just applying a new characteristic to Ghost...

[Chickstick]

I have to catch up with this.

[Rhoda]

Chapter VIII - Long Gone John

 

The town as a whole was former glory to what it once was. While the streets flourished 10 years ago, age and youth culture had started to weather the town away and before long, there were more boarded up fronts than open stores. Ghost scowled as he looked out of his passenger side window, not uttering a tone as he scanned the sights in front of him. The elderly shopped in fear of being beaten to death with their own bags, youths replaced street ethics with their own and alcoholics sat in numerous beer gardens looking conspicuously down at their dirty pint glasses and bottles.

The one thing this town needs is a fine authority figure. One like you.

Ghost shook his head, and for the first time since his ordeal he wished for the thoughts to evaporate for 10 minutes while he could assess what had just happened. Barely an hour ago, Gorm had sent him to massacre a teacher in a public school, in broad daylight. Gorm was a manipulator, and it had taken this long for Ghost to realise it. He was indeed plagued by his thoughts, but what they weren't him? Would all this be his fault still if he was to stop now?

"We're here Ghost." Gorm said cheerfully, "Pick out anything you want, it's my treat."

"Could hardly call it a treat." Ghost replied, muttering. "I'd prefer a beer."

Gorm seemed to ignore him and gestured towards one of the oldest and most dilapidated buildings on the street. The windows seemed non-existent against the stone with the amount of layers used to board them up, and the door itself looked stronger than iron bars serving as a last resort.

"I'll show you in, they can be a bit... unwelcoming towards strangers." Gorm whispered, pointing out a streaking blood stain in the alley adjacent. Clearly the long arm of the law was simply not long enough in this part of town.

Gorm ushered Ghost inside, where a rough looking and large built man sat on a folding chair behind a rudimentary desk formed out of industrial storage boxes. Despite his size, the man was swift in arming himself from Ghost and aimed a well polished shotgun inches away from the black leathery face, which was now wearing a very startled expression. As soon as the fear overwhelmed Ghost, the mask seemed to release heavy narcotic vapours into his bloodstream.

Belt up, Ghost.

"Come on then, you fat c*nt!" Ghost yelled, clearly taking the man by surprise, who lowered his gun ever so slighty. "I'll place the safe assumption that you'll be dead before you can f*cking reload."

Gorm held Ghost back, who seemed to hiss at the sight of the gun. To both Gorm and Ghost's surprise, the man heartily laughed and casually stood his shotgun up against his desk.

"And who's this testosterone fueled motherf*cker, Gorm?" enquired the man.

"This is Ghost, he's looking to right a few unfortunate wrongs in his life."

Ghost seemed to settled down, and itched the breathing apparatus on his face, panting like an old bloodhound.

"Aren't we all, buddy?" the large man laughed once again, embracing Ghost in a bone crunching hug. The mask seemed to have breathed new life into him however, and he was soon wrenching himself out of the man's bear-like grip.

"I'm Long Gone John, but most just call me John!" he boomed, holding a hand out in front of him offering a handshake. Ghost took it, forcing the most cynical smile the town had ever seen.

"Charmed..." Ghost cooed sarcastically, adopting a thick Southern American accent. Gorm interrupted, obviously detecting the hostility.

"Erm, John, if we may hurry you... we need fresh stock."

"Well!" John let on, breaking the handshake, "Take a look at these!"

John turned on the spot and slammed his hands down on the biggest box of them all. As if it was merely a shoebox, Long Gone John hoisted the container up and away, setting it down gently in front of Ghost's feet.

"Go on buddy... take a sniff..." John purred.

Ghost crouched, instantly forgetting about his temporary awareness of John and with his fingers trembling, he prised the lid off the box like an octopus would hungrily and clumsily force his way into a large oyster. Inside were the most beautiful objects Ghost had ever seen, and he had seen some enticing sights at the chemical plant.

"Pick one. Gorm's treat."

Ghost instantly looked at Gorm, with the sort of expression a child would wear upon receiving the most sought after present he wished for at Christmas. Swallowing hard, Ghost took an instant liking to a sleek and silver number. Cradling it like a child, Ghost gently lifted the gun towards him, his garish face reflected in the welcoming body of the gun. It was almost as if the gun would never judge him for who he was or what he was doing. Ghost had found an inanimate friend.

