4 Years Ago
"Hey!" Lance called after the boy retreating down the crowded school hallway, "Hey—Uh, Hank!"
Lance hurried after him, trying his best to dodge around a group of giggling freshman girls. He had almost caught up with the hunched over figure when a shoulder caught him in the chest hard. He was slammed into a wall of lockers.
"Watch where you're prancing, Sir Lancelot!" Sneered a voiced.
Lance cursed internally as he found himself waylaid by two angry looking upperclassman.
"Yeah, man," He said, "Sorry, I should've been more careful."
Lance was slammed once more against the locker before the two left him without another glance. The tall boy tried to ignore the stares he was receiving and gathered the things he had dropped in the altercation.
"You alright?"
Lance looked up to find the reluctant face of the boy he was chasing.
"You!" He smiled at him, "Hank, right?"
"Actually, it's Hunk." He said, handing him a folder that must have escaped.
"Thanks! Hunk, huh? Weird name." Lance commented.
"Says 'Lancelot.'" Hunk retorted uncomfortably.
"Lance! Oh my god, its Lance!" Lance cried.
"So, if your cool, I'm gonna head to class." Hunk said, turning; dismissing him. "Nice to meet you, Lance."
"Wait!" Lance said walking alongside him, "We're going to the same place. Algebra II, right?"
"Yeah." Hunk said awkwardly.
Lance was getting the feeling that Hunk didn't really want to talk to him. It wasn't a new notion. Hardly anyone really wanted to talk to the weird ghost kid. Or the kid that has accidently ruined the school production of King Arthur and The Knights of the Round Table. But Hunk was new and he shouldn't know about any of that. It stung Lance a bit that this kid didn't even need to know his reputation to not want him around, but…
"I'm not trying to bother you," Lance sighed stopping just beyond the classroom door, "But you're one of my partners for that Chem project and I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come over, or—if you wanted me to come to your place—"
"No!" Hunk cried, "Neither! I—uh, I mean why not the library?"
Lance flinched.
"Sure, dude." He said quietly, pushing past Hunk into the classroom. "That works."
"Wait, Lance!" Hunk called after him, but the taller teen had already disappeared into the crush of students milling about the room. "I didn't mean it like that…"
Hunk sighed and shook his head.
So much for a fresh start.
Hunk was a kind person by nature and therefore couldn't let bad feelings stay between him and one of his lab partners. He had tried to talk to Lance again but the kid was really hard to pin down. So he had settled on watching him until they were to meet in the library a few days later.
Lance was outgoing and friendly in a way Hunk would never accomplish. He could talk to anyone, go anywhere and he could make it work. Though he was on friendly terms with everyone, he didn't seem to have any actual friends. That was pretty confusing to Hunk.
As was the fact that Lance had a plethora of crazy rumors about him. Apparently, Lance was a voodoo witch doctor. And a playboy and an incubus. Also, he supposedly got punched out during the school play by a chick named Katie for trying to slip her the tongue during a kiss scene.
Actually, Hunk was pretty sure that last one was true.
In the end, he was pretty upset they couldn't be friends. Lance seemed like the kind of guy that he could have really gotten along with. But he wasn't allowed to have friends. The shadow figures said so.
Pidge was really about to knock Lance out a second time. Really, Pidge was done with his shit and if he didn't stop whining and pull out his Chemistry textbook Pidge was going to stuff his mouth full of fist.
"Lance, will you please shut the fuck up."
"But Pidge! Hunk is late!" Lance moaned, dropping his head into his folded arms.
"Late? Obviously, this guy hates you and wants you dead. Probably because you nicknamed him Hunk." Pidge retorted.
"Actually, that's my real name." Hunk said behind them.
Lance and Pidge turned to the new arrival, one with a thousand-watt grin and the other with a look of mild amusement.
"Oh god, is it really?" Pidge asked.
"Uh, yeah." Hunk replied, taking a seat at the table and pulling out his textbook, "You're… Pidge?"
"Yes! Please, call me Pidge!" Pidge stressed, "But for clarity, you've probably heard me referred to as Katie."
"Oh, you're Katie."
"Look, Lance! People are already saying that name weird cause you won't leave me alone!" Pidge scolded, smacking Lance's arm.
"Yeah, yeah," Lance waved his friend off, "So, Hunk! You showed! Ready to get chemistry-ing?"
"That's not a goddamn word!"
