The Hollywood Files

The 24

th

of April is here again...if I had been more organised I would have had five new stories submitted for my fifth anniversary as a writer on Literotica.com!

Well, the dates might be off but at least you get the stories still. Enjoy!

–-

The Hollywood Files are a series of one-shot stories, completely fictional and purely for entertainment. No actual stars were slept with during the writing of this story.

I was running, feet pounding the pavement beneath me as I darted down a dark alleyway. Puddles splashed against dirty walls, cats and other urban wildlife scattered before me. I shouldn't have been out this late, or in this part of town, but I was, so I ran like my life depended on it.

Hmm, like my life depended on it...a poor choice of words, perhaps, because it really did.

I don't want to go into how I got here, not in any moving sort of Braveheart speech detail, but I guess it might help if you knew a little background. I live in one of the grittiest, darkest cities in existence, rife with crime of all types: theft, kidnapping, rape, murder. There were more muggings than police officers, and everywhere you went people were hesitant about trusting each other.

So naturally, as anyone would think, it seemed like the perfect place to start standing up to criminals, both petty and professional. That makes sense right? It did in my head. A local gang of muggers had been terrorising the neighbourhoods around my apartment, and with little planning I had armed myself and decided to take action.

Making my way down to the street, I confronted a group of thugs as they roughhoused a poor young girl. The four of them hadn't seen me when I stepped into the alleyway, a bat in my hand and some hockey armour on my arms and legs.

"Let her go!"

The thugs dropped the girl, turning to me with nasty looks in their eyes. One of them approached me slowly, sizing me up. He was almost a head taller and built like a brick shithouse. The girl scurried off, staring back over her shoulder at me as she rounded the corner. I was glad she had escaped, but I also quickly realised drawing all the attention to myself meant I had four fully aware bruisers advancing on me at once.

Right...element of surprise.

This is why Batman had ninja training. I didn't have ninja training. I didn't even have any training

period

.

"Ok, now what are you going to do?" the biggest of them said, cracking his knuckles very theatrically. When no good ideas came to mind, I puffed out my chest, opened my mouth to boom out an impressive speech about peace, justice and security, and promptly brought my foot straight up into his groin before swinging my bat at the man next to him, hitting him in the stomach.

Even as the pair of them doubled over in pain the other two leapt forward, drawing knives. At that point I decided to cut my losses and took off, with all four of them in pursuit.

So there I was, running through the back streets and alleys of the neighbourhood, any minute now expecting a blow to land on the back of my head and my life to end. As I rounded the corner I almost ran straight into a large black van with green markings on it disgorging more gang members.

Somehow I avoided their clutches and kept running, scaling the chain link fence behind the van. I landed on the other side as the thugs started to climb, but the alley contained two locked doors and a high brick wall, completely unscaleable.

I was trapped.

Trapped like a rat

. As if I needed more disappointment in my life I spied two rats scurrying across the alleyway and into a hole in the brick wall.

God damn it.

I turned to face my attackers, the one I had kicked grabbing me and pinning me to the wall, a metal pipe held across my throat.

"Got you now, you little shit," he hissed. His friends leapt down from the fence, most of them carrying some sort of improvised weapon. One or two of the gang members stood on the other side of the fence beside the back doors of the van keeping, which blocked any view from the street so no one would see what happened next. It was the end for me.

"Time to show you why we rule the streets..."

With a screech of tires the gang's van reversed suddenly, bowling over the two sentries and crashed through the chain-link fence without stopping, sending most of the thugs scattering for cover before the van squealed to a halt.

Dropping me like a sack of spuds, the leader approached the back of the van with one of his friends, their weapons held up. A moment later the doors swung open, knocking one of them flat on his back as a slender, black clad figure stepped out, kicking the other in the chin with a heavy booted foot.

I stared at the woman – and she definitely had the shape of a woman – as she stood over the men who were about to end my life, both of them out cold. She wore a long sleeved black outfit and a military-looking vest with a few bits and pieces of gear hanging from it. a hood covered her head and she looked up at me with piercing green eyes through a black mask that covered the top half of her face.

