The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

At first there was a ringing. A buzzing sensation that spread throughout his skull and quickly sharpened into a sting as he shook himself awake. There was a tightness, though, that gripped his midsection, and when he opened his eyes he was met with a wall of blackness. He was bound and blindfolded. From behind the crunch of loose gravel beneath hooves was heard, stepping closer.

“Awake at last, Berry Burn,” a deep voice announced.

“What, who? How’d you know my name?”

“A wallet is the last thing you want a vigilante to find.”

“A-Are you him? The guy who whacked us at the party?” His question was met with silence. “You are, aren’t you? You’re that Ghost guy, I’ve heard about you. You toasted my cousin in Baltimare.”

“He’s nursing his wounds in prison, a fate you’re close to sharing if you don’t cooperate.”

“You mean the rock, right? You wanna know where Victory Lane’s taken it. I can help you.” A grin formed on the goon’s face. “But not for free. You want my help, it’s gonna cost you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because without me you’ve got no clue where he is, so here’s the deal. I’ll spill my guts on Victory Lane, tell you who’s buying the rock, and in return you let me walk. No cops, no nothing. Capisce?”

Hoofsteps once again reached his ears as his captor approached. He could feel the Ghost’s hot breath on his neck now, threatening to singe his now retreating grin. A hoof touched his face, leathery in texture and running up quivering jawline, making slight contact with the cloth obscuring his vision.

“You’re not really in a position to negotiate. Let me show you why.”

In an instant the cloth was removed, and his vision soon adjusted to witness the plummeting height at which he dangled over. An ear-splitting scream escaped his lips. He flailed his restrained body with all his might, desperate to escape the towering chasm Manehatten’s skyscrapers created, but a firm hoof held him in place.

“Where is Victory Lane,” the Ghost demanded.

“You crazy nut! You tryna’ kill me here! Oh Celestia, let me go!”

“Don’t tempt me, Berry.” The Ghost released some slack from his cloak, driving Berry just an inch further into gravity’s hold. “I’ll ask again. Where?!”

“I-I don’t know where he’s going, but he’s got a buyer for the rock!”

“Who?”

“Some weirdo in a mask, been talking with them for days, now. He’s probably on his way there now!”

“That doesn’t help me, Berry.” Slowly, Berry felt himself leaning further over the edge as the cloak slithered from the Ghost. “I want to know where!”

“I-I don’t… I don’t know. Lane doesn’t tell us goons nothing, we just do the heavy lifting.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Let me try.”

Berry’s ears perked up at the airy drone of another pony. His stomach fell into his hooves as he was lifted from the building’s ledge and dangled over, clinging frantically to the one hoof keeping him from his impending doom. Maud stood there, expressionless, as the Ghost retracted his cloak and merely observed.

“Start talking, my hoof’s getting tired,” she growled, giving a quick jerk of her foreleg to punctuate the message.

“Y-Y-You… w-we didn’t want… please don’t drop...” Berry stammered, legs dangling in the air beneath him. “A club. Lane’s g-g-got a club on the w-west side. The Mulberry, real classy lounge joint. H-He might be th-”

The powerful foreleg pulled him from the precipice and out across the rooftop, skidding along the stone and falling prey to the rush of blood to his head. Berry fell limp, unconscious, leaving Maud and the Ghost alone.

“Nice work,” the Ghost said. “I almost thought you’d do it.”

“The urge was there.” Maud continued to look out over the city.

“Do you want to talk? I know a lot has happened tonight and you seem on edge.”

“How could you tell?” Her trademark stoicism punctuated the question as she turned to the Ghost.

“You’re shaking.”

The comment struck Maud, betraying the anger that had burrowed in her chest. She took tepid steps toward the Ghost and rested on her haunches before him. He joined her, placing his hoof on her shoulder as she gave a ragged sigh.

“This was supposed to be it. I was supposed to put on this exhibit and show everypony my work mattered. I was finally going to be respected and not the punchline to somepony’s joke. Now that crook is out there with my life’s work.” She hung her head low, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m an idiot.”