"Ah, Desert Eagle, Mark XIX" John rang out, almost machine-like as he packed the box away and it once again became a main component of his desk.

"You're absolutely positive don't want any money for this, John?" Gorm ensured.

"Yeah, go ahead, take it." John waved a fat hand at Ghost who had now stood up and began to stroke the grip of the gun, "he reminds me of a younger me... without the... the thing..."

Ghost ran a finger down his face and huffed. He had no time to wallow however, as he was already on the way back to Gorm's before he could snatch his attention away from the gun.

[Blackadder.]

Nice chapter. Couple of Q's though.

 

1. Why doesn't anyone seem to care about Ghost's mask?

 

2. Wouldn't the mask impair Ghost's speaking abilities?

 

Just wondering.

[Rhoda]

Glad you mentioned it.

 

 

1. Why doesn't anyone seem to care about Ghost's mask?

 

The receptionist was a lucky encounter, and Long Gone John did seem to notice an oddity regarding the mask when Ghost chose his gun. I'll be sure to address the issue in the next chapter, and rest assured, there'll be far more people who react negatively to his features.

 

 

2. Wouldn't the mask impair Ghost's speaking abilities?

 

During times of frustration maybe, but Ghost's diction is clear due to the fact the mask is forever adapting to his face and allows him to talk when need be. You may have noticed earlier on that there's some conflict between "Chris" and "Ghost", and that will be a strong theme later on in the story.

 

 

Oh, and I've now edited the first post with links to each individual chapter should you wish to re-read them or simply catch up. At this point, it may get tiring having to locate them, though you just wait until we're 20 pages in. I hope I get that far.

Edited May 25, 2008 by Masterkraft

[Oxidizer]

You're a very talented writer, some of your description is simply phenomenal.

 

I may have mentioned this before, but I adore Chris "Ghost" with a vengeance. I want him!

 

Keep up the good work.

[Rhoda]

Thank you for your support as always, all of you.

 

Oxidizer: If you think Ghost is adorable now, you wait until a few more chapters in, I'm adding a new characteristic you're bound to love...

[Oxidizer]

If you think Ghost is adorable now, you wait until a few more chapters in, I'm adding a new characteristic you're bound to love...

SQUEE!

[Ronmar The Only]

Nice, I like. I suppose is "Ghost" also developing parallel personalities? With have Ghost, Chris and the little girl that have somewhat popped up. You could also go into a thought about a southern good ole boy from whenever he encountered John the gunmen...just a thought.

 

Anyways, like was previously stated, the only grip that I somewhat have is the little descriptions and so-forth, but the plot is very interesting and the character is quite different from the usual. Kind of reminds me of Cand's Claude from a while back.

[mark-2007]

The one thing this town needs is a fine authority figure. One like you.

Ghost shook his head, and for the first time since his ordeal he wished for the thoughts to evaporate for 10 minutes while he could assess what had just happened. Barely an hour ago, Gorm had sent him to massacre a teacher in a public school, in broad daylight. Gorm was a manipulator, and it had taken this long for Ghost to realise it. He was indeed plagued by his thoughts, but what they weren't him? Would all this be his fault still if he was to stop now?

"We're here Ghost." Gorm said cheerfully, "Pick out anything you want, it's my treat."

"Could hardly call it a treat." Ghost replied, muttering. "I'd prefer a beer."

Does this bit mean he's turning against Gorm?

 

Fantastic chapter, short and sweet.

[Rhoda]

There's definitely an element of doubt in Ghost now, his insanity and his mood seems to fluctuate with his mask's. You'll see more of a divide later on in the story, and not just between Ghost and Gorm...

[Rhoda]

Chapter IX - Full Leather Extremist

 

Now it was serious for Ghost. In the short and far from pleasurable life he had lead up to now, Ghost now realised just what sort of upbringing he had. While the mask had brought him pleasure and an escape, it had also made him comprehend just what sort of past he possessed and just when he'd resent his face, narcotics would convince him otherwise and completely replace his morals. He was now two different people, and often wished he was Chris again.

Swap.

