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Post by 0 on Nov 30, 2017 5:51:01 GMT
Time's up.
One day he was roaming the grounds of the abandoned factory, and that thought just so happened to pop into his mind.
The old machinery groaned as he pulled himself aside, glaring out at the surrounding forest.
The leaves had not only changed color, but nearly all had fallen from their limbs.
Little but creaking skeletons were left.
He'd been stuck here long enough.
Waiting far too long for a crazed man who never showed.
He wasn't going to stay here forever.
He'd been sitting in the town for almost all his afterlife, and now he'd been sitting in this building since first he escaped that empty place.
Not nearly so long as before, perhaps, but his patience wore thin.
He had no reason to stick around a place he had no attachments to, even if he had no idea where any one direction would take him--no, because of that!
He SHOULD venture forth into the unknown.
Haunting the empty building had become a bore as it rightly should.
Besides...he had no weapon.
What was the point in waiting for some hapless traveler when he had no means of affecting them?
So: time's up.
No longer shall he dilly-dally; it was time for ACTION.
With nary a last look into the dusty old building, the man stepped through the wall and disappeared into the forest beyond.
Perhaps he would get lucky and throw that other ghost for a loop, get rid of her before she even knew he himself was gone.
Much as a phantom did he roamed the woods with nary a bustle, hustle, or rustle left in his wake.
The sun wheeled through the sky and before long it was gone, replaced by the sharp, yellowed grin of a crescent moon.
He stepped tirelessly over the ground, eyes searching for a hint of life.
Just a building.
Any building.
No building existed without something SHARP in tow.
It wasn't until late into the night, when clouds began to roll under the stars and a breeze whipped up the branches, that he finally found a glimmer of light.
The trees thinned out, falling just short of a wide asphalt strip.
Tall street lights shed solemn rays across the black tarmac.
He paused in the bright circle drawn by one of those lamps, his incorporeal body nothing but a faint shadowy shimmer to the air in the eyes of most humans.
In one direction the road led to emptiness, but in another it led to rows upon rows of lights.
Not just a town--a CITY!
A narrow grin crawled all the way up to his cheeks.
This would be the jackpot.
Not even some irritant bimbo could stop him there!
No way, no how!
In silence he continued forward, eventually arriving upon the city's outskirts when the first rosy rays of dawn began to slip across the still-growing oily clouds.
Those metal monstrosities became all the more common almost at once, whipping by across the highway; he'd seen a few here and there on the cracked road he'd followed in, all going much too fast for him to catch up to.
They were still too fast here, but that mattered not when the sight of lights in the windows of late night and early morning businesses met his eager eyes.
Why, he had the pick of the litter here!
The ghost rubbed his hands together and cackled most maliciously.
If only he had a mustache to twirl.
Oh, well!
He hummed a little tune, running his finger about, and settled on the building his pointer ended up pointing to upon the tune's end.
Bakeries and coffeehouses were always one of the first buildings to open at the start of a new day.
A business that dealt in both?
Why, it must have had to open twice as soon!
The scent of freshly baked bread and piping hot cocoa infused the air so much that, although the ghost had little but sight and sound with which to experience the world, even he could practically see the odors wafting about, smelling it in his memory.
Simply spectacular.
Customers crowded in on tired bakers and brewers before they, too, inevitably had to leave for their own work that day.
A hodgepodge of billowing bodies and chattering teeth that were all missing only one, teensy, itty-bitty little thing.
Their shapes were all wrong!
Yes, yes--and what a terrible travesty it was!
Their heads on their necks, their bellies all sealed...oy vey!
He walked behind the counter and through one of the workers, who shuddered as if at a gust of cold air, though the front door at that moment was closed.
His eyes scanned what lay behind the counter, poking his hands into open-faced cabinets.
Any place that worked with food had to have....
He smiled as his fingers finally closed around something solid, pulling something sleek and shining into the light of the building's ambient amber lamps.
He caught only a glimpse of it, for the second he was holding it, was the same second in which he whirled around and thrust it through the chest of the nearest man.
