Keep yer britches on, Nancy.

The French Quarter

A small bar sign blinked to life as night slowly fell over New Orleans. It was still a week away until Spring Break, but Ghost didn't care. He walked along the cracked sidewalk, a vanilla-scented cigar burning between his teeth. It was nights like this that he didn't hide his mutilated face. In New Orleans, you could be anybody. In his case, that was just a skeleton with beating and working organs. He wore his usual rawhide hat just above his eyes.

He walked into the bar, not really intending to buy anything to drink. He was here to have fun. To Ghost, fun meant only one thing.

'Scuse me, ma'am. You've got a nice bounce ta yer chest.

SMACK

He grinned to the young blonde that had just hit him. Her face had quickly gone pale.

What's the matter, darlin? Ain't never seen such a sexy thang before? Come on and give daddy a kissy.

He laughed as the poor girl ran out of the bar. A lot of the patrons turned to glare at him, some standing up, knocking hardwood chairs to the ground. With a sigh, a final puff of his cigar, and a cracked grin, he turns to the group, his hat slightly askew to show the holes where his eyes should've been.

Come on, ladies. Ah ain't got all damn day. If ya got the balls, do it.

The cigar dropped to the ground, and he stamped it out with his square-toed boot. Hands in his deep pockets, he smiled at the roughnecks glaring at him.

One made a move, grabbing a chair and swinging it at Ghost. It made perfect contact, nailing him directly in the forehead.

CRACK

The chair split into several shattered pieces, Ghost still holding his wicked smirk. Mah turn, buttercup.

Too fast to keep up with, his left heel shot directly into the mans chest, sending him crashing back through one of the high-backed booths. Wood splinters filled the air as the two other brawlers stared in disbelief.

What...the hell? Earl, ya got the gun?

Don't I always? The man gave a sick grin, three of his teeth missing. He pulled a small calibre 9mm from his coat pocket, aimed directly at Ghost's heart. We don't take kindly to strangers. Especially ones that would make a pretty lady cry. You're dead pal. He pulls the trigger, sending the round straight to Ghost.

It made a loud thud, not against his chest, but against the palm of his hand, which he'd shielded himself with. Clenching his fist, he dropped the crushed bullet on the ground, stepping forward.

Boy, lemme give ya some advice. Ah ain't sure if ya noticed or nothin', but ah obviously ain't got skin. He stands in front of the hick, who's already dropped the gun. Ah'm not sure how you Louisiana folks think, but what you just done was pretty damn stupid. Yer gonna have ta die for it.

W..what?

Just as fast as his bullet had fired, a fist was driven into his stomach. With a sickening snap, his spine shattered. He dropped to the ground in front of Ghost, blood leaking from his lips.

Aw hell, he got blood on mah boots. He turns his attention to the third, remaining hick. Ya got anything else smart ta try? Ah'm open ta suggestion.

Without another word, the man runs out of the bar, leaving Ghost behind with two dead bodies and a broken chair. Shrugging, he lights another cigar, making his way to the register.

Ah count mah money backwards...

In a world full of super heroes and super villain's it was impossible, at the moment, for Nathaniel to be able to deploy to any where and every where. His employer, Connor Claret, said once he had his best minds working on some sort of teleportation device but until then Nathaniel would just have to move from one state to another doing what he could when super heroes and super villain's decided to duke it out.

At the moment, he was located in Louisiana, specifically New Orleans heading towards the French Quarter. It was a slow night, nothing very specific was going on but Nathaniel had a hunch about this specifically. He was already suited up and was the first to arrive at the scene. Pulling up in a Hummer with the Claret Research and development Institute initials pained on the side.

Making his way into the back, Nathaniel armed himself with his AR-13, his typical gadgets, and the HG-11. From the report, it was a simple bar fight but there was confusion about that guy being some sort of 'skeleton'. "AIVAS." Nathaniel said stepping out of the back of his Hummer, "Pull up what information you know about any supers who are or resemble skeletons."


