Ghostbusters International: Chronicles of Gozer
GBI Case File GBI-2004-22/001
Story by Fritz Baugh, Vincent Belmont, Ben King, Jeremy Hicks, TheRazorsEdge, and Brian Reilly
Original Edit by Vincent Belmont; recut by Fritz Baugh
(Time Unknown...place...unknown)
"What? Where am I?" Vincent asked as he looked around. All around him purple storm clouds raged above a battle-scarred landscape...which seemed oddly alien...yet there were some disturbingly familiar elements. Around him he couldn't see another living soul...but somewhere above he could hear the beating of colossal wings...which seemed to emanate from behind a colossal blood red moon. "Show yourself!" Vincent demanded...and suddenly he was consumed by black.
May 31st, 2004
8 Days until the end of the world.
England (6:34am)
"Vincent? Vincent!" Suddenly Vincent awoke and suddenly shut his eyes at the harsh light which poured in through one of the lab windows...it was morning? "Vincent...you okay? The way you were sleeping couldn't have been all that comfortable." It was Tommy who at present was dressed in civilian clothes.
"Pardon?" Vincent asked.
"It's morning...and I can't say it's a huge surprise to find you sleeping in the lab...especially with your dedication to translating that thing." Tommy indicated the book.
"Sleeping? But I was only out for a second..." Vincent studied his watch...it read 6:35 AM. The time, combined with the change in lighting proved that it was morning. "I had a vision...I was at an alien landscape...I could hear what sounded like the wings of a colossal bird or moth...but I could've sworn I'd been in that vision for a few minutes...but apparently I was either in it for the best part of six hours or I was truly there for a few minutes but the end of the dream caused me to fall into a type of deep sleep." Vincent supposed.
"Okay...did you see anything important? Anything that might relate to this case?" Tommy asked.
"Nothing specific...if any I'm afraid." Vincent replied.
"Damn...oh well we still have a lot of work to do...Professor Spengler should be arriving in two hours or so and we must get the rest of the unfinished tasks completed." Tommy added.
"Agreed...are the rest of the team downstairs?" Vincent asked.
"A lot of them are migrating down at present." Tommy replied as he walked out of the room.
8:45 am.
Ben King Senior narrowed his eyes as he searched the skies to the west. "I thought he said he'd be here by now..." Dr. Vincent Belmont stood like stone for fifteen seconds.
"He does have to cross the Atlantic, Benjamin. I think he can't be blamed for being ten minutes late..." Vincent smirked. "Besides, I think I see it now...' Ben squinted again.
"Damn you and your eagle eyes, Belmont...I still don't see a thing..." But shortly, a glint did appear. And a growing sound could be heard in the sky. "Either it's him or we're about to be bombed by the RAF..." Ben spoke into his walkie-talkie, sparing a look back in the direction of the converted asylum that now served as the headquarters of Ghostbusters UK's two teams.
"I wouldn't put it past Chaplain at this point..." the voice of Iain Bennett came back, mostly (mostly) jokingly. "I'll be glad when he gets a look at this-because what little I've picked out is scaring the hell out of me..." Ben nodded.
"The last few months have been...bad, to be certain..." he said, and nothing more. The glint became larger, and became a vehicle-a small, gyrowinged airplane with the standard Ghostbusters logo emblazoned on the side. As it came in for a landing, Ben could see the letters spelling out "ECTO-4" on the side.
After the craft settled to the ground and the roar of it's engines faded to silence, one of the gull-wing hatches at the side opened up, to allow the sole occupant of the craft to emerge.
He was a tall man, standing some six foot three, with a lanky build and a curious configuration of blond hair that had turned white from about the ears down. A pair of tiny eyeglasses were perched on his nose, framing a pair of blue eyes that held a depth and intensity that had unnerved many a person in the past. He wore a jacket over a blue-grey flight suit featuring pink trim and a nametag on the left chest reading "SPENGLER"
"Professor Spengler...welcome to England..." Vincent greeted him, shaking his hand.
Egon Spengler, legendary founding Ghostbuster, looked back at Belmont with just a hint of bemusement.
Vincent glanced down at Egon's uniform and shook his head.
"Ye should' a stuck with the standard GBI khaki. Blue and Pink doesn't suit ye...or is this some fatherhood thing yer goin' for?" Vincent chuckled.
"It's curious how your Scottish accent is more pronounced since you've come back to the Isles..."
Vincent looked a little nonplussed. A slight smirk came to Egon's mouth. "Dr. Belmont rendered speechless? I shall have to tell Peter..." Vincent shook his head and smiled back.
"Your wife has been quite...an influence on you, Sir."