Hunk laughed a bit, opening his book. These two were so lively. He wished he could be a part of this…
"The library will be closed next week." Pidge said.
"Shit." Lance put in, "My house?"
"Not if we want to get anything done!" Pidge denied. "Mine?"
"Pssshaw! So your Mom can strangle me?"
"Fair."
"Well," Hunk said hesitantly, "How… how about my place?"
Hunk knew this was a terrible idea, but he wanted so desperately to have friends again…
Everything would be fine, he was sure.
Hunk hesitated at the door, Lance noticed. That struck Lance as strange. This was his house, wasn't it? Why was he afraid to go inside?
Were his parents mean? Were they fighting? Did they hit him?!
"Lance, I can practically hear your brain overheating," Pidge teased.
"Sorry, Pidge! Just can't wait to hang out in Hunk's place. Ya'know, like in his house. Whenever he opens the door." Lance said, "Any day now."
"Sorry!" Hunk said as he hurried to unlock the door.
He had been lost in how wonderful the past week had been. Just Lance and Pidge and him. They had studied together, hung out at the local mall and even ate lunch together. Like friends. Best friends! He was terrified that that may end soon.
"Come on in, guys." Hunk said, pushing the door open.
Hunk lead them into his house. Everything looked normal. Normal suburban layout, normal middleclass furniture, normal clutter here and there…
Lance knew the second he stepped foot inside Hunk's house that something was off. He stopped in his tracks. He was still new at reading energies, but even he could tell that there was an entity here. An angry one.
"Lance?" Hunk asked meekly, looking over his shoulder.
Lance knew for certain the second he met his new friend's eyes that Hunk knew something about whatever was off. And he was terrified.
"It's nothing." Lance told him, determined to bring it up later when Hunk was more comfortable.
And preferably far, far from this house.
Hunk took them to the kitchen and passed around a plate of cookie, broke out the Capri Suns and they settled into the bar with their books.
The actually studying portion of their time went quick. Lance had quickly learned that he had been blessed with not one, but two genius Chem partners. Hunk had no problem keeping up with Pidge's intellectual ramble, nodding along and adding in long after Lance had be become irrevocably lost.
"When will your parents get home?" Pidge asked.
"Uh, Mom will be here around nine. Dad, like maybe around December?" Hunk said nonchalantly as they packed up their books.
"December?" Lance asked.
"Yeah, Dad's in the Air Force. He's over in Japan for right now." Hunk said proudly.
"Sweet! My oldest brother is a Marine!" Lance told him.
They turned to Pidge.
"My dad and brother, Matt, both work for Garrison University."
"It's how we meet!" Lance told Hunk, "Pidge and I were the only two kids to show up for the Garr U college trip last year! It was a blast!"
"Oh, you want to go to Garrison?" Hunk asked in interest; Garrison was well known as a prestigious school for the more interesting applications of science.
Like cryptozoology. And Parapsychology.
"Pidge's family works there and mine have been encouraging me to follow my dreams there!"
"So you know that—Well, I mean to say…" Hunk trailed off, "Do you believe in gh—"
Bang.
Thud.
The three of them turned towards the sound, watching as a heavy mirror rocked on the wall of the adjourned living room. It had sounded as If someone had banged there fist against the wall.
"What the fuck?" Pidge asked.
BANG.
This time the mirror crashed forcefully to the ground, shattering. Shard scattered all over the hardwood floor, some even reaching their feet.
It was in the mirror shards that Lance finally saw them. Dark, contorted silhouettes, all around them.
"Out!" Lance yelled to the others, "Run, now!"
Pidge and Hunk scurried out the door and Lance trailed behind them, pausing once again at the door step to turn and face the house. Now, he could see nothing but a normal house with a shattered mirror. No figures, no noises. But he knew.
He could feel the spirits welling up, like a tremulous thundercloud.
"Lance!" Hunk cried for down the driveway, "Come on!"
Lance yanked his Abuelita's rosary out from under his shirt.
"Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Seńor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús." Lance recited, fear making him stutter over the words.
Then, it was like the breath in his lungs was seized from him. He crouched down and wheezed, but kept forcing the words out.
"Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. ¡Amén!"
And then, there was nothing. It was like there was never anything off about the house at all. Still, Lance didn't turn his back on the place until he had slammed the door and backed away. He stumbled backwards, but Hunk was there to catch him.
