Wild Ride
By: CindyR co-written with GingerF
In the innermost heart of the city, far from the evening crowds, a meeting was taking place in an abandoned warehouse; a meeting which was to decide the fate of the Ghostbusters. "They must be stopped at all costs," ordered a faintly glowing specter from a dusty rafter. The half-dozen assorted figures gathered below moaned assent.
The first specter drifted off its rafter, floating gently above the 'heads' of the ghostly throng, finally bumping to a halt in one corner. "We can no longer let them continue their painful assaults on our kind," it boomed, to the accompaniment of laments and wails.
"But how do we stop them, Gastur? You tell us," one of the lesser spirits demanded. "The harder we hit, the more powerful they become. Their technology-""
"Do not speak to me of technology." Gastur's glow brightened perceptibly with agitation. "The wizardry of men is of no interest to us. We must destroy the men, for it is with them that the true power lies, not in their toys. We prepare now for the final assault."
"You talk of final assaults," another interrupted boldly. "So did Samhaine, Watt, and other powerful specters and demons. Where are they now? Languishing in the Ghostbusters' containment unit!"
Lightning crackled through the leader's blue aura, and its voice was a determined roar. "We shall deliver our brothers and sisters from their prison bonds and make the Ghostbusters suffer for every one they have trapped."
The gathered spirits recoiled from the sheer power inherent in their leader's rage. One, braver than the rest, levitated a few feet upwards. "You sound very sure of yourself, Gastur," it said. "Who is going to lead us to this victory? You?"
"NO!" Gastur's aura swirled madly until the single questioner was forced to join its cowed brethren crouched on the floor. "The privilege will go to one who deserves the opportunity -- a spirit willing to accept the challenge, one who has a personal score to settle and has presented a unique way of meting out justice." It paused dramatically. "I'm sure you are all acquainted with Lordaine. "
A buzz of commotion broke out amongst the gathered spirits. "Lordaine!" "The Harvester!" "The Dealer of Justice!"
"The one and the same." Gastur preened, pleased at its own cleverness. "He heard of the capture of his brother, Samhaine, and was distressed. When Samhaine escaped, Lordaine made ready to join his brother in the battle, but Samhaine was recaptured by those accursed Ghostbusters. He swore vengeance and has now set his plan into motion. It begins tomorrow at midnight. Before the cock crows, the Ghostbusters will be but a memory and we who will be the reality."
***
Peter Venkman slipped through the doorway of Ghostbusters Central, a large box balanced precariously in his arms. Bright sunlight illuminated the interior of the room forcing a smile to Peter's face at the sight of Ecto-1 sporting two sets of overall-clad legs protruding from opposite ends of its chassis. With a low chuckle, he kicked the door, shutting it with a bang.
"That you, Pete?" Winston called, pulling his head out from under the hood of the car. "Did you pick up those parts I ordered from the auto center?"
Peter hefted the large crate. "Next time, Winston, do my spine a favor and order lighter parts, huh? A guy could hurt himself lugging this stuff around. I'm a doctor, not a stockboy." He nimbly ducked a nebulous green mass which detached itself from the ceiling to dive bomb his head. "Watch it, spud," he growled. Slimer returned to his vantage point on the ceiling making annoyed squeals to himself.
Winston plucked the box from Venkman's hands and set it on a low workbench. "Don't make me laugh," he said, rummaging around inside. "Just 'cause you got some piece of dead sheep with the word 'doctor' on it, don't make it a fact." He removed several articles from their individual packages and slid them into the general vicinity of the second pair of legs. "Here you go, Ray, just like you ordered."
"Great, you got the stuff," came the bright voice of Ray Stantz from underneath the car. "Good work, Peter." The reply to that innocuous remark was a silence so deafening that Stantz pulled himself out from under the car. "Peter?" he asked curiously.
Venkman glowered. "Two years of engineering, seven years of psychology, three of parapsychology ... two doctorates, and how does my resume read? 'Peter Venkman -- stockboy.' Great."
"But, Peter." The good-natured occultist laid a placating hand on his friend's arm. "Your own research--"
"Is going absolutely nowhere," Venkman finished sourly. He threw himself down onto the workbench the very picture of dejection. "I'm sure there's a connection between Alpha wave fluctuation and psychokinetic ability, but after three months I'm no closer to discovering the correlation factors than I was when I started. I'm starting to think...."
He broke off at the appearance of a tall, lanky figure from the staircase. "You know, Ray, this is very interesting," it said, stepping around the incensed Venkman as though he weren't there.
"Everything is interesting to you, Egon," was Venkman's acid comment. An offended snort from the direction of the filing cabinets made him look up into Janine's disapproving glare. Her expression softened considerably as Egon came into view.
The physicist remained oblivious to her adoring scrutiny. "Oh, hello, Peter. Back so soon?" Spengler pushed his red glasses back up on his nose, ignoring the temperamental flash which lit his colleague's face.
Winston, however, did notice. "What's interesting, m'man?" he asked, giving Peter a nudge.
"This." Spengler brandished one of his yellowed newspapers under Winston's nose. The black man retreated a step. "I was investigating that case of ghoulism we handled last week and I found this article."
