Ghost of a Chance Ch. 06

Thank you all for being patient. I've been busy reworking my next book, but I had time to complete another chapter of this story for you. I hope you enjoy it.

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"I can only remember bits and pieces of it," said Monica, after sipping from her coffee mug, "I was on the dance floor with two guys when I started getting hot and dizzy. When I left the floor to go to the bathroom, I remembered feeling this way before. That's when I figured out they must has slipped that pill in my drink."

Brenda and Tom, sitting across from her at the kitchen table, sipped from their own mugs and listened to Monica's account of what happened to her when a pair of lowlifes dropped a sex pill into her cocktail at a nightclub.

"I was running out of the club and made it into the stairwell of the parking ramp... I wasn't wearing my dress; I don't remember how it came off... I got to the top, and... those two guys followed me... and someone else," Monica's face narrowed in confusion as she tried to recall the events on the ramp. "The two jerks came at me, and... then they were on the floor, unconscious. I was riding in a car; yours?" Tom and Brenda both nodded to her query, "Then I was naked, and... that's when we had sex, right?" Again, the pair across from her nodded.

During the night, Tom and Brenda went out on patrol of the city dressed as its two newest heroes, Ghost and Ghoul. Thanks to the rings that made both of them invisible, the intrepid pair managed to take down criminals one at a time in an attempt to clean up their crime ridden city and help those in trouble.

One of the people they helped was Monica, a young girl who was drugged at a dance club with a pill called a 'Sex-O', a narcotic that made the victim sexually aroused for hours until it wore off. Saving her from being raped, Tom and Brenda took the hapless girl home with them and eased her sexual frustration in order to work the drug out of her system.

The following morning, Monica woke up to the smell of coffee. Wrapping the bed sheet she was sleeping on around her, she found Brenda in the kitchen, two steaming mugs in her hands. She told the young lady to go into the bathroom first and get dressed; Brenda had left some of her own clothes for her to use since the only thing Monica wore were her torn bra and boy shorts.

Seeing her return to the kitchen fully dressed, she sat her down at the table and explained what had happened and what they did to help her. Tom walked in at the middle of the explanation, pouring himself some java, and joined the ladies. Monica grinned sheepishly and blushed; that told Tom that she remembered what happened that night. Brenda just patted the girl's hand and told that it was alright and that the wild sex the three of them engaged in was necessary in order to get the drug worked out of her body.

"I know," said Monica, quietly, "I've... taken it before, when I was a freshmen. It was a dumb thing to do, I know." Monica dropped her head in shame.

"It's okay, honey," Tom assured her, "We've all done foolish things in our youth."

She looked up again at the couple, a tear rolling down her cheek, "Thank you for helping me."

Brenda leaned into Monica and hugged her, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Everything's okay now."

As Monica sat back, absently wiping at her face, she asked, "Who were those other two people?"

Tom and Brenda purposely put confused looks on their faces, "What other two people?"

"Wasn't there two others with you guys?" Monica's face scrunched up in confusion, "There were two people with ugly faces dressed in dark clothes... weren't there?"

Brenda shook her head, "Honey, there was no one else there except us."

"But I thought I saw..." Monica finally gave up, chalking it up to the drug which left memory gaps in the minds of most who took it, its only side effect. "I guess maybe I imagined them. I thought for sure that there were..." She shook her head, confused.

"That's okay, Monica," said Brenda with a consoling smile, "You were really out of it when we found you; you barely knew where you were when we brought you here."

Monica shrugged, "Well they say if you can't remember the night before, you must have had a good time. So... thanks." She smiled shyly through the blush on her cheeks. Tom tipped his mug to her with his own grin.

"Well, I should be getting home now," Monica sipped the last of her coffee and rose from the table, Tom and Brenda getting up and walking her to the door.

"You're sure you don't want a ride home?"

Monica shook her head, "No, it's alright; I only live about four blocks from here. It's a nice day out, and... I think I'd like to walk for awhile. Kinda... have time to myself, you know?"

"We understand," Tom nodded.

Monica leaned into Tom to hug him, kissing his cheek, then repeated the maneuver on Brenda, whispering, "Thank you.", and strolled out the door and onto the sidewalk.