"She tries. And Mister King...a pleasure to see you again, even under the circumstance..." he said, shaking Ben's hand. It had been almost a year since he'd seen Vincent Belmont, but his first-and only-face-to-face meeting with Ben King had been the better part of two years ago. Though the two had communicated regularly ever since via email.
"You too, Sir. Feel free to call me Ben, by the way..."
"Noted, Ben. And you call me by name in the emails, so feel free to do so in person-you're not really that much younger than I am, after all..."
"Well, no...I suppose not...but you're so...well, important..." Egon rolled his eyes.
"Dr. Venkman is the one who gets off on prestige trips, Ben. Besides, you've proven yourself over and again..."
"This way, Professor, if we're all through pattin' ourselves on th' back..." Vincent said, walking toward the asylum. "How is everyone doing back home?"
"Not too badly. Peter's been busy with the twentieth anniversary merchandising, the new comics and novels and such, and of course he's talking about running for mayor again..."
"Twentieth anniversary?" Ben said. "I thought that was last year..."
"Technically yes, Ghostbusters Inc. formed in 1983. But the movie came out in 1984, and GBI was formed at the same time, so there's a lot of confusion about that point. We've finally given up trying to convince people otherwise-which is why we even have been known to say 1984 on the message boards..." Egon wiped his eyeglasses. "And that's nothing compared to convincing some of them that we didn't go out of business immediately after the Gozer incident..."
"To say nothing of the stalkers..." Vincent said simply.
"Um..." Egon said, stopping.
"Touche, Professor..." Vincent said, with a smirk.
"Hm...indeed..." Egon replied.
"Stalkers?" Ben asked, confused. "You don't mean..."
"Mary Sue Gladstone and her ilk. The ones who refuse to face the reality that Professor Spengler is happily married with twins. You should see some of the names they call Mrs. Spengler..."
"I don't think I want to know..." Vincent grimaced
"You don't" Egon said firmly.
"Um...yes..." Ben agreed, coughing. They reached the doorway and went inside. Ben King Jr. was waiting there.
"Professor Spengler..."
"I see your father has been taking good care of you..." Egon said. Junior beamed.
"Well, of course he has. It's been great seeing him again. How are the Twins doing?"
"They've managed to avoid trouble for a whole six days. Though we have a running bet as to how long that will last with me out of the country." Egon said, remembering now that he may lose fifty dollars.
"How bad are these children?" Ben asked. "You make them sound like tiny terrors..."
Egon came as close as he was capable of to actually smiling. "They are the great joy of my life, Ben, as you can sympathize. But you've communicated with my wife-you know that Janine can be...willful..."
"Urm..."
"Now imagine the Professor's mental talents and that feisty nature in th' mix, lad." Vincent said.
"Oh my..." Ben shook his head.
"I have no doubt that they'll exceed me one day..." Egon said. "I haven't pushed them the way I was pushed, but they push themselves pretty hard-growing up with someone just as intelligent and determined as each other, someone to by turns compete and collaborate with, will make them formidable in whatever they choose to do." The cheery conversation was interrupted by the arrival in the room of Dr. Tommy Simpson, the GBUK's leader. Egon paused and turned to beam at Vincent with a more then obvious smile from ear to ear.
"If that is the case, then, Professor Belmont, then the world must hope that you and Miss Valentine do not reproduce..." Vincent turned several shades of red, stopping at what seemed to be a dark maroon.
"Touche, Professor..." Vincent muttered, and continued to walk again. Vincent smiled. "I miss these little repartees...but it seems that I have become lax. I will be on my toes."
"Then from you, Vincent, I expect an actual challenge." Egon retorted.
"Sorry to break this up, Sir...but maybe you'd better come on ahead and see the book..."
Egon's face returned to its accustomed look of scientific intensity. "You are quite correct, Thomas. Lead on."
Tommy, Vincent, Ben, and Egon went to a room to the right of the entrance area. "LAB: BENNETT" read the sign.
Inside was demonologist and RAF Flying Officer Iain Bennett. He stood by a table on which sat, surrounded by various instruments, a somewhat disheveled hardback book.
"Professor Spengler! Glad you could make it..." Iain said. Egon grunted a pleasant noise, but his brain was already at work on the curious object that had brought him accross the Atlantic. He pulled out a box with a handle on it, and flipped a button.
Error: PK Level Exceeds Sensor Tolerance Parameter.
"Sure beats having it blow up on me..." Egon deadpanned.
"So that's the new Model 3.0..." Iain whistled. "Beautiful piece of kit." Spengler pulled a pair of surgical gloves out of one of his pockets, and put them on after removing the jacket and placing it on a counter.
