“Ride the wind, Ghost Thing!” said Philly, ears flapping in the
breeze.
“I
thought I told you to stop calling me that!” said Ghost Thing, in
absolute denial of his new moniker.
Ghost
Thing was out doing something he had missed over the last couple
weeks: enjoying an afternoon of frolic and fancy. With Philly in his
backpack, Ghost Thing sped across the rooftops of Moss Park.
Although
melting down into a puddle and
across streets remained the lengthiest jumps he could perform, the
watery lad had gotten good at skipping over signs and the like to get
over any gaps in his upper level playgrounds.
So proficient, he
could skip across streetlights with making little much of a sound.
All
so he could exist as himself– to be one with the sky. To
be free with speed and energy
as he raced across the canopy of downtown
Toronto. Though
the sky was home to many clouds that day, breaks between them let the
sun shine down on the city.
Philly
had a moment to contemplate on Ghost’s
reluctance to take his city-given name
and added: “Would
you like me to call you by your real name–” He whispered low so
that only Ghost’s ears could hear– “”
Slowing down on top of the speckled roof of an alternative clothing
story, Ghost Thing sighed then took a frustrated breath inward. “I...
guess not.”
I
would have preferred to name myself,
though Ghost Thing.
The
music blaring in the store below rattled the building and went into
Ghost’s feet and up into his body. The riveting riffs were muffled
by the walls between him and the speakers playing the music but Ghost
recognized the chord progression and knew it was that Audioslave song
with the desert car crash
music video.
Ghost Thing wasn’t patrolling for crime that afternoon; he was just
enjoying the day like what had been his regular before one fine
October’s day when Philly came rolling to Kay’s apartment asking
the boy to start superheroing. The last while had been stressful so
Ghost Thing nearly had forgotten how fun it was to jump across a
street and have the wind blasting his face– his liquid body able to
take the lower temperatures in stride. Ghost moved so quickly that
the people below barely had time to get a glimpse at the cryptid as
he zipped across the above.
Some
sharper eyes were to the skies, though, and as Kay hopped over the
old bus stop off of Richmond
(the one with
the big hole in the roof),
Burrzie– a greyed-out
thug-looking type with permanent scruff on his chin–
spotted that purple figure of liquid and cracked a smile. Shifting
off the sidewalk into the front of a not-so-busy service centre, he
pulled out his cellphone, stretched the
antenna, and dialed in
some numbers quick– time was of the essence.
There was two rings and then Dead Head picked up the call. “What is
it?”
“Ghost Thing spotted,” said Burrzie, “He’s down in Moss
Park.”
“Right,”
said Dead Head. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll send Thrash
soon.”
Burrzie cut the call and folded the phone back into his pocket. He
walked back out into the sidewalk and strolled down the road towards
where he saw Ghost Thing, hoping to keep an eye out on him.
Philly needed a moment to get his head to stop spinning. Being tossed
around in Ghost Thing’s backpack was getting to him, and it wasn’t
the first time. Ghost Thing found a spot off of a three-storey dance
studio on a corner– a spot where getting spotted by someone in a
window was unlikely. Philly hopped out of the backpack and rested his
paws on the floor for a moment.
“Riding with you is great,” said Philly, rumbling out a little
burp, “but it shakes me up like a can of pop!”
Ghost Thing looked at his backpack and envisioned what it would be
like to ride along it. “I guess when your body is made of water,
you don’t take to swaying and shifting very hard.” He chuckled.
“You won’t catch me jumping across rooftops in my human form.”
Philly laid down. “Wouldn’t expect it. No, I get it. You can race
across the city like that.” The fox gestured his eyes around the
rooftops. “Faster than taking a cab.”
“And it’s–” Ghost Thing sighed wistfully, grinning into the
sky– “more aliving.” That wasn’t a real word so he tried
again. “It’s liberating.” That was a real word but he didn’t
think it was the right one. “It’s... ” Not
quite right, but close.
“I bet it is,” said Philly.
Ghost looked out into the horizon. A wave of shade passed over the
cityscape as a cloude floated by.
Ghost smiled: it
had been awhile since he
had a day to just seize the city and fly across the tops. He’d
almost forgotten how euphoric it made him feel.
