What the hell was I thinking?
Peter gazed sourly out of Ecto's window at the crowd as Egon pulled up to the pre-school. The police had cordoned off the area around the small, two-story building, but, even at this distance, Peter felt the increased pressure against his shields. I really could have gone for another week of practice before giving this shield dohickey the acid test, he grumbled inwardly. Fear he had shoved down deep the minute Ecto had left headquarters stirred restlessly inside, but he refused to even acknowledge its presence. He knew Egon and Janine were uneasy about him coming, but they had no choice. He firmly held his "Peter Venkman: Celebrity Hero" mask in place and grinned at the two of them.
"Come on, team! We're late for class."
Egon glanced at him meaningfully. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Peter?"
"I was born ready, Spengs," Peter returned, forcing a cocky grin. "Let's get these goopers before the kids miss naptime."
The three of them piled out of Ecto-1. One of the police officers hurried over to them.
"About time you got here. We've got four kids and a teacher trapped in there."
"Sorry, but our faster-than-light engine broke down," Peter snapped. "Where are they?"
The policeman frowned and pulled a quick sketch of the building from his pocket. "The principal drew this up for me since we can't find the blueprints. They're on the first level in the back...here." He pointed at a large room. "There's one door and a couple windows but the ghosts have them backed into a corner where they can't reach either one."
"Are you sure those are our only means of access?" Egon asked, looking over the officer's shoulder at the diagram.
"Damn right, I'm sure," he replied in a caustic tone. "Me and my partner tried to get in there. Damn ghosts divebombed us and I nearly got brained with a chair. If there was any other way to get to them, we'd have found it."
"Okay, we'll take it from here," Janine said, efficiently snatching the diagram. The officer scowled, but went back to crowd control. Peter and Janine hauled on their proton packs while Egon took a reading.
"What have we got, Egon?" Peter asked as he handed the physicist his own pack.
"As we suspected from the call, one Class Five and two Class Twos," Egon answered as he hung the meter on his belt and strapped on his pack. "The Five is not manifesting at the present time, but I've got a strong reading on the Twos toward the back of the structure. They must be the entities in the craft room."
"Great! We get to play hide-and-seek with a Five," Peter groaned.
Janine elbowed him in the ribs. "First we've got to get those kids out of there before we go blasting away, Dr. V. Any ideas?"
Peter looked up at the building. Several windows had been broken. Broken toys and a few pieces of furniture were scattered on the street, but the damage on the whole seemed to be minor. Occasionally, eerie wails and muffled thuds echoed out of the windows.
Don't hear any kids screaming. That means either their teacher's keeping them quiet, or they're too scared to yell...or they're not able to, he thought with growing alarm.
"How about getting a look at the craft room?" he suggested, unholstering his thrower. "Things might have changed since Officer Krupky over there peeked in."
"That may be the best course," Egon agreed. "But keep your throwers set to low power until we're sure where the children are."
As they approached the building, Peter found himself becoming more and more uneasy. It was if he could feel the malice and cruel amusement hanging in the air like fog. As they entered the building, the feeling intensified, becoming stronger with every step.
"Uhhhh, Egon," he said as he carefully edged his way around a broken sandtable lying in the hall. "Not that I doubt your ability to read that meter in the dark and with your eyes closed, but could you check the reading again?"
"Problem, Peter?" Egon asked with a frown.
"Just wanna make sure," Peter said with a shiver. "This place feels nasty."
"I'm not feeling anything," Janine said as she cautiously looked around.
"Neither am I," Egon confirmed. "Aside from the general feel of a haunting." The physicist shifted his thrower to one hand while he consulted his meter once again. "As before. One Five and two Twos. The Twos seem to be more powerful than the norm, but they are still within this classification's range."
Janine stopped to give Peter a measuring look. "You're not going to freak out on us, are you, Dr. V?"
"Moi? Freak out?" Peter answered with a brittle smile, although the thought had crossed his mind. "You know me better than that, Melnitz."