"Get in."

I hurried to climb into the van as she moved back through to sit in the driver's seat. I had time to shut and secure one of the two doors before the van shunted forward, sending me falling to the floor. I looked up in time to see one of the gang members raise his arm.

"Gun!" I yelled, as bullets pelted the back of the van. My rescuer planted her foot and the van shot out of the alley, skidding into the street and out of range. I sat up and inched over to the swinging open door, pulling it closed and locking it firmly. Light shone through the holes in the bodywork, evidence of our narrow escape. Moving to the front of the van and climbing ungracefully into the passenger seat, I took a look at the mystery woman.

I could see soft looking red lips set in a frown below her mask, while her light brown hair was mostly hidden by the black hood that was tightly fitted over her head. She was about average height, same as me, and while she was slim she was also very fit. Her clothes were skin tight with few loose ends or pockets to get snagged in a fight, and she wore fingerless gloves with hard points on her knuckles, as well as forearm guards made of the same armoured plastic.

"You shouldn't be out here," she said to me. "It isn't safe."

"No shit," I replied rather sarcastically. "Besides, I didn't plan on fighting all of them at once. They jumped me."

"Then you should have been prepared!" she yelled back. "If you're going to go out there you need to know what you're doing." She yanked on the steering wheel and turned the corner violently. "You were reckless. You rushed into a situation without sizing it up, without knowing the odds. You never do that." I was about to reply when remembered an article in the paper about a street walking vigilante. Few people had managed to get a photo or even see them, but those that had insisted it was a woman.

"You're her, aren't you? You're the vigilante, the one they call the Ghost." She didn't reply. I heard the screeching of tires behind us and looked in the rear-view mirror to see two cars coming up on us from behind. Someone leaned out of the side window as they got closer.

"We've got incoming," I warned. The Ghost glanced at her mirror, which was promptly shattered by gunfire. She gritted her teeth and turned the van again, almost riding up on two wheels as we screamed around the corner.

"This is why you don't take risks," she hissed.

I gripped the dashboard tightly as the Ghost weaved across the road, avoiding sporadic gunfire from the leading car. The passenger seemed to be the only member of the gang with a firearm, but even handgun ammunition was strong enough to punch through the doors and straight through the seats if they got off an accurate shot. The Ghost wasn't giving them that chance, wavering violently as the car bumped along behind them, almost jarring the shooter from the side window.

"I never should have gone out tonight," I said miserably, the full weight of the situation pressing in on me. "I never should have thought I could change anything."

"No, you shouldn't have gone out," said the Ghost. "If you hadn't these guys would be out somewhere else, raping or looting, instead of trying to kill us." I couldn't work out if she was being sarcastic, but despite the danger we were in I saw the corners of her mouth curl slightly, if only for a fraction of a second.

"But there is nothing wrong with wanting to change the world." Another bullet striking the van took her attention away from me.

"We can't outrun them in this," she said grimly. I heard sirens briefly in the distance over the sound of the van's engine straining to reach top speed.

"They'll scatter if the cops show up. We might even get some of them arrested."

"That's not an option for us either."

"Ok, no cops...so what do we do?"

"We improvise." The Ghost braked hard, causing the following car to slam into the back of them, knocking the gunner from the window. She planted her foot and the van took off again while the gang member scrambled back into the car and in pursuit. We looked in the rear-view mirror and could see them falling back, but as we looked forward a van identical to ours slid around the corner, its headlights glaring. We barely avoided a head on collision, receiving a glancing blow across the driver side of the van as the Ghost turned into a narrow alley lined with bins and trash.

"They just keep coming!" she yelled as she swerved around dumpsters and other obstacles. We crashed through a gate and not too far ahead I could see the end of the alley. In a moment we would be back on the main road, and hopefully would have a better chance of getting away. I looked back through the cracked rear windows but couldn't see any headlights following us.

"I think they're gone," I said quietly.