“You organized an event to display your passion to the richest and most influential ponies in Equestria and demanded they treat you with the same dignity others treat them. Now you’re out here fighting to take it back, and you’re not even wearing a mask.”

“Pretty dumb, huh?”

“Pretty brave,” the Ghost replied. “No matter what happens tonight, Maud, you’re one of the bravest ponies I’ve ever met and nothing can take that from you.”

Maud’s stare reached the Ghost’s. She gave a tiny smile before rising to her hooves.

“So what now, find the Mulberry?”

“Exactly. If we don’t find him, we’ll at least learn where he’s going.”

“Well, our friend’s out cold. Any idea where to start?”

“How do you feel about flying?”

“I’m... not the biggest fan.”

“Just hold tight to me, okay?”

The Ghost held out a hoof to the hesitant doctor. She glanced from him to the city around them, and back again. She inhaled, grabbed his hoof, and was slowly pulled onto his back and placed her forelegs around his neck. They stepped to the edge of the building.

“If I puke it’s your fault.”

“Close your eyes, I’ll go easy.”

Her eyes shut as hard as she could make them, fighting to ignore the rush of wind through her mane as her stomach turned. The Ghost leaned off the building and spread his cloak, carrying them through the illuminated buildings, far above the bustling streets below. Even the Ghost couldn’t quite calm his nerves, far more used to the lower buildings of Equestrian towns and villages than the skyline of its greatest city.

He dipped their trajectory downward to gain speed and earned a soft choke from Maud’s hooves in response before tilting back up to crest an oncoming building. From the corner of his eye the Ghost could spot ponies staring through the flanking windows. Some gasped soundlessly, while others cheered and watched in awe at the flying duo. In time, though, they began to descend, but not before the Ghost spied the glow of violet and pink neon. ‘Mulberry’ pierced the softer glow of neighboring buildings and seemed to beckon them. A final dive, then a swoop upward, and the two ponies came to a gentle landing upon the sidewalk. Maud’s eyes remained spitefully shut.

“Hey, we’re here. You can look now.”

Turquoise orbs peeked out from behind her eyelids, scanning her still spinning surroundings until she locked onto the hard stone of the sidewalk. She clambered from the Ghost’s back and nearly dug her hooves into the ground, shakily, and reveled in the sensation of firm earth. All the while her expression remained largely unchanged.

“We’re never doing that again,” she groaned.

“Next time we’ll go spelunking, something more your speed.” The Ghost’s sarcasm earned him a stern glare as he helped Maud steady herself. Wordlessly, the two gazed upon the exterior of the Mulberry, it’s dark brick and soft glowing windows accentuated sharply by the radiance of the neon sign bearing the lounge’s name. Before them stood large oak doors.

“You ready?”

“Is mafic extrusive igneous predominantly magnesium?”

The Ghost chuckled at the comment, approaching and placing a hoof upon the door. The heavy wood gave way to his touch as he and Maud stepped through the threshold. The room was dim, accented by the same dark wood of the door and housed a lingering film of smoke in the air. Booths paralleled the bar beside them and formed a straight path toward an illuminated stage. Ponies stood upon it, selling their breath for sweet notes from the brass instruments in their hooves. One by one, the Mulberry’s patrons looked up from their drinks and from beneath their hats, letting their eyes wander to the two ponies standing in the doorway. The bar fell silent.

“I get the feeling we’re not welcome here,” Maud whispered.

“That’s too bad,” the Ghost replied.

“Hey, hey! What happened to the music?”

The accented voice came from the staircase to the far right of the lounge floor. Yellow fur broke the dark ambiance surrounding it as Victory Lane came storming down the steps, his teal twins following close beside him.