Ray accepted the folded newspaper. "'Alien Sues Zsa Zsa Gabor for Child Support,"' he read. "Gee, Egon, that's real neat, but...."
"Not that one." Egon snatched up the paper, reversed it and returned it to Ray's hands. '"That one." "'Grave Robbers Die in Crash.' Wow!"
"'Wow,' indeed," Spengler sniffed. "Fascinating, actually. It seems that Ecto once belonged to a funeral home located in the Bronx."
"Could be worse," Peter commented. "Could have been Bayonne."
"I always knew she was a home girl." Winston proudly patted the gleaming hood.
"It's all documented here in these newspaper articles. Quite a scandal, really." Egon shuffled through his remaining newspapers, managing to drop several in the process. Winston retrieved them without a word and handed them back.
"What was a scandal?" Ray asked eagerly, his eyes bright with the possibility of a new mystery.
Egon located the sheet he was looking for and handed it to his youngest colleague. "The drivers of the hearse were grave robbers. Before they would take the coffin out of the car, they would help themselves to the jewelry of the deceased, even wedding rings."
"Geez, that's pretty low," Peter said, peering over Ray's shoulder.
"Low, indeed." Egon nodded agreement. "They got away with it for years until one night, on the way back from the hospital, there was an accident. When the police arrived, the two drivers were dead, still bearing some of the booty from their previous capers. Ecto, of course, was repaired and restored to regular service."
"And?" Winston prodded, waiting for more.
"That's it. End of story." Egon resecured his newspapers from Ray's greasy fist and began to wander towards the staircase, having already lost interest in the conversation.
"Remind me not to have ol' Spengs read us any bedtime stories," Peter complained.
"You can read to me anytime, Egon," Janine sighed.
Spengler looked up, startled. "Urn, that's very kind of you, Janine, but ... uh ... right now I have some more work to do." With that, he raced upstairs to the relative safety of his lab.
Ray watched his friend's escape with an amused smile on his face. "Last time I saw Egon that flustered was when that geek from MIT published that article on Quantum Mechanics as applied to induced temporal transmigration. Kid got a multi-million dollar military grant on that one."
"Why would that upset Egon?" Winston wondered.
"Because Egon's paper on the same subject came out less than a month later," Ray explained. "Government nearly had him arrested on espionage charges. Egon was positively livid." He paused. "We'll, as "livid as Egon ever gets, anyway. "
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, that sure was fun watching the fire department break down the door to the broom closet when he locked himself in. Didn't come out for two days." He sighed. "Those were the days."
***
By: CindyR co-written with GingerF
In the innermost heart of the city, far from the evening crowds, a meeting was taking place in an abandoned warehouse; a meeting which was to decide the fate of the Ghostbusters. "They must be stopped at all costs," ordered a faintly glowing specter from a dusty rafter. The half-dozen assorted figures gathered below moaned assent.
The first specter drifted off its rafter, floating gently above the 'heads' of the ghostly throng, finally bumping to a halt in one corner. "We can no longer let them continue their painful assaults on our kind," it boomed, to the accompaniment of laments and wails.
"But how do we stop them, Gastur? You tell us," one of the lesser spirits demanded. "The harder we hit, the more powerful they become. Their technology-""
"Do not speak to me of technology." Gastur's glow brightened perceptibly with agitation. "The wizardry of men is of no interest to us. We must destroy the men, for it is with them that the true power lies, not in their toys. We prepare now for the final assault."
"You talk of final assaults," another interrupted boldly. "So did Samhaine, Watt, and other powerful specters and demons. Where are they now? Languishing in the Ghostbusters' containment unit!"
Lightning crackled through the leader's blue aura, and its voice was a determined roar. "We shall deliver our brothers and sisters from their prison bonds and make the Ghostbusters suffer for every one they have trapped."
The gathered spirits recoiled from the sheer power inherent in their leader's rage. One, braver than the rest, levitated a few feet upwards. "You sound very sure of yourself, Gastur," it said. "Who is going to lead us to this victory? You?"
"NO!" Gastur's aura swirled madly until the single questioner was forced to join its cowed brethren crouched on the floor. "The privilege will go to one who deserves the opportunity -- a spirit willing to accept the challenge, one who has a personal score to settle and has presented a unique way of meting out justice." It paused dramatically. "I'm sure you are all acquainted with Lordaine. "
A buzz of commotion broke out amongst the gathered spirits. "Lordaine!" "The Harvester!" "The Dealer of Justice!"
"The one and the same." Gastur preened, pleased at its own cleverness. "He heard of the capture of his brother, Samhaine, and was distressed. When Samhaine escaped, Lordaine made ready to join his brother in the battle, but Samhaine was recaptured by those accursed Ghostbusters. He swore vengeance and has now set his plan into motion. It begins tomorrow at midnight. Before the cock crows, the Ghostbusters will be but a memory and we who will be the reality."
***
Peter Venkman slipped through the doorway of Ghostbusters Central, a large box balanced precariously in his arms. Bright sunlight illuminated the interior of the room forcing a smile to Peter's face at the sight of Ecto-1 sporting two sets of overall-clad legs protruding from opposite ends of its chassis. With a low chuckle, he kicked the door, shutting it with a bang.