"I don't believe `freaking out' is the issue here," Egon offered as they resumed their quiet stalk down the hall toward the sounds of thudding in the back. "Remember, Peter. You're much more sensitized to these phenomena now. The question is, will your shields hold up?"
"I guess we're about to find that out, Spengs," Peter said, lowering his voice to a whisper. The craft room was just now in sight. "The old sink-or-swim school of psychic training. I think I've got it handled, though. I'm not getting thoughts, just a sense of really bad ju-ju. Nothing I can't handle."
"Are you sure?" Egon whispered back, his blue eyes hard behind their lenses as he caught Peter's gaze. Peter sighed.
"Believe me, Egon. The minute I can't handle it, I'm out of here. I know what a liability I'd be if I lost it."
Egon looked at his friend for a second longer, then nodded. "Very well. Now let's see what we're up against."
The physicist had been slightly in the lead, so the other two held back as he inched his way along the wall toward the open doorway. They could now hear just under the shrieks of the entities and the occasional thud or crash the muted whimpering of young voices and an older, female voice whispering. Egon carefully shifted to peer around the doorpost, then darted to the other side of the doorway and pressed himself against the wall to check the rest of the room from the opposite angle.
"Careful, Egon," Janine whispered.
"Yeah, Spengs," Peter added, remembering what the policeman had said about his experience with this room. "You've never been one to lose your head on a bust. Don't start now."
Egon didn't bother to answer the jibe. Peter and Janine held their breaths as he smoothly stuck his head through the doorway just enough to let his eye clear the opening. He jerked back just as a squeeze-bottle smashed against the frame exploding and showering him with purple tempera paint. Quickly, he darted back to join the rest of the team.
"It appears that the ghosts are most adverse to company," he said, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket to clean the paint off his glasses. "However, I have managed to pinpoint the position of the civilians. If you would please show me the diagram, Janine."
She pulled the folded paper out of her pocket and spread it out against the wall. The room itself was oblong with the door near the end of one of the longer walls. The two large windows were on the opposite wall. Egon pointed to the corner of the room which was on the same side as the windows but furthest from the door.
"This is where they are. They've taken cover under a table and appear to be unharmed. It will be challenging to get them to the door. The ghosts will probably attack anything that moves in there, and the space is far too small to safely operate the throwers until we get them out."
Janine winced as a box of popsicle sticks came flying through the door and broke open against the wall of the hallway. "What about the windows? They're closer to them. Can we get them open from the outside?"
"That particular question is moot considering they've both been broken out," Egon replied. "That would be a quicker escape route, but it would probably take two of us to get them out of there with any speed. And the problem still remains of getting them past the ghosts and over all that broken glass unharmed."
"Which means someone's got to keep the goopers busy while you get them out," Peter said with a groan. "I should have just stayed in bed. I've already been slimed once today."
Egon and Janine looked up in concern.
"Wait just a minute, Dr. V!"
"Peter, you don't have to..."
"Save it, folks!" Peter interrupted. "Remember, you've got the New and Improved Venkman Ghost Magnet on this bust. It'd be so much fun if the ghosts notice me while I'm trying to sneak out the backdoor with the kiddies." He grinned cockily. "After all, I was the best at distracting goopers before I became a psionic sun-lamp using nothing but my rapier wit and quick reflexes. Let me play to my strengths."
"Annoyance and general irritation?" Janine asked dryly. "I hate to admit it, Egon, but he's got a point."
"Indeed he does," Egon said, his tone tightly controlled. "But try not to get yourself killed, Dr.Venkman. Two visits to the hospital in one week will not much improve our insurance premiums."
"And I love you, too, Spengs. Radio me when you're in position."
As his two teammates crept back down the hall, Peter edged forward to try to find some cover to dive for when he entered the room. He'd had plenty of experience distracting ghosts while his team got into position for a bust, and he'd found that having something to shield yourself with when said ghosts got a little too nasty was very helpful.