Ghost was jubilant, and stroked the barrel of his new Desert Eagle with a pleasant smile whilst watching TV. The relationship with Gorm could not have been more bizarre; here he was conspicuously fixated on the mindless American tripe while Gorm roared with laughter, munching biscuits endlessly from a well placed TV tray. A steaming cup of tea sat in front of the both of them, and Ghost had no intention of drinking it. It wasn't the fact he wasn't thirsty. He truly was thirsty, but nothing Gorm had in his cupboards or kitchen storage. Nothing in a liquid state. This was a craving for more action and more deference in his life. While Ghost knew that life wasn't all explosion and accomplishment, he wished he could manipulate time and live life as fast or as slow as he wished.

Pay attention when spoken to, else face the Mask's Wrath.

"Would you like a biscuit, Ghost?" muffled Gorm through a custard cream perched in between his lips as he held out the packet towards him. Like a squirrel would with a typical tourist offering berries, Ghost's hand crept cautiously towards the packet as if it was laced with asbestos. His eyes didn't leave Gorm's as he took one.

"Thanks." Ghost said with a forced smile, nibbling on it, again like a small woodland creature would. Gorm smiled back and turned the TV down, hinting at conversation. He then cleared his throat, as Ghost casually licked a cream covered finger from behind his harsh exterior of a face, which also seemed hungry.

"Listen, uh..." Gorm began,

"Look, I don't have rent money!" Ghost exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of him exasperatedly and adopting a thick American Italian accent. "Julia said she'd have taken care of it, yeah?"

Gorm chuckled and seemed to admire Ghost's imagination, but things were much more pressing than Ghost would accept.

"No, actually... it's not this so called "rent", Ghost."

Ghost seemed to detect this tone of voice, so he immediately withdrew himself and listen as intently as his mask would allow.

"I've got you a job."

A job?

"A job?" Ghost seemed to agree with his mask's thoughts this time.

"Yeah, why not?" Gorm smiled again. For a man wrought with trouble, enemies and frequent relationships with miscreates he did a terrific amount of smiling.

"It's a job helping John with his loading and shipments of ammunition. He'll pay you good cash, and even supply you with ammo as and when you need it."

Ghost clearly seemed interested as he rocked his head from side, as if he was trying to lose the attention of an annoying flying insect. He itched his face with doubt however.

"Grafting is it?" Ghost uttered, with a smile. "Only I'm not built like John is."

"That's fine, it's only the odd box or two." Gorm saw the worried expression, and then laid reassurance on thickly. "You'll do fine, Ghost."

"If you're sure..." Ghost then mirrored yet another typecast Italian accent, "... just as long as this John fella keeps me in the money, if y' get me!"

"He will, he will!" Gorm replied, waving a hand at Ghost casually and grinning once more. "Just as long as you're available anytime, he has varied work content and shifts."

"Aye aye, cap'n!" Ghost yelled, saluting hard, almost knocking over his ever-cooling cup of tea.

"You can have this phone, it's been in my drawer for f*ck knows how long, but it's your to keep in close contact with me and John."

Ghost again bore close animalistic resemblance in terms of behaviour and slowly took the phone, uttering a soft thank you and gently running a phone down the front of it.

"Remember, he'll call anytime, and he pays good. He'll be a good ally to have at these times of dire change and retribution."

Ghost smiled and his gleamed at the sight of the pristinely kept phone, which barely had a scratch, even on the screen. With every day passing, he had begun to feel more and more like the business man he mercilessly stole from what seemed like years ago.

[Lt. Dan]

Good read.

 

Who'll be directing the film adaptation?

[Oxidizer]

OMG. Ghost is the cutest. Period!

[Vercetti21]

Today and tomorrow are both Ghost catch-up days for me. To help keep my commitment of following this story, I'll edit this post later when I get it done.

 

EDIT: I'm still two chapters short, but I like what I've read so far. Ghost is probably one of the best horror story characters on the forums for the simple fact that he is realistic. I can easily sympathize with him, but at the same time I find myself disgusted with his actions. I care about what happens to him, and thus the story is quite interesting to follow. Speaking of which, it's good to see some original work around here. Most of the sh*t clogging WD right now are newbish fanfics, so seeing this piece is a relief. Good work, and I'll continue to catch up. Most of my complaints, although very few, have already been addressed by Eminence and others in a later post, so there's no sense in me criticizing as of this point.

