Ghost of a Chance Ch. 10

The last stakeout before the big game was coming to a close, with about twenty dark suited scumbags lying out cold on the ground, the weapons they tried to use scattered everywhere, and the other main participant of the deal slouched in one of the chairs at the table, unconscious. Only four of the drug deal remained standing; well three standing, one still on the floor gathering his purchase of narcotics.

"Stay sharp," the one bodyguard in charge barked, "Those two bastards have to still be in here somewhere!"

The trio of guards turned slowly, perusing the area carefully watching for any movement, listening for any sound. Only the deafening silence of the old factory could be heard.

One of the goons hissed at the lead guard, "The sprinklers?"

"Shut up." he hissed back, "Won't work."

"He said it did the last time."

"Shut up!" he hissed louder, this time with a searing glare; warning, "Water's cut off."

The third one's gun started to quiver as he took in the expanse of almost empty floor, sweat running down the sides of his face.

The man on the floor was just finishing his 'packing' while the other three continued their search, peering in every direction around the factory.

Every direction, but one.

Ghost nodded to Ghoul, and the pair readied their newest additions to their arsenal of 'toys'. They carefully and quietly activated their grapplers, placing the magnetic heads onto one of the support beams that crisscrossed the ceiling.

The drugs packed and ready, the buyer of the deal turned to his assistants and asked, "You got the money?"

"Over there," he answered, pointing to the case lying ten feet away from the table.

"Grab it, and let's get the fuck outta..."

All of them jumped when they heard a small clicking sound... coming from above them.

"Up there!" The one that shouted was the first to raise his gun quickly over his head.

Not quick enough.

By the time the goon took aim at the ceiling, two small cylinders hit the floor near their feet and a fraction of a second after, the entire area was awash in a violently bright light. The 'flash capsules', tiny, high intensity flash grenades, exploded into blinding light making the remaining criminals grab at their faces. They all cried out in pain and surprise as the flash temporarily blinded them, the small concussion that followed staggering them as they tried to feel they way around. In almost the same second, the light dissipated quickly but the damage had been done. Blurry, purple afterimages clouded their eyes and stunned them into incoherency.

Once the light vanished, Ghost and Ghoul made their move. They squeezed the releases on their grapplers and lowered themselves down from the support lattice hanging from the ceiling, slowing their descent once the floor was within a safe distance to drop down.

"Can't see shit," the lead goon shouted, "Start shooting! Boss, stay down!"

All three henchmen raised their weapons, hoping they weren't pointing them at each other. But before they could fire off a single round, the other two goons had their guns yanked from their grasps, and their jaws smashed with fists.

Ghoul saw that her partner was charging for the last one and turned to grab the case of money. But the guard, finally shaking the blurriness from his vision, saw the handle of the case move before the whole thing disappeared, and swung towards it.

"Drop it, Motherfucker!" He aimed at the last place he knew the case was.

"Ghoul!"

She turned towards the shout to see Ghost swinging his baton down on the lowlife's wrist to smash the gun from his hand, and he shrieked in pain squeezing the gun and firing off a round before he dropped it.

Ghoul ducked down in reflex, but not before the bullet hit the money case and chipped away a piece of its corner, ricocheting off to the side. She hit the floor with a thud, knocking the wind out of her and loosing her grip on the handle, sending the case skidding across the dirty concrete.

Seeing his partner go down, Ghost angrily swung his baton down at the henchman again, this time aiming for his knee. The bone shattered and the goon dropped to the floor, screaming in agony and cradling what was left of his kneecap. Hearing enough of the man's howling, Ghost shocked him with his stun gun, sending him into unconsciousness along with his compatriots.

"Ghoul," Ghost raced over to his partner as she gingerly picked herself up off the floor, "Are you alright?"

"I think so," she warbled, steadying herself once she was on her feet and patted her vest and armor, checking, then nodded to her partner.

Ghost sighed in relief, "Don't scare me like that again."

Ghoul straightening her costume, and walked over to pick up the money case. Ghost scanned the area and saw the three remaining cohorts on the floor, out cold.

But the main guy was nowhere in sight, nor was the satchel of drugs. Ghost concluded that he must have slipped out during the final fight and took his newly purchased merchandise with him, but wasn't too concerned. He knew that if Trent deployed his men the same way he did on other raids, the little dealing scum would be caught as easily as the others before him.