When his body launched across a rooftop, the feeling in his body
could fade away in a manner that resembled what it would be like to
melt into everything in the world– in the universe. It wasn’t an
experience that Ghost ever had elsewhere. He didn’t think it was
possible to have it anywhere else.
Was all that going to change now that Ghost was a superhero? With
duties? After the incident at the loan agency, worry brewed within
him that fighting crime was going to be a responsibility that would
overshadow everything else in his life. On the contrary, in the last
couple days the worry had fizzled out, at least somewhat.
“Philly,” said Ghost, “Do you
think I’m necessary?”
“What?” asked Philly, cracking a laugh but worried for Ghost with
how he phrased that question.
“I mean...” Ghost repositioned his legs and rested his arms on
his knees. “You said the city needs heroes, but nobody can stop
crimes. Somebody is always going to get robbed or hurt or something.
If I didn’t help out, what difference would it make? The city would
be the same.”
Philly put on a serious expression. “It matters to the people being
robbed and so forth.”
Ghost didn’t have a response to that. It was a concrete truth. But
even if that was true, Ghost had to wonder how much worse Toronto
would be if he chose not to be a superhero.
He got up and rotated his neck like he had to stretch some muscles
hidden in his watery body. “You good? I still got parts of the city
I need to tag yet tonight.”
Philly got up and dove into the pack. “Alright. Good to go.”
Ghost strapped the pack back on and crawled around the side of the
building, ducking below windows lest someone was peeping out at the
moment, and went to the other side of the building where a much
roomier slab of rooftop was waiting that surrounded itself with more
roof of equal level: an easier place to get back into the swing of
things.
From there, Ghost hopped off and journeyed the city.
Thrash went to where Ghost Thing had last been seen, keeping her eyes
out for the bugger. Apparently he liked to jump across buildings,
keeping off the lowest level of the city, so Thrash did the same.
Parking her car in a car park outside a run-down Italian restaurant,
the woman walked down the sidewalk– getting gawked at for her blue
skin, black catsuit, and her silvery pole at her back. Was it
annoying? Yeah, but any confrontation was an opportunity to be
recognized by the public and develop a reputation that might get her
face and description inked down at a police precinct.
Checking to see that nobody around would notice her wander off, she
snuck into a back lot where a few cars were parked and everything was
quiet. There was a building at the edge of the place. Thrash went up
to the wall and crouched down to fire herself up ten metres in the
air to land on the rooftop. There were no gadgets involved– the
lady could
She dashed across the rooftops like a bolt and leapt into the air
with her staff out, ready to strike. All that was needed was her to
find her prey.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
It only took a few minutes of her
scouting into St Lawrence
before she saw the water lad–
Ghost Thing himself–
hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Was
he purple
or was the weather
tinting him in some way?
Funny, she didn’t expect him to wear that shade. It was no matter.
She ran towards him, Thrash
attack the hero while
his back was to
her. She gripped her metal rod and leapt high in the air, holding the
weapon out in front of her for a downward
strike.
Philly sensed the attack incoming, and turned his head upward to see
Thrash approaching. He shattered. “K-Kid! Look out!”
Ghost Thing turned his head upward to see the metal rod and hopped
out of the way just in time. Philly was thrown from the backpack but
landed on his feet. Thrash’s weapon cracked the ground below,
pulverizing a chunk of the roof. The liquid kid and the fox stared
down the sudden attacker.
Blue skin. Was she some kind of orc? Ghost Thing had to wonder.
Ghost took a ready stance, fists out. “Who are you?”
Thrash stood tall, hanging her rod over her shoulder. “Thrash. I’m
affiliated with an... that you’ve been
interfering with recently.”
Ghost Thing didn’t know who specifically she was talking about–
which crime Ghost interfered with that was apparently part of a
larger group. He wasn’t up for guessing, either. “Maybe your
organization should stop plundering the convenience stores or
delivery trucks,” said Ghost, trying to sound tough.
And trying to sound tough was
something he failed. Thrash
found the liquid twerp’s attempt at intimidation laughable. He’s
really just a kid, she
thought. She leaned the rod against her body and took two hands to
her hair, brushing it back. “That’s not happening. What’s
happening is you are going to leave us alone.”
The woman wasn’t backing down. Ghost Thing wasn’t sure what to
do. He wasn’t ready for a fight! He tried to straighten his tone.
“I’m not scared of you!”
