Ghostface Stu Macher Novels & Stories

Our ghost. “The fake customs broker,” I say. “He’s going to hand the Vescari a piece of the maze I drew and hope to watch us run into the walls.” “Good,” Bruce says, and the word has iron in it. “We let him hand it to them. Then we watch who comes to the door labeled S. Bell & Sons.” I close the laptop. The screen leaves a rectangle of darkness on the table. Bruce stands and the chair goes back without a scrape.

What could he have found that would freak me out? Was it about my father? No, that’s not possible. Besides, we don’t even have the same last name. Even if my suspicions are correct and Dad is into some shady stuff, Dean couldn’t have made the connection. Let me guess, it’s something about Scarface, right? I’ll have to check it later. “Here we are,” Zeke murmurs. “Let’s get serious.” “Yeah. We have to get into character.” I shake out my arms and hands, rolling my head from side to side. “I hate you. You’re the worst. I want to curb stomp you.”

" The ghost masked man laughed. He flung the whip across Lucas's face. "Arghhhhh master, master please forgive me." Lucas's previous handsome face had a gnashing deep wound imprinted on it, losing its former luster. The wound even if treated properly would leave a nasty scar across his face but he couldn't care about that at the moment. His death was almost certain.

He turned his head toward me and just stared without saying anything, then he nodded. "I want to challenge you." He raised one of his hands and motioned to ask me why. "Wait, are you mute?" I asked. He turned away his face, indicating that he wasn't interested in answering me. "Fine, whatever. I'm gonna beat you tonight." And meet Turqo. Mutiny gave me a thumbs up, and it almost felt like he was mocking me. It fueled my anger. Huffing, I put on my helmet and got ready for the race.

Ghost pulls out a couple of pieces of paper and throws them down on the table, from brother to brother they make their way up to Austin, Max and me. I look up at Ghost with a humbled look. I was the one that brought Ghost in and was proud as hell when he was patched in less than a year later. I had found him at a bar, some college frat boy was drunk and wanting to pick a fight. Ghost is six four and three hundred pounds of muscle. Kid was out in less than a minute. Ghost has some demons, that much is evident when you see the names of the men he has killed with his bare hands tattooed on his back. "Shane?" Austin asks as I take in the two pictures.

The proud gay asked and introduced himself while crossing his legs on the glass table. "I just got here two days ago," Dylan said, and I nodded my head in response. "What about you? Are you a ghost? Of course. That body arrived here without you, and we thought that you were dead. But we really are, you know? It's just the machine that has been making our bodies live." Clinton asked and uttered, and I slowly went to sit down on the other couch to have this ghost to ghost conversation with them. I am curious, and I want to know things.

Or who was the sexy god again? "Sit," the first guy I saw offered. He has an easy smile playing on his lips. He was friendly. How did he do it? Fine, sexy, probably smart, and friendly? The other big guy kept his eyes on me like I was prey. The chills I felt in my spine... I guess he was Mr.SA then, he looked mean and angry at the world. Who hurt you? "Please introduce yourself," the friendly god smiled. "Oh, right. Hi, Good morning, uh, My name is Mek Machu, and I'm here for the secretary position," that was poor, but who cares?

I thought that a student to the side of the hallway was just waiting to move too, but then he steps forward and blocks the way of one particular person in our group, Machiv, from moving forward. "Hey, Mach," says the kid, and I look at him more to take in his features. He has dark curly hair and shiny brown eyes. He also stands a bit taller than Machiv, and grins down at him. Compared to me or Machiv, he's definitely buffer, but not distinctly thickset. Maybe just muscled mildly. Machiv stops, slightly surprised, before answering, "Hello, Ford." "Care to give me this lunch break to talk?" asks Ford, still grinning, "I've got a few things I want to talk about you."

Everywhere was silent for a while, not until they heard Clara sobbing “That video is fake…she..she framed me, perhaps someone make a duplicate of my face or, perhaps a makeup artist…..” A hard slap landed on her face, cutting her words short. It was Macho; he was already standing in front of her ready to pounce on her. She was shocked beyond words as the threatening tears in her eyes fall off freely

It hummed with the sound of massive computing power. Sitting in the center of the room on a simple ergonomic chair was a man. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, with messy dark hair and thick framed glasses. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, typing furiously on a keyboard. This was the Ghost. Not an old veteran, but a kid. Adrian stopped at the edge of the server farm. "Silas Vane. Meet the Ghost." The kid stopped typing. He spun his chair around. He looked at Silas, then at Leo. He pushed his glasses up his nose.