"We're almost there," the Ghost said. "We just have to get out of the alleyway –" A round smashed the side window and the Ghost grabbed her arm in pain, blood splashing across the dashboard and staining her outfit. The van swerved and my side scraped along wall of the alley as the gunner's car, its headlights smashed and off from the rear end collision, pulled right up alongside the driver's window, the gunner leaning out and taking aim at the Ghost. Without hesitation I threw myself across the cab, grabbing the wheel and yanking it to slam the van into the car, crushing the gunman between the vehicles. The car pulled away to the other side of the alley and drove straight into the side of a dumpster, crumpling the front and completely stopping it.

I tried to straighten up the van but as it burst out into the street we were rammed from behind. As the van started to tip I reached across and threw my arms over the Ghost, wrapping around her just as we went over. I felt metal slam against my back as we rolled, heard the breaking of glass, and then everything went black.

–-

My eyes were open, but I could barely see anything. My vision was blurred. I felt warmth against me, a pleasant feeling, both hard and soft. It moved slowly and a hand brushed my cheek.

"Are you alright?" said a heavenly voice. I knew that voice, and the startling memory it triggered threw me so much that I failed to answer. To my displeasure the warmth began to dissipate, first from my chest, then down through my legs. The blurriness was fading and I saw the inside of an upside down van, broken glass and twisted metal all over the place. A door was kicked open at the end of it, and silhouetted by the light spilling in I saw the Ghost, climbing from the wreck.

Her hood had fallen off, and beneath it I could see her light brown hair pulled in a tight plait against her head and down her back. More voices broke through the haze, a screeching of tires, doors banging. I watched the Ghost step out of sight and heard the unmistakeable sound of fighting. Crawling towards the door I felt the side of the van shudder with an impact. My head spun and a lot of my body hurt, but I kept going until I could look out of the open door at the scene before me.

In my dazed state, I watched as the Ghost threw punches, kicks, elbows and knees at a multitude of attackers, all coming from different angles. They swung baseball bats, knives, chains, but the Ghost was a flurry of blows, completely avoiding the strikes of her opponents or blocking and countering them when she had to. Her hits cracked bones as the gang fell injured and disarmed around her. She didn't tire, she didn't waver, not as blood dripped from her arm or when the toil of battle began to set in; even when she started to take glancing blows from the overwhelming numbers facing her she stood her ground. The Ghost disarmed her opponents as best as she could, barely taking the time to remove their weapons before countering another attack from someone new.

My vision blurred trying to follow her moves, giving me a sense of dizziness. The Ghost fought on, whittling two carloads and a van full of petty thugs down to only four men standing, and only one of them still armed. The Ghost kicked one of them across the space to slam into their car when suddenly the sound of sirens began to ring through the air. The remaining gang members, perhaps sensing their struggle was futile, turned and tried to run, leaving their comrades behind. As I began to lose consciousness again my rescuer turned back to the van and hurried over, kneeling down to look at me.

"Hang in there...I'll get you out of here..."

–-

I was in a dark place, but it didn't feel dangerous or scary. It felt like home. I couldn't explain what was going through my head, but then again my head felt broken, and so did my body.

Someone came into my range of vision, someone I knew very well, and yet not at all. Someone I had seen everywhere, but who had only tonight shown me who she really was. Someone who had demonstrated her talents before, but not the ones I had seen her using. I tried to speak.

"I knew it was you...I heard your voice..." Jessica Biel looked down at me, her light brown plait draped over her shoulder. She still had her mask on, but I knew it was her; I could see it in her eyes, and the way her lips moved when she spoke, frowned or smiled. She was smiling now, sincerely, leaning over me and gently stroking the side of my head. Her hand was warm and soft.

"Save your strength," she soothed. "There'll be plenty of time to talk later. Rest now." I listened to her.

–-

I drifted in and out, I don't know how long for. My memory was hazy when I next woke up. I was in a hospital bed, blinding white light and a sterile smell surrounding me. My family was there, standing around me, but my rescuer was no where to be seen.

"Oh thank

God

," cried my mother. She grasped my hand as my sisters leaned over me, my father behind them. Their eyes were red from crying. I instantly regretted putting them through this kind of pain. I had been reckless.

