Ghost System の小説・ストーリー

Like it forgot why it was there. “Oh,” the ghost said, disappointed. “They don’t have memories to take. Machines wearing wolf skin. How boring.” The Hybrid took another step and started to sink. The ground turned soft, like quicksand. “Things without memories can't exist here, the ghost explained as the Hybrid that disappeared into the earth. "But you have such lovely memories. So many to choose from." More Hybrids came. More started sinking. But there were so many of them. “Tick tock" the ghost sang. “What's it going to be?"

I ask when he answers. “Yeah, boss, she’s still in her cab,” he replies. Good. Right where I want her. “You know your assignment,” I say, ending the call. No hesitation. No explanation. He already knows. Ghost is called that for a reason, you can always feel him watching, but you never see him. Same way Black Kings moves. You don’t see us coming, you just feel it when it’s already too late. She told me she doesn’t belong to me and walked away, leaving me standing here.

“Little ghost.” Next: Shatterpoint

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.

"You’ve cleared the site. You’ve removed the threats. Why are you still looking for ghosts?" He gripped my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. "Because ghosts are the only things that can walk through walls, Eden. And Silas Vane is the best ghost in the business." "I haven't seen him; I doubt I'll see him while I'm indoors," I said, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth. "He’s just a name in a file to me now."

My phone beeps in my pocket and I take it out and look at it just before walking into the compound. Ghost: Here. She's asleep. I push my phone back into my pocket without responding. I had left Abby with Ghost since I was needed at church. Ghost wouldn't be the only brother missing today. Ghost was one of our prospects but was patched in a year ago. He's got some demons stronger than mine, but he's made amends with them. The kill with bare hands type of amends.

I whispered, my words slipping through the air like a sharp blade. Her face paled, and her hands trembled as the realization washed over her. Samantha, the ghost from our past, a specter we had long thought banished to the depths of forgotten memories. Yet here she was, resurfacing like a vengeful spirit, intent on wreaking havoc upon our fragile existence. I moved swiftly, my hands still feverishly gathering our belongings, tying up loose ends. It was a race against time, against the shadow that loomed ominously over us. I refused to let Samantha's malicious intent extinguish the fragile flame of hope that burned within our hearts.

The way he had in the basement library, when he was trying to decide if he could trust me. "Ghost doesn't take money," he said. "He doesn't take favors. He takes pieces of people. Memories. Secrets. Things you can't get back." "Then we make sure we don't give him anything we can't afford to lose." --- The number on Miriam's card connected after two rings. A voice answered. Not male. Not female. Something in between. Processed through a modulator, scrambled beyond recognition. "You reached the line," the voice said. "State your business."

Ghost is a dark fae, which means he’s greedy, likes death, and likes pretty women with spunk. His short white hair is spiked. Ghost wears a black sleeveless hoodie and black and white checkered jeans with black boots. His eyebrows, nose, and lips are all pierced with gages in both ears. His pointed ears give him away that he is fae. Ghost has all black eyes, much like one would think a demons would be if they were real. Some things are just stories made up of distorted truths. Demons and angels fall into that category. Ghost's pasty white skin almost glows under the glow of the flashing lights.