Ghosted Marvel Novels & Stories

The other two… Those were where the fun happened. I dropped into my chair, set the plate beside the keyboard, and cracked my knuckles. “All right, Ghost.” My fingers danced across the keys. “Where are you?” A dozen command windows sprang to life. Lines of code streamed down the screens faster than most people could read them. Numbers, IP addresses, encrypted tunnels, relay nodes… Beautiful. Most people looked at this and saw gibberish. I saw fingerprints. Ghost was good. Better than good. They managed to stay invisible while making half the underground think they knew where they was. That alone was impressive.

Outside, the city throbbed with life, but in this hermetically sealed room, the only world that mattered was the one made of data, a universe of ghosts and digital breadcrumbs. His target was a ghost named Clara Bellweather. Ten years ago, she had simply evaporated. No social media, no credit card activity, no forwarding address. Just a final paycheck from Reed Corp, cashed in full, and then silence. To most, the trail was colder than a tomb. To Marcus, it was merely a challenge of patience.

One of the disadvantages of being a ghost was the lack of resources for their kind. Unlike the living, they aren't able to feel anything like hunger, tiredness, and pain. As well as pleasure, fullness, relaxation, and comfort. The Dead doesn't need anything so to find water was such an impossible thing to do.

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

"Trace this." Ghost rocked forward, his hands flying over the keys. He'd done...something...to their phones that now allowed him to do some sort of techno-magic. "Go," Ghost said. Marco jabbed at the green button. "Hello?" He drummed his fingers on his knee. "Marco?" Fiona's voice wavered. His stomach dropped through the floor and he sat up straighter. "Marco? Are you there?" Fiona's voice broke at the end, fracturing a bit.

Ghost has already put a price on his head, and he knows that the underworld won’t sleep until he is caught. His boss also said that Ghost has already marked his location, so will he even be able to leave this place alive? What was he supposed to do? Die together with Damian? “Marcus, what are you thinking about? Can you say something?” “Mark, have you ever heard of someone called Ghost?” “Ghost?” Mark frowned after hearing the name. He searched through his mind before he nodded, “Yes, isn’t he the legendary underworld boss who turned the whole underworld upside down? I also heard that no one has really seen him, and he always wears a scary mask whenever he is going to meet people.”

Marcy went close to Amanda and Angela’s room to eavesdrop on them, “Mom, I really enjoyed the food today, can you believe it, they gave us the good food, the one still on warmers,” Amanda was excited. Angela reminded her of the hard times they had on their previous house, Their story was sad but they spoke with so much calmness, it moved Marcy. She held her heart with peace, she admired their calmness in them, they would even go for days without a meal, but worked hard. They enjoyed and endured the pain, because the study room was always open, allowing Marcy study for free.

Knowing one person made the start of a new school year and the transfer experience less daunting. “Hey, Gunnar. What can I get you?” He was gingerly coming to see me while shooting looks toward Ghost. “The latest Marvel movie was just released. Do you want to catch it tomorrow night?” I asked him. A low, snarling hum filled the air and heated the blood pumping through my veins. My eyes went wide at the sensation. Gunnar had a shitty grin on his face as he contemplated his answer.

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.

The bond we'd severed tried to pulse back to life, a phantom pain in my chest. "She's adapted well," Mara continued. "Rides better than most of the men. They call her Ghost because she's fast and untouchable. Rook Calder, their president, keeps her close." "How close?" The question came out as a growl. "Close enough that people talk. But I couldn't confirm anything physical." Mara paused. "There's something else." She pulled out another photograph. A child. A boy, maybe four or five years old. Dark hair, bright eyes, climbing onto a motorcycle like he'd been born to it.