There was a blip on his HUD as Nathaniel approached the door, he readied the AR-13 against his shoulder and stepped into the bar spotting someone by the cash register. "Freeze." With steady aim, Nathaniel cautiously approached keeping his distance. "With the power invested in me by the United States of America and the United Nations I have been granted permission to take what measure I deem necessary to ensure the public safety from super powered individuals. Under contract, i offer you the choice to surrender, and if you refuse to surrender I am authorized to subdue you with lethal force if i deem it necessary." Nathaniel spotted the two bodies, it was obvious what had transpired and by the looks of it he was not normal.

Ghost had already tore through the register, pocketing a nice 3 grand. Ah, cigar money. Ah can smell it now!

Holstering Rarity, he slammed the register drawer shut, just as the door flew open. A man stood in the doorway with an assault rifle aimed directly at him.

United Nations? Oh, yer one o' them fedral boys, ain't ya. Then you should know all about me already. Name's Ghost.

Bracing his hand against the counter, he hops over it, pulling the brim of his hat down as a cigar falls out.

Ah didn't think ah would be gettin' reinforcements any time soon. Yer late though, pally. These punks already tried attackin' me. O' course, I was in mah full legal rights to defend mahself, Article III Subsection II of the Civilian Code, although ah don't expect they teach you greenhorns that stuff.

He gives a toothy grin, walking closer to the newcomer. Put yer weapon down, boy. Ain't no need tah get violent. We're both men here. Here, take one o' mah cigars. Straight from Columbia, hell hole that it is.

He pops open a silver case full of tight-wrapped cigars.

Nathaniel quickly popped a shot off in front of Ghosts' next foot step. "I said freeze. Put both hands above your head and get on your knees. The authorities will be here shortly where you will be escorted to the Police Department for questioning on the death of these two men." On a small side window within Nate's HUD, it gave some details on who Ghost was. Apparently, he was some sort of radio host for a program called True Capitalist Radio. Not to many more details were on the database but seeing how openly he killed these two men it was obvious it wasn't the first time he had killed.

There was no evidence that this man worked for the government and from the reports he heard on the police scanner it was a bar fight turned two accounts of man slaughter. The window disappeared as Nathaniel stood his ground waiting to see if Ghost would take his advice, if not he would use force to subdue him. Nathaniel had a feeling there was going to be a fight, this guy seemed to be very confident in his abilities by the way he carried himself.

Boy, ya got a lot a nerve, pointin' yer fancy gun at an innocent.

In an instant, Rarity was already unholstered, barrel pointing directly into the assault rifle's barrel.

Ah don't like the tone yer taken, boy. Ah don't plan on goin' anywhere. Ya see, yer government is tha reason ah'm like this. Ah'd be a dumbass ta mosey on back there. So, here's mah advice. Take yer pretty gun and skeedadle, before ah have to rip ya limb from limb.

The lack of eyes in his head didn't hinder the obvious malice in his voice. His crooked smile was enough to unnerve most regular people.

Three....two....

Ghost was quick to the draw, but with his gun already trained on the skeleton man gave him the advantage as he quickly pointed the AR-13 to his knee's and squeezed the trigger unleashing rounds of laser tipped heavy armor piercing rounds. I tad over kill but something told Nate this guy wasn't that much alive anyway.

Simultaneously as he opened fire he started strafing to the left quickly for when Ghost would undoubtedly start opening fire on him. His armor could withstand a lot of fire power, and though the revolver Ghost was using had a lot of power behind it would take more than six rounds to put Nate down.

The skeletal stranger would most likely scare most people, but Nate being a veteran in the special forces had seen some things far scarier than what this bag of old bones had to offer. A psycho was a psycho in his book, and he won't discriminate between having skin or not having skin.

The kid was skilled, that's for sure. Usually, most were intimidated by Ghost. The initial shock of the boy opening fire caught him off guard, but his reactions weren't so bad that he would go down that easily. He jumped back, dodging the first few bullets. Little time to think, Ghost propelled himself back over the counter, ducking behind the cover. He smiled to himself.