With everyone else involved down for the count, Ghost and Ghoul made their way to the stairs that lead to the roof of the factory. But something made Ghost stop in his tracks and turn around.

"What?" asked Ghoul, turning with him.

Ghost leaned over one of the dirtbags he clobbered and hauled him up to see his face a little better. He carefully scrutinized his looks and...

"Ghost, what is it?"

He laid the gunman back down gently, then turned to his partner, "I'm not sure. He looks..." Ghost stared at the young man's face some more and wanted to tell Ghoul what he was thinking, but wasn't sure himself. After a moment, he just shook his head and, "It's nothing; never mind. Let's go."

The duo started back up the stairs when Ghoul questioned him again.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Not now," he answered curtly, "later, when we're alone." and finished climbing the stairs with Ghoul right beside him, case in hand.

Upon seeing the roof access door open, Trent rushed across the grimy tar paper towards it. He stopped when he felt hands touching him, and the daring pair of heroes appeared and their surroundings becoming fuzzy."What happened? I heard some more gunshots after the first volley they laid down, and some screaming."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," answered Ghost, pointing to the case of money. Ghoul lifted it and handed it over to the detective.

"Beautiful," Trent said, smiling, "this will be part of the final shovel of dirt on the grave. We're going to use it to bait the big man. I knew these operations would get his attention, and it did; word has it he's coming to the next buy to handle things personally. Once he takes the bait, he's buried." He couldn't stop smiling at the couple and gave both of them a chuck on their arms.

"Great job, you two; you're going to be hailed as heroes after this whole thing is all said and done. You'll be responsible for bringing down a huge drug trafficking organization, and replacing it with something bigger... something better. It'll benefit a whole lot of people; you'll see."

"We're not in this for the recognition, Trent," Ghost grumbled, "We're doing it for the city, for the people who want to be free and safe from the animals that poison the streets with their crime."

"Exactly what I want," Trent nodded, "All the 'trash' swept off the streets."

"Are we done for tonight?" asked Ghoul, still aching from her drop to the floor.

"Actually, you're done for the rest of the operation; we won't need you tomorrow night. Some of my men will be posing as dealers for the final buy, and nail the main man and all of his little minions in one shot. It's going down around midnight at the old civic center; you can come and watch if you want."

Ghost ignored the almost arrogant sneer on Trent's face, and answered, "We'll think about it."

Trent shook his head when the invisible pair let go of him, getting his sight to focus again, and called out to them, "If I ever need your talents again, can I call you? We make a pretty good team!"

No answer.

He just shrugged and went down the stairwell. He pulled his phone out and dialed it, waiting for the other party to pick up.

"This is Trent; everything ready for tomorrow night?" A pause, then, "Good, everything will be ready on this end." Another pause, "They'll be there; don't worry." He snapped the phone shut and hefted the case in his hand, smiling.

"Game over."

* * *

Brenda undraped herself from Tom and stretched to get all of the sleepy kinks out of her body. The morning sun threw shafts of light through the curtains as she gently woke him.

He stirred and stretched as well, blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, and focused on the brown ones now staring at him.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Brenda smiled, "I don't look that beautiful in the morning."

"Oh, yes you do." Tom slipped his arms around her naked body, pulling it to his. She hugged back, their tongues fencing as they shared a loving kiss.

Stretching again, she moaned, "Oh, I need coffee."

"Me, too; I'll start it."

Tom rolled out of bed and walked naked to the kitchen. He could hear Brenda rummaging around in the bed room as he started the coffee maker.

"Tom, do I still have a bra over here?"

He leaned towards the shout and answered, "Yeah, you left your pink one here a few weeks ago; I put it on the dresser!"

Tom waited for the coffee to bubble its way through the machine as Brenda entered the kitchen, wearing light blue panties and trying to hook her bra on.

"Help me with this." She turned to present her back to him, holding the cups against her boobs.

Tom smirked, "You can't get your bra on?"

"Hey, 'no coffee', remember? I'm not awake yet."

"You know it doesn't match your panties, right?"

Brenda looked over her shoulder, smirking, "Just hook it, will ya?"

