Chapter 2: First Mission-Mr. Burns and Shnitzel
Ed was the first one into the headquarters where the team was staying for the night. And, being the simple-minded boy that he was, he was duly impressed by it. However, all that was in the room was a few chairs, a sofa, six backpacks, each with a set of paranormal equipment and six flashlights, and a desk with a laptop computer and a walkie-talkie on it.
"Cool!" said Ed, jumping onto the sofa.
Eustace was the next person in; needless to say, he wasn't as impressed as Ed.
"What? No TV?" he asked. But then he noticed the larger, overstuffed recliner in the corner; his entire mood changed. "Oh! Works for me!" The farmer walked over to the recliner and made himself comfortable in it.
Sandy and Mr. Burns were next; the mogul didn't seem very impressed either.
"This is it?" Mr. Burns asked, disturbed at how…plain everything looked. "Damnation, my hat closet is bigger than this!"
Sandy gave the old man (well, older man, compared to Eustace) a weird look. "Your hats have their own closet?"
"Well, of course," answered Mr. Burns. "Don't yours?"
"…No, can't say they do," said Sandy.
Shnitzel, still carrying Smithers and Mr. Burns' bag, was the last one in. The rock creature put the bag down in the corner, and then set the assistant down. Smithers managed to stagger over to where Ed and Eustace were before he collapsed into a chair.
"Well, how nice of you to join us, Smithers," said Mr. Burns. "What the devil is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Smithers gasped. "Just let me catch my breath…"
Shnitzel shook his head. "Radda radda radda radda," he said.
"He said that the old geezer should take it easier on the assistant guy," said Ed, translating for Shnitzel without even having to be told to.
Mr. Burns glared at Ed, then at Shnitzel. "As much as I would like to ensue revenge for that comment," said the mogul, "my desire for the prize money is more intense." He walked over to the desk and pointed to the laptop. "Just what is this contraption?"
"That's a computer," answered Sandy.
"Com…pu…ter?" Mr. Burns repeated, as if this was the first time he'd actually heard the word.
This time, Shnitzel gave Burns an odd look. "Radda?"
"Uh…Mr. Burns isn't the most…techno-savvy person around," Smithers explained.
"Well, either way, I bet this baby's got our missions on here," said Sandy, opening the laptop and turning it on. It made a "Ding!" sound, signifying that it was warming up.
"Ah!" said Mr. Burns. "It spoke!"
Shnitzel slapped his face with his hand.
Ed chuckled. "Silly old guy," he said. "Computers don't talk. At least…not yet."
"Got it!" said Sandy, as the computer fully turned on. "Let's see what we got."
There, on the desktop screen, were four folders: one titled "Mission One," one titled "Mission Two," one titled "Mission Three," and one titled "Final Mission."
"Guess we need to look at the first mission," said Sandy, clicking on the first folder.
A program popped up onto the screen, along with a set of instructions.
"Welcome to the first mission in your paranormal investigation," Sandy read. "Each of you will go on a mission, in groups of two, and investigate areas of the Hawthorne Mill said to have the most paranormal activity. This first mission is for Mr. Burns and Shnitzel."
"Come again?" asked Mr. Burns.
"Radda?" asked Shnitzel.
Sandy continued. "During the days when the textile mill was running, there were many reported accidents of workers getting hurt by the numerous and dangerous machines in the mill. One particularly gruesome incident occurred soon after Hawthorne's wife, Lucy, was killed; evidently, an employee who had been working with a machine that pressed animal skins ended up getting caught in the machine and crushed to death."
"Eww…" said Ed.
"After the death of that particular employee, workers reported seeing that employee's ghost hanging around the machine that killed him, sometimes even knocking over the dressmaker's dummies."
"Oh, that makes sense," said Smithers, whose breathing had become steadier.
"Mr. Burns and Shnitzel's assignment is to travel to the room containing the killer machine and the dressmaker's dummies, and search for any sign that the employee's ghost is present. You are each to take a backpack which contains a camera and walkie-talkies allowing you to keep in touch with home base, as well as the essentials for hunting paranormal activity, particularly an electro-magnetic frequency, or EMF meter."
Mr. Burns looked at the backpacks on the floor. "Oh, pish-posh!" he said. "I'm not going to resort to lugging that monstrosity around on my back just so I can find some unnamed spirit!"