Boy, you've got a trigger finger. Shoot first, ask later, right? Ah like that. But let me tell you right now, nobody shoots at Ghost and gets away with it.

What the boy had in firepower, he lacked in physical ability. Although his armor was thick, he was still only human. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter, he stuffed his handkerchief in, soaking it in the alcohol. He pulled out his custom lighter, flipping the top and striking it.

o/' Ah fell in to tha burnin' ring of fire o/' He sang to himself as he lit the handkerchief. Letting the blaze spread over the whiskey soaked cloth, he tossed it over the counter. Johnny Cash is just tha best inspiration.

The walking dead man was fast, as soon as Nathaniel opened fire the man bolted for the best cover he could find which was behind the bar counter. Ceasing fire, Nathaniel offered up one last chance. "Surrender yourself immediately. Don't prolong this longer than it has to." Suddenly, a cocktail went flying over the counter with no distinct aim and smashed onto the ground. "Damn it..." Nate said to himself under his breath as he placed his gun on his back and reached for a tweeter on his belt. 'Have to put those flames out and avoid to much property damage, not to mention how close this building is to others it could spread.'

Setting off the tweeter, Nate's helmet instantly deafened the noise so he was unaffected and tossed it on the opposite side of the bar counter. All the liquor bottles that were glass shattered by the ear piercing sounds as Nathaniel made his way to the closest fire extinguisher. He then proceeded to attempt and put out the fire while the tweeter was still going off, but he had limited time until the sound from the device would destroy itself.

Ghost groaned as the high pitched tweeter erupted, filling the bar with its cry.

Thought ah was done with these damn things.

Taking a risk, he looked up above the counter, watching the fire spread across the floor, scorching the tile and tables. But where was the boy? His "eye" scanned the clear field of view, until he finally saw movement in his peripherals. The boy had grabbed a fire extinguisher.

Atta boy, gimme somethin' to work with.

It was barely a few seconds before Rarity was back out, aimed directly at the boy. Without a word, he fired three times, directed at the extinguisher.

Nathaniel was on the move, but the tweeter soon destroyed itself and what followed were a few rounds being fired off. Three holes pierced the canister releasing the pressurized contents. Useless, Nathaniel chucked it over to the counter where the skeleton man had been firing from. It would cause a long enough distraction for him to remove his handgun from its holster and fire off a few rounds before using his free hand to launch a grapple into the cabinet above the criminal. With one mighty tug he pulled the thing down so it would fall onto the man while pressing a button to cut the cable on his grapple and re-hook it as he approached the bar counter gun raised ready to fire.

Nathaniel no longer had words for this man, and as the fire blazed behind him AIVAS sent out a distress call for the fire department to be present. AIVAS had also reported the police were positioning themselves outside armored up knowing that this was a fight against a super. They hoped that the CRDI agent inside could subdue the criminal or at least weaken him enough so that they could take him in.

CRASH

The Liquor Cabinet crashed down on his head, toppling him to the ground. His duster had three small holes in it where the bullets had pierced through. For a moment, all was quiet in the bar. The wailing sirens outside showed that the law enforcement had already arrived. He sighed with aggravation.

Persistent little bastard, aintcha.

He flexed his shoulders, pulling to his knees, lifting the cabinet off of the ground. With a loud thud, he set it back where it was, shattered glass and alcohol falling to the ground. He cracked his bony knuckles, looking at the boy.

If ya haven't figured it out, ah'm far from human. Them government boys are what did this to me. The same ones that gave you that fancy, albeit useless, piece of armor. Let me demonstrate.

Ghost unbuckled his duster, pulling the flaps apart. Where flesh should've been, there was bone. Three flattened pellets, once bullets, rested against his ribcage. Behind, his heart beat furiously. All down his body, the same sick sight. Organs bound between bones and metallic wires, held in place and acting on their own. With a shrug, he swiped the bullets off of him, closing his duster once again.

It's unwise to get on mah bad side. Ah'm all fun and games till some jackass thinks they can fight me. Ah'll give you a little show before ah go.

