G.H.O.S.T. Teams: Book 1 - Magic

by Bobby Brimmer

  Vlad, doing just as he was told, put the car in reverse and backed quickly down the drive. One of the men stepped forward as if he was going to pursue. But the second man put a hand on his shoulder and kept him there. They watched Vlad leave before doing a half-assed perimeter search. They walked around the vans and gave a cursory glance down the side of the main building. One of them almost made it halfway to the maintenance shed before cussing about being outside and turning back. Once the two men were back inside, Visine and I relaxed. We had been ready to strike should either of them come around the corner of the shed. I looked over at Visine.

  “I really didn’t think that was gonna work,” I whispered.

  Visine gave me a look that made it clear he had no qualms about hurting me. I couldn’t help but smile as he turned his attention back to the main building. To be fair, I figured that our plan had a decent chance of succeeding. You see, after spending years having to sneak into places and evade security I learned one universal truth, people are lazy. Especially when they are stuck in a boring and monotonous job such as security.

  Huddled behind the maintenance shed, Visine and I were able to keep an eye on the house while remaining out of sight. The maintenance shed was painted a dark brown, with a window on each side, and a large garage door on the front. Glancing in the window I saw that it contained a heavy-duty riding mower, a couple of push mowers, bags of mulch and seed, and various gardening tools. Since none of that seemed helpful to our current mission, Visine and I left it alone and moved down the side of the shed in order to give us a better view of the main building.

  Seeing it from this angle, the main structure looked even more like a large barn. It was two stories high, a hundred feet wide and about three times as deep. The front door, where the guards had emerged, was off to the right side, with a large double door on the left. The right side of the building, which was facing us, had another entrance door and one small window. The entire yard behind the barn was fenced in and looked like a horse pen. I didn’t see any livestock, so either the animals were kept somewhere else this time a year, or the Park Service had converted this building to serve another function. Whatever its original purpose, it now appeared to be the bad guys’ base of operations.

  Visine followed my stealthy lead as I headed down the fence line up to the side of the building. Silently approaching the window, I peered inside. Just as the outside had led us to believe, the inside was laid out very much like a barn. There were several horse stalls against the far wall, a large back door, and a small office in the front left. Glancing up revealed a second story loft that appeared to be used for storage. Near as I could tell there were only seven guys inside.

  In the middle of the room, sitting on an upturned log, was the last sorcerer. I knew this because he was tossing a fireball back and fourth in his hands, clearly bored. Five of the men were wearing white overalls, and had a general flunky vibe about them. Three of them were carrying Uzis and the other two had pistols. Uzi number one was guarding one of the horse stalls, almost as if he had a prisoner inside. Hopefully this meant that Benny was telling the truth and his wife was still alive in that stall.

  The final guy in the room, and the one that I found the most unsettling, was just standing towards the center of the room sniffing the air. Wearing jeans and tee shirt, he was just over six feet tall and if the heavily defined muscles on his arm were any indication, he was in great shape. He had long blond hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and no facial hair. Everything about his stance and the shifting of his muscles concerned me. I could tell that he was very well trained, but there was something odd about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I decided to worry about it later as I pulled back from the window to make a plan.

  “It looks like Benny might have been telling the truth. I think they have a prisoner,” I whispered.

  “Maybe,” he replied.

  “Okay, so how about I head in through the loft and once I am in position, we have Vlad drive back here. When the bad guys step outside, you take em down. As soon as I hear the fighting start, I will drop down and take out the sorcerer. Then you come in through the front door and we clean up the riff-raff. What do you think?” I asked.

  “Sounds about as good as your last plan,” he replied.

  There was a sarcastic tone to his voice, which I personally thought was uncalled for. After all, my last plan was a success. After reluctantly agreeing to this plan, he helped me speed up my ascent to the roof. Cupping his hands, I stepped my foot inside, and kicked off as he hurled me up with his incredible strength. I landed on the roof without making a sound, because well, I’m a ninja. Then I glanced over the edge and watched Visine move into position.

  Making my way silently across the roof I was able to see that the loft door was partially open. I assumed that it was left that way to vent the heat. Glancing through I was able to see that the loft itself would provide a bit of cover as I made my way inside. After relaying the plan to Vlad I reached over the edge and prepared to open the door quietly. Between oiling the hinges and various other ninja trade secrets I managed to make the door as silent as it was going to be. After giving Visine a thumb up sign, I swung over the edge of the roof and slipped into the loft door.

  I found a position where I had a great view of the room and could still drop down on top of the sorcerer. The scene inside seemed to coincide with my earlier observations. There were seven bad guys and although I couldn’t quite see the occupant of the last stall from here, Uzi One did appear to be guarding someone. I was just about to signal Vlad to go when the man with the blond ponytail started barking out orders.

  “You know what to do,” ponytail yelled.