It wasn't exactly a knife; why, it was hardly sharp at all!
And it was certainly nowhere near sturdy enough for such a feat.
But, well, there it was, apparently good enough for a job well done: an icing spatula shoved through blood and bones, muscles and organs--and who knows what else.
Drops dribbled off the flattened silvery surface; the body through which had been forced choked, gagging as blood rose into the throat.
At the sight of vivid scarlet the dead man's spiritual energy began cracking like a whip.
The living man clutched at his chest when the stainless steel spatula was removed, and it wasn't until he stumbled into another that those nearby could see how injured he was.
A hand smeared across the counter before he fell, a fellow worker and even a customer reaching for their phones to call for an ambulance.
All orders put on hold while bodies both curious and dutiful mingled and shuffled around.
Someone threw up.
It might have been the dying man.
Unheard and unseen, the ghost grinned, giggling.
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Post by cynda1 on Nov 30, 2017 6:58:49 GMT
Ella would never let up on her vengeance. She wasn't able to keep track of just how long she'd been trying to track him down, but boy had she been trying. She had an eternity ahead of her to do this, so why not? Being a spirit, wandering around on her own, incapable of being seen, it was a lonely life. Except, she could have people see her, if she wanted to. She just... didn't want to scare anyone. Ella, poor sweet naive Ella, had finally realized just how much she had took for granted her short, precious life.
So many experiences she would never again have... so many people she would never meet...
Honestly, who would care about her now? The few people who knew her didn't care about her. She was just a tool to keep up their image. And the family she had set out to see wouldn't miss someone they never knew was still alive. Why would they miss her when they'd given her away so easily?
But, still, she wasn't given the option to find that out for herself. No, that was brutally taken away from her from the very spirit she intended to find and destroy in any way she could. If he'd assumed that she was the same helpless spirit she was before, he was wrong. She'd received various skills of her own, and though she was not capable of bringing the dead back to life, which would totally throw him for a loop if she could, he would not so easily be capable of standing against her.
As she was traveling through the forest, she happened to catch a glimpse of a little boy crying his poor eyes out. Feeling compassion for him, Ella carefully approached him and gently revealed herself to the little boy. Sure, he was startled at first, but then a sort of glimmer filled his eye. "Are... are you an angel?" he asked, causing Ella to form a sweet sort of smile.
"No, sweetie," she admitted putting a hand on his shoulder. "But I'm here to help you. Why are you crying, little one?"
The little sniffed and rubbed his eye with his hand. "Um, well... Me and my sister were playing with a ball, and I accidentally kicked it into the forest. I ended up getting lost and I don't know how to get back home... I want my mommy!" The little boy let out a sob before having his face caressed by the stranger's gentle hand.
"Don't cry, sweetie," Ella spoke with compassion. "I'll find someone who can help you. Just follow me."
Floating in a pace slow enough for the child to keep up, Ella made her way to a city just starting to wake up. What a dangerous time for a child to be by himself in the woods! No doubt he hadn't been able to sleep all night because he was so frightened. Either way, it didn't take her long to find an officer doing his round of patrols. "There!" Ella spoke, having made herself invisible right when she made it to the city. "There's a police officer standing near that stop sign. Tell him who you are, and I'm sure he'll be able to find your mommy, okay?"
The little boy sniffed and nodded before heading to the officer. A warm feeling filled the spirit's non-existent heart. Despite the fact that she was no longer alive, she was more than capable of helping others out when they needed it. She hadn't felt anything but dread, grief, and bitterness since she'd died. It was good that she was still able to feel good despite her circumstance.
A lady suddenly let out a shrilled scream, causing the young spirit's head to whirl at a bakery. "Oh my god, he's DEAD!" Ella's eyes widened at the sudden outburst. If she were alive, she'd have the instincts to run away, but since she no longer had a life of her own to protect, she went to investigate.
And, big surprise, there he was. The bringer of evil and despair, cackling like an idiot above two of his latest victims. Ella's eyes blared with anger, her core being riled with vengeance. As he cackled, she shoved herself forward, intent on ramming into him and sending the two of them flying as far as she could make them go. She would not allow what happened to her to happen to anyone else if she could help it.
