"1 sec" "1 sec" "1 sec"...
"The... The timer... It keeps resetting..." the scanner whispered in horror, his eyes locking onto the doll, the only thing sitting on the windowsill.
"What?" the burglar asked, still relaxed.
"Someone is still touching the windowsill..."
Gulping, he followed his partner's gaze and froze, staring directly into the eyes of the caricature doll.
His entire body locked up, his fingertips went numb, and his head spun, leaving only one thing in his consciousness: the lifeless stare of two black button eyes.
"What's their deal..." I muttered, hesitating for a moment before trying to possess at least one of them.
Suddenly, I realized the problem. They were dead.
"FUCK!"
I accidentally stopped their hearts! What the hell?! I was just supposed to swap consciousness, not cause a cardiac arrest! Such good potential vessels wasted... And worst of all, I'm sitting here alone again! Son of a bitch!
….
"Seen my cigarettes?" Enega asked, turning into the courtyard.
"Nope. I can give you your old ones," Clint replied, reaching for his backpack.
"Nah, I don't like those. I'll buy fresh ones later. Better yet..." Enega stopped the car and opened the door, but suddenly froze. "Wait. You carry my cigarettes around with you?"
"For good luck," Clint answered, ignoring Enega's skeptical look.
"You..."
Suddenly, a high-pitched beep from the depths of his backpack interrupted her. "What's that sound?"
Instead of answering, he grabbed the bag and pulled out his laptop. Along with it, he fished out a small remote that was emitting the beeping.
He silenced it, opened the laptop, and pulled up the emergency surveillance feed.
These were the same cameras he used for the cloud backups, but in a different mode.
The live broadcast only triggered when the alarm system was breached.
A vital security measure that also saved money, streaming 24/7 would have been an expensive pleasure.
"What the..." Clint stared at the footage, watching two strangers break into his apartment and wander around. "Tch. Should have used all the locks..."
"Think that would have helped?" Enega smirked, leaning on Clint's shoulder to peer at the screen. "That guy looks grim."
She pointed at the one who was carefully inspecting every item, getting more nervous by the second.
They exchanged a few words, checked all the rooms, and stopped in the living room, where one of the assholes plopped down onto Clint's favorite sofa.
"That scumbag." Clint couldn't hold back the insult. He and Enega had bought that sofa with money he saved from his part-time jobs.
Expecting Enega to scold him, he looked at her, but she just stared back in confusion.
"What? Scumbags should be called scumbags. Nothing wrong with a 14-year-old boy calling it like it is." Enega shrugged and looked back at the monitor.
In the short time they had looked away, a lot had changed. Now, the two robbers were lying on the floor, limbs twitching faintly as if in convulsions.
And standing directly over them was the ghost, looking like a mocking demon.
Suddenly, the entity arched its back and started screaming at the ceiling.
"Buuury the light deep withiiiin! Cast aside, there's no coming hoooome! We're burning chaos in the wiiiiiind! Drifting in the ocean all aaaloooone!"
The horrific voice tore through the speakers, forcing Clint to frantically lower the volume.
Gradually, the last spark of life faded from the bodies on the floor. The final thing they likely heard was the ghost's groaning wails, which he apparently considered singing...
Clint knew he should feel fear or disgust at the sight. But inside, he felt conflicted. What mattered more to him? The lives of the robbers? Or the fact that they dared to invade his home and dirty his sofa?
As immoral as it might sound, the sofa mattered more to Clint than the lives of those people. It was his sofa. His apartment. His sanctuary. These were robbers who had tried to take his things.
For a split second, he almost caught himself feeling glad the ghost was there to stop them, but he immediately swatted the thought away.
The last thing he needed was to be happy about another intruder.
"Are you sure it's a human soul?" Clint asked, turning to Enega, who was standing almost uncomfortably close to him. "He's standing over two corpses trying to sing..."
"Well... people are different, right?" she said uncertainly, stepping out of the car. "Besides, why don't you ask him yourself?"
"Excuse me?!" Clint slammed the laptop shut and scrambled out after her. "You're suggesting we go back into the apartment?"
"What else are we supposed to do? You have two dead bodies and an unlocked door. You think we can just explain that away?"
"That's... true..."
"The apartment is in my name, and I have very little desire to explain to the police why there are fresh corpses in my living room."
"Just tell them you picked up the wrong guy at a party and couldn't sort it out..."
Smack.
A sharp slap to the back of the head cut him off.
"If you're so smart, we're going inside. Today." Enega's voice held a hidden edge of anger as she marched toward the building.
"Ow..." Clint rubbed the sore spot and obediently trudged after her. "Fiiine."
….
"In... Out... Everything will be..."
Thump.
Clint's mantra was interrupted by a reassuring pat on the back.
"Don't sweat it. If anything happens, I've got you," Enega said, reaching out to open the door first.
It wasn't locked, but it was pulled shut. Clint mentally thanked the ghost for at least that much, since he remembered distinctly that the robbers hadn't bothered closing it.
The apartment greeted them with an eerie silence and an unpleasant smell.
The stench, which Clint initially assumed came from the bodies, was actually just the trash can. Nobody had bothered to take the garbage out in a week.
Right... Ghosts don't have a sense of smell, Clint thought. I'll toss it later. Bigger problems right now.