  Pistol One and Two both nodded and Uzi Two and Three followed them out the front door. Since Vlad hadn’t moved yet it seemed pretty likely that Visine had been spotted. I was about to backtrack out the loft door so that I could go lend him a hand when a horrible realization came to me. It seems that somewhere along the way my stealthy plan must have gone haywire. How do I know that you might ask? Well, at that exact moment, Blond Ponytail glanced up at the loft, looked me right in the eyes, and gave me a big smile. His eerie grin showed some very over developed canines. I imagine that it went without saying that those were not the teeth of a normal human. Now I knew what my gut had been trying to tell me earlier when I looked through the window, that guy was extra dangerous. And as if one super powered bad guy wasn’t enough, he also had the spell-slinging cavalry at his back. He gave the sorcerer one simple order.

  “Fry him,” he smirked.

  Some days it doesn’t pay to be the center of attention.

  Chapter 17

  The sounds of gunfire from outside let me know that Visine was occupied. Luckily for him I seemed to have all of the heavy hitters in here. I wasn’t sure which was worse, automatic weapons fire or magical fire. As the sorcerer prepared to hurl the ball of fire in my direction, I took another quick glance around the room.

  I had the Sorcerer, Uzi One, and Ponytail to deal with. Although now that he was smiling at me I felt like Fangs might be a more appropriate moniker for Ponytail guy. I was half tempted to call down and ask him which nickname he preferred when the sorcerer hurled the fireball in my direction. And when I say fireball, I don’t mean the little softball-sized flame that he was tossing from hand to hand. As it traveled through the air it expanded to the size of a large Chevy. I suddenly understood how Indiana Jones felt when he had to run away from that huge boulder.

  Bursting forward, I managed to clear the loft just a moment before the fireball hit. The loft exploded sending splinters and debris flying all about me as I dove through the air. The blast added a little oomph to my trajectory as I aimed my body at Uzi One. He reacted fast and attempted to shoot me out of the sky. Luckily his aim was not quite as impressive as his reaction time and I managed to avoid the lead poisoning. Gravity, the propelling force of the blast, and the muscles in my legs all worked together to drive my foot into the side
of his head just before I landed on the ground. I landed and instantly turned to face the Sorcerer as Uzi One’s unconscious body thudded to the floor behind me.

  I could see the magical forces gathering around the Sorcerer’s hand as he was preparing another spell. Realizing that my best option was to give him something else to worry about, I reached for a weapon. Grabbing one of the many blades hidden upon my person, I hurled it at the Sorcerer. Sprinting in the Sorcerer’s direction I was hoping to arrive just a moment after my blade did. My poor innocent blade however, never reached its target.

  The Sorcerer used the energy that he had gathered to incinerate the knife in mid-flight. The metal blade was instantly turned to dust, the remnants of which slowly floated to the ground. On the plus side, he had used up the energy that he was gathering for his attack. But if Kara was right and Sorcerers could cast almost instantly I knew I needed to keep him occupied. I continued to hurl blade after blade as I closed the distance between us. There was almost fifty feet of space to cover and at the rate that he was hurling spells it was going to take every blade that I had to keep him occupied. I was maybe ten feet away when I hurled the last blade that I could comfortably reach while running. The Sorcerer was going to have just long enough to hit me with at least one spell before I could strike.

  Time appeared to slow down as everything happened in the space of a heartbeat. I could see the hints of a smile on the Sorcerer’s face as he noticed his opening. Green energy was gathering around his hands and I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be a friendly spell. He let out what I can only describe as a war cry as he opened his hands and released the spell. A green ball of lighting emanated from his hands, streaking towards my head. The lightning singed my hair as I barely managed to drop under the blast and slide the rest of the distance to the Sorcerer. Using my forward momentum, I drove the heel of my foot into his knee and heard a loud popping sound followed by his scream of pain.

  The sorcerer started to fall forward towards me and I kicked my other leg upward. I introduced my heel to his chin, which was accompanied by the nice cracking sound of his jaw breaking. The impact sent his head snapping back and the rest of his body followed suit. I sprang to my feet just as his body hit the ground loudly. The Sorcerer was still alive but not moving. I was hoping that he would stay unconscious long enough for me to deal with his friend Fangs. Turning towards my last opponent I noticed that he was just standing there watching me, his arms crossed over his chest, and his smile stretched wide across his face. He uncrossed his hands and started to clap. The swagger in his stance made me uncomfortable.

  “Not bad, for a human,” he said.

  “A compliment and confirmation that you’re something else. Double win,” I smiled.

  I still wasn’t entirely sure what he was, but at least now I knew for sure that I was dealing with something otherworldly. Which meant that in addition to being taller than me and covered in lots of thick muscle he probably also had a plethora of supernatural abilities to draw upon. Not that he was showing anything special at the moment, but I just knew how my luck worked. My road to redemption was filled with so many interesting characters. I already had a vampire, a troll, and a few sorcerers on my resume, so in the interests of variety, I was hoping that Fangs was something else. My curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

  “Help me out here. I keep of list of the supernatural creatures that I have beat the crap out of. Can you tell me what you are so I know what to check off?”