"Oh, brother," said Tom, rolling his eyes, "that was close."

"You're telling me," answered Brenda, matching his expression, "We're going to have to be more careful when we do shit like that."

Early on, Tom made the decision never to tell anyone about the rings that he had found and what they could do. If some unscrupulous person ever discovered that the rings had the power to render their wearers invisible, there was no telling what purpose they would use them for.

The only exception he made to that promise was Brenda, a woman he had saved from being raped. Recognizing her from his high school days, he told her how he helped her and showed her how the rings worked. Since he knew she had seen (or rather 'didn't see') him fighting off her attacker, he figured he owed her an explanation, worried that she might think she was loosing her mind or have other people think she was crazy.

Together they discovered that, not only could they have fun being invisible (i.e. walking through the city naked, having sex in public, making things disappear), they could help others with their abilities. After a heated discussion and a round of 'make-up' sex, they decided to take on the criminals of their city dressed as Ghost and Ghoul, two hideous apparitions armed with non-lethal weapons that thwarted and pummeled dirtbag law breakers and scaring the piss out of them... literally, as well as figuratively.

Tom started to get into his new role as a crime fighter, but still worried about the safety of his new partner. During their escapades of naked fun, he discovered that he had fallen in love with Brenda, and didn't want any harm to come to her. Confessing the same feelings for him, Brenda convinced Tom that together they could clean up their city one lowlife at a time and, thanks to their invisibility, the scum of the town would never figure it out. And if they did, what could they say? 'Two invisible people stopped them from committing a crime'?

"Oh, by the way; what should I do with these?" Brenda reached into a drawer of the living room end table and pulled out a small plastic baggie. Inside were about a dozen or so white pills, shaped like tiny donuts; the 'Sex-O' drugs. "I picked them out of the pocket of the first clown you slammed into the car last night."

Tom just shook his head, "Well, that's at least a dozen other girls they can't hurt with those damn things anymore," he reached for her and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck, "and we certainly don't need them." Brenda giggled as he nibbled on her ear. Kissing her cheek, he jerked his head towards the bathroom, "Flush 'em."

Brenda trotted off to dispose of the pills as Tom packed their weapons and disguises into their backpacks. He finished packing both when Brenda walked back in.

"So, what's on for today?"

"Oh, a little bit of fun," Tom answered, holding up the packs, "this kind," he reached around Brenda and squeezed a handful of her round, luscious ass, "and our kind."

Brenda gave him a lustful look, flashing him her mischievous 'Let's do something naughty' grin.

***

"So, do we have a deal?"

The goatee wearing fencer closed the top to the briefcase that was full of assorted jewels, mostly diamonds, and casually lit a cigarette as he waited for an answer.

The swarthy, dark skinned man in the charcoal grey suit sitting across from him answered him with a snap of his fingers. A big goon waltzed up and placed another case on the table, opening it. Inside were stacks of one hundred dollar bills neatly piled to the brim.

"We have a deal," he said in a gravelly voice.

The pair of smugglers smiled at each other, toasting their transaction... unaware that their hired muscle guarding the warehouse they were doing business in were falling one by one. There were about fifteen in all, now down to five all seated or standing at the table set in the middle of the floor's expanse.

Mr. Goatee pushed the case of jewels towards his business associate, he doing the same with the case of money, when the big goon suddenly grunted and fell forward hitting the floor full length with a not-so-graceful thud.

Both men and their respective body guards bolted up from the table and drew their weapons.

"What is this? What did you do?"

Mr. Goatee scanned the warehouse, his face plastered with confusion and fear, and answered Mr. Dark Suit, "Me? I didn't do anything! What's the matter with your man?" He aimed his gun at his would-be partner, "If this is a setup..."

"I did nothing!" replied Dark Suit, matching the gesture with his own gun.

Suddenly, both of their remaining body guards let out a painful yelp and slumped to the dirty floor, unconscious. The two smugglers simply stared at their knocked out cohorts, then at each other.

"What's going on?" asked Mr. Goatee as he swung his gun around ready to shoot, and yelled, "Who's doing this? Where are you?"

"Close."

At the sound of a low, menacing answer, the scum in the goatee whipped around and fire his gun twice. A heartbeat after the echoes of the shot died off, he and his associate heard the haunting shrill of laughter, followed by, "Missed."