That overturned table ought to do just fine. Well, Pete, here you are again playing bait. How the hell do I manage to get myself into these messes? I don't think I'm a masochist. But, then, I do live with Egon.
He pointedly did not think about what he was feeling from the other side of his shields. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the sheer number of minds around him, but the shields seemed to be wearing down a little faster than normal. Instead of worrying about that, he set his thrower to its lowest possible setting.
Won't do more than tickle those goopers, but at least I can use it without worrying about neutronizing a kid if our gatecrashers notice them leaving the party early. Okay, Petey, you can do this. Just go in with sarcasm set to full power like always. Hell, this psi-attraction may turn out to be an advantage doing this stuff. Peter snorted at the thought. Yeah, right. And Dean Yeager will be nominating me for Citizen of the Year.
He checked his watch. Just over five minutes had passed since Egon and Janine had left him. Come on, come on, he thought impatiently. If you've dragged Egon into an alley for a little nookie, Janine, I'm docking your paycheck.
Finally, his walkie-talkie crackled. "We're in position. Go."
"Showtime!" Peter hissed under his breath and took off through the door. The ghosts weren't hard to spot. But then, Class Twos who like to throw things rarely are. They paused in their trashing to stare at the newcomer. One was a mottled-orange with a long, lumpy body, bugged-out eyes and what seemed like a dozen, spindly arms. The other was shorter and smooth, with tentacles arranged in a fringe around the base of its body and a wailing mouth on the very crown of its "head". It was also colored a shade a puce guaranteed to turn any normal human's stomach. Peter grinned up at them, managing to enjoy the familiar surge of adrenaline in spite of the danger.
"What did we tell you kids about throwing things in class? No recess for you."
The orange ghost snarled and threw the jar of colored sand it held at him. The Ghostbuster ducked and sidestepped quickly. "Okay, no recess and no cookies at snack time!"
Both ghosts started hurling objects at him now, swooping around the room for more ammunition. Peter had to devote almost his complete attention to dodging, but managed to catch a glimpse of Egon climbing through the broken window. Absently, he wondered how he looked to the kids and their rather cute (now that he'd seen her) teacher...and started to reach.
No! he thought furiously, and pulled himself back. It was just enough distraction for the puce ghost to nail him on the back of the head with a wad of sculpting clay. It wasn't enough to do more than sting, but it did shock him back to the present.
Come on, Venkman! Keep your mind on the game here!
Shouting more abuse, he dove to the floor to escape a flying step-stool and converted the dive into a roll. Winston had taught them all how to control their falls this way. Of course, it was much more difficult when carrying a forty pound pack, but he was back on his feet in seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Egon handing a tow-headed boy through the window to Janine. However, he'd lost sight of the ghosts.
"Awww, come ON!" he yelled, looking around wildly. "Is that the best you can do? Any kid could beat you guys cold in dodgeball!"
A slight movement out of the corner of his eye was the only warning. Peter looked over his shoulder to see that the two ghosts had grabbed a table.
"Oh, Shit!"
He barely had time to lunge out of the way as they threw it. This time, instead of landing in a controlled tumble, he sprawled face down on the floor in a large puddle of rubber cement.
"Yuck! I hate this stuff," Peter grumbled as he pushed himself to a kneeling position. His dive had taken him behind some broken crates. He gingerly peeked over them...and ducked back down as two small jars came hurtling. They shattered on the wall above him, showering the psychologist in glitter. "Okay!" Peter yelled. "That's it! No recess, no cookies and no field trip to the zoo!"
Egon's voice sang out from the opposite side of the room. "Peter! They're out!"
"About time!" Peter shouted back, with relief as he turned the power setting on his pack back up. "Let's stick these bad boys in detention. They do not play well with others."
"Probably run with scissors, too," Janine said as she climbed through the window and pulled her proton rifle. "Let's toast them!"
