LIVELY SPIRITS
1. Midnight Special
She runs.
She runs hard and fast, her silhouette passing like a ghost under the moonlight.
It's all she's ever known, that and killing.
But for the first time in a long time, she's running with a sense of purpose. Ever since her encounter with Janet Van Dyne, she felt that there was a future for her beyond years of never-ending pain.
Turning the corner, she quickly ran down the alley way and phased through the brick wall at the end. Finding an empty room, she halted. Ava Starr took off her mask gasping for breath seeing as she'd just ran faster and further than she ever had in her life, and for good reason.
Looking down at her side, she felt a stinging sensation as she saw a small graze where the agent had shot at her. She was fascinated by the small wound, the blood slowly seeping out staining her light grey quantum-stabilization suit. Ava knew pain, but never had she known it localized to a specific part of her body. It was fascinating to her, albeit in a rather macabre way.
I'm more than just a ghost now…
If someone would have told her just last week that there was a chance for her to end the constant quantum phasing that had afflicted her since she was child, she would have laughed in their face. If they added that there she'd also find a way to end the pain that came with it, she would have threatened to punch their face in. And if they also said that by the end of that week, she'd end up on the other side of the country running away from the same people who'd recruited her to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place, she'd have half the mind to snap that someone in two.
Just as she placed her mask back on and readied herself to head back to her hideout, she heard the familiar click of a gun's safety being switched off.
"Alright, now." A rich southern accent started. "Don't move an inch."
Turning around she was greeted with the sight of a bearded man in an olive-green suit holding a pistol at her.
Under normal circumstances she would've just beaten the man into a pulp. But given the untested changes to her molecular structure due to Janet Van Dyne's interference, she wasn't going to be too liberal in finding out her new limits. A small stab of pain from where the bullet had grazed her had seemed to agree with her self-diagnosis.
The man slowly moved closer, his hand steady as he held his gun up to her head. She knew that she needed to think fast, or all the pain and torture of the past few years would be all for naught. But before she could so much as consider her next move, the man suddenly shifted his aim up to the rafters above her and fired off three shots.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
From behind her she saw the bodies of the people after her, their gear and equipment smashed by the weight of the fall and their guns broken into pieces.
Striding past her, the man in the green suit checked to see if her assailants were dead. A small gasp escaped from one of them, and she quickly stepped forward ready to strike. But then the man without so much as a thought quietly hovered over the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's broken body and swiftly kicked his head, knocking him out cold.
He then kneeled and stuffed his hand into the agent's mouth, as if he was searching for something. Retracting his hand, he opened his fist to reveal a tooth.
"Cyanide capsule." He said to her, as he tossed it away and turned back to her. "My apologies for scaring you back there, ma'am."
"W-who are you?"
"One of Gotham's finest." He her a small smile as he showed her his police badge. "Detective Jim Corrigan, at your service."
Whatever further thoughts, words, introductions, or explanations he might have said next were instantly lost to him when a fist suddenly collided with his face. Falling to the floor, he barely had time to recollect his thoughts when he saw the woman in grey lunge for him. Evading her advance, he quickly held his hands up.
"Now wait a minute." He dodged another swing meant for him. "I'm not here to arrest you, alright?"
She was skeptical still, maintaining her combat stance. But there was something in his voice that seemed to say that he was telling the truth.
"Look, look." He said as he reached for his holstered gun, his other hand still up in the air, and slowly placed it on the ground at his feet. "No guns. I'm not here to hurt you or to turn you in."
Her breathing still heavy from the chase and gunshot wound, she slowly relaxed her stance.
"Why are you helping me?" She asked, still apprehensive about the detective's motives.
"I saw you get chased by those men, saw you got shot. I thought you could use some help."
"No."
"No? You don't need help?" She saw how his eyes drifted to her wound as he asked.
"I mean 'no' as in 'no, there's more to it than that'."
Her time as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative taught her a few things about the human condition. And she knew that no one, not even an upstanding officer of the law, would just provide their total trust in a stranger without some ulterior motive.
There's always another angle to be considered.
The man – Detective Corrigan – smiled ruefully at her, as he nodded at her response.
"That's a pretty good point, I can't deny." He said, scratching the back of his head. "I would definitely be lying if I said that there wasn't more to my help than generosity. I'd like to tell you, ma'am, I really would. But frankly… you just wouldn't believe me."
"I doubt it." She retorted, feeling the familiar buzz of her molecules phasing through the quantum realm. "There's more to me than meets the eye after all."
At this moment she held up her hand as she saw the familiar sight of her hand fazing in and out of sight. To this, the detective only raised a brow and with a small smile that seemed to suit him in an odd yet sad way, he answered her.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
It was her turn to raise a brow as she properly assessed him for the first time. Average build, standard frame, short brown hair (with a single, yet prominent, grey streak), tired eyes, sad eyes if she was being poetic. His suit was a dark olive-green, slightly worn, the first two buttons on his shirt undone. There was nothing about him that ringed he was anything more than a run-of-the-mill police detective. But there was something else something in his demeanor, how he considered her, the way he spoke, that seemed to suggest something otherworldly.
And of course, there just has to be more to him than meets the eye.
"Shakespeare." He spoke up, shaking her thoughts away. "It's from – "
"Hamlet." She said, finishing his sentence. "It's from Hamlet, I know. Look, Detective Corrigan, I am on the run from some dangerous people right now and the last thing I need is the police getting involved. So, if you're offering your help then you better be bloody serious."
