Thanks for deciding to read Ghost Skills!!! Before you start however, I must share a secret with you. This is not the final version!!! Go to my profile, and look for the one that says, Ghost Skills Final Version. That is the much better one, considering that this is is close to un-edited. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Stepping out of the shower, I left the bathroom and walked into the bedroom. Getting dressed, I changed into what had become a sort of trademark of mine; dark blue jeans with a white tee shirt, a black dress shirt left open, and a pair of black combat boots. Walking into the next room I smiled while looking around in pride, I was in my own little dojo within my home. Two glass cases, containing the two hundred or so swords, knives and other weapons that I had collected over the last five years hung from the cherry wood walls. Opening one of the cases my eyes lingered on a certain knife with a matte black blade and stainless steel handle. On the blade was inscribed [For Daniel, My Best Student].
Taking the knife from the case, I turned it over in my hands remembering the day my Sensei presented it to me; I hadn't seen him since my family and I had moved to Chicago six years ago. Snapping out of my reminiscing and checking my watch I realized I'd be late if I didn't leave now. Returning the knife, I removed another six inch blade with a plastic sheath from the case and fastened it to my belt. Grabbing another knife of the same size, I strapped it to my right forearm and pulled the sleeve of my shirt over it. With a flick of my wrist the blade would fall into my hand with a reverse grip. I stopped in front of the mirror and double checked my appearance to make sure none of my knives were visible to the passerby. Leaving the house, I walked toward my truck. Work was going to be fun tonight.
Climbing into my truck, I turned the key and was rewarded with a loud rumble as my Tru Dual exhaust kicked in. Driving to the warehouse I had bought just under a year ago, I went over my plan one more time. Get in, snatch him, and leave. After parking my truck out back, I got out and walked toward the door. Pulling out another key ring from my back pocket, I slipped the key into the lock. Pushing the door open I stepped inside and took in the familiar sight. I stood in a large open room with a table and one chair in the center. Toward the front of the room was a single door, which led to the office where I kept all of my paperwork and my closet.
I rummaged through a small cabinet off to the right to make sure everything was there, one small straight razor, a juicing machine, a dozen lemons, a container of salt, and a bottle of chloroform. Grabbing the chloroform and a rag I laid them on the table before walking into the office. I reached the closet behind the metal desk and pulled open the doors to reveal the single piece of clothing within. A rather bulky and odd looking garment hung there. My Tac Suit; almost skintight, with a pebbly texture to absorb light, and navy blue, almost black to act as camouflage. Tac Suits are used by many solo Special Forces operators that work for the government in Covert Ops, but I had managed to acquire one through a contact for the line of work I was now in. Taking my jeans and t shirt off I slipped into the Tac suit, secured the chloroform and rag into one of the cleverly concealed pockets near my left calf, then put my street clothes back over the top. I grabbed a new set of keys from the office before I walked outside to the Ford Taurus parked under an awning, started it and drove toward downtown Chicago.
Arriving on Rush St, which is where all the upscale nightclubs and bars in the city are located, I found the club I was looking for and gave the valet my keys and a twenty dollar bill. Showing the bouncer my fake ID that stated my name as Jacob Chambers, he waved me through the door and I was immediately assaulted by loud music, the smell of liquor and cigarettes, and people dancing everywhere. Crinkling my nose I went to the bar, sat down and ordered a Coke. A mirror ran behind the entire bar, and I was thankful for it, as it would inconspicuously allow me to see when my target arrived.
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Ghost Skills
ActionDaniel Stevens is a young man who spent most of his life training as a fighter. Alone in Chicago at nineteen years of age, he finds himself saving a convenience store clerk from being robbed and killed. After thwarting the robber in the only way he...