A Ghost of a Chance Chapter 3 — Dead or Alive A Comics Retcon Story by Maggie Finson

It isn't a comfortable existence, and Diana is about to discover that it is far less comfortable than she'd once feared.
 

I came out of the bathroom, still as nasty as it had been the first time I’d landed in this room, but had cleaned myslef up by dint of effort, the soap, washcloths and towels I now habitually brought with me, and carefully NOT touching the Toilet or sink with bare skin. Using the rusty shower was entirely out as far as I was concerned.

“This isn’t a charity, sweety.” I looked over at the kid still spread across the poor excuse for a bed while stepping into my panties. “We have to be out of here in fifteen minutes. Leo adds to the charges by the minute if I go over the usual hour.”

“How come you do this kind of thing for a living?” The boy, hardly older than I appeared to be now questioned naively. “I mean you’re so pretty, you could do something else to make money, couldn’t you?”

“None of your business, kid.” I answered then relented a little. “Girl’s got to eat, and pay the rent and utilities, you know. I do lots better at this money-wise than I would wiggling my sweet ass for tips in some restaurant, anyway.”

“Sorry.” He actually lowered his eyes and blushed. How cute. But it still didn’t change the realities I had to deal with on a day to day — or in this case, night to night basis just to make ends meet. And the night was young, with pleasant weather, and most of the guys out looking for some had just been paid.

“Be sorry all you want later.” I grimaced at him while getting back into my bra. “But right now get your butt off that mattress and get dressed. Playtime’s over, honey.”

The boy nodded and started getting dressed while still watching me do the same thing. Once I had myself put back together, I waited for him to finish, gave his cheek a little pat and invited. “Come back any time. Just ask for Deena, everyone around here knows me.”

Repeat business never hurts, after all. I didn’t even glance back as I strutted away from the seedy, sagging, so-called motel in search of more income for the evening. Rent was due at the end of the week, and I’d just paid my tuition for school so needed the money.

A month or so ago I’d have gone ballistic, literally, if anyone had dared suggest I earn a living with what I’d just done. But four failed interviews for lousy waitressing jobs convinced me that the job market in good old River City was down the toilet for sure. And I did need to eat, had the experience — by proxy at first — but it was there, to make at least some decent money doing something the body I now had enjoyed. So I ended up doing what I could. Don't like it? Me neither, really, but like I said. A girl has to eat.

Then again, a month or so ago I hadn’t been a sexy, nicely put together, sassy little redhead with bright green eyes. I hadn’t even been female.

Life can sure go to crap when you die.

I should know. Because it happened to me and I made the mistake of accepting someone’s, or something’s, offer at a chance to return to the land of the living without checking out the fine print of the agreement. Silly me.

So, instead of being returned to my own, admittedly bullet riddled body, I ended up in some 19 year old hottie of a redhead who was killed about the same time I was and who just happened to make a decent living at one of the world’s oldest professions. To say I was pissed off over that would be kind of an understatement. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh, no, not even close.

I had an alter ego that could float in the air, move to different places and right through walls just by willing it so, and who — just incidentally, mind you — had every cop and half the supers in town looking for me. Nuts, being a pretty little prostitute was the easy part of the deal.

I got visions, imaginary of course, of that being who’d recruited me laughing its metaphysical ass off over the whole thing.

When it didn’t have me killing people, that is.

Oh, they weren’t good people and every one of my victims had deserved to die, richly deserved it I thought. It’s just that I wasn’t given a choice. The Voice called, and I had to answer. That was the deal we’d made.

Life is shit then you die, the saying goes. Well I got news for you on that one. Life after death isn’t all that rosy either. At least mine isn’t.

“Hey Deena!” A too familiar, but happily human voice interrupted my stroll down to the corner of memory, regret, and failed expectations and I looked up, then up some more then up a little on top of that. Man, being five foot three is a bitch at times, to see Ritchie Morrow looking down at me with his usual enticing grin from the now daunting altitude of six feet six inches. I didn’t even bother to wonder any longer why guys looked enticing, or — heaven help me — sexy, it just kind of went with the territory.

“Heya, Ritchie.” I responded without much enthusiasm. “Time is money here, you know, and I have way too little of both right now.”

Ritchie was one of the local pimps. Not one of the worst, by a long shot, and he was generally a good guy who took care of his girls, didn’t get them strung out on dope or let them get that way, and allowed them to quit when they wanted. Kind of weird for one of those types, but it worked. His stable was never close to empty and his girls all loved him one way or another. The only problem I had with him was that he was always trying to talk me into joining his business.

“This’ll only take a minute.” He promised and I could see something in his brown eyes that didn’t settle all that well. Worry. Ritchie seldom allowed himself to worry about things, if something bothered him, he took care of it, problem or otherwise. “Just wondered if you’d seen Lainie or Sue tonight is all.”

“Nope.” I shook my head and shrugged. “Maybe they got some uptown work tonight?”

