Striker Fight

In Striker's world, everything is perfect. He gets everything he wants, when he wants. But in the Forbidden Human world, chaos arises, and so Striker must join a new super-human army force to stop the chaos before it reaches Zikansat, the perfect world where Striker lives. But as Striker fights for the the other world, he learns that Zikansat isnt as great as he thinks, and how the humans live better lives.

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1. Stupid Spook

"Striker, look!"

Already bored by his dull, gloomy surroundings, Striker viewed his present girlfriend with distaste. How anyone could get excited about wild fairies used to surprise him; now, he was surprised when he met someone who wasn't excited by them.

Fairies, and especially wild fairies, were menacing, tiresome little creatures who fed off trouble, so it was only fitting to find out they only understood one word; mischief. Back at home, the fairies kept banging on Striker's window when he was trying to sleep; their bright, sparkly wings illuminated his tiny, square room and their hard, shell-protected bodies made loud, thudding noises against the glass.

"Striker!" Startled by her change of tone, Striker glanced up from where his gaze had settled on Martisha's heaving chest. Martisha made a sulky pout from where she sat perched on Striker's lap, rubbing her arms briskly over her sudden goosebumps.

"Did you hear what I just said? Striker, I'm your Goddamn girlfirend and yet you never listen to me! I said, 'the wind's picking up.' We'd better make our way home."

"Mar, let's just stay a little longer." Slowly, seductively, Striker wound a lock of Martisha's curly, blonde hair round his finger as he shifted her weight from one thigh to the other. As she giggled, he slowly slid her off his lap onto the sandy shore of the beach. Martisha watched mesmerised as Striker turned his back on her, shrugging off his stripy, blue shirt. Striker had to grin at himself; he was pretty good at seducing the ladies.

When he turned round, his muscles twitching from the harsh gusts of stormy wind, Martisha had already removed her own skimpy T-shirt and was resting her head against the rocky sea wall behind her that stopped the salty, acidic water from reaching the village. Striker knew that his curfew was up and the Difopods would soon be out looking for stray ghosts to send to the abandoned, red lighthouse to haunt the fishermen that dared to pass the beach, but right now, he couldn't care less. The Difopods didn't often check the beaches, and even if they did, the young couple were hidden behind the high sea wall.

Striker hated the Difopods even more than he hated the fairies. Difopods were senior ghosts who had been appointed by the Zikansat Law HQ to patrol the cities of the Zikansat world. There were no countries situated on Zikansat, but there were millions of cities all over the planet.

Zikansat was the underworld equivelant to Earth, or as the ghost called it, the Forbidden Human world. Zikansat was where all ghosts were banished to after their human self had passed away, and the Zikansat Law HQ had ruled out visiting Earth again once a ghost had formed on Zikansat. Ghosts started new lives on Zikansat, as each person was born again but in a ghost form, starting from the age that they died, which wasn't exactly fair. Striker didn't like talking about his past life, where he had died in a car-crash at the mere age of 18.

Striker was also the name that he had chosen for himself when he had been escorted to Zikansat two years ago, and since the last happy moment of Striker's life had been watching his favourite football team Arsenal win an all important game, Striker felt that he should call himself what he had always wanted to be: Striker. Besides that, Striker had hated his past name, which had been boring Simon Smith.

Slowly, Striker eased himself onto Martisha's slim form, nuzzling her soft, pale neck. Martisha moaned in appreciation and slid her hand down his back towards the waistband of his jeans...

Suddenly Martisha tensed, her sharp nails digging into Striker's lower back. Letting out a slow breath, Striker tried to keep his frustration inside him as he tilted Martisha's head back, looking into her wild, icy-blue eyes.

"What is it?" He asked softly, shaking her gently by the shoulders.

Martisha let out a choked cough and whispered quickly, her lower lip trembling,"Someone's coming."

Striker watched as Martisha's entire body began to hover above the sand, head first, until she stood in the air with her toes pointing down. Thousands of tiny grains of sand dropped from her arched back as she floated higher and higher into the inky-blue night sky, leaving Striker alone on the tiny beach. Looking desperately from side to side, Striker began to climb the rocky sea wall, already forgetting a floating and fast-fading Martisha. She couldn't help him get away, they both knew; she could only save herself.

That was the one thing that got in the way of Striker's new life; he couldn't float-and-fade.

The float-and-fade process was the most important part of being a ghost, and Striker just couldn't do it.

 

 

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