It took quite a while to calm the woman down enough to get a word in, but eventually, she managed to explain the current situation.

Said woman was now leaning on the other side of the alley, rubbing her temples as Lyssa’s dog leaned on her, seemingly enjoying having a human being that he can interact with.

“Alright. Okay. So.” She pressed her hands together, before tilting them towards Lyssa. “I died. In a very thorough, very permanent, and very violent fashion. You happened to be walking nearby when I died. You used your voodoo hoodoo nonsense to bring me back. But, I’m a ghost. And I can’t interact with anything or anyone beside you, because I am otherwise invisible and intangible. Am I getting all this right?”

Lyssa silently nodded.

“Okay. Yeah, that's fine. Mhm.” The woman nodded affably.

“...” Lyssa opened her mouth. “Are you serio-”

“NO, I’M NOT SERIOUS YOU CRAZY BI-ah, hhhoo, okay, uh. No, no this isn’t okay. In pretty much every imaginable way.”

“Oh.” Lyssa slumped, eyes downcast. “I guess I can try to release your spirit if that's what you wan-”

“What? No, don’t give me that nonsense. I’d rather not be dead, but this is better than just like…falling into the void or something.”

“Do you not believe in an afterlife?”

“Of course no-...actually, in light of…all this, maybe. But if an afterlife does exist, I’m not going anywhere good, anyways. No, more just the whole…uh, yeah. Being not alive. Dead. Thing. It's ah…it’s a lot to take in, yknow?”

Lyssa nodded. “Uh…” She really didn't want to pile on more stress, but...

“What is it, kid?” The woman said in a resigned voice, seemingly picking up on Lyssa's intent. “Any more bad news?”

“Um, no, actually, I was planning on calling the cops.”

“Calling the co-what? No. That's a stupid idea, I’d get arrested.”

“...” Lyssa stared for a moment.

“...Oh yeah. Being dead. Then calling the cops is definitely a good idea.”

Lyssa nodded numbly. “Who were those people you described, by the way? Names and things. Thought it’d be good to know the specifics of…well, everything, before I tell it all to the cops.”

The woman frowned. “Good point. All right, lemme tell you what happened here…”

“So, you probably don’t know this because you’re some nobody-”

“Hey!”

“Don't interrupt me. Anyways, before the whole…getting murdered thing, I was a bit of a big deal. Most of the crime in the city is run by supers, yknow that? People can’t really compete against the guy that can shoot lasers out of their eyes and stuff equally ridiculous, who woulda thunk. Anyways, I mention this because I am not a super, in any way. I used to deal with a lot of the bigwigs anyways. Dealt a lot of things, be it drugs, guns…secrets. I ran one of the most successful smuggling operations in this whole cesspool of a city, and had a pretty damn good information network setup besides all that. I started as some random mook, would you believe that? A real self-made woman, here.

But yeah, I was a big thing around here. Whenever someone wanted information or anything else, I’d be the person they talked to first. I run negotiations, practically owned these supers. Normally, I don’t really talk to a super without enough bodyguards to make two cars out of muscle, but I knew this guy, Razor, since he was a kid. Plus, I had one of my own people with a gun up two stories on that little building to the left. Anyways, the punk wanted some big information, and insisted it was for his eyes and ears only. It was a big request, but the money he offered in exchange…well, let's say, it would make the whole endeavor pretty damn worth it, if it all worked out in the end. So, I gathered my guys, and fished for info for months. Hard work, sleepless nights. Kid, you got any clue how much work goes into information gathering? It’s a crap ton of boredom mixed with lots and lots of elbow grease. What I’m saying is that I worked my butt off to get this man his info, because, well, once I take a job, my reputation’s on the line. I gotta follow through, or the whole operation goes poof, yknow?