“Not without letting me know about it, they wouldn’t have.” The big man really did look worried. Lainie was a cute Latina with a bod to give a Marilyn Monroe wannabe jealous fits, and Sue was a slender, elegant looking blonde with a tongue sharper than a razor if you got her started. “I haven’t seen either one of them since yesterday, either.”

“I can keep a lookout for them.” I told him, seeing where his concern was coming from and it wasn’t the loss of his cut from their work. “And I’ll ask around, see if I can find anything out, too.”

That was me for sure. At least it was now. Sweet, friendly, approachable little Deena Elaine Dawson who had done so many favors for people that she had lots of friends in the neighborhood. Lots of friends. Not that I had a heart of gold or anything so altruistic and neither had the original Deena. But enlightened self interest can often be taken that way. Especially when the girl using it was drop dead gorgeous like I was.

“Thanks, Dee.” He turned to get on with his own business but turned to give me another of those worried looks. “You be careful out here tonight. Lainie and Sue aren’t the only girls gone missing lately.”

That was true enough. But the others that had disappeared were the kind you’d expect that from for one reason or another. Ritchie’s two girls weren’t. They were working their way through school just like I was and so what if our choice of employment wasn’t your usual part time job? And like I’d mentioned before, they adored the guy.

“You know me, Ritchie.” I gave him a grin. “I’m always the careful one.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorted. “Like you were careful when you busted Little Charlie’s nose.”

I’d done more than break the guy’s nose. Little Charlie wasn’t little at all. At least not physically he wasn’t. The guy was a pimp, too, and one of the bad ones who roughed up his girls without the slightest provocation and had tried to strong arm me into his stable one night about three weeks ago. I’d given him the flat of my hand to his nose then broken the hand he had around my arm. Then made sure to kick him hard enough to make sure his privates wouldn’t be interested in anything but getting the pain to stop for awhile. I know martial arts, Tai Kwan Do to be exact, and am a bunch stronger than I look.

Which had made things a little dicey around the old neighborhood for a bit. Little Charlie isn’t exactly the forgiving kind if you know what I mean. So some of my ‘friends’ paid the guy a visit and more or less sort of gently ‘explained’ what would happen to him if anything happened to me. Huh! Sometimes the power I had over things and people with this tiny, weak looking body was intoxicating. Other times it was just scary.

Speaking of scary… “Diana Spectre, I need you.”

Closing my eyes I shook my head in useless denial. When The Voice called, I had to go. Whether I wanted to or not. I just answered, “Five minutes, okay? I’m working.”

Three minutes and twenty seconds later I was in a very dark secluded spot and called my alter ego and costume to me. You know, the one that was now on wanted posters in every post office and cop shop in town?

Well, I was taller, even without the heels. Even with dead white skin, and the red eyes that really did glow, I was still sexy — some things just don’t change - there is no such thing as justice in the world — in a freaky, gothy way. Okay, so the skimpy green silk bikini and knee boots on those four inch stiletto heels helped that along some. I sooo had to get this idiot costume changed into something a little more — umm, modest. One of these days.

The hooded cloak was still a pain, but at least it covered some of the huge amount of skin the rest of the outfit so gleefully showed off. I checked to make sure my nine millimeter Taurus was safely in its holster at the belt slung low on my generous hips and nodded. Then took a brief look at myself in a dirty window close by. The dark didn’t keep me from seeing at all, which was kind of a kick, but also a way to let me see the form my own personal Hell had taken.

I was The Spectre. At least what the newsies were calling me these days. Hunted, hated, feared, and still so gorgeous it hurt. Not to mention that I was a known violent criminal type of vigilante. It didn’t matter that my violence was committed on people who were trying to do the same thing to innocent people, and had done it before. Oh, no. That didn't matter, or help my public image at all. Sure, I got the bad guys and the ones I got stayed that way. As in the way being very dead had of making sure of things like that. Which had the cops and do gooders in an uproar.

I looked at this way, though. If a bad guy was dead, he wouldn’t be getting out of jail to do bad things again.

Hey, I never claimed to be a nice person, did I?

I was doing my usual floating over the city thing and kind of doing what I could to watch over what I was fast starting to consider as my neighborhood when I was interrupted again.

“There.” The Voice pointed towards the warehouse district with an invisible finger. “Go there, Diana.”

“There.” I answered, and was. Hovering above some of the more run down storage buildings in the city and maybe on the planet. As for that invisible finger pointing thing? Don’t ask. I don’t know how I can ‘see’ an unseeable being using an invisible finger while invisibly pointing at some place it wanted me to go. Just trying to figure that one out gives me a headache.

“Now what?” I searched for the distinctive ‘taste’ of my preferred victims, but suddenly found myself even more disoriented than I had been when I first woke up to find myself as I was just then.

I was suddenly in a much different place. With people in odd costumes wandering through stalls filled with other things just as weird until it dawned on me that I was at some kind of convention dedicated to comics.