  Fangs apparently had his fill of playful banter and he lunged at me. He had to close about thirty feet and he did it in an instant. Moving like a blur, he sent a strike at my chest, which made it very clear exactly how strong he was. I must have looked like one of those old kung fu movies, as I stayed upright, my arms crossed over my chest in a block, and I slid back across the floor, only stopping because I bumped into one of the barn support beams. I barely had a moment to catch my breath before he was on me again.

  As he moved it became clear that he was a bit faster and a whole lot stronger than me. Realizing that he had the physical edge in this fight, I knew I needed to understand his fighting style. Everybody has weaknesses and tendencies. I just needed to figure out what Fang’s were so that I could exploit them. In order to buy some time, I shifted into a completely defensive mode. I ducked, evaded, blocked, backpedaled, and did everything else that I could think of to stay alive. The good news is that I can really take a beating. The bad news is that I was really taking a beating. If this went on too long, he was going to wear my defenses down.

  The best fighters in the world do not use one particular style that you would recognize. That’s because a true combatant, someone gifted with natural combat ability, is adaptive, and relies on instinct and reflex. They constantly shift into different styles and stances and take advantage of whatever opening you give them. The great Bruce Lee, whom my father named me after, created his own martial art with this idea in mind. He borrowed bits and pieces from dozens of martial arts in order to create something adaptive and ever changing. Once the fight was on, Lee would say that you have to be like water, taking the shape of whatever opening they gave you. Fangs on the other hand had a very distinctive style. And that style included lots of big, high, flashy kicks.

  Kicks are a funny thing. They are powerful, have a long reach, and come with their own built-in intimidation factor. To be successful sending kicks above your waist, you must either be very fast or very lucky. Fangs was slightly faster than me, but not by enough to compensate for the disadvantages that he was creating for himself. Like all things in life, there is a trade off. If one of your feet is in the air, then you are only balancing on one leg. In addition to the fact that most long-range weapons suffer from the same limitation, they require space. So I offer you Bruce’s free fighting tip of the day. If someone is going to town with the crazy high kicks, step in close.

  Fangs was sending each of his kicks with as much power and speed as he could. While I was definitely going to be sore after the fight, it did give me the opening that I needed. I timed my move, stepping in exactly at the moment that he started to send his next kick. His hands dropped to his side, leaving his face unprotected, a fairly common mistake among less skilled fighters.

  I burst forward, sending a powerful low kick into the side of his right knee at the same time that my fist found his throat. This stunned him for the millisecond that I needed to turn the tide. I continued moving forward with a flurry of blows. I caught him in the face with an open hand, drove my foot into his gut as he fell back, and followed up with fists, elbows, knees, and everything else that I could throw as I stayed close and drove him back. Then, just to be fair, as he was disoriented, I kicked him in the side of the head as hard as I could. Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say that you should never kick high, but rather that you should chose the proper time. The impact sent his body twisting in the air and he hit the ground hard and rolled for a bit. In order to press my advantage, I intended to keep moving after him, but in that moment I noticed a glow out of the corner of my eye.

  I turned to see the Sorcerer churning up energy for another attack. His jaw was askew and it was clear that he was hurting. Hoping that his injuries would delay him long enough for me to react, I dropped into a crouch and quickly pulled one of my last blades out of a leg sheath. This particular weapon was silver, something that the organization suggested I start carrying. But since silver wasn’t a particularly strong metal, I normally left them as my last resort blades. And considering the absurd number of blades that I carry, it should scare you to think that I was down to my last few. I was pulling the knife from the sheath and throwing it in the same motion. I knew that every second would count and I needed to strike first.

  But even as the blade left my hand, I knew that it wouldn’t reach my target in time. He was too far away and his spell was a heartbeat away from being released. My only hope was that my knife would do enough damage to keep hi
m from hurting anyone else. Just as the spell was leaving his hand, a shot rang out. The green lighting went wide, just missing my head, as the sorcerer’s chest exploded. The impact was enough to make my knife miss its mark, but I could tell from the look on the sorcerer’s face, it didn’t matter. He was dead. I turned towards the door to see Visine standing there, the literal smoking gun in his hand.

  “Dude, I totally had him,” I yelled.

  Visine gave me his best “sure you did” expression. He looked rough. His right arm was a mess and probably matched the hideousness of his right hand, hidden in the glove. I counted at least six bullet holes in his forearm, bicep and shoulder. Blood was dripping to the floor from the tips of his fingers. A wound across his right leg and another across his stomach looked like grazing shots. Judging from the way that he was leaning, I was guessing that he broke a rib or two. He had apparently decided to use his right arm as a bullet shield. I figured that I should say something to cheer him up.

  “You look horrible,” I offered.

  “I hate machine guns,” he grumbled.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. When we first met, I asked Visine why he didn’t carry huge machine guns. After all, with his strength, it would be no problem to carry mini guns ala Arnold. But Visine had a sort of sniper mentality. His response to me consisted of a lot of head shaking and dirty looks. But the gist of his theory had been that if you need more than one shot, there is something wrong with your aim.