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Post by Ajax Cornwallace on Nov 30, 2017 18:49:37 GMT
Without distinctionAjax was not a morning person, not by any measure. He had been a constant companion to the night time, which had left his complexion pale, and often times he was haggard when he awoke earlier. Usually his routine was to wake up around the late times, around evening or later afternoon, perhaps during six o'clock, and normally he would be beholden to this routine, but thus far, recent events had ruined things. He could no longer subscribe to this flexible work schedule he had if only because of the most recent headache in his life had entered it, and it was an other-dimensional fairy girl whose predilection for action he had disliked. Pain in the ass that, metaphorically of course, not that he hadn't felt that literally at times. Right now, he was awake because of the heat that woke him up in his apartment, and for that, he had to leave. He couldn't go back to sleep. Coffee, he needed it like a vampire needs blood, a leprechaun needs his gold, or a werewolf needs his doggy treat. It was the most important part of breakfast after all, followed by booze.
It was for that reason, Ajax had walked into the coffee shop (which also happened to be a bakery, because apparently modern day Sanctuary likes to mix sweets with bitter roast) as he was inside, snagged a newspaper from some guy reading it, that guy protested, but Ajax ignored him, snagging a coffee on the counter that was meant for someone else, before seating himself at a corner, sipping it. Apparently in the latest headlines, a murderer had been thwarted from taking his victim, and to Ajax's disappointment, his name wasn't even MENTIONED in being involved. Nope, no siree, apparently all that was even alluding to him was mentions of some drunkard, not even using the word 'hero', and accident. It made Ajax scowl as he took a sip out of the coffee, sighing with despondence. This is why Sanctuary can't have anything nice.
It was because of that hangover, Ajax never noticed the spectral entity getting into the coffee shop. Oh yes, he could see those entities compared to everyone else, but what good is sight when the beholder was often enough either inebriated, sleep addled, or too inattentive to care for the little details when they want coffee?
What DID get Ajax's attention was the sound of screaming, and he pointedly looked to the dead man. Oh, wow, that was the same man he snatched the newspaper from. The sunglasses wearing man blinked. He adjusted his tacky red Hawaiian floral patterned shirt, and reached for his special Sanctuary issue Kriegsmesser style sword, unsheathing it. Oh sure, he got a few blinks and odd stares, but as far as anyone was concerned, he was a weirdo, which he was.
"Great. It's too early in the morning for me to deal with this shite." Ajax groaned with utter derision as he stared at the cackling spectral figure. He still sipped on his coffee and stared though, and frowned, and drank the coffee in wholesome in one gulp, only to wince as his tongue was burnt. "Ueeuugh..." He blanched. It tasted like shit, just like how he remembers it. Ajax blinked again when he had seen someone going to ram the ghost, and at the current trajectory, the spectral figure would fly past him. Big whoop. "Alright everyone! Calm down, Sanctuary uhhh... Special Contractor here. I deal with cases like these. Just stay calm and... LEAVE THE PLACE IN A PANIC! YEAH! Run out! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF! I got this."
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Post by 0 on Nov 30, 2017 22:37:53 GMT
The spatula glimmered, floating and dancing in the air.
Unlike the ghost himself it was perfectly visible to all eyes, including the drops that flew onto the countertop when he twirled the object in glee.
A bonny sweet scream rang out, and the man spun on his ankles towards it.
He was preparing for another swing when a blur of movement caught his eye.
He wasn't fast enough to avoid the spectral body, but a quick step did manage to keep it from barreling full force into him.
He practically went spinning through the air as he was shoved across the room at an angle and into a corner, the ghost pushing off a cushion of air (or, yanno, whatever spirits used for purchase these days) to keep himself from flying through the wall.
As he touched back down on the ground, he managed to catch a glimpse of that insufferable "Bitch!" he snapped, instictively striking out with the makeshift knife, what bloody good that would do to another ghost.