Edited May 28, 2008 by Vercetti21

[Rhoda]

Today and tomorrow are both Ghost catch-up days for me. To help keep my commitment of following this story, I'll edit this post later when I get it done.

Thanks matey, I'll look forward to your feedback, and I'm guessing you like Ghost as a character then Oxidizer?

[Oblivionz]

Man. You know I love you, right?

 

Awesome chapter, f*cking phenomenal.

[Struff Bunstridge]

I love the "Swap" as he flits between sides of his personality. Very cool. I'm also intrigued as to John's motives in agreeing to hire such an obvious nutter. I'd don't need to say anything about the story, as you know I love it!

[Oxidizer]

 

And I'm guessing you like Ghost as a character then Oxidizer?

...YES! The "Aye aye, cap'n!" was fricken adorable.

[Rhoda]

And I'm guessing you like Ghost as a character then Oxidizer?

...YES! The "Aye aye, cap'n!" was fricken adorable.

While he seems adorable at the moment, you'll notice him starting to develop more cynical tendencies as the story develops, but you'll soon see. Thanks all for your comments and appraisal.

[Eminence]

Quick error from the prologue:

 

 

Abandoned hospitals and warehouses where Chris' favourite...

 

 

...contemplating whether he would be happy if he died that minute, right were he was.

 

Here these should be swapped round. Were is a verb, indicating that something happened or was something else - warehouses were his favourite. Where indicates a location - right where he was.

 

Chapter 1:

 

Can't really fault the opening. It has good imagery and description, painting a vivid picture in the mind of the reader while also establishing a good narrative style. The variation in sentence length and use of dramatic effect with shortened ones, for example the stand-alone paragraph "life was good", really draw the reader in well.

 

A slight problem encountered further on is that you switch the narrative to second person, which isn't typically a thing to do once or twice throughout a third-person narrative; if telling the story in such a way, it has to be implemented correctly and for a purpose. The line I'm referring to is:

 

 

Correction; life was bliss. Bliss even after his accident. In fact, you could say the accident was the best thing to happen to Chris. The one event that set him truly free. Defined him, not confined him.

 

It gives the narrative an unconventional, informal tone as well as shifting the way in which the story is being told, and is therefore ineffective in this context.

 

Sentence structure became confusing and incorrect through this:

 

 

The sun hit the sewage run off, overlooked by Chris' unorthodox home and harshly paved it's way through the trees, which were barely surviving due to the near inhabitable conditions.

 

Here, you've used a comma to separate a parenthetical phrase from the rest of the sentence - "overlooked by Chris' unorthodox home" - but you've not drawn a close to this phrase, instead enclosing the action of the sentence itself within it - "harshly paved it's* way through the trees". The sentence then ends with another parenthetical phrase - "which were barely surviving due to the near inhabitable* conditions". Therefore, the actual sentence you've created, without the parenthetical phrase in the middle, is "The sun hit the sewage run off, which were barely surviving due to the near inhabitable conditions" - doesn't make sense, does it? Remember, these phrases are used to enhance or clarify a description or meaning - not provide the actual meaning of a sentence - so it must make sense with or without the phrase.

 

I can see exactly why you've done it, though. A silly rule often taught, I believe, is that you shouldn't place a comma before the connective "and", as it isn't needed. While sometimes applicable, in this case it is not - the sentence actually 100% requires a comma before and in this situation. What's more, you're completely entitled to use the 'oxford comma' - that is, generally, one placed before the connective 'and' - in any situation, nulling the whole idea of not using one in this situation anyway.

 

* This should be "its" - 'its' by its own implies possession without an apostrophe, as opposed to the norm - "its way". Think of it this way - "it's" with an apostrophe always means 'it is'. Simple.

 

* This makes no sense whatsoever - you've said the conditions are near inhabitable! The word you were looking for is actually 'uninhabitable', implying that you wouldn't be able to live there.

 

Therefore, the sentence should, after all this, read like so:

 

 

The sun hit the sewage run off, overlooked by Chris' unorthodox home, and harshly paved its way through the trees, which were barely surviving due to the near uninhabitable conditions.