"How? How did you make them disappear like that?" Hunk asked.
The desperate hope in his eyes tore up Lance on the inside.
"I just recited a Hail Mary." Lance told him, "Hunk, could you see those things? The whole time?"
Hunk looked uncomfortable.
"What the fuck?" Pidge asked, "What just happened?"
"Didn't you see them?" Hunk asked Pidge.
"See what? That mirror fly of the wall?" Pidge asked.
Hunk turned to Lance.
"I'm kinda… gifted when it comes to ghosts." Lance told him, "I think I could help you, if you'd like. On the small condition that you join Pidge and I when we form a ghost hunting team. We could use those eyes."
"Lance, I—" Hunk was tearing up now, pulling Lance into a death grip hug and sobbing into his hair.
"Ohhkay, let's go somewhere else," Pidge said, "Like somewhere where Hunk's neighbors aren't watching us. And ghost hunting team? Really? I never agreed to that!"
Lance and Hunk looked over to where an elderly couple was watching them, bewildered, from their porch swing across the street. Hunk scrubbed at his eyes and picked himself up, offering Lance a hand and hauling him to his feet as well.
"Let's go see Abuelita!" Lance proclaimed, "She can fix everything!"
"I'm so sorry, mijo, but I can't fix this." Abuelita said the moment she opened the door.
"But Abuelitaaaaa!" Lance whined, "Hunk needs your help!"
Hunk was busy taking in the beauty that was Lance's grandmother. She was tall and thick in a way that spoke of years of good food and strenuous labor, long salt and pepper hair pinned up into and elegant chignon. Her face was expressive in their laugh lines and the mischievous quirk of her lips. She was wrapped up in layers of flowy clothing and adorned with many pieces of worn jewelry. Even the climbing roses that had overtaken Lance's front porch couldn't compare to her, Hunk thought.
"Ah, yes. Hunk!" She said, opening the door wider, "It is nice to meet you for a second time!"
Hunk flushed when the full force of her smile turned to him.
"Um, yeah I—what?"
"Come in, come in!" She ushered them into the house, "We'll discuss this over cocoa!"
The inside of Lance's house was cramped but cozy, filled with books and pictures and knick-knacks. It was dimly lit until they reached the kitchen. The room was filled with windows, each open and pouring in the afternoon light. The air held a spiciness, familiar to Hunk, but not something he could place. Dried bundles of flowers and herbs were hung from the walls, bound with colorful thread. A quaint table took up the rear, with its painted tile top and a collection of mix matched chairs. It was there they settled, each presented with a mug of cocoa that had been already simmering on the stove top.
In other rooms, hunk could hear the sounds of children playing.
"Did you see us coming?" Lance asked.
Abuelita hummed a noncommittal response as she took her own seat and surveyed them with wary eyes.
"Pidge, you've yet to cut your hair?" She spoke at last, "I thought you had made up your mind."
Pidge ran fingers though his long hair self-consciously, offering the elderly woman a wry smile.
"I have!" Pidge told her, "But Matt wanted to help me. He and Dad will come home from their trip to meet their new associate next month and I wanted to wait till then!"
"Sweet boy, my Chiquito," Abuelita said, resting her hand over Pidge's, "How brave and kind. My Lance doesn't deserve a friend like you."
"Hey!"
"That's true." Pidge agreed.
"Hey!"
"Hush now, idioto," She teased Lance, "I wish to hear from Hunk about his spirits. He visited my dreams last night with his shadows. It's not often I see the living along with the dead."
"What?" Hunk asked.
"I have the same gift as Abuelita." Lance explained, "We can speak to ghosts in our sleep."
"And she saw me too?" Hunk said.
"Of course, dear." Abuelita told him, "You told me that there were some shadow figures following you around, telling you what to do. And as I said, I cannot help you."
"Oh." Hunk said, feeling despair closing in on him again.
He had made them mad. Hadn't listened to them. Ran away.
They wouldn't forgive him this time.
"But I can?" Lance asked, knowing where his Abuelita was going with this.
"You… you can?" Hunk asked, unwilling to let himself slip into hope again so soon.
"He can! Mijo is still learning, still training his powers. This is something he can do, but hasn't managed yet." Abuelita explained.
"What exactly am I learning to do?" Lance asked with a pout.
"Take Hunk with you," She told him, "Hunk needs to confront these spirits himself."
"With me? Into the sleep?" Lance asked.