He caught the mistake almost immediately and stepped aside as he swung away, trying to avoid any counterattack to knock him down.
It was hard to miss the floating bloody spatula whirling through the air after all that mess had occurred, and after a shout from some tourist in a blinding floral shirt, that seemed to snap many of the perplexed onlookers into exiting the cafe posthaste, those nearest ducking away from a stumbling swing at their heads.
No doubt calls to authorities alongside ambulances were now being made.
Already his rampage was coming to an end before it could even begin!
With a growl the spirit leapt onto the countertop, eyes scanning for an easy victim while he jittered about, expecting another attack by the woman to come very soon.
There--!: the second cause of these problems, the flowery man sitting at a table...something shiny, but more importantly sharp, had slipped into one of his hands.
The ghost dashed forward, jabbing down with the icing spatula in one hand, while the other reached for the sword.
Imagine the mess he could make with that...!
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Post by cynda1 on Nov 30, 2017 23:36:34 GMT
If he thought he could escape from her, he was mistaken. Despite the fact that she was centuries less experience at this than he was, she had adapted quite a bit and become quite the swift and controlled flier. She didn't make as direct of a tackle as she thought, but it was good enough to keep her from flying through whatever wall was nearby. The comment made the woman smirked. Well now, someone was upset. This had to be the one person she was thrilled to see angry. After everything she'd been subjected to because of him, it only seemed fitting.
Eyes flared with the longing for this spirit to be at the other end of her lust for vengeance, Ella made no hesitation to continue her chase.
The people around them, exiting the coffee house - bakery, were all escaping the evil grasp of this dark, evil spirit. Yes. Every life that escaped this bakery was one less victory for him, and one thousand victories for her. If seeing his agonized face wasn't fulfilling enough, then knowing that these people would surely live to see another day made her feel the feeling of relief fill her entire being.
But, of course, she couldn't rest yet. This monster was still on a rampage, and there were still people he could claim as his victims. People she wouldn't allow to be his victims.
He was already heading for the middle aged man with the sword, so Ella needed to act fast. Skyrocketing as fast as she could, she planned on meeting him at the man and making an uppercut to his lower jaw. Ella remained near the man to make for an easy comeback should this strategy have failed, but she wouldn't end up in front of the man if she missed.
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Post by Ajax Cornwallace on Dec 2, 2017 6:10:28 GMT
Interval 04This just keeps getting more and more interesting, Ajax had felt. More chaos ensued, and he had found himself going from utterly annoyed from his morning starting with a disaster, to being utterly amused. Oh sure, there was chaos, but at least the screaming was down, and with it, the influence on his headache subsided. He was standing, looking at the ghost so close to him, staring. If it was supposed to be a subtle thing that nobody can spot the spectral entity, well, Ajax made no secret of it. His glance had been solidly affixed to the miscreant that's been running around, causing chaos and so on.
"Ohoho, you want this, don't you boy? Don't you!?" Ajax barked out. "WELL, come and get it! I'd say some cooler puns than this, but it's too early in the morning for my A-GAME!"
With a casual side-step away from his seat and table, Ajax stepped aside from the ghost's reach and velocity as it sped towards him. With a casual flick of his wrist, he swung his sword towards the ghost's arm holding the spatula, a downward swing if anything that came down as a blur one-handed. To the average observer, the steel of the blade was black, lined up with a glow of red at its spine. Edgy most certainly, Ajax thought with some annoyance, but his sword had some added benefits provided by Sanctuary. Namely, it came with some functions, and one of them were the biggest benefit of them all -- it was anti-magical, and it was capable of cutting ethereal beings, and wound them.
This incidentally coincided with the other ethereal being's shoryouken.
For some reason, Ajax felt an inexplicable irritation at something. It was as if someone out there thought that he was middle-aged, and that made his blood run hot with annoyance. He was NOT middle aged! He was young! And hip! He was in the springtime of his youth, damnit!
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Post by 0 on Dec 2, 2017 16:52:02 GMT
Can't a ghost get a break?