 

In some cases, you need to try to vary your description through the use of synonyms; repetition is your worst enemy when trying to build flow:

 

 

Barely containing his laughter, Chris raised a shaking hand up to his face, where a black, leather gas mask tightly hugged his face.

 

Take a look at BrassKnuckles' contribution to the Guide to Writing in order to get a rundown on how to implement quotation and attribution, as your punctuation is a little off:

 

 

"A pleasant mixture of utopia and dystopia... pain and pleasure you could say." he whispered to the container, running a scabbed finger down the middle of his mask, eyes darting around the image reflected back to him.

 

The full-stop at the end of the quotation should be a comma, although you're correct to have begun the attribution with a lower case letter.

 

 

Barely giving himself time to finish running his finger down the harsh surface of the container, Chris was off as fast as his fuse, running down a corridor he had not traversed in a while. The laughter spilled, hard and fast, sounding almost as strained as the sunlight.

 

Watch for repetition again in the sense that you don't go overkill with the similes - you've here used two in rapid succession and it makes the narrative become tiresome and similar. That's not to say don't incorporate two similes through the chapter, but it's their positioning that makes the difference; variation is key. Also, the first is a rather strange metaphor - "'his' fuse". Why would it be "his"? Humans don't specifically have a fuse - it should just be "a fuse".

 

 

Chris awoke with a start

 

Cliche! This phrase is so redundant, old and tired - it's used time and time and time and time and time and time and time again to describe how one wakes up. Refrain.

 

The final paragraph is excellent. Vivid imagery and description yet again - the best example of it so far in the piece - providing a truly engaging climax as well as a disturbing insight into the mind of the character. Well crafted.

 

Overall, it was a fairly decent start, made much better by that closing paragraph. What began and continued as decent suddenly became much more promising as far as later installments are concerned in my opinion - that final paragraph hinted at the potential of the piece and what's left to come.

[Rhoda]

Thanks for the help Eminence, they're quite simple mistakes which I hope I've done less and less of as I've gone on. I will work to improve them though, thanks again. The next chapter will be a turning point I'm sure, but it won't be for about a week, I'll need to take into account the advice given to me and truly concentrate, I don't want this going wrong this far in.

[Oxidizer]

While he seems adorable at the moment, you'll notice him starting to develop more cynical tendencies as the story develops, but you'll soon see.

I'm very excited about how this story and character is progressing, and I'm eager to see this stuff come into play.

[Eminence]

Chapter 2:

 

One little error; scapel. Should be scalpel?

 

Another error - I believe I picked up on an example of this from the first chapter - getting apostrophes mixed up.

 

 

His word's ran quickly, pleading with the mask, which was going nowhere.

 

Now, here there should be no apostrophe - "words ran quickly". Remember, an apostrophe indicates possession of an item or something missing (for example word is = word's), but for plurals there is no apostrophe. You repeat the "it's" mistake a little later - same thing.

 

There's also a small mistake later on:

 

 

He'd grown far to big and powerful for that now.

 

Should simply be "too" big and powerful.

 

Overall, good progress with this one. There's more good description - mostly the of the maniacal protagonist character, where the narrative really shines. I'll read on a little more soon.

[Rhoda]

They're all errors I could've avoided if I'd had paid more attention to my writing, so for that I'm quite relieved that I can correct them with more concentration. I've always had trouble with my "its" and the apostrophe element but I'll be sure to bear in mind the correct use next time. Thanks again!

[Vercetti21]

Edited my previous post.

[Rhoda]

Sorry for the inactivity as of late, it's been hard writing recently. This chapter's enormous, but I do hope it doesn't disappoint. Enjoy, and please comment and criticise as you see fit.

 

Chapter X - Mask's Wrath

 

It had been several days since Ghost's improvisational visit to Long Gone John, and aside from the fact his life was changing, Ghost felt cheerful now he had friends. While he was deliciously hostile with John, Ghost realised that he wasn't such a bad person after all, and if he payed well Ghost could soon start living like everyone else.

However, as soon as Ghost would think one thing, his mask would force him to reject his beliefs and manipulate him. As unfair as it sounds, Ghost was battling with the very salvation his childhood had brought him. It was almost as if the mask had been watching him since before Ghost was united with it, studying weaknesses and behavioral traits. The mask had even grown tighter, showing reluctance to let go in times of threat as it read thoughts of Ghost's disdain towards the harsh contours of leather. However, as soon as Ghost would think these thoughts in the first place, he would digest the foul fumes the mask released and immediately change his mind.

