Phantom of the Apartment

Window of Opportunity

     Oswald waved a casual hand and Jason's radio flew from his grasp, slamming against a far wall with a crunch. "You three really are aggravating, do you know that?" he asked as he drifted forward, looking bored. "Honestly, sprinting around the city, delaying the inevitable. What use was it, drawing me here? Is this somehow a preferable place to die?" Jason reached slowly back, trying to see if maybe he could get his phone from his back pocket without catching the ghost's attention. He managed to get his phone, however he had no such luck on the second portion. Oswald spotted him and laughed, then gave his head a slight jerk to the left. Jason was hurled against the wall like an unwanted doll. "I'm done playing games, boy." Jason tried to rise, but was flung backwards against another wall. As he slid downward, he noticed the window that was uncomfortably close to him. It was covered with rotting wood, but that looked like a small gust of wind could turn it to sawdust. Avoid that, his fuzzing mind told him somewhat unnecessarily. 

     "What have you got there?" Oswald asked, drifting forward. Jason followed Oswald's gaze to his own hand and his heart froze. When he had grabbed his phone, the letter had slipped out as well. He tried to hide it in the swirling green smoke, but it yanked from his hand, sending his phone falling to the ground after it. Jason winced as the phone hit with a sickening crunch. Oswald hummed casually as he opened the envelope.

     "That's not yours," Jason managed to gasp out. Oswald laughed and rolled his eyes.

     "And you're going to stop me?" Jason gave no response. Oswald smirked. "I thought not," he said, and pulled the letter from its envelope. His eyes darted over the words, devouring the secrets they held. Jason thought, at that moment, he could feel his world crumble. As Oswald finished the letter, his smirk turned to a grin. "So," he said, "this is what you're hiding. I'll admit, I'm impressed. I hadn't expected this sort of thing from you, but I suppose even the careful ones have slip-ups."

     "No," Jason whispered, struggling to his feet.

     "No? No what? Don't tell the others? Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't deprive you of that joy. Out of curiosity, when do you intend to tell them? On your death bed? If so, I assure you, you do not have long to wait." The man looked over the letter again and laughed. "Of all the people in your little crew to have skeletons in their closet--"

     "Stop it," Jason snapped, lunging for the letter. Oswald vanished, reforming on the other side of the room.

     "-- I would've guessed that Rebecca girl, not you," he finished. "Interrupting is rude."

     "So is stealing," Jason growled as he made another attempt. This time, Oswald didn't manage to disappear fast enough to escape. Jason managed to grab hold of the letter. Oswald remained corporeal, a snarl on his face as he tried to wrestle it back. They wrestled violently, the green smoke puffing and swirling as they clawed and punched. Oswald yanked it back and kicked Jason away. As he rose unsteadily back to his feet, Jason managed to grab his pocket knife. One more try, he thought. He had nothing to lose, after all. By the time Oswald noticed Jason running toward him, it was too late. He brought the weapon down on Oswald's shoulder, and there was a sort of... resistance. The knife paused for a second before passing through. Oswald winced and disappeared, the letter falling to the floor. Jason snatched it and looked around, panicked for a moment. Then he spotted Oswald on the other side of the room, examining his shoulder with interest.

     "Now, how did you manage that? No wound, but I could've sworn..."  paused and then looked over Jason, awaiting an answer. When he wasn't given one, he shrugged. "No? Alright. The secret dies with you, then." He sprang forward. 

     Jason rolled to avoid him, dodging the ghost's grasping hands. He tried again with the knife, but this time Oswald was ready. He went transparent just before the knife edge touched him, and it passed through his outline without a second's hesitation. Oswald grinned, sensing an advantage. He managed to snatch the knife from Jason's hand. He sprang backward, but when Jason followed he lashed out with the blade. 

     It carved a slash into Jason's arm. 

     Jason breathed curses as he scrambled back. He cupped the wound with his hand, unsure of what else to do. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I just got stabbed, oh god! His mind seemed to chase itself in circles, making him dizzy. Oswald laughed, regaining his casual air as he observed the damage he had done. "Not so nice on the sharp end of that knife you keep swinging around, is it?" Jason looked down at his hand as he felt something warm cover it. He saw blood, his blood. Nausea filled him. Get it together, he snapped at himself. "Ah, is someone a tad squeamish?" Oswald gave a fake gasp. "Oh, I know! Is it beca--" 

     He never got to finish that sentence, because at that moment Jason roared and attacked with everything he had. I just have to make enough noise for the others to notice, he thought. And so he continued to shout. He screamed until his voice grew hoarse, landing as many punches as he could. He doubted they had much effect. Half went straight through the ghost, and those that didn't only seemed to annoy him. Oswald tried to say something, but Jason couldn't hear him over his own shouts. The two grappled wildly, rolling into a wall. Oswald became more solid for a moment, trying to avoid moving right through the bricks, and Jason seized the opportunity. He pounded the man's chest, throwing everything he could behind each punch. Oswald grabbed Jason's throat, cutting off his shouting. Jason continued to punch, but Oswald didn't seem to care. Not this again, Jason thought angrily as he tried to pry the hand away. He struggled violently as he tried to free himself, feet dangling a foot above the ground. 

     "You put up a good fight," Oswald said. He flicked out the pocket knife. "For that, I commend you." Jason glanced around. A way out. Find a way out! His chest began to burn. "But I'm afraid I don't have time for this. After all, your friends still have to be dealt with." He raised the knife just above his own hand. A glint of light caught Jason's attention. There, Jason found what he was looking for.

     The window.

     Time seemed to slow. A dazed plan took shape in his mind as his vision tunneled. Oswald pressed the knife to Jason's throat. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Jason stopped struggling. "Goodbye, Jason," Oswald said. At that moment, Jason threw all of his weight forward, landing his feet against the man's chest. He pushed off with all of his strength, driving the knife down into the hand that held his throat. Oswald threw Jason back reflexively, as he had done before. 

     This time, no wall stopped him. 

     Instead, he collided with the wood planks. Hard. He felt them splinter and break behind him, giving way under the force of Oswald's throw. He tumbled through the window, felt himself start to plummet. He reached out, grasping wildly until his hands found what he needed. The fire escape. He clung to the railing, but his hands were slick with his own blood. He began to slide off.

     Inside, he heard voices shouting. He tried to shimmy over to a corner so he could get up without being seen. After all, there was no use in climbing up only to be spotted and flung back again. The railing creaked painfully as he moved. There was a crash inside, followed by a gunshot. One hand slipped off completely. He made the mistake of looking down.

     Two stories high had never seemed very high to Jason. At least, not until he was dangling from a fire escape, held up only by a single slippery hand attached to a wounded arm. Then two stories high became a very large distance indeed. He became suddenly aware of the searing pain in his arm as well as the insistent throb form his ankle. He grabbed onto the rail again with both hands, but he continued to slide. He shimmied awkwardly over. That's it, Jace, easy does it. He moved cautiously, left hand over right, right hand over left, repeat. Left, right, left, right, there! He reached the corner and desperately scrambled over the edge. He took a few gasping breaths before rising unsteadily to his feet again. Let's do this, he thought. He crept over to the window and peeked in. Inside was chaos. Rebecca and Thomas are here! That registered first. Of course, that realization was quickly silenced by another, harsher one. 

     Rebecca and Thomas are in trouble.