Phantom of the Apartment

Lucky Shot

Oswald's mouth curled into a smile as the bullet hit a nearby wall, missing him entirely. "Really? You too? You'd think people would have learned by now." He drifted down to meet this new foe, Jason long forgotten. Jason carefully lowered himself to an uneven brick, trying to keep an eye on the ghosts as he did. For all his practice with ascending walls, he'd never quite perfected climbing back down. Easy does it... He lowered himself slowly from brick to brick, Oswald's monologue filling the background of his thoughts like obnoxious elevator music. I think I'm getting the hang of this, he thought as he neared the bottom.

   Then he lost his grip.

 His fingers scrambled desperately along the wall, trying to find a hold as he plummeted. He grasped the edges of bricks, but none quite managed to stop his fall. He hit the ground hard, a sharp pain shooting through his ankle as he twisted. He cursed through gritted teeth as it began to throb painfully. He scrambled back, expecting Oswald to turn and attack him. But he didn't. He glided an inch above the floor toward Rebecca, who seemed to radiate cool confidence despite her two missed shots. Oswald extended his arms out, misty tendrils of red smoke swirling around them. Jason barely managed to catch the tail end of the monologue. "... cannot kill me, child. You cannot kill what is already dead."

Rebecca smirked. "Wanna bet?" She fired a third shot. The cloud of smoke rippled back from the weapon in waves. Somehow, Oswald managed to dodge the racing bullet in time.

Well, almost.

The bullet grazed his arm, tearing his sleeve as it passed. Oswald didn't seem to notice, a smug smile crossing his face. "I warned you. Nothing you do can harm me."

Rebecca nodded to his arm. "Check again."

Oswald looked over to his arm. His eyes widened as a dull red stain began to spread. It looked almost like normal blood, but... faded, somehow. A grayish shade of crimson. The ghost looked up in shock. "How?" he hissed.

Rebecca shrugged, and pointed the gun again. "Luck, maybe. Wanna test it again?" Oswald's shocked face formed into a snarl. Then he vanished. She walked over to Jason. "You alright?" she asked, helping him to his feet.

"Yeah. That worked a lot better than my attempt." 

She laughed and began to walk. "I wasn't lying to Oswald. It was luck. I could hardly remember how to turn off the safety when I was running over here." Jason followed unsteadily. After a moment, she turned back. "What's the hold up?" She paused, noticing his awkward gait. "You're limping."

He shrugged, trying to disguise it, but the resulting wince as he distributed his weight gave him away. "It's nothing. Turns out human bodies aren't build for scaling and then dropping from tall, vertical surfaces."

"Shocking, that." She walked over and wrapped her arm around him, supporting him like they were actors in a war movie. She looked over to the flowerbed and extended a hand. Jason's pocket knife flew into it handle first, Jedi style.

"Nice," he said.

"Took a lot of practice."

They walked to the mouth of the alley. Thick, red smoke billowed around them and make the world seem mystical to Jason's eyes, like something out of a strange fairy tale. As they went, her walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Hello? Anyone still alive out there?"

Jason took the radio from her pack before she had the chance. "No way I'm listening to your radio talk. Hey Thomas! We're good."

Rebecca yanked it back as they exited onto the street. "Correction: we're ok-ish. Owl Kid almost got strangled to death, his ankle is twisted, and we've used three bullets. Over." Red smoke had begun to pour into the street, causing concerned drivers to swerve away from its tendrils. Pedestrians stopped and gaped, watching the smoke swirl and twist out of the alley as it pushed past the two figures who stood there.