“What the…”

“Remain quiet and watch, Diana Spectre.” The Voice commanded and I of, course, obeyed. Even if it was with a little — okay maybe a bunch of — mental bitching over it. “It is not yet time for you to intervene.”

It was about then I noticed the people in the area were running away and screaming in real terror. And it wasn’t from me for a change. That at least was refreshing.

Until I saw what everyone was running from. And it was me. Kind of.

Only the figure was male and not wearing the skimpy bikini top I did and he had on real shorts instead of the brief little bottoms yours truly was currently stuck with. And he was HUGE.

Not to mention in a mindless rage of need for something I could vaguely sense to be — vengeance? Is that how I was when I went on a tear?

“NO, you are not like that, Diana Spectre.” The Voice assured me. “Be ready it is nearly time.”

All that rage, all that need, was directed towards an inoffensive looking blond guy seated at a table and frozen in place with fear. I could feel the man’s guilt over something, even the gist of what it was over, but was confused by one thing. The male Spectre form was wrong. This guy wasn’t deserving of the kind of payment I gave out.

“Not yet.” The Voice stopped me from moving between the two just as a green clad streak did just that. At first I thought it was that superhero Jade, but then realized it was the Jade Clone who was being called Green Lantern Zwei by most people. The power within her wasn’t something I was prepared for at all. It swelled till she was filled and then kept growing around her like a living, breathing thing that just happened to be part of her. Worse, that power recognized me, and I recognized something in it.

“Star Heart.” The Voice calmly informed me. “It won’t harm you or try doing so. Not this time.”

“Oh, now that’s comforting.” I shot back with a grimace. Whatever this Star Heart was, it was powerful. Really powerful.

The girl shouted something I didn’t catch, and a green ‘something’ emerged from her extended hand to slam the other Spectre back and forced it to go insubstantial. But it was still there, and gathering strength for another try at the man still seated at the table.

“Now.”

I moved, and discovered that the male version of me could see me. Well all the better. I gave it a long look and felt… Pity. Is that how others look at me when they can see what I really am, I wondered for a moment?

“That one is not for you.” I told him and quite firmly remained between the two no matter what the male me, the empty me attempted. “He has committed no crime. The guilt he knows is not from willfully causing another person harm.”

“Mine.” It insisted.

“No.” I answered gently. “No he isn’t. Go.”

Well, it wasn’t - quite that easy. When is it ever for me?

The creature I had finally understood wasn’t me at all, flailed, struck out with hands, fists, and blasts of energy that filled the nothing space we were in. But I held my ground, and kept it from reaching its intended target. Finally, exhausted, it just blinked out of existence. Not gone somewhere else, just plain gone.

“That was — intense.” I breathed once it was finished.

Then moved to take a look at the blond guy this had all been about. To discover that he could see me. No one else seemed able to do that, thankfully, and there were some people buzzing with a power I instinctively recognized as magic trying to do just that. I guess the fight with the male not-me had stirred up more than I’d thought.

But the man’s blue eyes widened and he was staring.

So what did I do?

Kissed him. Yeah, just leaned forward and kissed him. Then gave him a grin and a wink while holding a finger to my lips in a shushing gesture. “Whatever your guilt is, Kyle, her death wasn’t your fault. You don't deserve to become one of my prey. Life is good, go enjoy it again.”

Kyle. Now how did I know his name? Didn’t matter. The magic types were starting to get a bead on me and I gave him one more grin and did my vanishing act.

“What the Hell was that?!!” I demanded when I found myself again hovering above those warehouses back in friendly River City.

“That was a version of the spirit you accepted when you took my offer.” Voice informed me. “But it was flawed. Without a host it was nothing but undirected need and all encompassing vengeance without thought or direction, save for slaking its need. It would have caused untold destruction and needless death had you not intervened.”

“Why him though?” I questioned. “Why Kyle?”

“He was the intended host.” Voice answered. “But the spirit was blind with its own need and not possessed of the wit to understand. Seeing only the guilt the man felt and taking that wrongly as a target for its purpose. It would have killed the man then gone on to do as I just told you. And no magic on this world could have stopped it had you not done so.”

“Right.” I let out a heavy shuddering sigh, suddenly feeling very tired and underwhelmed. “So I saved the world this time around, right? Good for me.”

“I took you there as an object lesson, Diana Spectre. I could have stopped the spirit without you, but you needed to see for yourself what an unbridled need for vengeance is capable of when it is used without thought and compassion for innocents nearby.”

I was starting to get a really bad feeling about where this conversation was heading. “And you showed me that, are telling me this… why?”

“In days to come you will feel that very rage, the need to commit undirected vengeance against something anything in your path.” Voice answered softly. “You must not give in to that, no matter how you might wish to do so.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I have no wish to see you become the monster part of your being fears you already have.”

That was more than I was prepared to listen to. Even from The Voice.

“Okay, I got that.” Glowering at the general area, I found that I was shaking. “Is that all you want for now?”

“Yes, Diana.”

“Good. I’m tired so I’m going home now.”