Sweat dripped off the forehead of Mr. Dark Suit as he too scanned the expanse of the warehouse with narrow eyes.

"Boo!"

Startled by the voice suddenly behind him, he turned sharply and was ready to fire his own weapon... when it was quickly yanked out of his hand and flying across the floor.

"Who are you?" he bellowed, his bottom lip quivering, "What are you?"

Out of nowhere, his adversary appeared in front of him, grabbing the lapels of his suit and answered, "Your worst nightmare!"

The man's terrified scream echoed throughout the warehouse when his tormentor's face came into view... or rather what was left of it. Looking like a freshly dug up corpse, its electric blue eyes glinted in the paltry light from the low hanging fixtures on the high ceiling. He started to swing at the hideous face, but didn't get any farther than rearing back for the punch. Two electrified prongs snapped up and were pressed into the man's neck, sending him into stunned unconsciousness. His heavy form flopped down onto the table, knocking off both cases, then slipped to the floor.

Mr. Goatee just stood there in shock, first by seeing his business partner disappear right in front of him, then seeing him reappear, out cold and on the deck.

"You bastard!" he shouted, raising his gun, "You're dead!"

"After you."

He turned to the second voice behind him, just as his own gun was pulled out of his grasp, and felt someone grabbing him. His own echoing shriek of terror matched his unconscious partner's as a skull with glowing red eyes materialized in front of him.

"You've been trafficking stolen goods," the skull face growled, "that's not very nice."

"What the fuck are you?" Mr. Goatee whined.

"The Ghost."

Recognition glinted in the hapless smuggler's eye, "Yeah, I've heard about you... and your partner."

"Ghoul!" Ghost retorted angrily, tightening his grip on the lowlife and making sure he had contact with the bare part of the side of his hand against the man's body.

"Yeah, yeah... 'Ghoul', whatever. I thought somebody made that shit up."

"You thought wrong." Ghost nodded to his partner, unseen by the goon but in full view of him thanks to one of the abilities of the rings that allowed them to see each other while being invisible to others around them.

Ghoul walked up to the dueling pair, briefcase in hand, and touched the side of her open glove to the scum's shoulder. Contact with any part of her (or Tom's) bare skin to any object would render it invisible, and people inside the invisible field with them would be able to see them. Goatee let out another shriek when her decomposed corpse face appeared.

"You just went out of business, fuzzy face," she growled at him, dropping the case at his feet and cracking it open, scattering the glittering jewels everywhere. "You're done dealing in this city, as well as your friend over there," she jerked her head towards the dark suit still out like a light on the floor under the table.

Pulling the scumbag closer, Ghost focused his attention on him, "If we ever catch you dealing again, we're going to be very... upset." Goatee didn't even want to think about how 'upset' they could get after witnessing what happened as his defeater continued, "Take this back to your friends: the city no longer belongs to any of you; it belongs to us now... and we'll be watching."

With that, Ghost tossed the goon away from him sending him to the dusty floor and vanishing once contact was broken. Goatee pushed himself up and frantically looked around the warehouse to see... nothing. With the exception of his business partner and their collective associates unconscious on the floor and bound hand and foot with plastic zip ties, there was no one else there.

But that thought disappeared as quickly as his tormentors when he heard the echo of frightening laughter bounce off the warehouse walls.

Giving up on his associates, his business partner, and his ill-gotten gains still scattered all over the floor, Goatee took off like a shot towards the door and disappeared himself.

"Should we go after him?" asked Ghoul.

Ghost shook his head, "No, let him go. I've got a feeling he and his buddies won't be doing any 'business' for a while."

Even though it couldn't be seen under her mask, Ghoul frowned, "But I wanted to see him pee his pants."

Ghost chuckled a little at that, but then got serious, "In a way, that worries me a little. Anyone tough enough not to get that scared might be a problem later."

Just then, the sounds of sirens blared close to the warehouse and the pair of heroes saw police officers charging into the huge room a moment later, guns drawn and ready. They quietly slipped off to the side and didn't make a sound as the cops began rousing the dazed goons and hauling them outside.