So, the hot info was this bunker, yeah? But it wasn’t just any bunker, mind you. This is a grade-A, heavily guarded vault filled to the brim with artie-tech. Yknow, the supes that make BS, physics defying tech? Those guys. Yeah, it was all the tech they ‘confiscated’ from hard-working villains, as well as the stuff that was too annoying or too valuable to destroy, while still being too dangerous to keep anywhere public. That thing was hellish to get info on, but I did it. I got locations, found out who hired the guys, found all the guards, the schedules, everything. If that bastard followed through on his payments, I’d be rich enough to retire entirely, live on some tropical island and look pretty for the rest of my goddamn life. The high life, it woulda been. But no, I got the man his info, everything he asked for, and I handed it off in this alley, since it was between both of our stomping grounds, neutral territory. I thought he wouldn’t dare try anything because I had my gunman, yeah? But apparently that kid had done some prep work, because he isn’t another body cooling on the streets. So, he uses his power on me, the bastard. He can cut people up till they’re a pulped-up mess like my corpse over there. So, he blasts the hell out of me and leaves back into his own territory, down the other end of that alley over there.”

“And that’s it!” She says, clapping her hands together.

Lyssa frowns, mind spinning with dozens of thoughts and objections, all fighting each other to leave her mouth at the same time. “...you do know that they’re going to break in and steal super dangerous tech, right?”

The woman snorts. “I’m not stupid, kid. I knew that was their plan, but trust me, even if those idiots pulled that raid off, they wouldn’t use the tech in there.”

“Why?”

“Well first of all, most of that crap is expensive as all get-out, so it's almost always better to sell the stuff rather than use it yourself. But above that, the threat of the weapon is way better than just using the weapon outright. If people are constantly afraid of you blasting them to smithereens with a superweapon, they’re more likely to just bounce or join you than oppose you and run the risk of being killed in all the variety of ways artie-tech can kill you. Don’t get me wrong, though: those bastards getting the tech would mean they’d probably take over most of the city’s underworld.”

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“Then why would you let them get that information? What…why would you enable them to do that much harm?” Lyssa asked, feeling anger rise a spark in her chest that was rapidly turning to disdain.

The woman shrugged. “It was a lot of money. Plus, their whole success would be dependent on little ol’ me. Even with the money, they’d owe me big time. It’s a good thing to have in your back pocket.”

Lyssa felt her opinion of the woman sinking further and further the more she spoke. “Whatever. I’ll just tell them all the crap you just said and get this over with.”

The woman snorted. “No you aren’t.”

“Why not?” Lyssa may have sounded a bit indignant, but she was getting tired of this lady’s BS.

“First of all, did you ever get that fancy power of yours registered?”

Lyssa glared at the ground, clenching her hands in frustration. “Power registration is only required if you plan to use your powers in self defense. I can’t really do that with mine, so there wasn’t much point.”

There was more to it, and if this woman worked with supers, she knew that too. Having your powers registered made them public knowledge. While a lot of super advocacy when they first started appearing made everyone more accepting in general, being a registered super...it separated you from everyone else. Sure, maybe people will still spend time with you, but half of them are going to idolize you and the other half will hate you. Only some people will treat you the same as they would anyone else, and it really narrowed down the amount of people you could spend time with without things getting awkward. Lyssa...just didn't really want to deal with all that.

“So, if you don’t have a registered power, then how the hell did you get all that information on exactly what happened?”

Lyssa opened her mouth, ready to give a retort. She closed her mouth. “I can just say that I got my powers during this.”

“Wow, the only person near this dead lady mentions having powers to a cop, and then says that they spontaneously got those powers that let her see ghosts and that they talked to said victim to get the information. Waay more believable than just you murdering me and lying about the specifics.”

“But it’s what happened!”

“Doesn’t matter what really happened, kid. It matters what’s the most believable thing. Best case scenario, they’ll have you detained till they can verify anything you say, and then you’ll miss anywhere between hours to days to weeks being stuck dealing with bureaucrats and cops wasting time away while the villains go scott free with their freshly yoinked superweapons.”

