"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Jinx breathed.
The triumphant smile she'd worn moments before was gone, replaced by the grim, cornered look of a rat that has just realized the maze has no exit.
Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"How is it keeping up?" Michael asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.
The van's speedometer hovered just over sixty.
"We're flying."
"It's not running," Jinx growled, her eyes darting between the road ahead and the phantom in her mirror.
"It's phasing. Hopping. Anchoring itself to the van's energy signature. It's painting us with a tracking signal for Rourke's goons."
A new, terrifying thought wormed its way into Michael's mind.
It wasn't just following them.
It was toying with them.
He half-expected a new notification to pop up on his HUD, its text a stark, mocking red.
[DEBUFF APPLIED: YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED.]
[EFFECT: IMPENDING SENSE OF DOOM, LIKELY TO RESULT IN A VIOLENT, REALITY-ERASING DEATH. DURATION: UNTIL DEATH.]
Chloe's voice crackled to life in his ear, stripped of all its previous calm.
It was sharp, cold, and laced with an urgency that was somehow more terrifying than Jinx's controlled panic.
"It's not just tracking you. It's waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Michael asked.
"For us to run out of gas?"
"It's waiting for a straightaway," Chloe stated, her voice a cold, tactical absolute.
"An open field of fire. It can't get a clean lock for a Phase-Ripper while you're weaving through traffic. The phasing process requires a stable targeting solution."
"We can't outrun it," Jinx said, the grim finality in her tone leaving no room for argument.
The Ghost was a fundamental part of their reality now.
"Then we have to fight it," Michael said, the words tasting like ash and stupidity.
He was a weapon currently running on two percent battery, and he was suggesting a fight with a literal ghost.
"Fight it with what?" Jinx shot back.
"Harsh language? Your witty remarks aren't going to give it a system error, kid. It's untouchable."
But even as she said it, a new resolve began to harden her face.
It was the look of a cornered animal deciding that if it was going to die.
"Hold on to something," she ordered.
Without another word, she yanked the wheel hard, the tires screaming.
They plunged down an exit ramp and into the dark, deserted labyrinth of the industrial sector.
Warehouses loomed like silent, metal giants on either side.
The streetlights here were sparse, broken, casting long, menacing shadows that danced and writhed like living things.
The Ghost followed, its shimmering form a constant, terrifying presence in their rearview.
It was a patient hunter, content to let its prey exhaust itself.
"What's the plan?" Michael asked, his hands gripping the dashboard so hard.
"The plan is to find a nice, long, straight piece of road," Jinx said, her eyes scanning the intersecting streets with the practiced gaze of a predator looking for the perfect ambush site.
"The plan," she added, "is to give it the shot it's waiting for."
"That sounds like a terrible plan," Michael pointed out, his voice trembling slightly.
"It's the only one we've got," she retorted.
She found it a moment later.
A long, straight service road that ran between two massive, windowless warehouses.
It was a perfect shooting gallery, a quarter-mile of straight, unbroken asphalt.
There was no cover.
No escape.
"Okay, kid," Jinx said, her voice deadly serious now.
"I need you to do something for me."
"Anything," he said, his mind racing.
"Take the wheel."
He stared at her, his brain struggling to process the command.
"What?"
"You heard me."
She was already unclipping her seatbelt, grabbing the monstrous, modified rifle from the seat between them.
"I need a stable firing platform. I can't shoot and drive at the same time."
"I can't drive!" Michael protested, the words tumbling out in a rush of pure panic.
"I failed my first road test. The instructor said I had 'an aggressive disregard for spatial awareness'."
"I don't need you to be good," Jinx snarled, her focus absolute.
"I just need you to drive straight. And don't crash. Can you do that?"
"I… think so?"
"Good enough."
In a motion that was far too fluid for the cramped space of the van, she scrambled over the console and into his lap, physically shoving him into the driver's seat.
He grabbed the wheel, his hands slick with sweat, the cold plastic feeling alien and terrifying.
Jinx was already leaning out the open passenger-side window, the heavy rifle braced against her good shoulder.
