Ghostbane

Max's eyes narrowed as Oliver darted down the cemetery,his speed surprising for someone so frail-looking. "Fuck, is that guy for real?" Max grunted in frustration, his legs pumping as he tried to close the gap between them. His fingers twitched, wanting to unleash his powers to catch the bastard, but the rules wouldn't allow it.

"I hate it when they run away," Max muttered under his breath, determination setting into his bones as he pushed forward.

"Yeah, well, better catch him then," Richard replied, his voice slightly out of breath. The two had been chasing Oliver for a few minutes, and the distance between them was slowly growing. Richard had always been fast, but Oliver's pace was unnervingly quick, especially for someone who had the appearance of a typical teenage delinquent.

Richard asked "Can't you use your power's to catch him? "

Max's eyes narrowed further. "Rule number one of being an exorcist," he huffed. "Never use your power on a civilian."

Richard shot him a confused look. "Are you serious? He's not a civilian, he's a fucking creep!"

Max didn't spare him a glance, his gaze focused entirely on the figure ahead of them. "I'm serious. If I use my abilities, he might get hurt. That's how powerful this kind of stuff can be. We need to play by the book."

Richard couldn't believe it. "So, you're telling me you can't just, like, burn him to a crisp or something? You're going to let him run just because of some stupid rule?"

Max shot him a glare, his breath coming harder now as they neared a corner. "No talking, just chasing. You wanna get answers or not?"

Oliver veered sharply into another alley, but Max wasn't losing him. His mind raced through options. He could run faster, but that would be a last resort. He wasn't about to risk breaking the rules unless absolutely necessary.

Richard puffed up his chest, keeping pace, but his impatience was evident. "He's fast, but not fast enough. Come on, let's just corner him—"

The sound of running feet grew louder ahead of them. Max's heart pounded in his chest. Oliver was fast, no doubt, but Max was closing in. The alleyway narrowed. He was close. Just a little more—

Oliver glanced behind him and cursed under his breath, pushing himself faster. He ducked into a side street, but that's when Max made his move. He cut off the escape route, quickly closing the distance.

Max's hand shot out, grabbing Oliver by the collar, spinning him around and slamming him to the ground. "Gotcha," Max grunted, a victorious smile curling his lips.

But just as he felt the moment of triumph, a loud crack of metal cut through the air.

"SWING!"

A baseball bat collided with Max's face, knocking him back and sending blood flying across the pavement. Max grunted in pain as he stumbled, momentarily dazed. His vision blurred for a moment, and the force of the blow knocked him off balance.

"Shit! Max!" Richard yelled, rushing to his side. But before he could reach him, Oliver was already scrambling to his feet.

"Don't just stand there!" Max shouted between gritted teeth. He wiped his bloody lip, getting back to his feet. "Get him!"

Richard lunged toward Oliver, but before they could catch him, a few figures emerged from the shadows. At first, it was just one or two guys, but more kept appearing—until there were eight of them, surrounding Max and Richard in a tight circle.

Richard clenched his fists, his brow furrowing in frustration. "You've gotta be kidding me. What, did you all get together for a fucking gangbang?"

One of the men, a hulking figure with tattoos all over his arms, sneered. "You got a big mouth for someone who's about to get his ass kicked."

Max shot him a dark look. "You don't wanna do this."

The man chuckled darkly. "I don't know, looks like fun to me. You two better start thinking about your next move."

Max's teeth gritted in frustration. "Can't believe this shit," he muttered. "Oliver's the rat, but we're getting surrounded by a damn circus."

One of the other thugs, a lanky guy with a scar running down his cheek, pulled out a knife and waved it menacingly in the air. "You're not getting out of here in one piece."

Richard's eyes flickered to the weapon before locking onto the thug holding it. "You really think that's going to scare us? That little knife's not going to do shit."

Max looked around the group, his expression cold. "We don't have time for this, but if you wanna fight, let's go."

Richard stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "I don't care what you guys have. You won't even last two minutes."

Oliver, still recovering from being knocked down earlier, looked at his backup with a smirk. "Yeah, do you think you can handle all of us?"

The thug with the bat stepped forward again, his grin widening. "They think they can take us all on? Cute."

Max's stance shifted, his hands now in fists. He exchanged a quick glance with Richard. There was no turning back now. They had to fight.

"Well, if it's a fight you want…" Max started, his voice dark, "you've got one."

Richard shot him a grin. "Let's kick some ass."

The tension in the air was palpable as the eight men closed in, surrounding Max and Richard. Oliver, still crouched on the ground, looked at his backup with a mix of satisfaction and fear, realizing that things were quickly escalating out of his control. Max and Richard, on the other hand, were unbothered. They had been through much worse, but even so, the odds were stacked against them.

Max wiped the blood from his mouth, glaring at the group. "Alright, assholes," Max sneered, "you wanna fight? Let's see what you've got."

Richard cracked his knuckles, his eyes scanning the group. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting tired of this game. Time to end it."

The first thug, the one with the baseball bat, took a swing, aiming for Max's head. Max barely ducked in time, his reflexes sharp despite the blood loss. The bat whooshed past his face, and Max took the opportunity to launch himself forward, knocking the thug off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground.

BAM!

Max grinned, clearly enjoying the fight. "That was too easy," he muttered, his voice cold.