Seemed his luck's been runnin' rampant ever since he got out of his element--and it weren't no good luck neither.
First the clown who wouldn't die, then that last kill turnin' into an annoying bitchwad ghost on 'er own, and now his bloODY FUCKING ARM WAS CUT OFF.
WHAT!
Things must only go from bad to worse once a ghost leaves all that he knows behind, 'least that was as far as he could make out in the reasonin' for all this.
And at the same time his measly ghostly arm plopped out of its spectral socket and went flopping around like a dead fish on the floor, little miss "noo, don't kill'um!" priss socked him under the jaw.
His head snapped back at a disturbing angle before his smile could manually be turned upside-down, and his body went flipping through the air again, momentum carrying him a clumsy arc through the ceiling and wall, much to his chagrin.
No matter...the ghost, head spinning as his body stopped twirling and he was left hanging in midair, cracked his skull back into place with the butt of the icing spatula, eyes staring directly at the building's facade.
He was out of view for a few split seconds from the both of them, and at least it hadn't been his knife-wielding arm to get chopped off.
Most of the folks were outside now anyways, weren't they?
It was perfect really.
Maybe it was all just good fortune buried beneath the bad.
The ghost giggled through what little pain he felt (what was it from again--a missing arm, was it?) as he dropped fast towards the front of the cafe, dark violet energy spilling from his exposed hole, a few tendrils of which still remained connected to the disembodied arm.
Some folks had went and toddled off to their cars or retreated into other early businesses, but a few remained in a curious crowd, huddled just outside the bakery doors.
He slit one's head clean off, a glorious little fountain spouting out the neck, which went noticed straightaway as the blood splattered across the closest living body.
Bodies began to disperse once more, this time much more quickly than they had before, and the ghost followed right after, also at greater spee: he hadn't much time to spare, so now he began to do away with formalities and frivolities and get right to the killing.
A stabby here, a slicey there....
He shall become the greatest painter this side of the city, oh yes!
Sirens could be heard in the distance.
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Post by cynda1 on Dec 3, 2017 5:02:01 GMT
"Not as invincible as you thought, are you? You monster!"
It seemed as thought he had made a mistake trying to attack this target. After all, he had a weapon capable of taking down ghosts, or at least dismembering them. Well, it would only be logical that it could kill ghosts but... it was really possible to kill that which was already dead? Wow, the more she realized how little she knew, the more depressed she got about being killed so young. Well, at least she could ignore the pain of having her life cut so short knowing that she was finally getting the upper hand after having his evil smirk melded into her brain for so long.
Seeing his grin being forced into a frown made Ella feel accomplished.
But he just couldn't let her have this victory, could he? After adjusting himself, he vanished so quickly she missed which direction he went. When someone says that rage can be blinding, they mean it. Ella knew this because she was experiencing it right at that very moment. It didn't take her too long to locate her target as he was starting his little massacre spree, causing her to hiss in rage.
"No!"
In an instant, she darted through the wall, coming in hot from behind him whilst he was distracted by his little killing spree. One clear weakness of his was that he seemed to take too much sadistic pleasure in killing people. It was so much of a distraction, he may not have noticed another spirit trying to take his weapon of choice away. Her ghostly one hand was aimed right for the handle of the spatula whilst the other was aimed for his wrist, perhaps to try and pry the weapon out of his hand.
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Post by Ajax Cornwallace on Dec 5, 2017 21:04:15 GMT
"I shed blood of Saxon men"The ghost twerp was unlikable, immensely so, EXTREMELY so, but Ajax saw some potential to have some wacky hijinx with the fellow if he can help it. He had seen the ghost akin to a... newly born child who had discovered puberty for the first time, except replace puberty with the power to kill, and you have that ghost-thingy in mind perfectly envisioned. Oh, and missing an arm too, fun thing that. He had seen a few people lose a limb, or a hand, or an entire arm. Sometimes it's a guy with a laser sword, other times, it was a girl who gets more powerful the more she gets punched, and then there was this one time it was some dour Lord ruling over an icy wasteland who had lost it. Interesting tidbit that.