The doctor told me I was going to escape with minor injuries. A lot of stitches and treatment for a concussion, but in the end I would be fine. I didn't say exactly what had happened to me, but from what I gathered they thought it had been a mugging gone wrong. With no way of explaining anything better, I let them think that. The truth didn't matter.

Besides, I knew if I said anything at all, I would never see her again.

–-

It had been a long day. Returning to work had been rough, and I hadn't heard a thing from my rescuer. I did see an article in the paper about a mass arrest of several gang members who were tied by fingerprint to a few rapes and murders, so at least something had happened. It was late evening by the time I got to my small apartment in the city, and as I walked in I realised I wasn't alone.

She was here.

"You didn't forget about me then," I said, shutting the door behind me.

"I needed to know you wouldn't say anything." She stood in the window, dressed in her black clothes, her hood up and mask on. Jessica Biel – the vigilante known as the Ghost – didn't move a muscle.

"I never thanked you for saving my life." She said quietly, glancing down at the floor. She seemed embarrassed to say it, perhaps because of the rocky start to our meeting.

"I was going to say the same thing."

"I mean it."

"I know, so do I, besides...it was my fault we were there in the first place," I admitted. Jessica smiled beneath her mask.

"True, but you were doing what you could. And in this city, that's something special." She stepped down from the window sill and into my apartment. Her eyes bored into mine as she moved, slowly and deliberately.

"If I'd left you to it you probably wouldn't have gotten hurt," I said to her, glancing at her arm. She seemed to be ok, more so than me in fact.

"It was a graze, no real damage. But I'll admit it could have been easier," she said with a small smile. "Normally I prefer to stick to the shadows and not be seen. You'd be surprised how long I've been doing this without people knowing."

"Really? How does one juggle the life of an actress and a vigilante?"

"The skills that saved your life help," she said slyly. "It's amazing how easy it is to not be seen in an age of iPhones, iPods, iPads and all manner of things that have screens and keep people from taking in the world around them." She stopped less than two feet from me, gazing into my eyes, and beyond.

"This life isn't easy," she said to me. "And those who choose it suffer like you wouldn't understand. I can't have someone who doesn't share my pain know of my existence." She didn't seem to be here to kill me, that wasn't her style, which didn't leave many options and I started to get my hopes up.

"Where does that leave us, Ms. Biel?"

"You wanted to change the world."

"I still do." She smiled.

"Call me Jessica," she said, before stepping in close and kissing me on the lips. I kissed her back, my arms moving up her sides to pull her closer to me, her body pressing against mine. She smelled beautiful and her lips were soft, yet she kissed intensely, pressing hard against me. Her figure was athletic and I could feel the large muscles beneath her clothes, her body relaxing as my arms wrapped around her, feeling her all over.

Jessica pushed me further back until I fell onto the couch, climbing on top of me and grinding up my body. She pulled my shirt off and ran her hands over my chest, her fingers brushing over the scars on my side left by the twisted metal and glass from the van accident.

"You'll always have those marks," she whispered.

"I would do it again in a heartbeat," I said to her, reaching up and slipping her hood back, revealing her brown plaited hair. I slid my hand along her neck behind her hair to pull her close for another kiss, feeling her melt into me as I eased back down onto the couch.

Jessica fumbled to unzip her body armour, tossing her vest on the floor as I gently tugged her skin tight shirt up, my hand pressing to her belly. Her skin was smooth and warm and her abs were tight. My hand moved up underneath her shirt along her side to her back, feeling the sports bra she wore beneath her uniform.

In response to my attention Jessica sat up and pulled her shirt completely off, revealing her body in its beauty. She was not as muscled as some female bodybuilders were, but I had no doubt she could go as long and as hard as any professional fighter. She took my hands and ran them up her body and over her breasts, the sports bra keeping them tight to her chest. Her breasts weren't what you'd call large, but they felt soft and fitted perfectly in my hands, and I could feel her nipples through the material; she was excited, her body tingling from my reaching fingers grazing her skin.