“I…I can’t waste that time, I have school! And… and this information is really important.”

“Well then your current plan ain’t gonna work, hon.”

“...Then what should I do?” Lyssa asked cautiously, frowning at the infuriating woman.

The woman grinned. “You’re gonna need a cover story. Now, listen to me very carefully, here's the plan…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daniel had been having a pretty slow day, in all honesty. It was the middle of the day, which meant most people were either working jobs, at school extracurriculars, or busy with some other business. It’s a rare thing to deal with a crime at these hours, partially because there were simply less people out and about to commit crimes against, but also because it was less visible. There was very little reason for the theatrical supervillains to do their work, and gangs would get less rep doing stuff at this hour. As such, most days were slow at around this hour.

Which perhaps informs you of the amount of surprise he felt when he saw that the phone he was watching began to ring.

Obviously, he immediately went to pick it up, trying to swallow the sandwich he had been eating seconds ago while simultaneously picking up the phone. “911, what’s your emergency?”

There was a moment of silence on the phone before a shaky voice spoke out. “H-Hello? I’d like to report a murder…”

It took a while for the officer to arrive, the sound of sirens echoing through the streets before stopping in an alley between a coffee shop and an abandoned building, the car parking and ending its drone once the driver stepped outside, looking around cautiously. Eventually, his eyes snapped to a young woman with a wide face, wavy black hair, and a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. The look in the young woman’s grey eyes was…haunted. Officer Brady resisted the urge to sigh. It was going to be one of those days, huh.

“Hey there, kiddo. You said you heard two gang members fighting?” The officer said, his tone calm, confident, and placating. He found it was better to lean into that tone when dealing with people who have recently seen a dead body. Reduced risk of suddenly getting powers and causing him more problems, anyways.

The young woman nodded, eyes darting left and right. “Uh, yeah. I was walking home from school, and, um, I heard these voices in the alley. So, I was curious, and I snuck to the edge of the corner, and I heard one of the gang members interrogating another one.”

Her voice had fallen flat for a moment. Shock? Brady placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. “Hey, it's alright. Just tell me what you can, alright? Be as slow or as fast as you want.”

She nodded, not looking at him. “So they were talking about a vault with some super-tech. High end stuff. Said they were planning to break in, and they needed some info. Um…the one guy that was interrogating, the other lady called him Razor, demanded the info, and she gave him something I think. And then…” She trailed off, expression paling further.

Brady had been given a basic rundown of the situation. “Alright, I’ll run it to the higher-ups. Just head home, alright. You did good, kid. Really good.” Brady took out a card from his pocket. “Just write down some way to contact you here, alright? We’ll talk to you later, just go rest for now.”

She nodded, writing with a shaky hand before walking away, stumbling slightly.

Brady walked into the alleyway and blinked. Even after years working here, the scene before him was particularly gruesome. “What the…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“HA! Told ya! Look kid, people are gonna look over inconsistencies all the time, they won’t care about those little details unless they're looking for details from you. Luckily, you had a big distraction making a puddle in an alleyway.” The woman cackled more than laughed as she walked beside Lyssa, away from the crime scene.

Lyssa frowned. She felt… “That felt wrong. To lie to a police officer.”

“Why’s that, kid? Got a soft spot for pigs?”

Lyssa’s frown evolved into a scowl. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…we could get into a bunch of trouble if they found out I lied, right?”

“Oh, tons!” The ghost agreed affably. “But they won’t find out, because they don’t know you got ghost powers.”

“Still…” Lyssa shook her head. “What’s your name, anyways? You never told me. I’m Lyssa.”

The woman grinned, leaning back. “Well, Lyssie, my name’s Penelope, but you can just call me…” She leaned close. “Aces.” She winked, before continuing on.

“Alright then…Aces. It’s good that you’re opening up a little bit, here.”

“Well of course I gotta be a little nice, since we’re going to be tearing Razor’s gang apart and beating them to the tech together and all.”

…

“What?”