The cold rain plastered her bright pink hair to her forehead, and the distant city lights reflected in her fiercely determined eyes.
She looked like a valkyrie riding into hell on a plumber's van.
"Just keep it steady!" she yelled over the roar of the wind.
He stomped on the accelerator.
The van lurched forward, its engine screaming in protest.
The Ghost was at the far end of the road now, gliding towards them, its form solidifying, its shimmering outline becoming sharp and defined.
It was preparing to attack.
"It's an impossible target!" Michael yelled, fighting to keep the van from swerving.
"It's flickering!"
"Wait for the solid state!" Chloe's voice commanded in his ear, a cold, tactical anchor in the chaos.
"Its phasing ability is an immense power drain. To channel the Phase-Ripper, it has to become fully corporeal for a fraction of a second! That is your window, Jinx! It will not last!"
"Just a little closer," Jinx muttered, her eye pressed to the rifle's scope, her world narrowing to the circle of glass, the crosshairs, and the approaching specter.
The rain beaded on the lens, blurring the image.
She wiped it away with the back of a gloved hand.
The Ghost raised its shimmering hand.
A familiar, terrifying ripple in reality, a distortion like heat-haze over black ice, began to form around it.
It was gathering energy for the kill shot.
"Range, one hundred meters!" Chloe's voice was a sharp crackle in their ears.
"Energy signature spiking! It's preparing to fire! Stand by, Jinx… wait for the solid state!"
"I see it," Jinx breathed, her voice a low whisper.
"Seventy-five meters! It's locking on!"
Michael's foot was trembling on the accelerator.
The brick wall of a warehouse seemed to be rushing towards them.
He was driving them straight into the mouth of the beast.
"Fifty meters! Jinx, now! Fire!" Chloe yelled.
Jinx's entire body went rigid.
She held her breath, letting half of it out, just like her father had taught her a lifetime ago.
The world slowed down.
The roar of the engine, the hiss of the tires on the wet road, Michael's panicked breathing—it all faded into a distant hum.
There was only her, the rifle, and the target.
She squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The rifle bucked against her shoulder with a force that felt like a physical blow, a vicious kick that sent a starburst of pain through her already wounded body.
The sound was a deafening crack of thunder that shook the entire van.
The Phase-Disruptor round screamed down the alley.
It was not a bullet.
It was a bolt of captured, chaotic, silver-blue lightning, a needle of pure unraveling energy.
It hit the Ghost at the exact, infinitesimal moment it became fully solid.
There was no explosion.
No blood.
No satisfying splatter.
There was just a sound.
A high-pitched, electronic SCREEEEECH of a thousand systems failing at once, a sound that grated on the teeth and vibrated deep in the bones.
The Ghost's body convulsed violently.
Its form flickered, stuttered, and glitched.
Its shimmering form dissolved, not into dust, but into a shower of dying, digital sparks, like fireflies made of static and regret.
It crashed sideways into the brick wall of the warehouse, leaving a blackened, sizzling scorch mark where its unstable energy had made contact with the real world.
Then, it was gone.
Silence descended, broken only by the panting of the van's tired engine and the soft patter of the rain.
Jinx pulled herself back into the van, her face pale, her arms trembling from the recoil.
She slumped into the passenger seat, her body screaming, breathing hard.
She had done it.
A wave of dizzying, hysterical relief washed over Michael.
He slammed on the brakes, the van skidding to a halt just feet from the end of the service road.
He started to laugh, a ragged, breathless, half-sobbing sound.
They were alive.
"Impressive," Chloe's voice said in his comm, the single word of praise feeling like a medal of honor.
"Extremely impressive."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Jinx panted, her fingers fumbling as she ejected the spent crystalline casing from her rifle.
It clattered to the floor, smoking and inert.
She looked at the small, lead-lined box on the seat beside her.
She opened it.
Inside, nestled in soft foam, were the four remaining rounds.
Four magic bullets.
Four chances.
"That's one down," she said, her voice grim, the reality of their situation crashing back down on them, cold and heavy.
"Four to go."
Chloe's voice came back, cold and final, pulling them back to the mission.
"Phase one complete."
"Proceed to the rendezvous point."