Ghostbuster

The training room buzzed with the familiar sounds of combat—grunts, clashing metal, and the steady thud of bodies hitting the mat. Today wasn't just another sparring session with Vance. No, this time, it was a full line-up of agents, all pushing each other to the limits. The atmosphere was thick with tension, but there was also the underlying challenge—who could impress the hard-nosed trainers the most?

She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, taking in the lineup. It was an eclectic group, to say the least. Each of them had earned their place here, but some of them? They were borderline legends. Ghost was one of those agents. He was a quiet type, with a reputation that always seemed to precede him, though she'd never seen him in action herself. His nickname was whispered with a kind of respect that made her curious. Why was he called Ghost? Did he die and come back? Or does he disappear like ghost?

"You look like you're waiting for something," Tank, another trainee, commented, nudging her with his massive shoulder. He was aptly named—broad, towering, and always looking like he was ready to punch through a wall. Her first meet with him resulted in more broken bones she cared for. Strength was apparently his thing.

She smirked. "Yeah, waiting to see how long it'll take Vance to tell me I'm too slow again."

Tank laughed nervously, glancing toward Vance, who was currently putting another trainee through a brutal series of sword drills. "He always says that."

She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen up. "Not today. Today, I'm going to knock that smug look off his face."

Tank's eyebrows shot up. "Good luck with that. Just try not to get your ego shattered in the process."

"Next up!" Vance's voice boomed across the training room, pulling everyone to attention. "Hand-to-hand combat. Pair off. I want clean strikes and controlled takedowns. You screw around, and you'll be crawling out of here."

She let out a breath, mentally preparing herself. This wasn't just sparring for fun—this was the grind that would make or break them in the field. She was ready for it.

As they lined up, Vance stalked past them like a predator sizing up his prey. He didn't stop at her, though she could feel his eyes lingering, already measuring her for later. But before she could dwell on that, Ghost stepped up, standing directly across from her.

"Well, this should be fun," she said, sizing him up. He was lean, but not in a way that suggested weakness. There was something sharp about him—like he knew more than he let on. His eyes glinted with amusement, but he said nothing. Just gave her a small, almost knowing smile.

They squared off, the air between them charged with the promise of a solid fight.

"Let's see what you've got," she muttered, raising her fists.

Without warning, Ghost lunged, and she reacted on instinct, bringing her hands up to block. But her arms sliced through thin air. 

"What the—?"

Before she could even finish her sentence, Ghost reappeared behind her, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. She spun around, eyes wide with shock.

"Nice try," he said with a casual grin.

Her heart hammered as she realized what had happened. "You just… you…"

"Phased," he said, shrugging as though passing through solid matter was no big deal. "You weren't expecting that, huh?"

"You phased through me?!" She stared at him, incredulous, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "That's… cheating!"

"Not cheating," he corrected with a grin. "Just... an advantage."

Before she could process the absurdity of fighting someone who could literally phase through her attacks, Ghost lunged again, and she swung—this time with a calculated edge. But it didn't matter. His body shimmered out of reach again, and her fist cut through nothing.

She blinked. Twice. He was gone.

Then she felt a tap on her ankle—Ghost was crouched low, having somehow phased through the mat itself. He pulled her leg out from under her in one fluid motion, sending her sprawling to the floor. She hit the mat with a dull thud, staring up at the ceiling in utter disbelief.

"Fun, right?" Ghost asked, standing over her with that same maddening grin.

"Yeah. Fun for you," she grumbled, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her heart was still racing. "Is this what you do in the field? Just… poof through walls?"

He shrugged, not denying it. "It's effective."

She glared at him, dusting herself off as she stood. "Effective my ass. You know I can't fight someone who's only half there."

Ghost chuckled, stepping back. "That's the point. You learn to adapt."

"Adapt? How am I supposed to adapt to someone who can just—" She mimed phasing through a wall. "Do that?"

He just smiled and walked away, not even answering her question.

"Alright, enough flirting," Vance interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension. He stepped up, sword in hand. "Your turn with me now. And no disappearing into the floor this time, Ghost."

Ghost gave her a parting wink before slipping back into the line of watching trainees.

She glared at Vance, already bracing herself for another round of punishment. "You knew, didn't you?"

Vance smirked. "Knew what?"

"That he can phase through solid objects," she spat, still trying to process how she was supposed to fight something like that.

Vance shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah, and? You think out in the field everything's going to be predictable? You think the beasts we hunt are going to fight fair?"

She gritted her teeth. He had a point. Out there, it wasn't about playing by the rules—it was about survival. Adaptation. She needed to figure it out, fast. And once she was done figuring it out, she will be the ghostbuster.

"Now," Vance continued, readying his blade. "Let's see how you handle an opponent that doesn't cheat."

Her fingers tightened around her practice sword, the familiar hum of the nanotech responding to her touch. "Oh, don't worry," she said, eyeing him with new determination. "I'm just getting warmed up."

With a grin, Vance lunged, and this time, she was ready.