Richard, not one to be left behind, charged toward the guy with the knife. The thug tried to swing it at Richard, but the blade missed as Richard dodged nimbly. Without hesitation, Richard grabbed the thug's wrist, twisting it and causing the knife to fall from his hand. In one fluid motion, Richard threw the thug to the ground, pinning him there with a knee to his chest. "Stay down," Richard growled.

Max was already on the move again, facing off with another thug who tried to charge at him from the side. "You should know better than to make me angry."

Max sidestepped, grabbing the thug's arm and using his momentum to throw him into a nearby wall. CRASH! The thug groaned in pain, clutching his side.

Meanwhile, the man with the bat struggled to get back to his feet, but Max was already there, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the concrete. "Not so tough now, are you?" Max taunted as he landed a punch to the thug's stomach. The thug gasped for air, but Max didn't stop, landing another heavy blow that sent him crumpling to the ground.

Richard, having dealt with his opponent, turned his attention to Oliver, who was still struggling to get away. "You think you can just run from us?" Richard sneered. "You're not going anywhere."

Oliver's eyes were wide with panic as he scrambled backward, his hands raised in defense. "Wait, wait! I didn't mean it! You guys don't know what you're messing with!"

Max scoffed, wiping his knuckles. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to get away."

But just as Oliver tried to make another break for it, the thug with the bat—who had recovered slightly—charged at Max again. This time, Max was ready. He dodged the swing, ducking just in time, and grabbed the bat mid-air. With a powerful twist, Max wrenched it out of the thug's hands, sending it clattering to the ground. He then threw a punch straight to the thug's jaw, knocking him back.

"Pathetic."

As Max and Richard continued to handle their attackers, the remaining thugs started to realize they were outmatched. Two of them rushed toward Richard, but Max was already intercepting them, grabbing one by the throat and throwing him into a streetlamp. CRUNCH! The other thug hesitated, clearly considering whether it was worth continuing the fight. Max locked eyes with him, and that was enough to make the thug think twice. He turned and bolted, running as fast as he could.

Richard, having knocked out another thug, turned toward Oliver, who was still trying to escape. But just as Richard moved to grab him, the remaining thugs—those who hadn't been knocked out—formed a barrier between them and Oliver, seemingly protective of him.

"Enough!" one of the thugs shouted, panting heavily. "We're not doing this anymore."

Oliver, still on the ground, wiped his face with his hand and looked at the group. "Get back. These guys are nothing. We can take them." He tried to stand, but his legs were unsteady. Despite his tough words, the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. "You really think these guys can stop us? You're pathetic."

But it was clear they were out of options. The thugs exchanged looks, realizing they were up against two highly skilled fighters who weren't backing down. They hesitated for a moment, glancing at each other, then at Oliver, who still seemed to be struggling to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.

Max took a step closer to Oliver, his voice sharp. "What the hell were you thinking, trying to pull this shit on Amelia?"

Oliver, trembling and defeated, looked up at Max, his lips curling into a smirk. "You'll never understand. You think you're stopping me, but I'm going to rise above you all... I'll be a god." His voice cracked slightly as he muttered, "And you'll never stop it."

Richard kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Shut up, you freak."

Oliver gasped for air, but the pain was too much. With a pained whimper, he collapsed back onto the ground. Max stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar.

"What did you do to Amelia?" Max demanded, his voice a low growl.

Oliver struggled to keep his composure, but the weight of his situation was finally sinking in. His voice trembled as he spoke, revealing everything. "I—I didn't want to do it. But... the ghost, it gave me power. It helped me cover up my murder. It promised me more—eternal power if I sacrificed Amelia. I cursed her... through my—my—" Oliver hesitated, his face turning red with humiliation. "Through my... dick. It's the only way."

Max recoiled in disgust, his eyes flashing with fury. "You're a fucking monster."

Oliver continued, his voice growing more desperate as the reality of his actions hit him. "I saw the ghost at the cemetery... It didn't attack me. It made the evidence disappear. And it promised me I'd gain power beyond imagination if I did this. I did what I had to do, to make sure I wasn't caught."

Max's disgust turned to rage. He lashed out, kicking Oliver in the balls, causing him to scream in agony.

"Shut the fuck up!" Max snarled.

Richard, equally disgusted, kicked him again, causing Oliver to lose consciousness from the pain.

Max shook his head, looking down at the fainted figure. "I don't know what's worse—his ego or his ignorance."

Richard stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants. "What now?"

Max pulled out his phone and dialed George's number.

"George," Max said when his grandfather answered. "We've got a problem. Oliver... he's the one who cursed Amelia. And it gets worse. He claims a ghost was involved. It helped him cover up a murder, and now he's trying to sacrifice Amelia for power."

There was a long pause on the other end before George responded. "Damn it. You need to pursue that ghost immediately. Amelia's on the verge of dying. Get to the cemetery, now"

Max was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his face as he tried to catch his breath. Oliver was on the ground, groaning in pain, his body battered from the fight. Richard stood beside Max, his own exhaustion visible as he watched the pathetic figure of Oliver.

"What should we do with him now?" Richard asked, still catching his breath.

Max looked down at Oliver, his expression filled with disdain. "Let him suffer. He's not worth our time anymore."

Oliver groaned, but neither Max nor Richard paid him any attention. They had what they needed from him, and that was all that mattered.

"Let's go," Max muttered, turning away from Oliver. He began walking toward the entrance of the alley they were in, and Richard quickly followed.