Two men in suits, flanked by two other burly cops, carefully stepped through the maze of clutter, bodies, and merchandise as they made their way to the table. The taller of the two suits started his questioning as the beefy cops hauled Mr. Dark Suit up off the floor.

"Well, looks like you didn't learn your lesson the first time did you Frankie boy."

Franco Typalla, Mr. Dark Suit, simply gave the detective a contemptible look.

"Where's your business partner, Frankie?" asked the other detective.

No answer.

"Well since I don't see any money around, I'll assume the deal was made and he's already on his way to Cancun." Looking around at the mess, he continued, "So, you wanna tell me what happened? The deal didn't go down the way you thought it would?"

As the officers behind him cuffed his hands, Typalla thought for a split second to tell the detectives exactly what went down, but in the same second decided not to. What the Hell could he say? They'd never believe him; in fact, he barely believed it himself.

"I'm sure you'll feel like talking after we get you downtown and give you your phone call. Get him outta here."

The tall detective jerked his head, and the two big cops hustled Typalla out the door and into a police car. Another cop entered and addressed them.

"We've checked the rest of the building and the grounds; there's nobody else here."

"Okay," the shorter detective answered, "Start processing the scene and get the evidence together."

"Yes, sir."

The tall detective turned to his partner and asked, "What do you think?"

"Somebody must've taken out and trussed up these clowns," the other one answered, thumbing at the assorted riff-raff being manhandled out of the building, "Fourteen in all. I doubt the other guy did it by himself, and some of those goons worked for him. He must have had help."

"Or somebody beat him to it," the tall cop rubbed his forehead, scanning the area around him carefully, "I wonder... maybe there is something to that 'Ghost' character all these scumbags keep yappin' about."

"Ah, c'mon; you don't really buy into that shit, do you?"

"Look how many perps we've brought in that say just about the same thing: some ghostly figure with a skull's face trounced them. Some said that there were two of them; that's too many similar stories to be a coincidence."

"They're probably hyped up on the same drugs and flying off to the same area of Dreamland."

The tall one rubbed at his head again, "Yeah, maybe... but it's just... you said yourself Typalla's business partner couldn't have taken out all of these guys by himself. Fourteen of them? Even ten of us couldn't take down that many without firing a shot."

"All right," his partner conceded, "we'll keep the file open for now, but... a ghost? Get real; there's no such thing as ghosts. If it is somebody running around taking out dirtbags, he isn't a spirit. C'mon, let's get Typalla and rest of the Peanut Gallery down to the station."

As most of the cops left the warehouse, three people with kits in their hands starting scooping up the jewels and weapons left lying around into evidence bags. One of them turned to the door when he heard a clanking sound.

"Did you hear that?"

One of his team turned her head to him and answered, "It's an old building, practically falling apart. They've already cleared it; there's no one else here but us."

The man simply shrugged and when back to his work, as Ghoul carefully stepped around the thin wire pipe she accidentally bumped into. Once outside, the heroes saw two remaining police cars and three officers guarding the area. Unseen, they simply walked passed them.

"Sorry," Ghoul whispered as they made their way to the parking ramp a few blocks away.

"It's okay," her partner answered, "they didn't think anything of it. Just be more careful next time."

"I think we're both going to have to be careful; they're starting to catch on."

"All they have right now are a lot of questions and no answers. We take it easy for awhile, but I think we're still safe."

Ghoul hefted the briefcase in her hand, "How much do you think is in here?"

"Judging from what was in the other one, I'm guessing a couple million."

"Wow," she breathed, "this will definitely help us out with our... 'extracurricular activities'."

"That, and then some," Ghost smirked.

Walking up to the top level, they paused at Tom's car to make sure there was no one else around, then popped the trunk open. They shucked their disguises and tossed them into the back along with the money filled case, leaving them wearing summer street clothes. Brenda smiled as she stepped out of her boots to slip on her tennis shoes, for when her bare feet came into contact with the ramp floor it disappeared, leaving a round hole under her. The floor became solid concrete again when she got her shoes back on.

"That's so weird seeing stuff like that," she said, tying her laces. Her face lit up when she looked up at Tom, standing near the car wearing... nothing, except his own shoes. Her grin came back, and, "And just what's on your mind?"