He places his hand against the counter. With little effort, he pushes down. The counter erupts into splinters of wood and tile, leaving nothing between the two of them.

Nathaniel had to admit, this guy had his reason for sure being the way he was but murder was murder. He was not going to surrender and with that sort of strength he just demonstrated it wouldn't be easy to contain him. If that had happened to Nathaniel, those experiments, than he wouldn't give a shit either. So, there weren't to many solutions to this and Nathaniel had to keep the public best interests in perspective.

"I don't work for the government." Nate stated, holstering his gun knowing it would do him no good at this point considering the bullets did nothing to him. "I'm an Agent of CRDI, you could say I'm how the normal non-super peoples plan to respond to the growing super population and their fights."

"You have murdered two men tonight, and caused a lot of property damage." The fire was starting to form all around them, his suit protecting him from the heat as he starred down his opponent. "..and it was senseless, a simple bar fight resulting in the death of two men? They might have had families, and friends who will grieve them."

A red beacon appeared on his HUD, indicating the government has granted permission to kill the Ghost. "Lucky for you, they didn't." AIVAS pulled up details on the two bodies, they were both notorious drunks, one was currently on parole for heavy drug usage and the other had a lot of assault charges. Low lives, the sort that would be found in a bar or be looking for a fight so they were basically asking to die in their own self destructive way.

There was more to this guy that just the typical criminal. He was normal once, maybe even had siblings or parents who cared for him. For one reason or another he was taken and experimented on. Nate guessed he escaped and probably wants revenge of some sort. The government had a lot of secret projects, Connor once told him he infiltrated area fifty-one and found a lot messed up secrets about the sort of experiments the government does in the pursuit of making perfect weapons.

It was a dilemma, risk peoples lives in a fight to the death against a super human and kill him for the sake of two low lives he murdered and a government cover up or let him walk. It didn't take long for him to decide."Sorry, but I've been authorized to take you down." Nate quickly fired his grapple at the Ghost, hoping to pierce him through the heart.

If it were a normal person, he'd be dead. But Ghost was far from normal. Years of reflexes trained him for this. The grappling hook smacked into the palm of his hand, fist balled over the hooks.

Open yer eyes. You think ah'm just a common murderer. Ah can tell by how easily you would attempt to kill me. Sorry, pardner, that ain't happenin'. You and ah are on the same side. Ah take it you've never even heard True Capitalist Radio, have ya. Mah job is to inform the people that you so desperately wanna protect. In a way, we have the same job. While ah may be a dick, and while ah can kill without two glances, ah still have a heart. Those two weren't worth mah bullets, and ah can't help that humans are weak. By now, if it were anyone else, you'd be dead. But yer not. Do ya know why?

He lazily began to toy with the hook, bending the points so that they formed a sort of pitchfork.

This man was certainly interesting, and as Nate was thinking Connors' voice came over his helmets com. "Cease fire..." Connor stated, who was back in his office over in Chicago watching from a far. "Try to talk him into having a meeting with me."

"A meeting?" Nate stated, the com beeping signaling the end of Connors transmission. The government may have given him the order to kill, but the man who signs his checks just told him to propose this man meet with him. Nate looked up to the skeleton man, wondering if he could trust him enough to bring him to CRDI in Chicago. "Government wants you dead, but my employer wants to meet with you. I leave the choice to you. Come with me to Chicago or we can draw this fight out and see who will die first."

Nathaniel was ready to move if he had to, his armor was bullet resistant but he sure as hell didn't want to test it against a high caliber revolver. He also wondered why Connor would want to speak with this guy for.

Atta' boy. But if ah go to Chicago, it's on mah own. Ah ain't so loose in tha head that ah'd just go along with ya quietly.

Whatever the kid had planned, he wasn't firing now, and that was good enough for Ghost. He flexed his fist, crumpling the hook to a near unrecognizable lump of scrap iron. He dropped it, popping another cigar into his mouth. Flipping out Rarity, he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the ceiling and lighting the stogie.

Sure ya don't want one?