Phantom of the Apartment

Smoke and Mirrors

Rebecca unzipped her backpack. She grabbed a black object, a little larger than her hand, with... Oh, Jason thought as recognition began to dawn on him. That's a hand gun. She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow at his shocked expression "Be careful with that," he warned.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm already dead."

"Well I'm not, and I'd like to keep it that way." Thomas was almost upon them, and with him was Oswald. As Thomas came near, Jason picked up the third backpack and flung it foreword. Thomas fumbled it, but eventually caught it and slung it over his shoulder. With that, the other two began running. Rebecca began hurling insults over her shoulder at Oswald, as well as small rocks and other objects she could find within reach.

"What is she doing?" Thomas asked, eyes wide.

"Getting him mad. We need him coming after all of us." It was working, which Jason had mixed feelings about. On one hand, that meant that everything was going according to whatever tenuous plan it was that they had. On the other hand, having a terrifying ghost with glowing red eyes flying toward you with hands extended to strangle you was, well, terrifying.

"I was really hoping you two showing up would mean less running."

Jason smirked and began rifling through his bag. He pulled out a walkie-talkie. "You got yours?"

Thomas nodded, grabbing his from his own backpack. He turned it on and it gave off a faint buzz. Rebecca caught up with them and grabbed her own.

"So," she panted, a wild grin on her face, "he's mad now."

"Fantastic. Where are we running?" Thomas asked.

"There's an abandoned building a block or so from here."

"Why are there so many abandoned buildings around here?" Rebecca asked, exasperated.

"Maybe," Jason said, "it's because of the crazy murder ghost. Just a thought." Rebecca chuckled, shaking her head as they ran. "I say we split up and meet there."

"How will we find it?"

"Look for the giant, broken building covered in caution tape and ivy. It's not that hard, Thomas."

"Gotcha." The three of them split off, dashing down alleys, sidewalks, and intersections. Jason raced through a cramped alleyway, casting fervent glances behind him. Please don't follow me, please don't follow me, please don't follow me, ple-- Oswald appeared in the entry to the alleyway, blocking the light. Of course. What did I expect? He picked up the pace as Oswald hollered something like a battle cry from behind him and began to chase. He clicked on the radio. "Hey, I'm being followed. Some help would be nice!"

"Copy that, Owl Kid. I'm sending a distraction. Over."

"I thought we agreed not to do the code name thing," Thomas called over the radio.

"Copy that. You thought wrong, Luck o' The Irish. This is Casper, over and out."

Jason heard Thomas sigh. He was a little too busy to reply, however, as he was currently running for his life. He grabbed his backpack and began searching it, trying to divide his attention between it, the ghost, and the ground ahead. He sifted through its contents, looking for anything that might give him the upper hand. Nope, nope, nope, why do I even have a flashlight, nope, aha! He pulled out an old chicken noodle soup can with a fuse sticking through the lid. He grinned and pulled the lighter out of the side of his backpack. "Time for a show," he whispered. He lit the fuse and tossed the can behind him.