"It will not be a sleep as you have known them. It will be a middle ground, between Hunk's mind and yours."
"I don't really want to confront them, if at all possible," Hunk cut in, "Now. Or ever. Really not even in my dreams."
"Oh, Flaco," Abuelita said softly, "You must! They are like bullies that pick on those who will not fight back. Put up a fight, dear child, and they will flee."
Hunk looked uncertain, but nodded.
"I don't want to listen to them anymore," Hunk told them, "But they hurt people when I don't."
Abuelita nodded sympathetically, moving to rummage in drawer. She pulled out an object wrapped in a brown paper bag.
"That is what they do, and they'll do it whether you obey them or not. Let us aid you."
"Okay." Hunk assented reluctantly, "How will we do this?"
Abuelita grinned at him and handed the object to Lance, which he stuffed into his backpack.
"Lance knows what to do. Trust him. He is muy tonto, but he is reliable." She instructed, "You will have to be sleeping in close quarters tonight. Preferably in your house."
"A sleepover!" Lance exclaimed in excitement.
"A sleepover!" Pidge exclaimed in dismay, "No way will Mom let me go!"
Hunk's mother was nice enough, Lance decided as she helped them pull out a sleeping bag from the back of a hall closet. She had readily agreed to let Lance stay. Lance had hardly kept down his grin as she rambled on about how glad she was that Hunk was making friends. The mortified look on Hunk's face made it even more hilarious. She provided them with some snacks and reminded them not to stay up too late before leaving them alone in Hunk's room.
For the first time since returning to the house, an ominous presence seemed to linger just out of sight. The boys were silent for a moment while the reality of the situation settled in. They were going to fight off these ghosts. Lance had never done it on purpose before.
"What now?" Hunk asked.
"Look," Lance said, pulling out a thick moleskin journal that had seen better days and the brown paper bag.
"This is my Mama's journal." Lance told him, caressing the cracked leather gently, "She gave it to me the night before she died."
"Oh, Lance." Hunk whispered, scooting closer to bump his shoulder compassionately against the other's.
"It's okay. Everyone dies sometime, and there's nothing we can do but honor their lives through our own." Lance told him with a maturity that seemed misplaced in a sixteen year old boy, "I think she knew that I would need this; it has all her knowledge about the supernatural in it. It's so organized that it borders on being a handwritten grimoire."
"That's cool!" Hunk said, "So are we going to read about… whatever I have?"
"Shadow Figures," Lance told him.
He flipped open the journal carefully to a cerulean ribbon bookmark. Hunk took a peak, but was unable to make anything out of the cursive. He realized after a second that it was written in Spanish.
"There are different types of ghosts," Lance explained eyeing the elegant loops and steady hand of his mother's writing. "You've got your standard Lingerers whom are just impressions of someone left after their death, Residuals are created from a traumatic event, normally a violent death. Then you have Shades, Wraiths, Non-human Entities, Spirit Balls, Vengefuls and a plethora of others. They all act differently and have different removal methods. Their own set of rules. You've got Shadow Figures, which is a derivative of Shadow People."
Hunk eagerly took in what Lance was saying. On top of being an interesting subject, Lance was far more knowledgeable than Hunk had assumed. That brought him a measure of comfort.
"So what are their rules?" Hunk asked.
Lance was silent for a moment as he read the page, humming every now and then. He snorted suddenly, causing Hunk to jump.
"Sorry," Lance said with a smile, "Mama wrote 'enemigo de Isabel más odiado' in her list of attributes on this page. It means my Aunt Isabel hates Shadow People the most."
"Oh?" Hunk asked.
"There's actually a few stories Abuelita tells about her as a kid where she mistakes Shadow People for real people—anyways, let's talk about Shadow Figures."
Hunk bit back his protest; he wanted to hear all about Lance's colorful family history. Now wasn't the time though.
"Mama wrote that Shadow Figures are what Shadow People eventually turn into if they are left roaming too long. They become broken shells of what they once were, saturated in the negative energy they feed on. They're like parasites that cause the living fear and sorrow in order to feed. They retain the creepy observant trait of Shadow People where they like to loom right in the corner of your vision."
"Sounds about right." Hunk murmured.
"Hunk… what you said before, about them hurting people…"
"Yeah?"
"What did they do?" Lance asked quietly.