"That you, Pete?" Winston called, pulling his head out from under the hood of the car. "Did you pick up those parts I ordered from the auto center?"
Peter hefted the large crate. "Next time, Winston, do my spine a favor and order lighter parts, huh? A guy could hurt himself lugging this stuff around. I'm a doctor, not a stockboy." He nimbly ducked a nebulous green mass which detached itself from the ceiling to dive bomb his head. "Watch it, spud," he growled. Slimer returned to his vantage point on the ceiling making annoyed squeals to himself.
Winston plucked the box from Venkman's hands and set it on a low workbench. "Don't make me laugh," he said, rummaging around inside. "Just 'cause you got some piece of dead sheep with the word 'doctor' on it, don't make it a fact." He removed several articles from their individual packages and slid them into the general vicinity of the second pair of legs. "Here you go, Ray, just like you ordered."
"Great, you got the stuff," came the bright voice of Ray Stantz from underneath the car. "Good work, Peter." The reply to that innocuous remark was a silence so deafening that Stantz pulled himself out from under the car. "Peter?" he asked curiously.
Venkman glowered. "Two years of engineering, seven years of psychology, three of parapsychology ... two doctorates, and how does my resume read? 'Peter Venkman -- stockboy.' Great."
"But, Peter." The good-natured occultist laid a placating hand on his friend's arm. "Your own research--"
"Is going absolutely nowhere," Venkman finished sourly. He threw himself down onto the workbench the very picture of dejection. "I'm sure there's a connection between Alpha wave fluctuation and psychokinetic ability, but after three months I'm no closer to discovering the correlation factors than I was when I started. I'm starting to think...."
He broke off at the appearance of a tall, lanky figure from the staircase. "You know, Ray, this is very interesting," it said, stepping around the incensed Venkman as though he weren't there.
"Everything is interesting to you, Egon," was Venkman's acid comment. An offended snort from the direction of the filing cabinets made him look up into Janine's disapproving glare. Her expression softened considerably as Egon came into view.
The physicist remained oblivious to her adoring scrutiny. "Oh, hello, Peter. Back so soon?" Spengler pushed his red glasses back up on his nose, ignoring the temperamental flash which lit his colleague's face.
Winston, however, did notice. "What's interesting, m'man?" he asked, giving Peter a nudge.
"This." Spengler brandished one of his yellowed newspapers under Winston's nose. The black man retreated a step. "I was investigating that case of ghoulism we handled last week and I found this article."
Ray accepted the folded newspaper. "'Alien Sues Zsa Zsa Gabor for Child Support,"' he read. "Gee, Egon, that's real neat, but...."
"Not that one." Egon snatched up the paper, reversed it and returned it to Ray's hands. '"That one." "'Grave Robbers Die in Crash.' Wow!"
"'Wow,' indeed," Spengler sniffed. "Fascinating, actually. It seems that Ecto once belonged to a funeral home located in the Bronx."
"Could be worse," Peter commented. "Could have been Bayonne."
"I always knew she was a home girl." Winston proudly patted the gleaming hood.
"It's all documented here in these newspaper articles. Quite a scandal, really." Egon shuffled through his remaining newspapers, managing to drop several in the process. Winston retrieved them without a word and handed them back.
"What was a scandal?" Ray asked eagerly, his eyes bright with the possibility of a new mystery.
Egon located the sheet he was looking for and handed it to his youngest colleague. "The drivers of the hearse were grave robbers. Before they would take the coffin out of the car, they would help themselves to the jewelry of the deceased, even wedding rings."
"Geez, that's pretty low," Peter said, peering over Ray's shoulder.
"Low, indeed." Egon nodded agreement. "They got away with it for years until one night, on the way back from the hospital, there was an accident. When the police arrived, the two drivers were dead, still bearing some of the booty from their previous capers. Ecto, of course, was repaired and restored to regular service."
"And?" Winston prodded, waiting for more.
"That's it. End of story." Egon resecured his newspapers from Ray's greasy fist and began to wander towards the staircase, having already lost interest in the conversation.
"Remind me not to have ol' Spengs read us any bedtime stories," Peter complained.
"You can read to me anytime, Egon," Janine sighed.
Spengler looked up, startled. "Urn, that's very kind of you, Janine, but ... uh ... right now I have some more work to do." With that, he raced upstairs to the relative safety of his lab.
Ray watched his friend's escape with an amused smile on his face. "Last time I saw Egon that flustered was when that geek from MIT published that article on Quantum Mechanics as applied to induced temporal transmigration. Kid got a multi-million dollar military grant on that one."
"Why would that upset Egon?" Winston wondered.
"Because Egon's paper on the same subject came out less than a month later," Ray explained. "Government nearly had him arrested on espionage charges. Egon was positively livid." He paused. "We'll, as "livid as Egon ever gets, anyway. "
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, that sure was fun watching the fire department break down the door to the broom closet when he locked himself in. Didn't come out for two days." He sighed. "Those were the days."
***