Shrugging, Ajax did what any normal men would have done when the ghost had retreated from the store like some demented grasshopper hopped up on LSD and magic mushrooms. He had his sword pointing downward, ectoplasmic residue slick against it, before glancing around for signs of the ghost. Honestly, heroics isn't something he cared for, but this did have the potential for earning him a big fat pay check when it came to it. He found himself amused that the ghost had lost his arm, and even more, got upper cutted of all things, as if he had picked the worst places to haunt given his presence and uh... Casper-hero, the not-so-friendly ghost. He didn't have to see the ghost to feel the direction it took, sniffing the air, his odd olfactory functions gave him a sense of direction for where the killer-ghost had retreated, a very vague direction if anything.
On the way out, he had stomped at the disembodied arm, his feet capable of making contact with the ghostly limb, which in itself made it a very boggling thing. He was corporeal, a being of flesh and life, and he was capable of this.
Must be all the coffee he had drank, Ajax snorted derisively at himself.
He was outside now, and he stood a fair distance away from the folks. They were being massacred, the idea of it didn't trouble Ajax, but it did force him to at least act like he should put some token effort into doing something. And he was! Almost, until he had seen the ghost-chick rocketing towards the murder-hobo-ghost with gusto and wrath.
He bit his lips, and crinkled his nose. "Well, I'll be." He drawled. "Let them fight." He quoted, before blinking. "OY! You there! The ghost wanke-- ahem. Ah, DON'T WORRY CITIZENS! This is just a gas leak." Ajax found himself catching up before he blabbed about the supernatural to these sheep-- people. "Just run! Run away! RUN LIKE THE WIND IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS! Uhm... gas problems and stuff are ensuing! Yeah!"
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Post by Blair on Dec 6, 2017 4:15:44 GMT
The alerts had been everywhere-- many individuals had dialed for the police, and once they had the details, it was quickly decided that no ordinary Enforcer meant to handle domestic, casual breakers of the law would do.
They needed a specialist.
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!
T’was an unofficial sect of the Authorities. There were Enforcers who knew how to handle the spiritual, and there were some who were not as versed in it. Fortunately, Finn was among the ones who knew what to do in situations such as this.
Soul-seeing eye contacts in, the young Enforcer rode casually in the passenger’s seat of the patrol car, with his legs and arms comfortably crossed, and his mind silently alert. As soon as the street was in view, the car came to a skidding stop. The throngs of fleeing people made it impossible for the vehicle to go any farther. Forcing the door open and instantly on his feet, Finn searched for the source of the commotion.
Suspect A. The ghostly girl that jumped through the intact wall.
Suspect B. The colorful man with a sword in his hand.
Suspect C. The ghostly man chasing after the people with a shiny sharp object.
The more, the merrier.
Grinning, the platinum blonde pulled a handgun from a hidden holster. The gun was unlike most, with bullets meant only for spirits. A living human could potentially be hurt or injured by them, but not mortally so long as they had a body to assist the spirit in mending.
A bodiless spirit… they were the ones at risk. Taking aim, he fired for the one giving chase. He was fast, but so was the bullet. Finn fired a full round- eight bullets total, before he was forced to remove the magazine from the slide. This was a temporary measure; he did not want to pull anything advanced out that ran on some top secret energy just yet. However, he hoped to at least wound or slow the spirit.
“Sir, I command you to drop your spatula and surrender! You’re under arrest~” he said in the voice one would expect from a young adult cop-- however, his face could only hold a smug smirk as he made his demands.
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Post by 0 on Dec 6, 2017 6:13:39 GMT
So many things all at once.
It was hard for him to keep track, especially when he was so rightly focused on slicing the flesh of the living.
First he felt a twinge.
A sharp enough twinge that caused him to pause and glance towards his arm--the one that wasn't there.
It had felt as though someone had pounded a rock against it.
But the sensation was brief, and a mere second later the sword-wielding tourist slid out of the cafe, shouting and waggling around for everyone to flee.