"You say you found this..inside this asylum?" "Hmmm..." Egon said, as he picked up the book and flipped it around and about. "I'd guess at least seventy years in age...not necessarily cared for well...but not abused either..."
"We think perhaps one of the former inmates had it..." Ben noted.
Egon opened it.
"Sumerian..."
"That's what we suspected, Professor." Vincent said. "I'm not as proficient in the language as you are, and frankly what I could pick out of the title and the first few pages...as well as some of the diagrams were enough concern to call you on..."
"So...what does the title say?" Iain asked.
Egon cleared his throat. "It means...the Chronicles of the Great Destructor, The Formless Traveler..." Egon looked at them, his eyes their most intense. "The Destructor. The Traveller. Vuulgus Zildrohar. Or, as he's know to this day and age...Gozer."
10:22PM
Ben King Jnr entered the lab, just as Professor Egon Spengler glanced up from the large tome.
"Excellent...just when I'd expected it to arrive." Dr. Spengler commented, he slid the metal stool over to the edge of the workbench, pulled off the rubber gloves and accepted the warm cup of coffee. "Thank you." He replied, he took a sip as Ben handed Iain a similar cup. As he drank the liquid, Egon grimaced slightly. "I had forgotten the difference British coffee had, it is a drink that comes with an acquired taste." He replied, setting the cup down.
"How is the work going?" Ben Jr. asked as he held the tray at his side.
"With slow progress, which is to be expected from a artifact of such complexity...my Sumerian translation skills may not have seen much use since the late 90's, but I still get the gist of it." Egon replied. "From what I've been able to translate so far, the book has made reference to some previous incidents involving Gozer, depending on which alias the deity has gone under dictates which period in history the event occurred...apparently his influence goes back as far as the destruction of Atlantis."
"Atlantis is real?" Ben Jr. asked with a low whistle.
"Well, apart from the fact the question is in the standard GBI employment questionnaire...but there has been significance to prove the legend true, whether the city was known as Atlantis, or it inspired the myth we know today is yet to be decided...Vincent, however, is insistent that Atlantis may be the continent of Mu." Egon continued, taking a moment to study his notes. "The book also makes some vague references to a 'female concubine of green isle decent...' However Sumerian is nothing short of vague in itself..."
"'Green isle'? Could mean Ireland." Iain ventured.
"That is most possible Mr. Bennett, however we will need to translate more before we have a definite answer I believe." Egon mused.
"What shall I tell the others?" Ben Jnr asked.
"That presently only a few answers have surface, I'd wager a guess we won't receive any definite information until it's almost midnight, but until then normal duties should continue until something of grave importance arrives."
"Right." Ben Jr. replied, he then turned and left the lab.
"There's something else, isn't there?" Iain asked, looking up from a illuminated magnifying glass. Egon released a tired sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, careful to replace his glasses in the proper position.
"I didn't want to mention this, not until I was totally sure...but this book hints at something big...I'm not sure as I'm still yet to decipher the text...but it could mean trouble, real, big, trouble." Iain regarded Egon for a few moments.
"I can see how someone like Dr. Venkman may consider your words a doomsaying." Iain replied.
"Indeed." Egon replied, a slightly amused glint in his eyes. "Whatever happens here...we must find out where this book originated from."
"Easier said than done...but if it did belong to one of the inmates then we'll need to find out where he might've gotten the book."
"Agreed."
12:16PM
Click Click. Tommy stared at the screen and frowned. He'd been given the task of tracking down the inmate who had occupied the room upstairs in the derelict part of the East Wing...and it was proving to be as bad as looking for a needle in a haystack. However, it was only the second hour he'd worked on the project, the first had been to try locate the Asylum's Records, which thankfully enough had been left in the basement of the Asylum...but looking through the building's impromptu files room wasn't an easy task, none of the files or folders were in order...only the fact that the corresponding dates and years had been written on the boxes and files had prevented Tommy from having a nervous breakdown.
He'd eventually located most of the inmates who'd been confined to the Solitary Confinement block within the last five years of the asylum's operation, now he was trawling through the online NHS records in order to find out which inmates were still alive...if any and where they'd heralded from, it was an added bonus that the files were put on post-mortem...it would've been near impossible to find the inmate if it hadn't been decided that the Patient/Doctor confidentiality priviledge ended at death.