Egon and Janine fired simultaneously, but the two ghosts corkscrewed out of their way, nailing Egon with a tray of fingerpaints and pelting Janine with chunks of play-doh. Peter jumped to his feet and ran from cover, yelling at the top of his lungs and firing at the ghosts. They shifted their focus back to him, showering him with dried macaroni and bow-tie pasta, but the distraction was just enough. Egon caught the orange ghost dead center, and Janine snagged the puce one as it tried to veer away.
"Got 'em, Dr. V!" she called. "Give these guys the ultimate `time-out'!"
"Trap out," Peter said, sliding a trap under each of the ghosts. He stomped on the pedals and fans of white light enveloped the specters, pulling them down with protesting wails as Janine and Egon shut off their streams.
"Class dismissed," Egon said with satisfaction as the trap doors clicked shut.
"Good job, teach'," Peter quipped as he walked over and picked up one of the traps. "Pity we can't paddle them, too."
"Are you all right, Peter?" Egon asked, looking his friend over for injuries, then searching his face for signs of strain."
Peter paused for a second, then shot Egon a smile that was only slightly strained. "A little bruised and in dire need of a clean jumpsuit, but I'm fine, Spengs."
"You look like you've been to a rave or something," Janine observed, noting the glitter in Peter's hair and dusting his uniform.
"If I keep breathing these fumes for long, I'm gonna feel like I've been to a rave," Peter shot back, eyeing the rubber cement coating his chest.
Egon ignored the levity and pressed the issue. "And your shields?"
Peter let his eyes go unfocused a moment as he "looked" himself over. What he found was reassuring. "They're holding. A little thinner at this point than they usually are at home, but I've been doing a hell of a lot more today. I'm good."
"Are you sure?" Janine asked.
"As sure as I can be," Peter said, with irritation creeping into his voice. "Let's get this over with and go home. Where's..."
...hate...
Peter's voice trailed off and his eyes widened as the sensation of burning enmity impacted against his shields. Egon looked at him with concern, and jumped as the PKE meter on his belt started to squeal. He grabbed it and read the screen.
"It's the Five. It's starting to..."
"Get down!" Peter yelled and tackled both of his teammates to the floor. The Five flew with a shrill cry right through where their heads had been. Peter looked up just in time to see a blue blur hit the wall and pass through it without a trace.
"I think our Five's a little pissed off," Janine remarked as they tried to untangle themselves. "Good call, Dr. V., but I'd better get hazard pay for this."
Egon fumbled for his meter which had flow from his grasp as he hit the floor. "The Five is still in this building. It's roughly in this direction." He turned to Peter. "How did you..."
"I felt it coming. Okay, Spengs?" Peter interrupted with clenched teeth. He had quickly retrieved his thrower and was crouched over his friends, his head turning from side to side as if he feared another attack at any moment...which he did, given what he'd felt through his protections. And, to his dismay, those protections were now deteriorating at an even greater rate. "We can study what is no doubt a fascinating aspect of telepathy later," he said, covering his fear with a thick layer of sarcasm. "Let's bust this ghost and get home." Peter fixed a glare on Egon before he could speak. "And if anyone asks me if I'm up to this one more time, I'm gonna shove that meter where the sun don't shine."
Peter rose to his feet and cautiously walked out the door into the hallway. Egon and Janine exchanged a look, and Janine shrugged helplessly. "Wait up, Sparkles."
The three of them began to search the building room by room. With every second, Peter felt the tension within him mounting as his shields continued to thin. Goddamnit, he snarled inwardly. I've got to have better mental control than this. I managed to completely blank my mind when Gozer showed up. Surely I can manage a simple psi-shield. The guys can't keep doing busts as a trio, or hauling in Janine when they need four. Then I'd have to give her that raise.
"We're getting closer," Egon announced as they neared a main classroom. "I believe it's in there." He turned to Peter with a question in his eyes. Peter sighed.
"Yeah, I feel it in there, too. Let's wrap this puppy up."