 

One thing the mask didn't seem to stop him doing was progressing. With each day, Ghost became more civil with Gorm and less civil with strangers, as if he'd shifted all negativity from the man who took him in at times of need to those who have done nothing to help, and even mocked Ghost when he was at his lowest. The atmosphere in Gorm's residence grew more and more pleasant, with even Gorm's dog taking a liking to the garish Ghost.

Just as things should be.

It was the common case. Just as Ghost would slip into his own world, reality would interrupt with the most mundane of tasks and requests.

 

"Toast?" Gorm smiled, fishing out the remaining slices of bread from the pantry.

"No... er, thanks, "Ghost replied, inching his coffee cup back and forth with seemingly effortless telekinesis.

Gorm stifled a yawn as he turned on the TV and took a seat with Ghost. For a moment, things grew quiet as the sounds of the TV seemed to disperse in the air. In an atmosphere clearing move, the toaster ejected the smoldering slices of toast with a small pop. Ghost dipped a finger in his cup of coffee and bit his upper lip, deep in concentration. Gorm could only wonder what he was thinking as he took a hesitant bite into his rather burnt toast.

"I'm thinking of working for this John..." Ghost murmured, not taking his eyes off the coffee's reflective layer.

Gorm simply made an enthusiastic noise as he struggled to chew a mouthful of toast, and Ghost took his phone out for what must have been the hundredth time that weekend.

"He did ring last night, but you were out... doing... what was it again?" Gorm snapped his fingers, pondering.

"... Eating pigeons..." Ghost replied, almost shamefully, but his mask was soon to reinstate some pride in his work; "I tell you what though!" Ghost then it was damn good eatin'!"

"I'm sure..." Gorm said with a wry smile, "but even so, he did ring and was eager to add he's always got sh*t to move."

"Splendid!" Ghost chimed, sipping his coffee, but struggling to grip the cup with his moist fingers.

Gorm simply watched with interest as Ghost sipped noisily, "I'll tell him you'll call him back then."

 

***

 

It was another busy day of trading for John. When it wasn't fat, bald Asian men panic buying protection for their underground circuits and cockfights, it was the middle aged business men, desperate to protect their 2 door convertible from the dangerous and the masked. John didn't seem to care, as long as the profits kept rolling in and he had stock to sell, the world was revolving just the way it should.

For now however, the day's trading had come to a close, and John was in the middle of a stock rearrangement. He had barely begun to lift the major loads when a familiar face appeared in the window, possibly made even more familiar by the black leather creases that adorned it.

"Hi John."

"Ah! You're this... "Ghost" kid, aren't you?" John approached him with open arms, "I wondered when you'd be round here. Looking for some more war merchandise?"

"Uh... yeah." Ghost didn't feel like explaining his appearance, so he simply smiled and nodded.

"You know, I can get you other masks, discount!" John rotated slowly on his battered office chair, thumbing through a war catalogue, when Ghost promptly interrupted.

"I'm... I'm fine, thank you".

"Fair enough then!" John boomed, beaming widely, "I hear you want work? Gorm phoned ahead, and have I got the assignment for you!"

Ghost noticed John had so much enthusiasm, and was glad to be in a reclusive mood, else he'd probably overwhelm the happy-go-lucky gun store owner. For once, Ghost wasn't thinking about the money.

"What does it entail, then?" Ghost asked.

"Well, it's a small delivery, a small box of ammunition to be precise. It's going to a little fast food restaurant on the other side of town."

"Everything seems small on this trip, then?" Ghost replied, cynically, but without malice.

John expelled a hearty laugh once again and gave Ghost a hard but friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed him. With a heave, John then lifted a small but sturdy looking wooden crate. It looked no bigger than a shoebox, yet it looked rather heavy, especially for someone not too physically built like Ghost. Years of neglect and eating raw animals hadn't really aided him in the muscle department. Oddly enough, it looked like the freshest and least decaying box in John's entire storage section.

"Only small, yeah, it's a few magazine clips and a Beretta for some guys down in Hotdog Heaven's carpark. Employees, sure, but you can hardly go givin' a bunch of dudes in paper hats a box of ammo when they're offerin' a side of fries!"