"National Health Service - Staffordshire
1900-1985
Search Criteria: Hospitals and Asylums
Patient Records
Southall Sanitarium (1900-1987)
Alyisson Rosenberg 1982-1984 (Deceased April 1997)
Angelina Croft- 1976-1978 (Deceased March 1978)
Angelus Boreanez 1979-1984 (Deceased April 1997)
Andrew Mellows- 1980-1982 (Deceased January 1985)
Brent Matthews 1929-1954 (Deceased Nov 1956)
Buffy Geller 1981-1984 (Deceased April 1997)
Buster LaMarch- 1963-1983 (Deceased February 1983)
Connor Kartheiser 1979-1984 (Deceased October 2003)
Daniel Bradford- 1970-1973 (Deceased July 1973)
David Beddingfield- 1975-1975 (Deceased June 1975)
Edward Hopper 1962-1974 (Deceased February 1974)
Frank Jones- 1963-1983 (Deceased March 1983)
Jonathan Stanford- 1934-1984 (Deceased June 1983)
Jimmy Sommerset- 1943-73 (Deceased November 1973)
Katherine Hollows- 1930-1974 (Deceased February 1974)
Kirstin Carter- 1942-1973 (Deceased December 1973)
Kurt Bishop 1983-1984 (Transferred to Southampton Mental Facility) (Deceased March 1989)
Lorenzo Welker- 1963-1983 (Deceased April 1983)
Maurace Music- 1963-1983 (Deceased January 1983)
Nicholas Harris 1923-1935 (Deceased January 1936)
Paul Dudding- 1945-74 (Deceased March 1974)
Samantha Reynolds 1980-1984 (Deceased January 2003)
Sarah Summers- 1980-1982 (Deceased October 1982)
Sarah Wright- 1933-1934- (Deceased August 1934)
Stuart Head 1945-1965 (Deceased July 1967)
Willow Hannigan 1982-1984 (Deceased May 1998)
Legend
-=Patients who died of Natural Causes within the medical facility.
-=Patients who died of Unnatural Causes within the medical facility.
After noticing the June 1983 death date beside Jonathan Stanford's name, Tommy clicked on the name and was transferred to a small medical file concerning Jonathan Stanford.
"
Name: Jonathan Stanford
Current Age: 84
Date: January 23rd, 1982
Period of patient's duration: 1934-Present
Medical Examiner: Dr. Matthew Lucas - Psychiatrist
Patient Notes:
The case of Jonathan Stanford is an interesting one...he was admitted to Southall Sanitarium in 1934 under the care of my predecessor. However upon examining his notes and reports on Jonathan's progress when he retired in 1945 has yielded a bizarre case of delusional paranoia. Apparently Jonathan had been a demolition worker since 1923 but after an incident at a quarry in 1934 was made redundant by the quarry foreman along with his fellow quarry workers. During the next year his fortunes became worse as he obsessed over a strange book he'd found upon the site. Jonathan finally developed acute paranoia and was eventually incarcerated within the walls of Southall Asylum in November of 1934. During the 11 year period between 1934 and 1945 he was under the care of Dr. Nathaniel Masters...whom I have replaced. During December of 1934, Jonathan tried desperately to convince Dr. Masters that he was perfectly sane...however this eventually degraded into the standard case of delusion upon the discovery of a book within his cell...there was an investigation into whether a staff member had brought the book in...but none of the present staff admitted to bringing the thing.
NOTE: Jonathan has been allowed to keep the book by his side due to his ferocious protectiveness...after an assault on an orderly and failed attempts to remove it (Jonathan somehow managed to retrieve the book and would never reveal how he did so).
From 1934 to present he has collected data from newspapers and books while incarcerated within Solitary Confinement in the Third Floor of the East Wing of the Sanitarium. His cell contains strage drawings that he has scrawled on the walls...he seems perfectly happy with his book and seems happy to explain the details of his theories...sometimes being heavily detailed and extremely well thought out...including some rather worrying premonitions. A psychic and a paranormal investigator were contacted by the asylum staff and gave mixed reviews on the circumstances of Jonathan and his book. Both concluded that he wasn't psychic...but that he supposedly had access to some higher power which allowed him to be given these delusional premonitions...however I remain skeptical over the exact involvement that Jonathan may have with "higher powers." Of recent, there have been some complaints from the night staff of hysterical shoutings and ravings from Jonathan's cell...garbled comments including: "...the four defenders...", "...gozer...", "...the formless destructor is coming..." and "...ghost fever..." However as of this moment...I can only conclude that these are some of the delusions which form Jonathan's unusual case. I shall endeavor to continue reporting on Jonathan's progress as time moves on.
Note: Mr. Stanford is mentioned as of dying on June 8th, 1983. Only one year before Southall is officially closed down."
Tommy looked at the bottom of the page and saw a second link.
"Associated Files." Frowning at this he moved the curser over the link and clicked on it. Within a few minutes the page changed to a report written presumably by a second person.