Peter advanced on the closed door and lifted one foot to kick it open. A brief surge in the overlying level of malice was his only warning. The Five burst through the door and dove directly at him. Off balance, Peter fell to the floor with the ghost gripping his throat.
...hateyouhateyouhateyou...
Peter fought back and managed to work his fingers in enough to keep the ghost from choking off his breathing. But that did nothing for his shields. Whether from stress or the sheer force of the spirit's thoughts, his already thin shields cracked open. A flood of undirected anger, hatred and sadistic savagery, surged through him. Peter screamed as he felt himself being overwhelmed.
"PETER, FREEZE!"
Blindly trusting his friend's voice, Peter froze. The glare of a proton beam lashed out not one foot from his chest. The proton backwash wasn't close enough to cause his nervous system to short-circuit, but he did experience a unpleasant shock that made all his muscles spasm at once as the beam caught the spirit and threw it off of him. The flood of hate-charged thoughts receded, and Peter lay limp on the floor as a second proton beam joined the first. Voices seemed to echo in the distance as Peter huddled in the remnants of his barriers almost in a fugue.
"Janine, can you reach your trap?"
"No way. It's taking all I've got to just hold this son of a bitch."
"Peter? Peter, can you hear me?"
Footsteps pounded. "Egon! Janine!"
"Over here, guys! Give us a hand!"
A third proton beam crackled through the room. "What happened to Peter?"
"Later, Ray. The trap!"
A flash of white light, an angry wail and it was over. As the miasma of evil lifted, Peter managed to roll on his side and lift his head. Winston and Ray had arrived. They stood beyond the blinking trap a few yards down the hall from him. They saw him move and ran down the hall.
"Peter? Are you okay?" Ray reached out to help Peter up, but contact brought an instant flood of images laced with worry, fear and guilt. Peter flinched away.
"Please, Ray...not now..."
Hurt flickered across Ray's face, but only for a second before understanding dawned. "Your shields?"
Peter nodded and hauled himself up to sit against the wall. Egon knelt down beside him and looked into his face, worriedly. "Are they completely down?"
"No," Peter said shaking his head. "Thin as an eggshell and they've got some cracks to put the San Andreas Fault to shame, but give me a few minutes and I think I can pull myself together enough to get out of here. How big's the crowd?"
"Pretty big, m'man," Winston answered. "Ghosts holding kids captive. I think every reporter in the city is out there. Ray and I had to fight our way through the mob."
"We came as quick as we could," Ray said. "I'm sorry. I should have had my cell with me. It's..."
Peter pulled his focus inward, leaving the others to deal with Ray's typical guilt trip. Usually, that was his job, but right now he had neither the time nor the energy. He focused on his protections, willing the shield to become one complete barrier once again. It was difficult, like trying to re-construct a shattered cup without the use of super-glue and having to hold each piece against the others by force. But, finally, the "noise" in his mind started to recede.
I guess that's it, he thought. Should hold me together 'til we get home.
He opened his eyes to see all four of his friends staring anxiously at him. Somehow, he managed to dredge up a tired smile. "Can we go home now?"
"Just waiting for you, Dr. Venkman," Egon said, offering a hand up. Peter hesitated a moment, then reached out to grab it. The patched shields were holding...for now. Peter's smile firmed into something more genuine as he was hauled to his feet.
"Okay, guys. Let's go face our adoring public and get home for a well deserved shower." He brushed some of the glitter from his hair. "And let's hope none of the other ghosts get the idea to haunt craft rooms. They're more dangerous than chemical plants."
I can handle this, he thought as they headed for the exit. Pointedly, he did not think about what might happen if all those people touched him. Just got to keep my shields up...and keep my brain to myself.
***
There'd better not be any reporters at headquarters, or they'll wind up eating through a straw!