"I suppose not, no," Ghost smiled, almost as wide as John's.

I like this guy already, he could be a great help.

For now, Ghost attempted to repress these shallow and materialistic feelings, as John seemed like one of the only people he could really connect with other than Gorm. It was the start of a comfortable friendship already.

I'll be back, and when I do return, you'll thank me until you're short of f*cking breath.

Ghost dismissed his conscience, and instead listened intently to John.

"Jus' drop it off, pick up the pay, return here and we'll have a couple o' beers to ring in success, deal?"

Ghost smiled, baring teeth for the first time since he could remember at the thought of some proper bonding, and the broadening of his friendship circle. True friends, just like Trent once was...

"Deal."

 

***

 

The sky was now darkening, making the town of Sterling look a little less harsh. Ghost seemed to march down the deserted streets, hood over his head. The occasional car would pass him, but didn't even seem to notice him, much to his delight. For once, he wasn't the focus of everyone's attention and on the streets late at night, no-one questioned why he was constantly wearing a mask. There were far more exotic and bizarre sights at that time of the night; overweight women dressed in brightly coloured clothing, elderly men walking their small, tartan coated dogs and even the rare glimpse of a stray cat, fishing it's dinner out of a rubbish bin with it's paws. Ghost scoffed, thinking how easy it must be to all three of those things at times. His face could feel free, even if it was surrounded by hair and whiskers, or plastered with heavy layers of make up and lipstick. With a sniff, Ghost readjusted his grip around the box which had started to give him splinters and carried on walking a slightly faster pace, now looking forward to the beer with Long Gone John.

 

Ghost climbed up a particularly steep set of crusty looking stairs uptown and immediately shielded his eyes from a bright neon sign ahead of him with his one free hand. Gasping for breath, he slowly closed his eyes as his mask released a long and refreshing release from tiredness, and a sensation like someone had just shattered a tender egg on the crown of his head soon overpowered his senses.

Told you. Thank me later.

Ghost nodded and gave out a short laugh as appreciation, and made his way towards the towering neon sign of Hotdog Heaven. Behind the restaurant was a car park, which ironically seemed like the best kept patch of concrete in the whole town. The car park seemed as deserted as the streets were, except for the staff door where 3 disinterested employees stood, cigarettes hanging loosely out of their mouths.

"You John's boy?" one asked. He barely looked older than Ghost, or even half of the teenagers inside the restaurant.

"Er, yeah," Ghost nodded, finally setting the box down on the floor and casually sitting on it, waiting for money or any sort of sign from the the other two teenagers, who clearly didn't seem interested in the shipment, or in Ghost, aside from his face.

"Cool mask, bro'..." one hummed, monotonously, discarding his cigarette and exhaling a lengthy, concentrated line of smoke into the already polluted atmosphere of Sterling.

"Looks like somethin' John'd have hung up on his wall, no doubt, I'd wear it to work if the f*ckin' man would let me!".

Ghost noticed that he seemed to shout that last bit of the sentence back into the kitchen, no doubt looking for some sort of reaction from his boss, or perhaps the most attractive girl in the entire workforce.

"Look, I'm sort of in a hurry here, mind paying me so I can go away and leave you lot with your toys, hmm?" Ghost's impatience had begun to show, yet the employees didn't seem to notice.

"Wait dude, look." the smallest and most squeaky employee in the group thrust a stubby finger towards a pick up truck which had slowly and silently rolled into the car park, despite the amount of broken glass surrounding it.

"They with you, dude?"

Ghost eyed the truck with caution. No matter how friendly the driver seemed, there's nothing ever welcoming about an unmarked, black pick up truck, even Ghost knew that and he'd spent over 10 years living in an abandoned chemical plant, surrounded by rats and foliage. Without a single word, Ghost stood up and approached the truck's driver window with confidence, where the employees cowardly inched against the wall and each reached for another cigarette to extend their break.

"Can I help you?" Ghost inquired, almost mocking the driver.

"Yeah, you can actually, freak. That there box belongs to be, these dickhead's have been robbing me and my associates for weeks!"

Ghost simply stared at him, licking his top lip. The driver seemed to ignore him, and carried on.