"Radda radda," said Shnitzel, who had already taken a backpack and was putting it on, along with a flashlight.
"Well, that's what it says," said Sandy. "You and Shnitzel have to go to the room and look for the ghost for us to have any success."
"Wait!" said Smithers, who had suddenly regained the feeling in his legs, because he ran right up to the computer. "Does it say anything about me going?"
Sandy scrolled down. "Oh, wait! There's more," she said. "P.S. Any participant who refuses to partake in their mission will be immediately excluded from the hundred-dollar reward…"
"What?!" asked Mr. Burns.
"…And only two people are allowed on each mission, save for the final mission. All remaining team members must stay in the vicinity of home base; if they attempt to help any members on a mission, they are also excluded from the reward."
"Ohh…" said Smithers. "But you don't understand; Mr. Burns can barely do anything without me! He can't survive in there on his own…especially if there are ghosts running about!"
Mr. Burns looked at his assistant. "I thought you said you didn't believe in spirits, Smithers," he said.
Smithers realized his mistake. "Uh…I don't sir…" he stumbled on his words. "It's just that…you could fall on something, and if I weren't there to assist you…"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Smithers!" said Mr. Burns. "It's this kind of behavior that makes me have to force you to take vacations! You know for a fact that I never turn down an opportunity to obtain more money!" He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. "And if I'm not mistaken, surely you wouldn't squander your chance for the reward by doing something foolish, would you…?"
Smithers looked at his feet, obviously defeated. "No, sir…" he muttered, disappointment in his voice.
"So, uh…" Sandy turned to where Ed and Eustace were sitting. "Any objections over there?"
Ed snapped to attention; he had been reading a comic book that was in his pocket and missed the whole conversation. "What?" he asked, a clueless look on his face.
The only answer from Eustace was a snore; sometime before, he had fallen asleep in the recliner.
"Then it's settled," said Mr. Burns. He attempted to pick up one of the backpacks and a flashlight, but seemed to have trouble even lifting up one of the backpack's straps.
"Smithers," Burns grunted as he tried to pick the backpack up. "I order you to stay here until I get back. And no matter how much I scream, you are not to leave the premises. Understand?"
Smithers started. "But sir…"
"But nothing!" said Burns. "I'm not about to let anything get in my way of obtaining that money, especially because you screwed something up. Besides," he paused to point at Shnitzel, "if, by any chance, something does happen, I always have this igneous fellow here to take the full brunt of it."
By this time, Mr. Burns managed to get his arms through the straps, but the weight of the backpack was just too much for him; he toppled over backward onto the floor, and began to flail his limbs like an upturned turtle.
Shnitzel looked at the fallen man. "Oh, radda radda…" he grumbled, picking Mr. Burns up by his backpack. He then walked out of home base with the old man.
As soon as they were gone, Sandy turned back to Smithers. "Does he always order you around like that?" she asked.
Smithers looked at the floor again. "Well…usually…" he said. "But as long as I get to spend as much time as I can with Mr. Burns, I don't let it bother me."
Sandy wasn't sure of what to make of the response. "O…kay," she finally said. "Let's see how they're doing." She picked up the walkie-talkie and turned it on. "Come in, team members Shnitzel and Mr. Burns," she said into the device. "Do you copy?"
"Radda radda," came the response on the other end.
"He says they read you loud and clear," said Ed.
Smithers looked at the boy. "How can you understand that?" he asked.
Ed looked at Smithers. "You mean you can't?" he asked.
Smithers sighed. "Never mind…" He gently took the walkie-talkie from Sandy. "Sir, it's me. Are you doing okay so far?"
"Why, yes I am, Smithers," said Mr. Burns' voice, sounding obviously amused. "Smithers, I can hear you through this little box…what's it called again?"
"A walkie-talkie, sir," said Smithers.
"Boys, turn on your cameras," said Sandy, taking the walkie-talkie back. "That way we can get a visual on the surrounding area."
There was a pause, and suddenly, an image of Shnitzel and Mr. Burns was on the computer screen.
"Good work, guys!" said Sandy.
"Can you see me, Smithers?" asked Mr. Burns.
"Yes, sir!" said Smithers, a little too excitedly. "You're quite photogenic on that camera…" This garnered another confused look from Sandy. "Uh…because he's a celebrity…people are always wanting his picture…you know?"