That guy was quick becoming almost as much of a pain in his ass as--as....
The man whirled around suddenly, snarling and aiming to throw his hands around the closest thing he could find--that being the ghostly girl.
She'd done gone and plumb pried his toy--er, weapon of mass destruction right from his hand.
Rage consumed him just enough in that moment that, if he did manage to grab a hold of her, he'd want to at least TRY and choke the unlife out of her before snatching his icing spatula back.
It wouldn't last long, however: for once the ghost found himself crying out in pain, or perhaps it was only of surprise.
So distracted was he that a whole clip hit him head-on: eight smatterings that compounded upon one another, and altogether flowed through him with quite the solid shot of pain.
It was enough force to send the ghost toppling over onto the street.
The connection to his disembodied arm was severed by two bullets, and said arm, tucked safely away into the cafe, swiftly disintegrated, leaving nothing but a few spare traces behind.
The remaining energy pouring from his wound now coursed freely in plasma arcs around the hole.
"I DON'T HAVE IT ANYMORE, YOU PLUMB MORON!" he screamed into the air, a deathly glare focusing in on the man who'd shot him.
What WAS this city?
It was just one thing after another having an affect on him like nothing else had ever done before.
One thing after another ruining his fun.
this.
Was.
ENOUGH.
As the officer reloaded, the exposed energy flared to life like a bursting star.
Dark purple raged into violet, the ghost's body flickering, vanishing one second and reappearing the next, the man cloaked in a dark aura as he stood tensely, frustration and fury building.
He charged blindly for the man who'd last marred him, despite having no known way of attacking the enforcer without a sharp object in hand.
And he tripped.
Fell flat on his face he did--more than that: he fell through the ground.
Anger disappeared almost immediately as panic took over, the ghost not wanting to get lost in the depths of the earth, his hearing consumed by silence, his vision bloated with rock and soil.
His arms waggled frantically while he focused his direction backwards, reappearing in a different location some distance from his last.
If he was lucky he wouldn't immediately be within view of the others.
"Screw it!" he shouted to himself (completely dashing any aforementioned fortune that might have occurred), feeling something like blood leaking from his bullet wounds--in fact, some of the bullets were lodged within his translucent flesh--his few senses slowly blurring into one another.
He didn't think ghosts could die, but he couldn't fight well, not like this.
Best be time to cut his losses.
He turned on his heels
and then he keeled over.
He just...up and passed out.
An arm cut off, eight bullet wounds--even a ghost could only take so much, especially one so unused to being wounded as himself.
The man's head flopped down and his body turned over, hovering at an angle in the air.
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Post by cynda1 on Dec 6, 2017 7:00:36 GMT
Success after success! Ella was on a roll today. Though he had made quite a ruckus, the killing spree having done so much damage, the evil ghost stopped just enough for the younger ghost to slip the weapon right out of his one-handed grip. He may have been stronger with two hands, but it was quite easy for her to gain the upper hand now that he only had one to work with. What she didn't expect was for him to go right for her, as his hand instantly grabbed onto her throat, causing her to yelp.
The younger ghost groaned and coughed, though she didn't need air, and tried to pry the fingers of his single hand off. It seemed as though he was trying to kill her, but he'd already done that once. Surely a ghost couldn't be killed again, right?
Suddenly, a scream was felt as the spirit released her, causing her to cough at the sudden relief, though there was a bit of pain at her side. Glancing at her left hand... yes! She still had the spatula. No way that monster was going to hurt anyone now! What's more was that he seemed to be mortally wounded now. Eight injuries across his form, none of which her own distraction allowed him to escape from. But... wait, how was he injured? The young woman glanced over to an officer of sorts who was holding a gun that had clearly been fired at the evil spirit.
Ella allowed a gasp of realization before letting out a groan and placing a hand on her side. It appeared as though one of those bullets went right through the ghost and seemed to have grazed her side. Tenderly placing a hand on the minor injury, Ella saw what seemed to be blood coming from her. But it couldn't be. She was already dead. Only those who were alive could bleed.