"I don't know exactly, it was too dark," Hunk sighed, "But it locked us in the gym closet at school, broke my friend's arm and he blamed me. I was expelled and Mom was so mad."
Lance grimaced at the anger welling up inside him. Hunk didn't deserve this. No one did, really, but especially not Hunk. These leeches always find a way to ruin the lives of the living when they had no right to roam anymore anyway. Lance was beginning to understand was his aunt hated Shadow Figures so much.
"No matter what happens tonight," Lance told him sincerely, "You've still got me. I won't leave you alone. We're friends."
Hunk gave Lance a wobbly smile.
"Thanks, man."
"No biggie, bro."
Hunk pulled Lance into a tight hug. When Lance clung right back, he decided that he would never let this boy out of his life. He would treasure this friendship until he died.
"You ready for this?" Lance asked as he pulled away.
Hunk nodded and watched as Lance pulled out an ornate silver flask out of the paper bag.
"What is that?"
"A poción, you know, like a potion. Abuelita mixes them up for different things. This one will put us into a trance-like sleep. She used it to teach me to use my gift when I was younger."
"What's in that, anyway?"
"Dunno, didn't ask." Lance replied taking a deep gulp and grimaced, "Don't wanna know."
Hunk took the offered flask and mustered up the courage to drink it. It tasted strongly of musty grass and mint and it burned all the way down. Hunk gagged and shuddered but swallowed it all.
"Why does it burn?!" Hunk demanded.
"Tequila." Lance supplied, "Abuelita puts it in all her concoctions. Says it makes them go down easier."
"She's mistaken." Hunk said, causing Lance to chuckle.
"It grows on you."
Hunk doubted that as his head grew foggy. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the feeling. Lance reached over and stuffed something into his hand before reclining back into the sleeping bag. The rosary.
"You need to be the one to fight them," Lance told him slowly, eyes drooping, "But I'll be there to guide you. Just let the poción pull you under."
Hunk nodded, dropping heavily to the floor next to Lance. As his conscious faded out and sleep overcame he, he could have sworn he heard them whispering in the shadows.
He seemed to wake right away, jolting back up. He wondered if maybe the poción hadn't worked, but dismissed the idea as he took a better look around. This wasn't his room.
"Where are we?" Lance asked.
"My old school." Hunk answered, "This is the principal's office."
"Oh."
Slowly, they picked themselves up off the ground. Lance picked up a piece of paper from the large desk, but frowned.
"This is nonsense." He muttered putting it back down, "Can't ever read in this state."
"Really?" Hunk peeked at the page.
He couldn't put the symbols right in his head, couldn't recognize them as numbers or letters. It hurt his head.
"Freaky." He commented.
"We need to hurry," Lance told him, "This trance won't last forever. Where do you think they'll be?"
Hunk was quiet for a minute as he led Lance through the office and out into the hallway. The place was deserted, but the stranger thing was the foggy quality of the world.
"Gym closet is my best guess, but—"
"No 'but's! We are going. We'll kick ass, so lead the way." Lance cut him off.
Hunk smiled tentatively.
"This way." He said, moving down the hall to the gymnasium.
Inside, only half the lights were on, casting long stretches of shadow. Hunk hesitated, but Lance walked past him fearlessly.
"Don't stop, Hunk." Lance chided, "Be brave."
Hunk followed him in, trying to ignore the hissing whispers the seemed to come from the dark. He didn't acknowledge the figures that loomed there. Halfway across the gym, he catches up with Lance. They approached the set if wide double doors in the far corner slowly. Lance comes to a stop a few feet back and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket.
"Here." He says.
Hunk takes the paper and is surprised to find that the words on it are legible.
"How did you-?"
"It wasn't written. It's a thought that manifested itself here in the dreamscape."
"Oh." Hunk said, not really understanding, "This is the Hail Mary prayer?"
"Yup." Lance drawled.
They turned to the doors together. Lance started to reach for the handle, but they swung open of their own volition. Hunk winced at drawn out screech that came from the rusted hinges. Inside, there was a lone figure, hunched over in the corner. Hunk could barely hear the way it was muttering. When Lance took a step forward, Hunk stopped him.
"Stay here." He told him, "I have to do this myself, right?"
Lance frowned.
"You don't have to be alone, though."
"I already lost one friend to that room. Just stay here. I leave the door open." Hunk said.