Sandy seemed to buy it. "Okay, boys," said Sandy. "If I'm reading this map that came in the manila envelope correctly, the room you're looking for is to the left of home base as you're exiting it. There should be a door on the side of the building that leads right into the room we want."
"Radda," said Shnitzel.
"He said 'okay'," said Ed.
Smithers looked at Ed again. "Did you really need to translate that one?" he asked.
Ed looked around the room. "Uh…no," he said.
Meanwhile, Eustace continued to snore in the corner.
Shnitzel and Mr. Burns found the door on the side of the mill, and cautiously walked in (well, Shnitzel did; Mr. Burns was still being carried).
"Put me down," Mr. Burns said as they fully entered the room. "I can walk."
Shnitzel put Mr. Burns down, and while the old man wobbled on his feet in a few seconds, he somehow maintained the weight of the heavy bag.
The two team members looked around the room. With the help of their flashlights, they saw the room contained about five or six old dressmaker's dummies, and a large machine containing two large cylinders, presumably used for pressing.
"Okay, Shnitzel, reach into your backpack and take out the EMF meter," Sandy said over the walkie-talkie.
Shnitzel took off his backpack and rooted around in it. "Radda radda?" he asked.
"He wants to know what it looks like," Ed's voice was heard saying.
"It's a small gadget with a meter and a needle on the front," Sandy explained.
With the help of his flashlight, Shnitzel finally found what he was looking for and took it out. "Radda?" he asked, holding it up to the camera.
"That's it!" said Sandy.
Meanwhile, Mr. Burns was shining his flashlight at the dressmaker's dummies. "Boy, this certainly brings back memories," he said. "Grandfather's old textile mill was always such a fascinating place. The hard labor, the mediocre fashions…the unexpected, yet abundant casualties…" His face broke into a twisted grin.
Shnitzel gave a nervous glance toward Mr. Burns, and then began talking into the walkie-talkie again. "Radda radda radda?" he asked.
"He wants to know what they do now," said Ed.
"Well, it looks like Mr. Burns is supposed to knock over one of the dressmaker's dummies," Sandy responded. "It may trigger a reaction from the employee's ghost."
"Is that all?" asked Mr. Burns. He looked at the nearest dummy. "I've always wanted to do this…" He pushed the dummy with all his might, but to his surprise…it hardly budged. "What the…?" Burns tried again, straining with all his might. Then, after much effort, the dummy finally tipped over, making a large BANG sound echo through the big room.
"Whew…" Mr. Burns panted from the effort. "Either I've gotten weaker, or these accursed things have grown heavier with age…"
"I'm sure it's the second one, sir," Smithers said on the walkie-talkie. "Nobody has a physique like yours."
Sandy took the walkie-talkie back. "I'm sure they don't," she said. She turned her attention back to the computer screen. "Anything happen on your end?"
Shnitzel and Mr. Burns looked around. Aside from the occasional breeze from outside, nothing had really happened.
"Radda," said Shnitzel; this time, everyone in home base could tell from the negative tone that he said "No."
"Okay…" said Sandy. "There's one other thing you need to try, then. Shnitzel, you need to put your hand on the top roller of the press. The employee died when he got his hand stuck in it."
Shnitzel looked at the giant press machine; suddenly, it looked ten times more dangerous. "R-radda?" he asked, a little nervous.
"Ooh!" said Mr. Burns. "I saw a worker get injured by one of those machines back in my youth. I must say, I had no idea that much blood could come out of a disembodied hand like that!"
"Uh, sir, I don't think that's going to help him," said Smithers.
"You just have to do it for a second, Shnitzel," said Sandy. "See if any type of a reaction occurs on the EMF meter. We're keeping an eye on it from back here."
It was true; along with visuals of Shnitzel and Mr. Burns and their assignments, there was also a window that showed the rate of the EMF meter.
Shnitzel couldn't keep his eyes off the press. He slowly put his flashlight down so the machine was still illuminated, and held the EMF meter tightly in his other hand. He took a deep breath, and slowly made to set his hand near the area where the two cylinders met.
"You can do it, stone creature!" Mr. Burns called to Shnitzel. "Just don't think about losing your hand!"
Shnitzel flinched, snapping his hand back. He tried again. But…
"Or your fingers getting crushed!"