"Staffordshire Police Force
Incident: Multiple deaths under strange circumstances.
Location: Southall Sanitarium, Burton on Trent, Staffordshire.
Date of Incident: July 24th, 1986.
Investigating Officer: Chief Inspector Caroline Maxwell
This is a first hand report of the incident I experience at Southall Sanitarium. At 7:54PM a call was made to the local Police Station in Burton on Trent by a man named Gerald Wilkins (28). Mr. Wilkins apparently had a pale and nervous appearance when he approached one of the station constables. Once he had gotten the attention of one of the constables (PC Andrews (35)) he explained a fairly shocking story about an encounter he had within the Sanitarium's basement. For this record I have included a transcript of the interview transcript:
Wilkins: I...I don't know how to explain this.
Andrews: Just start from the beginning...do you want some coffee before we begin?
Wilkins: No...thank you.
Pause as Wilkins cleared his throat.
Wilkins:...I...I want to report my employer...I...I think...I think he's been burning people in the sanitarium incinerator.
Andrews: Mr. Wilkins...I am legally bound to inform you that this is a serious accusation...do you have proof of your employer's supposed crimes?
Wilkins: I...I do...he was...
Andrews: Just start from when you entered the sanitarium celler.
Wilkins: Yeah...I was dispatched down to the basement to collect something for one of the doctors...Dr. Bishop had apparently left a portfolio in the morgue when she'd performed an autopsy that day...so I went down there. The cellar of the place isn't used much due to most of the patients eventually leaving the place cured of their problems...though...there was some mention that more people were dying...even some talk of people disappearing...
Andrews: Disappearing? From their cells?
Wilkins: Yes...but sometimes it'd be a staff member...this one guy...Dabb...he used to work on night duty until one morning they found his post empty and no sign of him...
Andrews: Please continue with what happened in the cellar.
Wilkins: Sure...so I take the lift from the ground floor to the 'Corridor to Hell'...
Andrews: 'Corridor to Hell'?
Wilkins Laughs.
Wilkins: It's a small in joke we orderlies have...there was this rumour the place was built on a hellhole...and this corridor took so long to push a cart along that it felt like a journey to Hell...
Andrews nods.
Andrews: I see...so you were in this...'Corridor to Hell'?
Wilkins: Yes...I entered the morgue, nothing out of the ordinary there and I made my way over to the Coroner's work area to grab the portfolio, but as I moved I heard a voice...so I creep along to the heavy swing doors which leads to the incinerator which can only be accessed via the morgue...and I can see this man through the windows in the incinerator room doors...he's naked from the waist up but he's covered in this red stuff...I could've sworn it was blood...
Andrews: Blood?
Wilkins: I can only assume it was...the windows were kinda murky so I couldn't totally see clearly
Andrews: Then how could you tell it was your employer?.
Wilkins: His voice...it was crazy...but I'd recognize it anywhere...most of the staff do.
Andrews: Understood...please, continue.
Wilkins: Okay...so I'm in the cellar watching my employer doing something strange with the incinerator...and at one point I could've sworn it was the flames of Hades itself inside that machine...so I'm hiding behind this door...and suddenly the man turns around and walks through the door...and out into the morgue...thankfully enough he didn't see me. So I hide in a locker until he returns and once he's back in that room I took another look...then he turned around...and God almighty did that man scare me...And it was Sanitarium Administrator Forrestor...if that red stuff that covered him was blood I could've swore he was covered in it like a newborn baby...and he had this insane grin on his face...and a far off look...like he wasn't there.
Andrews: Did he say anything?
Wilkins: Yeah...I had a right time trying to work it out...something to do with a 'formless one'...a 'traveler'...sounded like the right nutjobs we had upstairs in the solitary confinement wing if you ask me...sounded like this one guy we had a few years back it did...
Wilkins pauses for a moment...apparently collecting his thoughts.
Wilkins: I'll say this, he hadn't seemed all that strange to begin with...nice chap...talked to staff and patient alike, no-quarrel...but he seemed to change sometime after June 1983...like he'd gone on holiday and some new bloke took up residence in his mind...he seemed less inclined to talk to people and spent god knows how long in his office...at all hours...some people barely saw him at all.
Andrews: You will have to understand, while we will investigate this accusation...you must bare in mind that if this does appear to be a hoax you will be charged with wasting the Police's time.
Wilkins: I swear on the life of every poor soul in that sanitarium...my employer has gone insane.