Philly grimaced. He never imagined he would have to give someone
pointers on banter, but Ghost was in need of some.
Thrash chuckled to herself and
grabbed her metal rod. No
words– she charged at
Ghost like a cannon being
fired, and even if Ghost was
ready, his dodge backward was a split second too late and Thrash’s
staff cracked his chest. He
stumbled and raised his arms like he was going to snatch the rod away
from her but she took a powerful swing to Ghost’s left, and the kid
had to drop
to the floor to let it swipe over his head.
With a dismissive chuckle, Thrash took the staff in both hands and
thrust it at Ghost as he climbed back to his feet. Ghost flipped out
of the way but Thrash’s blows were quick and the water kid had to
scramble to the side to keep himself from getting jabbed with the
stark end of a serious weapon.
Philly was having trouble keeping up with the two combatants’
lightning moves. He had no advice to give his friend.
Ghost tripped on his feet, rolled around, and hopped to avoid
Thrash’s blows. She swung the rod around with most of the force she
could muster, Ghost dodged it, and Thrash tripped backward, giving
Ghost a moment to think.
What
am I doing? Ghost
thought to himself. I’m
dodging like a human when I should be dodging
like water!
Thrash took an overhead swing at Ghost and the lad melted down into a
puddle and then blasted himself up in the air, a few metres above
Thrash.
Ghost had
the security of the high “ground”
until Thrash reached a hand up
and him and light collected
on the centre of her palm. The kid had barely any time to react when
a ball of light fired out of her palm and fired right into Ghost’s
body. Not once, not twice, but thrice. Ghost took three blows,
shaking
him like a mix between a boxing glove and a fire ball,
and landed
on the ground with a thud.
“Kid!” shouted Philly.
Thrash watched the water boy writhe on the ground. She gave him a
smug look although the condescension was missed on Ghost Thing since
he didn’t raise his eyes to see his opponent’s expression.
“Ungg-gh!”
Ghost pushed himself off the ground, his arms trembling.
The ability to shoot balls of light
like that was a common ability for those with natural psychic powers.
Between that and Thrash’s
ability to jump super high and dash like a hawk, Philly assumed she
had some special power.
“Watch it, kid,” said Philly. “She’s a psychedelic.”
thought Ghost. “What?”
It was a distraction and Thrash took advantage of it. She flew up
again and tried slamming down on Ghost like before. Ghost didn’t
dodge in time and took a blow down the side of his body. But his
adrenaline must have been kicking in because it didn’t sting that
much. Ghost was getting annoyed, though.
Thrash tried another fury of jabs with her staff and Ghost loosened
his body when the staff entered it, the metal rod poking right
through and leaving Ghost Thing unharmed. It was like fencing with a
pond. Thrash was aggravated and tried swiping through his body but
Ghost handled all her attacks like they were leaves falling from a
tree.
Philly smiled. The kid was finding his groove.
Thrash wasn’t tiring quickly, though. Ghost could let a swing of
Thrash’s staff pass through his body and even splash to the floor
to dodge another one of her fireballs, but she wasn’t slowing down.
If Ghost was going to win, he figured, he would have to go on the
offensive.
After ducking under a swing of Thrash’s staff, Ghost tried a hefty
kick. The kick had energy but its reach was too short to hit Thrash.
Thrash chuckled– the kid was certainly an amateur.
Ghost
Thing knew he wasn’t going to win the fight with his measly attempt
at martial arts so ducking away from Thrash’s follow-up strike, he
threw a big punch at the fighter, shifting his watery essence
into his arm so that his fist led with mass. Again, his
skills weren’t up-to-par; he only grazed Thrash’s face. It wasn’t
force he needed– it was range.
He
tried another blow, using the torrential nature of his body to
stretch out his arm and whack Thrash int her shoulder. She wasn’t
expecting that, and lost grip on her staff for a split second. She
got both hands around the pole before it fell too far to the ground
and sneered. The brat was competent enough to be annoying.
Ghost
tried again but Thrash spun her rod in front of herself like a
propeller and knocked Ghost’s hands away, some of his body bursting
into water when hit with the weapon and splashing to the floor. Ghost
Thing stumbled back and got a grip just soon enough to have Thrash
fire a few fireballs at him.