Tom chuckled and grabbed at the bra hook tabs, "You know, I've been thinking. Since we spend a lot of time together, and since you have most of your stuff over here anyway, I thought it might be a good idea if we... moved in together."

Brenda stiffened a little, "You want me to move in with you?"

"Well... yeah. Or I could move in with you, if you want me to. I know you just got through with a divorce, and you still have some heavy stuff at your house you'd have to deal with; furniture and all that. If you think it's too soon for something like that, we could wait and..."

"Tom," she said consolingly, "you're rambling again."

"I am?" he said, raising his eyebrow, "Oh, I guess I am, aren't I. Well, you know me: still the same old shy kid trying to talk to a pretty..."

"Yes."

Tom stopped fumbling with her bra straps and looked at her when she looked over her shoulder again, "'Yes'?"

Brenda nodded, smiling, "Yes."

He turned her around and hugged her, then started into those beautiful eyes with love, "This makes me happy. Yes, I want you to stay with me. You're good company, you're fun to be with, and I love snuggling with you in bed and waking up to you in the mornings... plus, it makes my showers more fun."

Brenda laughed and hugged him back, "Yes, I would love to live with you here." Then she got a confused look and looked down; her breasts were falling out of her bra. She looked back at Tom, this time with a scolding smirk.

"Oops," he said, holding back a snicker, "didn't quite get it, did I?"

"If I'm going to live here, you're going to have to learn how to do this right." She smiled and turned around, Tom grabbing for the hooks again.

"Ouch!" Brenda yelped, flinching, "You're going to have to trim your nails, too."

Tom checked his fingers, "I don't have long fingernails."

"Then what's poking me?" Brenda slipped out of her bra and checked the back strap. They both looked to see a tiny black, button-like circle stuck in the middle of the bra hook flap. Tom brought it closer to his eyes... and his jaw dropped open, his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline.

"What is..." Brenda didn't finish her question. Tom's hand darted up and covered her mouth, her eyes widening. He placed a finger against his lips, still holding the bra. He released her mouth and pointed at the small button, then pointed at his ear, cupping it. At first Brenda crinkled her forehead, not sure what he meant, but when it dawned on her what he was referring to her whole face widened in shock.

Tom laid the bra on the counter and shouted, "Brenda, the coffee's ready!" He gestured to her to answer.

"Coming!" she responded.

They headed to the backdoor, Tom opening it as quietly as he could, and walked out into the yard. Since his house wasn't anywhere near another, no one could see Tom naked in his backyard or Brenda wearing only a pair of panties.

"That's a bug, isn't it," Brenda growled, anger painted on her face.

Tom slammed his fist into his palm, "He's been listening in on us the whole time!"

"How did he get it in the house?" Brenda huffed, "The Hell with that; how the fuck did he put it in my bra?"

"The only time he was here was when..." Tom stopped, his face lighting up, "...he was questioning us." He remembered the part of Trent's interrogation when he picked up Brenda's bra and asked, 'Not yours, I take it?' "He planted it on your bra when he was talking to me and looking around the living room. Son of a bitch!"

"But why?" asked Brenda, just as upset as Tom.

"I don't know. Maybe to keep tabs on us, making sure we don't skip town or something. Or maybe..." Tom's face twisted in thought; another piece of the puzzle was just added. It almost fit into place and the picture was trying to come into focus.

Not quite yet, he thought.

"Remember when I checked out the goon in the factory?"

Brenda nodded, "Yeah, you said you'd tell me later what was bothering you about him; you never did last night."

"That clown... looked familiar." Tom scowled, trying to place the face in his mind.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded slowly, "I know my fist landed on that jaw once before... but where? Where do I know that idiot from?"

Tom paced for a minute, trying to remember, and then headed back into the house. Brenda followed suit and trotted behind him back into the house, quietly slipping through the door and back into the kitchen.

Tom carefully picked up the bra strap and dipped the bugged end into his coffee cup, immersing it in the dark brown liquid, and whispered, "That should work... I think."

"Thanks a lot," she groused, just as quietly, "That was one of my good ones."

"I'll buy you another one, later. Right now, we have figure out what to make of that," he pointed to the coffee soaked listening device, "and what Trent's up to."

