The Ghost

Hello! This is a graphic story with intense violence and gore. READER BE WARNED!

Thank you for reading.

It was a rather chilly night considering it was mid August. The streetlights were pouring onto the street while a fog sat below them. The scent of rain lingered in the air, we've been getting a lot of it these last few days. It's good, we needed it. I've been following my target for a little over a week now, he always visits the same places every day, work, the convenience store on the corner next to his home and then of course, home. He hardly ever changes up except to grab a newspaper from the stand once in a while. I started to suspect that he knew he was being watched, but I no longer think that's the case, I think he might just be a boring guy with nothing going on. Which would fit the narrative I've pieced together over the week. Still, I need to keep tabs on him for my research because this needs to be absolutely perfect.

My plan was to watch Mr. Rodney Decker until I knew for certain I could pull it off, you see, I have a bit of a nickname in my field of work, "The Ghost" is what people call me. I didn't choose it but they did. I can go unnoticed during my intel gathering phase and of course when the jobs done? Well, it's done. I like to keep my identity a secret so when the news gets out to the press, they coined the term, "The Ghost" which I've grown a liking to. It's almost like a superhero you read about in the comics. I always tend to work alone, any time I've requested backup, it's always gone wrong. I'm quieter and cleaner when I work alone, well, cleaner than them. They always try to run when I corner them which I mean, I get it, I'd try to run too if I was put in their position.

Rodney exits the convenience store with a bag full of what looks like some form of food and drink and begins to head home. I maintain my distance, to him, I look like every other passerby on my way to wherever I'm going that is of no concern to him. I watch as he ascends the stairs into his building. His unit is 403 on the top floor. I've been there a few times when Rodney was out working the night shift. He's clean, organized, like he knows someone would get curious. You're probably wondering why I'm following Rodney Decker in the first place. He's a bad guy and he needs to be brought to justice-well, you'll see. I climb the fire escape until I get to Rodney's unit, just in time for him to walk in, I stay in the shadows outside of his window, the muffled noises of items being put away. Rodney talking to himself as if no one could hear him. Just average thoughts you'd have as you're doing ordinary things alone. I watch as he sits on his couch that just so happens to be right next to the window that I'm currently peering in through. The top of his head is right next to the glass, if this window were open, I'd be able to just reach right in there and slap the restraints on him and call it a day, it's too bad it's a chilly night. He might not ever open this window, which is okay, I know how to break in without causing a scene. These windows are old after all, before a proper lock was ever conceived.

I watch as he flips through the paper he bought on his way home. He checks the score of the baseball game, he looks at a few job postings and eventually reads through the funnies and drops the paper on his coffee table. He leans back on the couch and his head taps the glass. He looks back, and slides the window open, well how about that. He wanders into the bathroom, shuts the door and I hear the shower start. I slowly slide in through the window, trying not to disturb anything to show that someone else was here. I hide in his closet in his bedroom. He usually grabs a pair of shorts from his dresser and gets into bed right after his shower, so he wouldn't be looking in here. After awhile I hear the shower turn off and the bumping around as he dries himself and exits the bathroom, as I expected he grabs a pair of shorts and gets into bed. I wait awhile until everything is quiet and I know for sure he's asleep.

I exit the closet, quiet as a mouse, I pull my syringe out and slowly insert it into his neck. He doesn't even flinch as I push the plunger down. He should be out for awhile now. I flip him over and place the cuffs tightly around his wrists behind his back. I lift him up and place him on my shoulder. He's lighter than he looks. Scrawny guy though, so it's not surprising. I take him down the flight of stairs on the fire escape and into the ally right beside his building. I grab my car that I strategically placed on the road earlier today and pull it into the ally, I throw Rodney in the trunk and make my way to our destination.

Have you been following along? Have you pieced together who I am, and who Mr. Rodney Decker is? Well, if you didn't know, you're about to. This is usually where those partners I told you about get cold feet and they try to quit.

We get to the warehouse, it's abandoned of course. I pull the car in and close the shutter behind us. I open the trunk and Rodney is still out like a light, as expected. I leave him there as I get the table ready. I throw old newspapers down around the bottom of the table, I get my tools out and set them neatly on a podium next to the table, I grab Rodney and place him there on the table next to my tools, take his cuffs off to attach his arms to the pipe I had welded at the top of the table. I do the same to his ankles but I have two pipes at the bottom of the table so his legs are spread, it makes it so he can't really get any good momentum with any of his limbs. I take off my coat, roll my sleeves up, put my gloves on and throw on my mask, which was modeled after those old plague masks the doctors wore during the Black Plague, well, that I wore during the black plague.

Rodney wakes up and is obviously immediately hysterical.

"What the hell!? What's going on? Who are you!?"

"Hello, Mr. Decker. My name is irrelevant, I've had so many the last 600 years or so, that keeping up them just didn't seem important any longer. I've been alive a long time, Mr. Decker. My mind isn't what it used to be and I've taken a liking to ridding the world of filth like yourself. So, that's what I'm going to do, Mr. Decker." I say as I pick up a scalpel.

"Wait...WAIT! What did I do!? I didn't do anything! What the fuck!? STOP!"

"Mr. Decker, it's not what you did. It's who you are. You see, I decided that anyone is bad, if I say they're bad. You didn't really DO anything, Mr. Decker. It's how I rationalize these...acts. The truth is, I like killing. I like hurting, and I like making people suffer. There has to be a reason that I'm still alive after so long right? I mean, I could be God, and if I am God, then I have to punish the people that need to be punished."

"But...I didn't DO ANYTHING!"

"That's precisely my point Mr. Decker, you didn't do anything. You weren't leading a particularly productive life, you weren't doing anything to aid society in anyway, I mean we just went through a war with the whole world and you did...NOTHING. You hid in your home until it all blew over. You're not married, you haven't fathered any children, you don't even have a job that does anything for the world. You are nothing, and you mean nothing to the world. So....enough chit chat, Mr. Decker. Let's get on with this, I've been looking forward to it."

I take the scalpel and run it along his chest. The blood spills over and onto the newspapers on the floor. He screams in agony. I peel back the skin to reveal his muscle, I touch it and examine it. I grab the pliers and begin pulling his fingers and toes off one by one and placing them in jars. The screaming has subsided.

"Oh, no Mr. Decker, I need you here with me for as long as possible. I'd like to beat my record."

I take out a syringe full of adrenaline and inject his heart. He comes back with an earth shattering scream.

"PLEASE! STOP! ENOUGH!" Tears are falling from his face as the blood flows from his limbs and chest.

"I'm already too invested, Mr. Decker." I take the scalpel again. "Shall we?" I motion towards his chest.

The scalped cuts through the meat and tendons in his chest with such ease, eventually I reach the ribs. I grab the bone saw and begin removing them. I can see his heart pounding vigorously.

"Ah, Mr. Decker. You have a fine heart. It's beating with such proficiency. Don't worry, that's the last one to go."

"Pu...lease...shhhhto......" Rodney passes out.

"Damn. I almost beat my record. That's alright Mr. Decker. You go ahead and rest now. I will finish this up."