Dazed from her minor injury, Ella didn't even try to make chase immediately as the evil ghost made his way toward the officer. Just as Ella stood up to try and stop him, he vanished through the floor. Though she was tempted to try and go after him, the younger ghost simply let out a sigh. He'd have his day of judgement, but perhaps now that she realized that ghosts had a sort of mortality, she would try to take things much more cautiously.
Ella floated to the ground until she was on her knees onto the floor, relieved that she had helped chase the evil ghost out of the city. Had it not been for the injury on her side, though, she would most likely have continued her bitter pursuit. But she came across him again this time, and perhaps this officer could find and catch him. For now, she needed a bit of rest.
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Post by Ajax Cornwallace on Dec 10, 2017 23:31:21 GMT
Inconvenient pancakesAjax, having seen the Enforcer roll in, was rather satisfied at least that he was seen doing his part as a Contractor. Oh sure, it was risky given his own nature, but hey, no risks no rewards, or so Ajax liked to think, even if there was a potential for this to bite him back in the ass at some point in time. He recognised the man given his car as a person working for Sanctuary, a wage-slave, some shepherd that herded the sheep that was called the citizenry. Whichever the case, the tackily dressed man let off a sigh of relief, because seriously, he just came here to drink some coffee, get over the mother of all hangovers, and maybe get some buzz later on. This was the kind of occasion that called for it, then again, ALL occasions called for it no matter what that harpie Lindy harps on about. Wait, no, it wasn't the booze she was pissy about, it was just his blasé nonchalance towards life, he figured.
The ghost had went around like a panicked and demented grasshopper as it was wont to do, ran about screwing things up, before finally collapsing. The other ghost whom he thought was a female, or really just a man with a feminine figure with moobs, also seemed to be out of it, which had left Ajax with the awkward situation of explaining things to the officer.
He approached the man, blunt back of the sword tilted and resting on his shoulder, as he strolled towards the man with a gait that spoke of laziness inherent in every bone of his very being.
"You sure took your sweet ass time coming here." Ajax sounded off, reaching in for his pocket as he fished around for his contractor badge. It took a while, but he finally found it... which was right next to his VHS tape rental card. Who knew that those were actually STILL around in Sanctuary? Certainly Ajax. The Contractor badge had some fingerprints on it, residue of cheese flavoured chips dirtying it up slightly as it was somewhat greasy. He presented it to the ghost buster officer. "I got this bitch of a situation handled and stuff, mostly. You're going to mention this to your superiors, will you? Man's gotta get paid for stuff he's got handled. Yeaaaaaah. Let's go with that. I am on a commission basis and stuff." He explained in a rather nonchalant tone. "Oh, right, uhh... ghost chick over the-- well, somewhere around here..." He glanced around for her. "...she helped me take down mister psycho-ghost. No idea what the procedure is with that when it comes to these matters, but yeah, just throwing that out."
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Post by Blair on Dec 26, 2017 3:03:17 GMT
“Take him into custody,” Finn ordered the other Enforcers arriving to the scene. With gloves and other unique equipment meant to help them handle the incorporeal body of the ghost, they would reach for the man, put handcuffs on him that would keep even a spirit or demon chained up, and move him over to the patrol car. The cars were armored with elements that could contain or defend against spirits, so he would fortunately not fall through the bottom of the car… only the semi-comfortable car seats, perhaps.
As the sword-wielding man approached, Finn nodded after seeing his badge. He did not mind the contracted Enforcers, so long as they were doing their job. While first impressions were not favorable for Finn’s perception of Ajax, all he could do was accept the badge and the obvious fact that the man had helped. Badges were not difficult to forge, but judging by the sword and his behavior, Cornwallace seemed to know what was going on. “I’ll put in a good word for you, if that’s what you want,” the platinum blonde young man told the one wielding the sword, while ignoring some of his previous comments.
Finn could only nod as he listened to the explanation of the feminine spirit not too far off. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, walking towards her. He bent down to offer her a hand, both to help her up or to amiably shake. The gloves he was wearing would allow such a thing with ghosts.
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