Shnitzel flinched again, shooting a quick glare at the old man. He tried again, but Mr. Burns kept going.
"Or the sound of your bones breaking! Or how much blood will come out! Or the rest of your body getting sucked in! And especially don't think about…"
Finally, Shnitzel lost his temper.
"RADDA!" he snapped at Mr. Burns; however, when he did, he unwittingly slapped his hand against the press. The large CLANG sound of stone hitting metal filled the room.
Suddenly, the two cylinders felt like they were moving! Shnitzel snapped his hand back one last time; thankfully, it was all right.
"You guys okay?" asked Sandy.
"Well, other than nearly going deaf for the second time just now, I'm just peachy," said Mr. Burns. "Why can't you be more careful, you incompetent oaf?!" he barked at Shnitzel.
The rock creature was shocked at first, but this was immediately replaced with anger. He growled at Mr. Burns.
"Now, sir…" said Smithers over the walkie-talkie, "you have to admit, you weren't exactly helping…"
"Guys!" Sandy suddenly interrupted. "We're getting a reading from the EMF meter!"
"Radda?" asked Shnitzel. He looked at the meter in his hand; sure enough, the needle was waving back and forth between the highest and lowest point.
"Bah!" said Mr. Burns. "Just because some high-tech gobbledygook picks up something, doesn't mean it's true! Besides, if the spirit of an employee really was here, I would have sensed it by now!"
Shnitzel looked at the press machine again. The cylinders were once again slowing down. Soon, it caught Mr. Burns' attention, too. Pretty soon, the cylinders stopped moving and remained motionless.
There was a brief period of silence.
"Well," said Mr. Burns. "That proves my point. I haven't felt anything out of the ordinary here, so I suggest we…"
BANG!
Everyone snapped to attention. Shnitzel grabbed his flashlight and shone it toward the area with the dressmaker's dummies.
Another dummy had been knocked over.
"Holy cow!" said Sandy. "We just got a huge spike on the EMF meter! What's going on?!"
BANG!
Shnitzel's light whipped toward another dummy, just in time to see it bounce slightly off the ground from its impact.
Suddenly, the whole room was filled with the sound of dressmaker's dummies being knocked over by some unseen force.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Shnitzel's flashlight was being thrust all over the place; in one instance, the two team members caught sight of a dummy falling over!
On the other end, Smithers was near hysterics. "Sir!" he was yelling into the walkie-talkie. "Sir, are you all right?! Answer me! SIR!!"
Suddenly, as fast as it started, it stopped. All was quiet again. Neither Mr. Burns nor Shnitzel dared to make a move.
It was Sandy who finally broke the silence. "We got some huge readings over here," she said. "Whatever caused that, it was significant. You guys still breathing?"
Shnitzel's hands were shaking from the sudden loud noise. However, he was able to manage a shaky "R-r-radda."
"Uh…can we leave now?" asked Mr. Burns, who, for once in his long life, was at a loss.
"Well, you guys got a lot of evidence in my opinion," said Sandy. "Come on back to home base."
"With pleasure!" said Mr. Burns. He tried to walk with the backpack still slung on his back, but he was struggling.
Apparently, Shnitzel wanted out, and he wanted out now. The next thing Mr. Burns knew, he was scooped up by the rock creature and being carried back to home base.
Shnitzel burst through the door of home base not a moment too soon. He quickly put down the backpacks and flashlights, along with Mr. Burns. Both team members are breathing heavily.
"Sir!" said Smithers, instantly relieved to see his boss again. "Thank God…"
"Well," said Sandy. "This night sure got off to an exciting start, huh boys?"
Shnitzel didn't say anything. He just walked over to the sofa and took a seat next to Ed.
Mr. Burns, however, wasn't making much effort to move. He finally turned his head toward his assistant. "Er…Smithers?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, sir?" asked Smithers.
"Help me to the bathroom, posthaste," said Mr. Burns. "I'm having a…slight problem with my pants."
Smithers immediately knew what Mr. Burns was talking about. "Right away, sir," he said.
Sandy watched as Mr. Burns and Smithers scurried as quickly as they could to the restroom at the far end of the room. She then looked over to the rest of the group; Shnitzel was trying to control his shaking hands, and Ed was still engrossed in his comic.
And Eustace, the "sophisticated farmer," was still snoring away.