The warehouse had been constructed during the Great Depression, finding its
highest usage during the second World War as a drop point for airplane
parts on their way to London. 74012 Hendershott consisted of one million,
two hundred twenty-five thousand square feet of storage space divided
between two stories and enumerable rooms and compartments, many composed of
hastily added pasteboard, while the dirty water of the East River lapped
pacifically against the pilings directly beneath.
Ray noticed little of this deliberately, though his engineer's subconscious catalogued every feature of the facility, drawing him an accurate map in his head. He picked his way carefully through the obstacle course of forgotten merchandise, debris, cobwebs and filth, particle thrower gripped tightly in one hand.
"I shouldn't let Peter get me so mad," he muttered, opting to begin his search on the far end of the building where he was most unlikely to encounter one of the others. "He doesn't really mean what he says most of the time." Reaching the outer wall, he kicked a board out of the way to allow access to a set of concrete steps. A horde of cockroaches fled the intrusion of their rotting home, and Ray stumbled backward, waiting until they had vanished into the wall before continuing his climb.
The top of the staircase led to a cross-corridor dimly lit by a string of low-wattage bulbs. Ray chose a direction at random, his mind still aswirl from his argument with Venkman. Why would he say something like that, anyway? he asked himself, eyes downcast. He knows I'd never try to mess up one of his dates, especially one he liked as well as Lynn. "Oh, ick!"
This last was in response to the loud crunch of a straggling insect, caught between Ray's boot and the floor. Ray grimaced and wiped the remains off on a piece of brick, eyes growing softer as the dejected image of Peter Venkman played across his thoughts. "But ... maybe he doesn't know," he went on sadly. "Maybe he thinks I did do it on purpose. Maybe...." He stopped, shoulders sagging. "Gosh, no wonder he's mad at me. He liked Lynn better than anyone he's met in a long time -- he told me so. And I had to go mess it up for him. How could I have been so stupid? I should have realized Slimer would try something like that." He smacked his fist into his thigh, genuinely upset at the thought. "Poor Peter. I wouldn't blame him if he never trusted me again after this."
He stopped, head cocked toward a creaking sound from the far end of the corridor he traveled. "What was that?" he asked in a hushed voice, impending battle bringing a slight flush to his cheeks. "That could be my gooper!" Eyes beginning to glow, Ray crept closer, pausing at the half- open firedoor at the hall's terminus. Stantz took a deep breath, tensed and dived through, taking three steps into the room and stopping short. A hangar-size compartment was opened up before him, comprising the entire far side of the building. The light was augmented now by the muted sunshine streaming through a skylight in the canted roof, and revealed perfectly the prey Ray had been stalking. Two swarthy, vaguely canine shapes floated in close proximity to each other, about twenty feet from the floor and an equal distance from Stanz. The size of small oxen, they stood regarding Stantz even as he studied them in return, inhuman ruby eyes sizing up the man with all the cunning of a natural hunter.
"Terror dogs!" Ray gasped, feeling his blood run cold. "Oh, gosh." The team had encountered the semi-corporeal nether-beings on their first case and several since, defeating them only through a concerted team effort. Animal intelligence controlling sheer brute strength and savagery, these creatures were ones the Ghostbusters most hated to go up against, for once provoked they were nearly impossible to stop. Ray brought his particle thrower up, fingering the firing mechanism for several seconds before letting it drop to his side. "I can't handle two terror dogs by myself," he decided, proud of himself for his restraint. "Not terror dogs. I'd better go get the guys. Sure wish I'd brought a communicator with me."
Disappointment shadowed him for a split second, mingling with a healthy dose of self-preservation, before the enthusiasm returned full force. "This is so neat! We never even suspected this large of a nexus in the area! Wait'll I tell Egon!" Resigned to the delay, Stantz spun for the door, some instinct throwing him to the side barely in time to avoid the nine-foot long mass that hurtled past his left shoulder; it crashed into the half-open door, slamming it shut and blocking Ray from any possible egress in that direction. Meanwhile, the second creature circled, grunting and watching carefully while Stantz regained his feet.
"Guys?" He retreated slowly until he felt the wall against his back, again bringing his thrower to bear. Louder, "GUYS!" But there was no reply; thick walls and distance muffled Ray's voice even to his own ears. He swallowed the lump in his throat and threw back his head. "Okay, you two want a fight? Well, you got one! Ray Stantz doesn't run from a couple of overgrown french poodles!"
He lobbed off a shot, the bolt streaking accurately to its target. The creature yelped loudly and withdrew a step, then lowered its head and advanced two. Ray increased his power to full and shot again, this time striking its companion full in the face. Instead of retreating, it growled, causing Ray to pale. "Something tells me I'm gonna wish I'd brought some Milk Bones. Uh ... good dog?" he squeaked, preparing for the worst.