Janine didn't have much patience with the press at the best of times, but at the moment she was quite ready to go into full battle-bitch mode at the first sight of a microphone. The gauntlet the team had run to get to Ecto had been sheer hell. They were lucky that the teacher they had rescued had been taken off to the hospital along with the children to check for injuries and that the parents had gone with them or else they would have had to deal with their emotional expressions of gratitude. Peter couldn't have handled that at this point, at least not without revealing to the public that something was very wrong. As it was, they'd used a kind of wedge formation to force their way through the press with Peter in the center where he could call out some off-the-cuff quips in response to shouted questions without having to risk his shields through physical contact.
Janine glanced at the other side of the back seat where Peter was slumped against the door. Once they were safely in Ecto and on their way, Peter's mask had crumbled. His shields may have held but only by a thread and holding them together had exhausted what little energy he had left. He'd promptly gone glassy-eyed, staring at the back of the front passenger's seat and rousing only when you asked him a direct question.
Yep, he's a mess. And the other guys aren't much better, she grumbled inwardly. Egon was sitting between them, and she could feel the tension thrumming along every line of his body. Ray kept looking back over the seat, the post-bust discussion he was having with Egon half-hearted at best as his eyes kept going to Peter. Winston kept his eyes on his driving, strangely silent.
I swear, I'm gonna chain Ray's cellphone to him. Until Dr. V. gets this shielding act down, we've got to have everyone on tap for emergency calls.
Janine breathed a sigh of relief as they finally turned onto Mott and pulled into headquarters. "Last stop, guys," she said. "Everybody out."
Winston and Ray piled out first and headed to the basement to empty the traps. When Peter didn't respond, Egon frowned and reached out hesitantly to touch his shoulder. "Peter?"
The psychologist jumped. "Wha...Geez, Egon!"
"Just checking to see if you were still with us," Egon explained, looking intently into Peter's face. Peter sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Sorry, big guy. The rubber cement fumes are making me wiggy." He climbed out of the hearse and slowly, deliberately stretched his back. "First call on the shower."
The front door opened and that meant one of two things, a client or trouble. If it's not one damn thing, it's another, Janine grumbled to herself as she prepared to play "field the visitor" while Peter beat a retreat upstairs.
"Peter! Good to see you, son! I was wondering when you guys would get back. I had enough coffee in that café across the street to float a boat."
Janine's heart sank to her toes at the familiar voice. Everyone froze in whatever stage the were at in getting out of Ecto. It wasn't a client. It was trouble of the worst possible kind.
Oh, God, Charlie. Not now! Who managed to screw up their karma so bad that we have to deal with him, too!
Peter stiffened mid-stretch and abruptly let his arms fall to his sides. "Hi, Dad," he answered in a flat, almost toneless voice. "Just passing through?"
Charlie Venkman, his cheap suit resplendent in its tackiness, sauntered into the garage. "Sort of. Had some business running over in Jersey and thought I'd stop by and see you."
"Mr. Venkman," Egon said warningly as he started unloading the packs from the back of Ecto. "I must caution you, if there was any time that one of your scams would be most unwelcome, it would be now."
"Scams?!" Charlie placed his hand over his heart melodramatically. "Dr. Spengler, you wound me."
"Don't tempt us," Janine snapped, mentally evaluating various blunt objects in the garage for their effectiveness.
"Today's a really crappy time for this, Dad," Peter groaned as he turned away and leaned his elbows on Ecto's roof. To his credit, Charlie actually looked concerned.
"You look rough, son. Hard bust?"
Peter managed a half-hearted smile. "You could say that."
"Looks like you need a vacation. And I have just the way to fund it. I've got a sweet proposition that should land all of us on easy street..."
Janine had a clear view of Peter's face over the roof of the car. Peter wasn't much for showing his true emotions, but he didn't have the energy to keep them out of his expression this time. In this unguarded moment, she saw a complex series of emotions played over it in a matter of seconds. As Charlie's business pitch started, first disappointment, then frustration and anger. Those she expected. But suddenly his expression changed to surprise and shock and finally hurt. And all the while, an ominous tension built in the room until...