"I've been taking the blame for this, just so they can play at being Russian in this f*cking car park, shooting at tin cans and wasting my ammo. The ammo I've paid for!"

Ghost then took a look at the Hotdog Heaven employees, who had slowly started to back away and inch towards the door.

"These greaseheads?" whispered Ghost, pointing a casual thumb towards the group, who seemed to get closer and closer to the Staff Only door.

"Yeah, embarrassing ain't it? Now why don't you get your leathery self over there, get my box, and load it up like a good little delivery boy."

Ghost emitted a low growl, licked his lips once again and patronisingly placed an elbow on the edge of the irate man's door, as if he was leaning on a bar top, bragging to a drunken friend about his weekend.

"I've got a better idea slick..."

Here we go, have this, on the house.

"Why don't you cut your losses, admit you were bettered by a trio of greasy, low level employees..."

Having fun yet? Go on, give him more. More.

"... and just f*ck off? Hmmm?"

Ghost gave a broad, mocking smile, clearly visible even beneath his mask.

"Oooh, alright, we've got a f*cking comedian!" the driver reveled in a challenge and immediately opened his car door. Ghost was too quick, and was stood upright before the door even opened. Impressed, but determined, the irate driver then pulled out a gun.

Just like taking candy from a baby, Ghost. Go get it!

With a startling lurch, Ghost snapped forward, taking the man's arm with two hands. Grinning, Ghost gave a swift punch to the elbow, sending the man's arm bending completely back on itself, producing a sickening crunch. The gun lay limp in the man's hand, exposed. With yet another quick lunge, Ghost had the gun in his own sweaty palms, eager to finish the man who'd disrespected his appearance and duties. Thinking better of it, Ghost saw a window and instead delivered a small and powerless lick to the back of the man's calf. He then fell to his knees and finally his back when he attempted to right himself with his severely broken arm. In the man's efforts, he seemed to break it further, letting out a howl. Ghost slowly scratched his chin with the gun's catch and straddled the man as the smoking teenagers looked on in horror.

"I would whisper something incredibly witty and perhaps even endearing into your ear at this point..." Ghost purred in the man's ear, running the barrel of the gun over his face, as if clearing a girl's face of her own hair before a kiss, "but instead, I want the last thing to run through your mind to be just how foul my breath is... and that's so sad, isn't it?"

The man said nothing, only sobbing beneath the weight of Ghost, who had now began to trace a figure eight in the man's forehead. With an open smile and a long, deep breath into the man's face, Ghost pulled the trigger. He then giggled like a schoolgirl as the gun seemed to aid him in the decoration of his face with gorgeous crimson red liquid and fragments of bone. Standing up slowly, Ghost discarded of the gun by throwing it into the very truck the man had arrived in. With a clearing of his throat, Ghost strolled slowly towards the Hotdog Heaven trio, kicking away shards of glass as he walked.

"Tell anyone, and I'll be back for you. You won't have a leg to stand on, "Ghost held a bloody and sweaty finger up to all three of them, "I feel generous. Take the box, leave the cigarettes."

The teenagers didn't need lecturing, and scurried away like rats with the box, throwing the packets of cigarettes to the floor. With a smile, Ghost took one, and walked back towards the man he'd just executed. Whistling, Ghost held a cigarette in his mouth whilst looking for a lighter on the man's person. With his success, Ghost made a noise like a till opening and promptly lit it, throwing the lighter back into the man's face.

"Thanks, you absolute c*nt," Ghost cooed, as began to walk back to John's, mind racing as he thought how he could explain the entrails on his face, but loving every minute of it. He couldn't help but notice the mask growing ever tighter, but at times like this Ghost did nothing to stop it.

[Struff Bunstridge]

I thought you said you were having trouble writing? This is effortless, mate. Awesome.

[Rhoda]

I thought you said you were having trouble writing? This is effortless, mate. Awesome.

Thanks for the kind words, Struff! Despite the flow of this chapter, it did take a long time to write and was probably the most challenging chapter for me to date. Not only did I have to take Ghost out of a familiar setting, but I wanted to incorporate some Catch In The Rye style monologues into my latest chapters too. Thanks again Struff, means a lot coming from you. I'll buy you a pint in London if you're coming.