Revenge from Beyond the Containment Unit
Disclaimer: The Real Ghostbusters, all characters, concepts etc. are the property of the individuals and/or companies that own the copyrights to them. This fanfic and all original characters/ideas etc. belong to me and my sometimes strange imagination.
This is my very first RGB slash fanfic so please be gentle. But please leave feedback if you have a spare moment, I'd really appreciate it!
Note: This fanfic will be censored from part 4 in various places due to the rating system on this site. You can read the uncensored version on my website. If you are unfamiliar with the terms yaoi or slash, or the concept of Peter and Egon together offends you... please avoid this fanfic!
Part 1
Sometimes, there were days when Dr. Peter Venkman wished that he had chosen another line of work - anything other than Ghostbusting. On one of the few occasions that his father had ever bothered to say anything nice to him, it had been to praise him on his manipulative sweet talk. Why, he could have become a successful car salesman even! They made a lot in commission and the responsibilities for such a job were pretty low.
Anything but this!
Peter struggled to get to his feet, kicking a lone steel garbage can out of his way in the process. His brown Ghostbusters uniform was streaked with mud stains and torn at the knees, not to mention the spots of blood at the shins and elbows where he was most likely bleeding from the fall.
"Son of a --!" Peter gritted his teeth, biting down on his fury and keeping his temper in check. He needed to be calm and reasonable if he wanted to catch the little bastard that was still loose in the alleyway. Somewhere. But where had he gone? He pressed the earphone of his broken headset to his ear and spoke into the microphone. "Guys, did you get him?"
Dr. Egon Spengler, punctual as ever, was the first to respond. "Negative. This area is clear."
"Nope. Nothing." Winston Zeddemore confirmed from his position.
Dr. Raymond Stantz seemed to be in a more talkative mood. "If he didn't come through on our ends, he must still be in your area, Peter. Try using the PKE meter."
With a sardonic grin, Peter nudged the shattered device that lay on the dirty cement with the toe of his boot. "I thought about that myself, Ray, but that prick made short work of it."
"Losing your temper isn't going to help the situation, Pete," Winston advised from his end.
"I am not losing my temper!" Peter shut off his mic and aimed his thrower high, waving it in an arc to encompass the entire alley. "Okay, I'm going to ask you - nicely - to come out and surrender or else I'll start blasting apart this place until I nail you!" He increased the power output on his proton pack, ready to follow through on his threat if he didn't see some ectoplasm in action.
"Why don't we make a deal?" The creepy voice that had first taunted Peter with, 'shove it up your ass, Ghostbusting trash!', was now sounding worried.
Peter honed in on the source of the voice without moving, concentrating on his natural instincts to lead him to the bulls-eye. "What kind of deal?" He asked, feigning interest while his trigger finger itched to blast first and interrogate later.
"You let me go and as a show of gratitude, I watch your back from now on. Imagine ghosts and Ghostbusters working together as a ... team." The gravelly voice seemed to mask a snicker on that last word.
"You watch my back? Sounds interesting. What I want to know is if you are really sincere. Or maybe you're just desperate because you know we've got you surrounded." The corner of Peter's mouth turned up slightly as he gave the darkened alley his evilest grin.
"Screw you, Venkman!" The ghost edged closer, raising his voice in both anger and hysteria. "I'm offering you this deal as a benefit to us both. You accept, I walk out of here and you get yourself a part-time bodyguard."
"Contrary to what you ghoul-types seem to believe, I don't have that many enemies," Peter grumbled with a roll of his eyes.
"If you refuse..." The voice grew darker, almost as if it wanted to invoke Peter's imagination, but instead it continued. "Well, let's just say that I'll hold a very long and nasty grudge against you. You think what I did to you a few minutes ago was rough? Imagine what I might be capable of if you really piss me off!"
"Ohhh, I'm sooo scared. Shaking in my boots." Peter spun on his heel suddenly, whipping his thrower in the direction of the voice. When he came to an abrupt stop, the tip of his gun was pointed right between the eyes of a very nasty looking ghost. Big, purple, chunky... with a glare that had probably put weaker men into an early grave. "Now what, smartass?"