End of Transcript
Based on the orderly Wilkin's report several officers were dispatched from the local police station, including myself. Once we had arrived at the Sanitarium we questioned the staff in reception where Administrator Forrestor was, one of the reception staff went to Forrestor's office but came back without him...apparently he had vanished. Accompanied by two Orderlies and Forrestor's second-in-command, a female psychologist named Stephanie Lauwence we investigated Forrestor's last known steps. We began the investigation within his office, careful to catalogue any evidence that would prove useful. The investigation then led to the cellar of the asylum which Orderly Wilkins had informed us had been the last place he'd seen Forrestor before leaving to inform the police. Splitting the police team and orderlies in half to cover both the building's lift and staircase we descended into the dark lower levels of the asylum. Once we had reached the cellar area it was noted that there was a strong smell of smoke and blood in the air. As we slowly moved towards the Incinerator Room (As indicated by Lauwence) several officers including myself overheard disconnected words shouted from where we believed the incinerator was held. Once we approached the door after passing through the main part of the morgue two of my officers extracted their truncheons and peered through the small windows and informed us that there was indeed a half naked man shouting wildly within the room...we could not confirm if he was covered in blood due to the light cast by the fire and the overall condition of the window glass. Upon my order and the arrival of the second half of the arrest team we entered the Incinerator Room to the mad cries of the man. Hearing us, he turned around and Ms. Lauwrence raised a hand as not to gag...it was indeed...from a file photo we had seen...Administrator Thomas Forrestor...his upper torso and face appeared to be covered in blood and he had a leer on his face which was similar to the description offered by Orderly Wilkins. After a short incident where Forrestor attempted to escape he was captured and handcuffed. Once we had returned to the asylum reception Forrestor began to rant and rave...in which he said the words: "You can't have my special place...I've hidden it away...you can't find it...it's protected by the formless one in my office". Acting on this two of my officers returned to Forrestor's office and began to examine the contents in more detail...eventually discovering what could only be described as a 'blasphemous shrine' to some mystic god probably invented in the obviously unstable Forrestor's mind. I ordered my officers to destroy it on sight as it offended nearly everyone who saw it...Forrestor was then sedated and taken to the Police Station where he was confined to a cell until he could be charged with murder...how many people he may have murdered cannot be determined...he may have killed dozens depending on how long he has been acting like the way he was when captured, there is always the possibility he may have always been like this but hasn't shown these symptoms before, his condition will be reviewed by a specialist when one is required.
Note:
A man going by the name T. Forrestor is noted to having committed suicide in Parkhirst Prison, Isle of Wight in 1988 with a stolen belt. He was dead from hanging when found in his cell by Prison Guards. To this day nobody has been able to clearly work out the exact number of patients possibly murdered by Thomas Forrestor during his time as Administrator of Southall Sanitarium...Southall Sanitarium was closed down in January of 1987.
Tommy rubbed his chin in thought and then re-read the article. It certainly sounded too close to be a simple coincidence...and so if Jonathan Standford was the man who'd owned the book they'd found in the abandoned part of the East Wing...then where exactly did he find the book? The file made mention to a quarry which had closed down around 1934...which didn't narrow it down a great deal...he could only hope that he could trace Stanford's history back from the asylum records.
2:24PM
"Hmmm." Ben King Sr. mused as he stared at a definitely complex-looking shot. It depicted a room from a stately mansion, which featured a floating ghost in Edwardian dress and a levitating dining room set...including the chairs and tables. The thing which had bugged Ben about this particular picture which had been posted on the internet ten days ago was the composition...the room had been taken by someone who wasn't a professional...that was easy to detect...and the furniture truly looked like it was floating...whoever had posted it had been clever enough to do some sever blending and blurring to hide the telltale signs...but to Ben it felt like a fake...the ghost seemed just too sharp in the photo...like it had been a person in costume who'd posed for the shot...then edited onto the backdrop of the realistically floating furniture...even the slight glow effect looked realistic...but the sharpness of the spectre just didn't seem right. With this opinion and evidence at the click of his mouse he began to post the details on how it was a fake...still, there were some pics which did still baffle him, for a good time the picture of the Hampton Court spook had had him puzzled for nearly a week before he noticed some definite signs it wasn't a real ghost.
Knock. Knock.
Ben looked up at the door which led out of the lab and into the corridor.
"Enter." He called back and a few moments later the door opened and Rosey Collins, the team's second female civilian worker entered the room.
"Hey." She greeted.
"Hey." Ben replied, taking the opportunity to pop a few cricks in his neck and shoulderblades. The resulting cracking sound made Rosey wince.
"Must you do that?" She asked warily.
"Sorry." Ben replied with a slightly apologetic grin. "Is there something I can do for you?" He asked.