"That motherfucker," Brenda hissed back, "I'm going to use my shock glove on his nuts when I get a hold of him, and make him tell me."

Tom glared at her, "That's not going to solve anything."

"You were right about him the whole time."

"Hold on; we don't know that for sure. He could just be listening in to keep track of us. He needs proof that we're the Ghost and Ghoul so he can hedge his bet if he ever decided to make a move on us."

"With wiretapping? That's illegal; it wouldn't hold up." Brenda started pacing around the living room, "He's setting us up for something, blackmail maybe."

"That might not be the reason at all; it could be something else. I thought you were the one that wanted to give him a chance."

Brenda turned to Tom with an angry glint in her eye and waved her hand at the coffee cup on the counter, "We gave him a chance, and he blew it. Now he's going to pay."

"We don't have enough proof he setting us up... not yet," said Tom, heading into the bed room to check their equipment, "But if there is any proof, we're going to get it... tonight."

"The civic center?" asked Brenda, a grin on her lips. Not the 'let's get in trouble', fun one, but the 'let's kick some ass', evil one.

Tom just nodded, that evil grin on his face as well.

* * *

The main auditorium in the aging civic center was a collection of worn fabric seats, fading carpets, and a stage with the wooden planks starting to rot. The curtains, long since taken down, lied in a heap off to the side and there was nothing above it all except old ropes and brackets where stage lights hung years ago.

The only recent additions to the place were the drug dealing scum scattered about the seating area, the two main participants standing on the stage with armed goons flanking one of them... and the two shrouded individuals hanging from the rafters where the ceiling tiles had fallen away.

Ghost and Ghoul had already taken out the henchmen ringing the outside of the building, about eight in all this time. But they were too late to take down the ones inside; the other party had beaten them to it. Four scumballs, plus the two on stage, were on the floor... with bullet holes perforating their bodies.

The other dealers weren't the cops Trent said would be there.

"Well, Mr. Paulson," said the suited dealer with the guns beside him, "looks like the deal's off, wouldn't you say?"

"You miserable piece of shit," his seller replied, balling his fists, "My organization won't take this lying down; they'll cut you and your meatheads in half!"

"Oh, I don't think so."

The new voice came from the back of the stage. The person it belonged to walked out on stage slowly, the light starting to reveal his identity.

"You see, I've been in contact with your people and they think they're not getting enough for their work," the man stepped into the light, smiling, "so, I made them my offer and now... they work for me."

Ghost and Ghoul's faces went pale when the light revealed the mystery guest. The cheesy goatee, the sarcastic sneer, and the scar on his upper lip; a souvenir left behind from Ghost's baton...

Ghost just muttered, "...Jacko...", and saw Ghoul looking at him, she already knowing who it was before the lights hit his face thanks to her attuned hearing.

The very same lowlife thug that kidnapped and tortured Brenda was now standing on the old stage, bragging about his 'hostile takeover'. That's when it dawned on Ghost; the thug in the factory...

He signaled to Ghoul, and the pair lowered themselves down from their ceiling perches, quietly creeping up on their prey from above. He readied a flash pellet as Jacko continued his ranting.

"Now that the organization is under new management, it's time to cut some overhead." Jacko raised his pistol as the rest of his gang clamored up onto the stage, surrounding the former drug boss.

The big time dealer spat at Jacko's feet and said, "I'll see you in Hell, you rat bastard."

"After you, sir."

Jacko fired, the bullet slamming into the man's chest and flinging him off his feet and down to the stage. His last breath came out in a strained gurgle as his eyes rolled back white.

Jacko started to laugh... but instead cried out in pain as the bright flash from the grenade pellet exploded in every direction. He, along with his pack of goons, dropped their weapons and grabbed at their eyes as the light blinded them.

One by one, they fell to the stage leaving Jacko staggering alone and groping blindly at anything around him that would help get his bearings.

He found something... something big, something solidly built, and that 'something' grabbed his suit and hauled him up to its horrifying face.

"Did you miss me?"

This time, the growling, haunting voice made Jacko piss his pants; he knew who it was.

"Don't... don't..." was all he could whimper when the bolts of the stun gun flashed against his shoulder and sent him into Dreamland.