“I don’t pay you schmucks to suck air unless it’s for makin’ music. And the rest of you, what’s got…” Victory Lane spied the duo, almost locked in place by their combined glare. The Ghost and Maud each took a step forward, and Lane two steps back. Maud tilted her neck, letting the crack in her spine echo around her. The Ghost squinted, wrapping his hooves in his cloak. Every mobster in the room sat tensed, anxiously watching both parties to see who would move first.

The ponies outside trotted past the Mulberry, unaware of the scene unfolding within. A few turned their heads toward the large structure and the odd noises radiating from within, while many more held to their ignorance and continued on their way. The Mulberry’s walls would shake, occasionally, with a thump and would cry out with the sound of broken glass. More than a few screams helped give definition to the raucous rampage happening within the Mulberry’s confines. Suddenly, a pony is thrown through one of the windows and rolls out onto the pavement.

The lounge was now a wreck. Victory Lane’s mobsters piled, one by one, onto their invaders in a futile attempt to wrest back control. More than one grabbed hold of the grey earth pony before being cast aside by the mare’s uncanny strength and fortitude. Her partner moved like a shade. Weaving through the crowd, striking when he could, all while a single black tendril held Victory Lane by the throat. From behind, the barpony charged his horn and fired.

The errant bolt flew through the air and impacted on Maud. She fell to her knees, and was soon swallowed by the raining racketeers who threw themselves at her, desperate to keep her down. Their efforts were in vain as Maud pushed herself from the ground. Four, five, then six landed upon her, but it seemed no amount of weight could keep her contained. She leaped forward with mighty hooves, scraping the floor beneath her and ejecting from the crumpled pile of criminals before joining the Ghost.

The barpony fired again, before a bolt of black whizzed past his face. With a bottle ensnared, the Ghost yanked his improvised ammo from the wall of booze behind the bar and smashed it over the barpony’s head. He fell against the counter top, limply, as the Ghost returned his attention to the remaining goons. It was only a matter of time before the duo cast the final crook aside and turned their attention to the captive pegasus, cowering in the Ghost’s hold.

“Whoa whoa whoa! I-I gotta give it to you two, you’re something to beho-hrrk!” The Ghost’s shadowy limb tightened.

“The cat and mouse game is fun, Lane, but we’re growing bored. Where is the Eye?”

“I-It’s just upstairs,” Victory Lane croaked. “Lemme go and I’ll get it.”

“Doctor,” the Ghost began. “Go reclaim your work, I’ll keep him occupied.”

Maud bounded across the scuffed floor and up the stairs, clearing them in a single bound and stepping into Lane’s office. The dark walls matched the decor on the lower level, though decidedly tidier, and sat opposite a row of windows now flooded with neon light. On the desk before her sat the Eye. Gently, she rested her hooves upon it, still warm and radiating soft yellow light. As she hoisted it to her side a second glow caught her attention. It was sharp, piercing, and an obnoxious shade of blue that seemed to grow along the walls around her. Small runes sprung into existence and seemed to follow Maud as she bolted down the stairs to the Ghost who, too, watched the light travel across the interior of the Mulberry. Lane began to shake.

“No no no. No, you crazy freak, this wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What isn’t? What’s happening, Lane?” The Ghost’s vision jerked to all corners of the now-glowing room. Maud stood close to him.

“We need to get out of here,” she stated, nudging the Ghost. Not a moment later, the blue runes turned red and began to hiss.

There was a blast above them, then another, and another. The entire building trembled under the force as bits of wood and fire spewed out from the staircase. Lane moved first, elbowing the Ghost and loosening the hold of the cloak before making his mad dash toward the entrance. The two gave chase before another blast from the bar knocked them to the ground. Lane sped off, slamming the door behind him, before the fire from ignited booze consumed the lounge. The creaking of wood and the sound of another hiss announced the coming of a fourth blast. The Ghost wrapped himself, Maud, and the Eye in his cloak as the final fireball shot forth and consumed not only them but the Mulberry itself in its wake. Ponies on the street scrambled away from the scene, witnessing the lounge topple and fall into the ground beneath it, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke and dust.