The ghost scowled at Peter, hatred swimming in his blood-red eyes. He was about to speak when Peters earphone broke the tense moment up with first static, and then a concerned voice.
"Peter, have you managed to get the situation under control? Do you require assistance?" Egon inquired in a very formal tone. Only the few people that really knew Egon would be able to hear the uncertainty in what he didn't say.
Recalling the way that he had been thrown into a heap of garbage and then dragged facedown from one end to the other, Peter forgot where he was for a moment. A vision of Egon being attacked by this violent ghost filled him with a cold dread. "NO! Stay where you are!" It had just been a reaction and his tone a direct reflection of it. But it had been a mistake.
"Co-worker?" The ghost asked casually, becoming overconfident once more to stretch and flex his bulbous ectoplasmic muscles. "That sure was a strange way to speak to just-a-co-worker." He smiled.
"You know, it's been swell and all but you really have to be going now." Peter clutched the thrower tighter and fired without warning, snagging the ghost in an array of blue, red and white lights that cackled with energy.
The purplish entity gave an indignant cry, struggling against the beam that had it lassoed around the middle. "You do this and when I get free I'll destroy you from the inside-out," he threatened.
"Fuck you!" Peter reached to the back of his proton pack with one hand... and realized that he didn't have a trap. "Shit," he hissed to himself.
"Well, what have we here?" The ghost cast a look over Peter's shoulder to where Egon had just appeared, miraculously holding a trap in his left hand and his powered-down thrower in his right.
"I figured that you had forgotten to empty your own trap, Peter." Egon hesitated, one eyebrow rising when his best friend turned back to give him a look that was a cross between fear and raw anger.
This beginning altercation was all the ghost needed to press his advantage. "Release me now, Venkman. Unless you want to be sharing that pretty blond with me." His smile grew as that particular innuendo had Peter's face reddening to the tips of his ears. "And believe me, after I've had my fun with him there won't be much to return."
"EGON! Stop standing there like an idiot and throw the trap!"
Egon jerked at the harsh way Peter had called his name but obediently flung the trap across the alleyway until it was directly beneath the suspended ghost.
"Hit it!"
Again, Egon responded, stomping down on the pedal with his foot and looking away from the blinding flash of light at the same time Peter did.
Within seconds, the ghost had disappeared and the trap automatically closed.
"Peter, would you care to explain what that was all about?" Egon adjusted his round red-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose and regarded his friend cautiously. Whether it was fortunate for him or not, he hadn't heard any of the ghost's threats from where he had been standing.
"That was about you ignoring my orders! I told you to stay where you were!" He bent down to pick up the trap and stormed over to Egon, his emotions knotted in the pit of his stomach.
"And if I had done so, what would you have trapped the entity with? A trash can?" Egon calmly reached for the trap only to have his wrist seized by an enraged Peter. Apparently, Peter was not in the mood for rational conversations because he simply held onto Egon while stewing in his own bad mood. "Peter, please collect your thoughts and regain control of them. Otherwise, Ray and Winston are going to get the wrong impression when they come to check on us."
"You're afraid of what they might think?" Peter demanded, drawing Egon closer.
Those innocent, if not confused, light blue eyes met Peter's crazed green ones and held his gaze before returning their attention to the trap. Egon didn't understand what Peter was referring to. And how could he? It wasn't like Peter had ever treated him as anything other than a best friend.
"Yes, Peter. I'm concerned that they will actually be foolish enough to believe that you intended to hit me. You will upset Ray and Winston might actually decide to settle the score on my behalf."
Immediately, Peter let go, forcing his expression into a neutral straight-mouthed mask. "You know me better than that. I would never hit you... for any reason." He walked past Egon, heading for the main street.
"What I don't understand is how that entity managed to rile you up so perfectly," Egon mused. "And then why you would re-direct that frustration at me."
"Just having a bad day, Spengs. Nothing more to it than that." Peter didn't glance back, leaving the baffled physicist no choice but to silently follow him to where Ray and Winston were waiting.
To be continued…