Straightening himself up, he looked her square in the eye. "I am."
Taking him in, she nodded quietly as he seemed to relax his posture slightly.
"Alright then." He started in his Southern twang, "First thing's first, we need to get you patched up."
Looking down at her wound, she quietly agreed to that consensus, the sharp pain seeming to increase with every moment that passed with it untreated.
A small groan from the unconscious man attracted their attention as the agent that was knocked out came to once more. She seethed quietly at the sight of her would-be-killer. Kneeling down in front of him, she phased her hand and stuck it into the man's throat.
"Why?" She all but screamed at him. "Why are you after me? S.H.I.E.L.D. is dead. And you've already milked me dry for all my talent to kill. So, what more do you want from me?"
The man, gasping for breath at the feel of her hand inside her neck, took a moment to smile horrifically at her.
"Of course S.H.I.E.L.D. does not want you. They are long since dead. But there are those among us who could use a woman of your talents."
"Who are you working for? Who sent you?"
"Go ahead, kill me. It won't matter in the end. Cut one head off, and two more shall take its place."
Her eyes widened recognizing those words. She'd heard them so many times before. It was a final scream of defiance that she had heard so many times before from a few of her targets back in her days working for S.H.I.E.L.D.
Hydra.
Ava looked at the man with a mounting mixture of fear and rage as his words seemed to knock all the life out of her. And just as she was about to let her fury take its course, she drew her hand back and dropped him back to the ground. Picking up the detective's discarded gun, she quietly aimed it at the man's side, and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the exact same spot she was shot at.
She didn't fail to notice how Detective Corrigan didn't flinch at the harsh display of brutality that unfolded in front of him. In fact, there seemed to be an odd flash of what may have been satisfaction in his eyes. Whatever it was, she would worry about it later. For now, she was content with getting patched up and having him out of her affairs as soon as possible.
"Let's go."
Without another word, she tossed his gun back to him and started walking away. As far as she was concerned, she was happy letting the Hydra agent bleed to death slowly and painfully. After taking a few more steps, she realized that the detective was still standing where he was.
"Are you coming?"
"In a minute." He said, turning back to her. "Wait for me outside. I'll catch up."
Ava considered him for a second. Probably still wants to ask the bastard some more questions.
"Go. I'll be out there once I'm done dealing with him."
Not thinking much, or rather not daring to think much else, about what he meant she nodded and walked out the room.
Had she stayed, however, she would've seen her suspicions about Jim Corrigan answered. As she left the room, he turned back to the bleeding Hydra agent. Detective Corrigan's face seemed to turn pale white and hollow, as a strange green ether started to surround his head and body, forming what appeared to be the faint outline of a hood and cloak.
The dying agent seemed to recoil in fear as he tried to scramble away from the ghostly sight forming in front of him. He had no time to scream, as the Detective slowly walked up to him. The poor agent's final sight would be that of Detective Jim Corrigan, his face appearing transparent as the sight of his skull flashed quickly like the face of death, and his eyes glowing in a deep and haunting green.
This isn't smart. Coming here was a bad idea. I've got to find Bill and get out of this town before -
She had been waiting in the alley behind the building for only a minute when the doors opened, interrupting her train of thought, to reveal the strange detective.
"Alright then, let's go." He started walking briskly down the dark alley-way. "My place isn't too far away. We can patch you up there."
"That man…", She started, following closely behind. "The Hydra agent. What did you do to him?"
He halted suddenly and turned to her with a haunted glaze over his eyes.
"I gave him everything that he deserved."
And before she could ask further, he continued walking. Reaching the street, he went took out his keys and walked over to a nearby SUV. They both got inside the car as he started the engine and quickly drove away, leaving no trace of their presence inside the old building.
They were both silent as he drove, him focusing on the road, and her concentrating on anything but the pain from her gunshot wound. The streetlights of the city seemed to illuminate the chaotic environment she'd found herself in. Desolate streets occupied only by litter and the occasional sight of a homeless person. Whole blocks of buildings that looked decrepit or abandoned.
What a pitiful sight.
"By the way," He spoke up, startling her slightly. "I don't think I ever got your name, miss."
"Ava." She responded after a beat. "My name is Ava Starr."
"Lovely name. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, then."
"And you, Detective Corrigan."
He chuckled softly, "Please, call me Jim."
"Jim." She answered, testing the name out loud. It seemed odd to her. It was too mundane for him.
The blaring, yet familiar sound of police sirens seemed to bring her back on alert. Two police cars on the other side of the street were heading toward them at full speed. She noted how Detective Corrigan – Jim – looked at her bemusedly as the two police cars sped past them.
With a smirk on his face, he turned to her.
"I'm guessing it's your first time here?"
She nodded silently, feeling more at ease as the sound of sirens slowly faded into the night.
"Well then, Ava Starr, welcome to Gotham City."
Welp, I started another story. I just couldn't resist. I saw Ant-Man and the Wasp, and immediately thought. "What if she met Jim Corrigan?"
Well, again this is mostly an experiment, serving mostly as a distraction while I finish up "AKA The Art of the Deal". I suppose you could say it takes place in the same crossover universe as that fic. It does in my head, at least. But this'll be unconnected to the events in that story.
Other than that, these characters are both based on their respective portrayals in the show and film. This is Jim Corrigan from "Constantine" and Ghost from "Ant-Man and the Wasp".
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