"Yeah...kinda. One of the guys in Iain's lab wanted you to take a look at some woodcuts in that book Iain found...said it might be interesting." She informed him.
"Sure." Ben replied. He then stood up, causing the desk chair to scoot along to the desk on the opposite side of the photography study. He then left the room and made his way to Iain's Lab where Egon, Iain and now Vincent were making notes and observations on what the book had yielded so far. He leaned on the doorframe as he watched the scholars working away. "I swear, this must be what the research wing of the National Archives must look like." Ben joked, gaining the attention of all of the occupants in the room. "Where's this woodcut you'd like me to see?" He asked as he moved over to the book.
"Here." Egon replied, he slid his own stool over to the workbench. Then carefully, he lifted up the book for Ben to see. On one page was a large woodcut depicting a large pyramid, swathed in fog and lighting. The temple held three figures...two dog-like creatures and a third...a humanoid.
"Hmm...from the descriptions of what I've heard it looked like...I'd say that looks like the Temple of Gozer."
"Exactly." Egon replied. "However...there is something written in the text that worries me." Egon added, adjusting the overhead magnifying glass to give Ben a better view of the book. "Do you see the text...here?" He indicated a passage in the text.
"Yes." Ben replied, straining to see the unusual writing.
"What worries me...is that portion of text, translated into English translates as: '...a second doorway was formed...a second coming for the Formless One...'." Egon read aloud.
"That is something to worry about." Ben commented as he rubbed his chin.
"Agreed...if the translation is precise...then this could mean that the Temple of Gozer above the apartment complex of 550 Central Park West may not be the only one of its kind...if this truly is the second coming of Gozer then it would only be appropriate that a second Temple of Gozer existed...only problem is..." Egon explained.
"We don't know where it is." Ben finished.
"Precisely."
4:33PM
Vincent Belmont and Professor Egon Spengler sat in Iain's lab as they continued to write long and extensive notes on the passages they'd deciphered during the previous hour's work of translation from Sumerian to English...it was their hope to eventually publish an abridged version of their notes for a report on the case...should a report be written on whatever events were to transgress.
All possible avenues of events had to be assessed...if things continued to develop both in outside events and from translation the Ghostbusters could be on the threshold of another apocalypse...however the term 'apocalypse' and what it meant didn't always come across as strongly as it used to be these days.
Iain Bennett drank from a cup of coffee as he watched the two Ghostbusters slaving away to try get a transcript ready for review by midnight...every fifteen minutes of so they'd take a break from their writing to trade notes and ideas...Iain didn't mind being excluded...he may be a demonologist but he knew when there was stuff that was just too far complex for him to solve...that's why he was glad they had access to people like Vincent and Egon to do the downright cosmically difficult stuff.
He turned and walked across the hall to the break room, inside sat the remaining members of the Day Shift and Graveyard Shift of Ghostbusters UK...until further notice, all jobs had been suspended pending rescheduling if they were to stop whatever big bad might happen...sometimes a Hell Mouth in southern California was the easy deal when you worked as a Ghostbuster. The day had progressed fairly slowly for those not involved in any of the impending duties...Ben had been set to work studying some copies of the illustrations in the book, Tommy was busy tracking down who owned the book and may've had it and brought it to the asylum...Egon and Vincent were preoccupied with their translation work and Iain himself was taking a break from checking the equipment. Inside, Roger Kenedy, Leon Vega, Adam Bestler, and Jill Valentine were playing a game of cards at the card table, Rosey Collins was grabbing a cola can from the vending machine and Eric Rose was dozing in one of the arm chairs. In the background the news summary from the Channel Five news blared from the unwatched television set.
"How're things going?" Adam asked, pausing between asking the dealer for two more cards.
"Slow...Vincent and Egon are working as fast as they can...and I'm yet to hear from Tommy on how his research is going." Iain took a quick swig from the cup. "And Ben...well...he's doing his studies of the images from the book. "Say Adam...where's Molly Ann?" Iain asked in reference to Adam's non-present girlfriend.
"Town." Adam replied. "She went out to do some shopping...said something about the fridge getting bare..." Adam replied flippantly as he returned to his game, he paused and looked back at Iain. "You look...y'know...like you got something better to be doing but can do it." He commented.
"It's just...it's ridiculous...I'm a bloody expert!" Adam looked at him with slight worry. "I really haven't had much sleep lately, I mean... hell I decoded a prophecy regarding an apocalypse in Iraq of all places. I think it's just... well a bad day for me"
"Iain...bud...even the heroes have a bad day and get cranky...don't take it personal...take a chill pill...or as I like to call them...beers, and get yourself some down time while we can still have it." Adam suggested and then went back to his game once again.