Lance didn't look happy about it, but he stayed put. Hunk stepped inside, reaching over to where he knew the light switch to be. Nothing. The stretch of wall where it should have been was empty. Hunk steeled himself to the nervous flutter in his stomach and continued forward. He stood in the middle of the room, eyes focused on the figure before him. Slowly, it turned to him. It was his friend, cradling his eyes and whimpering in pain.
His eyes were all wrong.
Lance screeched, causing Hunk to whirl around just in time to see him sprawled on the floor before the door slammed shut plunging him into complete darkness. Hands grabbed him from behind, then more from the front. More and more voices joined the sea of whispers hissing into his ears. Hunk screamed. Distantly, he heard Lance banging against the doors.
"The prayer! Say it!" Lance was screaming.
"I can't!" Hunk sobbed, "I can't see!"
Pain seared down his arm as nails swiped at him.
"You can! Our minds are meeting! You know everything I do!" Lance yelled.
Hunk squeezed his eyes shut and tried frantically to think of the words but nothing came forth.
"Come on!" Hunk said in frustration, anger welling in him, "Get off! Leave! Go away!"
He pulled back his bleeding arm and nailed a shadow figure in the face. He was shocked at himself for a moment as the figures receded back a few feet and lapsed into temporary silence. Words floated into his mind from the blue, falling out of his lips of their own volition.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
The figures got louder and louder at his words, screaming unintelligently. They were crowding him violently, jostling him back and forth.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen!"
The sudden emptiness of the room came as a relief. Hunk sighed heavily, drooping to the floor. Weariness washed over him. The doors flew open and Lance rushed to his side.
"Is it done?" he asked, "It feels different."
"Yeah." Hunk said, "Is it normal to be so tired?"
Lance laughed.
"You banished multiple spirits from your mind, buddy. Takes some steam."
"Oh." Hunk said, "Is the world melting for you too?"
Lance turned to watch as the mindscape around them disintegrate.
"Yeah. Time to wake up."
Lance jolted awake at the sharp slap across his cheeks. He grabbed the figure in the dark and wrestled them to the floor, trying to dodge their thrashing.
"Fuck!" he hissed as the person scratched him across the cheek.
Beside them, Hunk slowly sat up and switched on a lamp.
"Pidge? Lance? What are you doing?" He yawned.
"Pidge?" Lance demanded, "What the actual fuck, you hellcat!"
"You just grabbed me! What was I supposed to do?" Pidge retorted, shoving Lance off him.
"Shuushhh!" Hunk said, "Don't wake Mom! It's like five in the morning!"
"How did you get in here?" Lance asked, cradling his injured cheek tenderly.
"Window." Pidge answered, "You guys weren't responding to my texts so I just broke in."
Hunk sighed.
"So did you do it?" Pidge asked.
"Yeah," Hunk told him, "I punched a ghost in the face."
The air felt tangibly lighter, like a weight had been lifted. He could breathe so easily. He wasn't scared.
He wasn't scared anymore.
"We make a pretty good team." Lance told him with a dopey smile, grabbing his hand, "You should think about coming to Garr U with us. You'd be more than welcome to join our ghost hunting team."
"I'd like that," Hunk told him, heart swelling, "I'd love that."
"I want all the details," Pidge told them, "But continue with your bro moment first."
"I love you guys!" Hunk told them, dragging them both into a group hug.
"Oh. Oh no!" Pidge struggled, "I don't want to be a part of this bro moment!"
"Just give in!" Lance laughed, ruffling his hair, "Feel the manly affection!"
Hunk released them, wiping his watery eyes.
"What now?" He asked, "What do we do after something like this?"
"Celebrate!" Lance responded, "I say we make waffles."
"Sure, but I meant—"
"Existentially, I know." Lance groaned, "Obviously, we write what happened down. Learn what worked. Maybe use it to help others?"
"Others?" Hunk asked.
"There has to be many people facing similar problems." Pidge reasoned, "Just as scared and helpless."
The words made Hunk's heart twist in sympathy.
"Help others. I like it. Let's do that."
"It's settled then. The McClain Paranormal Aid Team is a go!"
"Were not calling it that!" Pidge groaned.
"Oh, come on!" Lance whined, "We need a name!"
"Well, Garrison already has a group, right?" Hunk asked, "Why don't we just freelance until we can join them?"
"Oh, yeah!" Pidge said, "What was it called?"
"The Garrison University Paranormal Research Society." Lance answered, eyes gleaming in anticipation.