He
slipped to the side to dodge them but one hit his shoulder with
enough force to make him topple over. Thrash didn’t give him a
moment to think– when Ghost glanced, she was charging him with
pole, ready to strike. Thrash jabbed at him and the stress of combat
was getting to him because he had to concentrate to let his body
loosen so that the figure of the pole slid through. Thrash followed
up with a flurry of swings and Ghost Thing jumped out of the way,
putting some room between him and his attacker.
Thrash
glared at him. Like a sharpshooter drawing a revolver, she raised her
hand quick and fired another blast of light at his form. Although the
attack was quick, Ghost dipped out of the way, sinking into his
puddle form and then popping back out on his feet in a very elegant
move. Elegant, but showy and pointless. Nothing that got him closer
to beating his adversary.
“You fail to realize,” said Thrash, “that you’ve entered a
world of pain.”
There was the urge to shoot a comeback at the fighter, but nothing
clever came to mind. Ghost was out of breath, too, so he kept quiet.
Philly was having trouble thinking of things to say himself. Out of
all the people Ghost had fought in the last week, the lady was top of
her class. She had powers and knew how to use them.
He ran at Thrash, melted down into a slime-ball and then snapped out
in her direction, smacking his body against Thrash’s but not doing
much damage. He reformed his humanoid shape while bouncing off her
body and tried following up with a punch. He got a blow on her but
when he went for a second strike, that’s when Thrash grabbed his
arm and kept him still.
No problem. Ghost Thing let his body loosen and slipped his hand out
of Thrash’s grasp, stepping back.
Thrash growled once again, but she got thinking she had a solution to
that problem.
They circled each other, waiting on the other’s next move. Thrash
fired a bolt of energy at Ghost’s feet and the kid hopped to the
side then bounced forward for another strike. Thrash split out of the
way and when Ghost went for another jab, Thrash reached out her hand
and captured the boy’s hand into a grey shimmering orb.
Ghost tugged, but his body was stuck. Panic filled his face and when
he saw Thrash using her other arm to raise a strike against him, he
loosened his arm– the whole thing– and disconnected the appendage
from the rest of his body. He shook his arm and a watery hand
reformed where he had lost one.
Thrash cut the grey orb and bowl of water fell to the ground,
splashing the rooftop. Both Ghost Thing and Philly saw this as
ominous– the water elemental’s body stolen from him. “Watch out
for that one, Ghost,” was the only advice Philly had to give. That
technique: it wasn’t anything Philly was familiar with.
While Ghost Thing had his eyes on the ground, Thrash fired another
blow of her staff at Ghost Thing, knocking him right in the stomach.
Pain coursed through his body and he tried to recover by grabbing
Thrash’s stick but she lifted him off the ground and tossed him
across the roof.
Ghost didn’t have much time to recover with Thrash following him
like a wolf on hunt. He fired a quick kick up at Thrash when she got
close, and landed a good hit on her chin, but she cracked her hand
open and a grey orb captured Ghost Thing’s foot. He hit the ground,
struggling to break free.
What other choice did Ghost Thing have but to separate his foot from
the rest of his body, much like last time? He broke away and turned
into water to slide a few metres away from Thrash, but when he tried
to reform his foot, his body was having trouble.
His foot reformed but quickly receded. He tried again and his foot
formed with holes through the centre. The part was having trouble
holding on to its water– the thing dripping to the floor. Ghost
felt like all parts of his body were tugging on each other, all
competing for precious water to make up their pieces. Ghost groaned
and stretched out a leg to make a foot but when he stood on his legs,
he felt weak and his body shook.
He was in trouble, and Ghost knew it. Gone was his fighting stance.
His knees buckled and fear came over his face as he stared at Thrash
coming his way.
“What’s the matter?” asked Thrash. “Feeling dehydrated?”
For the first time in a long time, Ghost Thing felt his life
threatened. His heart was booming. Eyes darted around, looking for
some salvation– some help. No one was around, though. As far as he
knew, he was the only superhero in the city.
On shaky legs, he stumbled to the edge of the roof and saw an open
window on one of the buildings. He couldn’t see what was inside but
in such a trembling state he didn’t care. He jumped off the roof,
towards the window.
Philly watched his friend ditch the battlefield. His heart sank–
was the boy running scared?
“Son of a–” Thrash raced over to the edge of the roof to see
where the water boy was going. She saw the boy land inside a
building.
She smirked. In a way, she expected him to run.