***
Ray noticed little of this deliberately, though his engineer's subconscious catalogued every feature of the facility, drawing him an accurate map in his head. He picked his way carefully through the obstacle course of forgotten merchandise, debris, cobwebs and filth, particle thrower gripped tightly in one hand.
"I shouldn't let Peter get me so mad," he muttered, opting to begin his search on the far end of the building where he was most unlikely to encounter one of the others. "He doesn't really mean what he says most of the time." Reaching the outer wall, he kicked a board out of the way to allow access to a set of concrete steps. A horde of cockroaches fled the intrusion of their rotting home, and Ray stumbled backward, waiting until they had vanished into the wall before continuing his climb.
The top of the staircase led to a cross-corridor dimly lit by a string of low-wattage bulbs. Ray chose a direction at random, his mind still aswirl from his argument with Venkman. Why would he say something like that, anyway? he asked himself, eyes downcast. He knows I'd never try to mess up one of his dates, especially one he liked as well as Lynn. "Oh, ick!"
This last was in response to the loud crunch of a straggling insect, caught between Ray's boot and the floor. Ray grimaced and wiped the remains off on a piece of brick, eyes growing softer as the dejected image of Peter Venkman played across his thoughts. "But ... maybe he doesn't know," he went on sadly. "Maybe he thinks I did do it on purpose. Maybe...." He stopped, shoulders sagging. "Gosh, no wonder he's mad at me. He liked Lynn better than anyone he's met in a long time -- he told me so. And I had to go mess it up for him. How could I have been so stupid? I should have realized Slimer would try something like that." He smacked his fist into his thigh, genuinely upset at the thought. "Poor Peter. I wouldn't blame him if he never trusted me again after this."
He stopped, head cocked toward a creaking sound from the far end of the corridor he traveled. "What was that?" he asked in a hushed voice, impending battle bringing a slight flush to his cheeks. "That could be my gooper!" Eyes beginning to glow, Ray crept closer, pausing at the half- open firedoor at the hall's terminus. Stantz took a deep breath, tensed and dived through, taking three steps into the room and stopping short. A hangar-size compartment was opened up before him, comprising the entire far side of the building. The light was augmented now by the muted sunshine streaming through a skylight in the canted roof, and revealed perfectly the prey Ray had been stalking. Two swarthy, vaguely canine shapes floated in close proximity to each other, about twenty feet from the floor and an equal distance from Stanz. The size of small oxen, they stood regarding Stantz even as he studied them in return, inhuman ruby eyes sizing up the man with all the cunning of a natural hunter.
"Terror dogs!" Ray gasped, feeling his blood run cold. "Oh, gosh." The team had encountered the semi-corporeal nether-beings on their first case and several since, defeating them only through a concerted team effort. Animal intelligence controlling sheer brute strength and savagery, these creatures were ones the Ghostbusters most hated to go up against, for once provoked they were nearly impossible to stop. Ray brought his particle thrower up, fingering the firing mechanism for several seconds before letting it drop to his side. "I can't handle two terror dogs by myself," he decided, proud of himself for his restraint. "Not terror dogs. I'd better go get the guys. Sure wish I'd brought a communicator with me."
Disappointment shadowed him for a split second, mingling with a healthy dose of self-preservation, before the enthusiasm returned full force. "This is so neat! We never even suspected this large of a nexus in the area! Wait'll I tell Egon!" Resigned to the delay, Stantz spun for the door, some instinct throwing him to the side barely in time to avoid the nine-foot long mass that hurtled past his left shoulder; it crashed into the half-open door, slamming it shut and blocking Ray from any possible egress in that direction. Meanwhile, the second creature circled, grunting and watching carefully while Stantz regained his feet.
"Guys?" He retreated slowly until he felt the wall against his back, again bringing his thrower to bear. Louder, "GUYS!" But there was no reply; thick walls and distance muffled Ray's voice even to his own ears. He swallowed the lump in his throat and threw back his head. "Okay, you two want a fight? Well, you got one! Ray Stantz doesn't run from a couple of overgrown french poodles!"
He lobbed off a shot, the bolt streaking accurately to its target. The creature yelped loudly and withdrew a step, then lowered its head and advanced two. Ray increased his power to full and shot again, this time striking its companion full in the face. Instead of retreating, it growled, causing Ray to pale. "Something tells me I'm gonna wish I'd brought some Milk Bones. Uh ... good dog?" he squeaked, preparing for the worst.
***