Get out, you bastard! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!
It was as if Peter was screaming at the top of his lungs, but she could clearly see that his lips were not moving. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw was clenched too tightly for any words to escape. Absently, she noted that Charlie had cut off abruptly to clutch his forehead. A crash echoed from her right as Egon dropped the pack he was lifting. Peter's shout echoed through her mind, not only the words, but also a bitter melange of pain, grief, despair and rage that she thought would surely blow her skull to bits.
"Peter! Stop this! Now!"
Egon's voice fell like an axe. Peter's eyes popped open, and the mental maelstrom ceased. Green eyes widened in horror, and Peter violently shoved himself away from the car.
"Pete! What's wrong?" Winston yelled as he topped the stairs, Ray close on his heels. Peter spun around to face them, his hands starting to shake as they hung by his sides. His looked frantically at each of his friends, then took off up for the upper level like a bat out of hell.
"Whoa! That boy has some lungs on him," Charlie said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Maybe I should have waited 'til he got cleaned up first. He always did have a temper when he was tired."
Four baleful gazes zeroed in on the con-man.
"Yes, you should have waited," Egon said in a tone that was pure ice.
"And he's not the only one with a temper," Janine growled. "Out!"
Charlie raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Oh, come now, Miss Melnitz. You know my boy. Give him a little while to cool off, and we can all talk about this like civilized people."
The red-head's eyes narrowed, and she stalked toward the older man. "You'd better believe I know `your boy', Charlie. I know him a hell of a lot better than you do. And I know when he means business. So you've got two choices. You can leave voluntarily in one piece or you can leave in an ambulance. What's it gonna be?"
Winston stepped up beside Janine, casually cracking his knuckles. "You heard the lady. You gonna go the easy way or the hard way?"
Charlie looked over at Egon and winced away from the cold glare he found. He then looked appealingly at Ray who was unhappy, but determined to back his friends. The con-man sighed.
"Oh, well. Have him call me when he feels better, will you? This is a chance that he really shouldn't miss out on." He walked away, trying to look casual about it but clearly fighting the impulse to run from the suddenly hostile environment. As the door shut behind him, the Ghostbusters breathed a sigh of relief.
"Okay," Winston asked. "Someone want to tell me what just happened?"
Egon looked up the stairs toward the second level. "It seems that Peter's telepathic ability is not simply limited to receiving the thoughts of others."
"Oh, wow!" Ray breathed. "You mean we just heard Peter's thoughts? I thought he was just yelling."
"You weren't here at ground zero," Janine grumbled, rubbing her temples. "He wasn't yelling. Not with his mouth, anyway."
"Yeah," Winston said. "Whatever it was, I've never heard Pete so upset. What happened?"
"His father happened," Janine answered with disgust. "He was trying to drag Peter into one of his scams again."
Ray thought about this for a second, then shook his head. "That can't be it," he said. "Charlie's pulled stuff like this before, but Peter's never reacted like this."
"I don't know, Ray," Winston said. "This may be the first time we've heard what's actually going on inside him."
"A good point, Winston," Egon said. "However, I saw Peter's face just before he projected. I have to agree that what Charlie was doing has never elicited that level of emotion before." He took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. "I surmise that Peter's thinning shields may have allowed him to read something from his father that he found most upsetting," Egon continued. "It may be that the surge of emotion triggered this new facet of his ability, or perhaps it is just coincidence. However, I believe it is even more imperative that we develop that artificial shield."
"I should think so," Winston murmured. "Pete's temper tantrums are bad enough without getting them beamed directly into your skull."
"Did you make any progress while we were gone, Egon?" Ray asked. "You said you were going to try to get Peter to cooperate."
"And I was successful, Raymond. You and Winston should go review my notes. I believe this device will need a different circuit arrangement along with failsafes to prevent injury from power surges." The physicist sighed. "You can start on that while I go talk to Peter."