"Iain." Iain turned to face Dayshift's leader, Dr. Tommy Simpson.
"Yo." Iain greeted, saluting which his coffee cup.
"I need to go over some things with you." Tommy replied.
"Sure." Iain agreed, he then followed Tommy back to Tommy's office which was housed in the West Wing of the building. They entered the office and moved over to the computer set up on Tommy's desk.
"Okay...I did some research on the NHS's website...try see if I can locate the guy who had that book. Now apparently it belonged to some guy brought here in 1934...and eventually died in 1983...apparently he was some quarry worker who went loco and they threw him in here...for the next half a century he's treated here and dies in 1983...thought I wonder if the administrator who went nuts had something to do with that book...it says he was ranting about stuff to do with a 'formless one'." Tommy supposed.
"Wouldn't be surprising." Iain replied thoughtfully before taking another swig from his coffee cup. "Any word on where matey-boy came from before he lost his marbles?"
"Not really...I can have a look upstairs...see if anything else was left...we'd be lucky if there was anything...nothing online has given me an idea of where he came from...not even the name of the quarry."
"Keep at it anyway...whatever you can find can't be anything but helpful." Iain replied, clapping a hand onto Tommy's shoulder.
"Sure." Tommy replied. Iain then left the office to the sound of keyboard keys clattering.
4:45PM
Tommy opened the metal door which blocked off the abandoned third floor corridor of the East Wing and entered the gloom, the place could sure use the remodeling...even if they were simply left empty...it would ease his mind if he knew the roof of the East Wing wouldn't come crashing down...if there was time he'd discuss it at the next budget meeting.
He dodged the junk and rubble until he reached the room Iain had discovered the book in...the decaying remains of a rubber padded solitary confinement cell...Tommy sniffed the air and winced...there was a musky smell...possibly the rubber...but it barely masked the other smell which smelt vaguely like human waste. He knelt down and extracted a penlight from his field belt...the team had taken to wearing their jumpsuits on and off duty since they'd been informed that Professor Spengler would be arriving...though the suits had understandably become slightly crumpled from the continual use since that morning. He twisted the end of the penlight and then pointed it into the patch of darkness Iain had revealed...at first he saw nothing except bare wooden beams and boards...but as he poked and prodded the light further into the darkness he saw something...it was pale and looked like it was a large bound folder...or possibly a book.
At first he tried to reach for the object but found that his arm was just too short for the distance that it was from the hole...looked like whoever had put it there had deliberately slid it as far as possible, as he extracted his arm he found that the board and rubber section directly in front of the object was loose...and within a few moments three rubber squares and half a floor board were lying scattered around the cell as Tommy removed the object...it was a book, it had been originally white...or grey but was now stained tan in some places...probably from water.
He heaped the book onto one knee and illuminated it with the penlight as he opened the page. The pages were filled with long scrawls which varied in quality...some bits he could read fairly well...but some others were badly rushed and he couldn't be sure. One thing he did know for sure...within the first two pages he had read the words: Jonathan Stanford, and if those words were in the book then it must be connected. He switched off the penlight and put it back on his belt, he then quickly left the cell as he made his way to show the new discovery to the research team downstairs in Iain's lab.
4:56PM
"And you say you found this in the same place that Iain found the book?" Egon asked as he studied the smaller note-pad/book/collection of assorted papers that Tommy had found stuffed further away under the rubber padding of the confinement cell.
"Yes." Tommy replied.
"Interesting." Egon commented in reply. "It appears this book contains many listings of events that your patient, Jonathan Stanford, believed to be prophecies which had been hinted at by the book." He commented as he studied some of the scrawls of writing within the yellowing pages. "It appears he has made reference to some fairly large events that have and will happen."
"You think he was a seer?" Iain asked.
"Not necessarily. It's probable that the book gave him hints at what was yet to come at that stage and what is yet to come in our stage...there's a mention to something about a figure known solely as 'Romulus' which I am yet to identify in any recent events which have occurred over the last century. However it would seem that Mr. Stanford was attempting to chronicle the prophecies as each one came true." Egon added.
"Looks like he's still prophesying now after his death...it probably seemed like it was our man after he died on June 8th, 1983." Tommy replied.
"It does seem to be that case." Egon agreed.
"How is the work on the book going?" Tommy asked. Egon took the moment to rub the bridge of his nose before replying.
"Slow...but worthwhile." He commented. "We have a little under a third of the book translated and if we can continue this we should have the book finished around June 2nd."
"I assume nothing has yet yielded itself in relation to the location of the second temple?"
"Trust me...if I knew where it was you'd be the first to know."
035
