Bohemian Rhapsody
A Ghostbusters Doom Patrol Adventure
Is this the real life?
Is it just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see...
Chapter 1: A Fine Madness
The fire danced madly in front of the face of the Disciple as he stared deep into it's flames, his dark eyes looking for an object that he had lost but not yet attained. He shook his head solemnly, pulling off his brown hood, revealing pitch-black hair as he rose from his solitary bench and reached for a small pouch. Sticking his hand inside, he pulled out a handful of what appeared at first glance to be sand. But, as he turned towards the stout figure behind him, and held the grains out, it was glowing.
"Do you see this, my friend?" he asked. His voice was deep and hollow, as if it had rarely been used. There was also a touch of a British accent upon his tongue. The stout man bowed his head lazily to look at the grains. Like the Disciple, he too wore a hood, only his completely obscured his face. It was his hazel eyes that remained seen, as they poked out from between two holes in the hood.
"You see, these grains were partially interwoven with the ashes of Myydrin the Great. In the simplest terms, a powerful potion can be made from these embers. Of course", the Disciple said, turning his attention again towards the stout man. He raised his empty fist and struck the man in the face, sending him to the ground. "Of course, you would not know this. It's a shame, really. You could have been just as great as he was, if not greater." The Disciple looked at the stout man wallow on the ground, attempting to stagger to his feet. The Disciple felt a sudden surge to hit the man again, but refrained. He then shrugged.
"But that's not a problem anymore. Not for me anyway." He turned back towards the flames. With little flair and ease, he tossed the sands that contained what remained of the great wizard into the fire. For a moment, it appeared that it had gone out, extinguished by the grains. Then, suddenly, with great and terrific fury, the room around The Disciple and his companion exploded in light, as the fire leapt alive. A satisfied smile played upon The Disciple's lips as black and silver smoke billowed from the ashes of the logs. The fire was burning on its accord own now.
"Splendid", he said silently to himself, as he watched the smoke begin to take shape. O
The skies of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania were tinged a cool pink, unusual for sunsets of this hour. It was summer, and, in the suburbs that connected Philly to New Jersey, most kids would be out playing tag in the yard, shooting each other with Super-Soakers, and eating their fill of hamburgers and chips. These are really the days that they long for, an artificial relief from the real world for a scant few months.
From their point of view, it is paradise.
From another, it can be a nightmare.
For Eric Jackes, it was not a time to be playing silly kids games. Jackes was an honors student at his high school, a freshman who had skipped a grade and was now a junior. He was well liked by his teachers, wanted by every girl in the school and county, and, for the most part, was a popular guy all around. He was the one everybody couldn't imagine doing anything wrong; one who would never hurt anybody; including a fly.
That's all meaningless, he heard the voice say in his head, as he stood on his back porch. No, the voice was not in his head. It was, in fact, his own, deepened and hollow from the usual bounce that his friends had come to know. In front of him lay the crumpled forms of two children. His brother, Ralph, age 8, breathed heavily as he stared at his older brother's face. Blood was pouring from a wound to his head. Not fatal, but it had somehow sent the child into shock, so sudden was the attack. Beside him was Jackes's sister, Evangeline. The little four-year-old lay motionless on the ground, barely alive. Protruding from her shoulder was a four-inch wooden handle. In the yard before them lay a dented bloody shovel.
Jackes's eyes reflected no emotion as his brother continued to stare at his attacker's face. His mouth moved several times, as if he wanted to say, "Why are you hurting us?"
But no sound escaped. All around them, except for the summer chirping of crickets and late-evening birds, was utter silence.
Stop holding back Eric, the voice whispered in his ear. Do it. His limbs guided by an invisible force, Jackes's hand grasped the broken handle. He pulled it out with a sickening, shucking sound. For a moment, Eric held the broken edge above his sister's back.
Finish it. NOW! But Eric held back. The poltergeist inside of him noted this, sneering at him.
I see. You are a lot stronger than I originally gave you credit for. Interesting.
"You can't make me kill my family!" Eric shouted. Ralph Jackes's noted that tears were beginning to stream from eyes that seemed somewhere else at the time. Hearing Eric's comment, he hoped that their mom and dad were okay. Though, if they had not heard Evangeline's scream, something was seriously wrong.
Then suddenly, Ralph saw a bolt of lightening hit Eric. He thought it was weird, because there was not a cloud in the sky and it was horizontal. And for one thing, the bolt was orange and blue. And for another, it seemed to be coming from the back.
"Andy, I thought I said to wait on my mark!"
"Yeah, well I was getting bored listening to that schizoid bullshit."
Ralph could not focus on the figure walking towards him, his vision blurred by the bolt. He could barely make out the outline of a tall figure, whose hair was a mixture of brown and black. Behind this figure was another, taller than the first, and well muscled. He was a man who wore glasses that glistened in the fading sunlight. Both wore navy-blue uniforms, with square things on their backs.
"Are you all right?" the figure with the brown/black hair said. It was a female voice, warm and soft. As his vision cleared, Ralph saw that it was a woman of Indonesian-Spanish descent staring at him. She too wore glasses, however hers were of a purple tint. He read her nametag, which was an embossed red over a black rectangle: DURAN.
"Are you all right young man?" the woman repeated. Ralph nodded. He tried to get up, but fell down again as he felt the ground give way under him. He couldn't feel his legs.
"My head hurts", he said. The woman looked at the wound. She reached into her belt and pulled out a bandage.
"It's not much", she said, "but it should quell the bleeding. Is that your sister?" Ralph nodded again. The woman immediately went over towards her and checked for a pulse. "It's weak, but she's alive", she said, turning her head past Ralph and towards her companion. Ralph looked behind him and jumped a little bit. The figure behind the woman was a young man, with spiky black hair that stood straight up. He was tall and burly, with very little emotion showing on his tanned face. His eyes, much like Ralph's brother, displayed nothingness, as if the person behind them had died long ago. Unlike the woman, his uniform was not a jumpsuit, but rather a dark trench coat with the arms sewn off. On the coat bore the name in crimson letters: WILLIAMS.
"Andrew, call CJ and tell him that we've found the kids and we're going to need Rob and Brian. Tell him we've got a Class VII on our hands. We need backup. NOW." The man (Andrew) held back for a moment before saying:
"On it." He then disappeared back into the house, his coat trailing behind him.
The force of impact had sent Eric Jackes's flying from the porch and into the yard. His smoking body lay there for a few moments, as the entity inside him gathered its thoughts together.
Impressive, it said through Jackes's mouth. Jackes's rolled over onto his palms and helped himself up. His clothes had been somewhat burned in the blast of protonic energy Andrew had let loose. I do commend thee on thy efforts to save this soul. The entity wiped blood from the corner Jackes's mouth. It smiled at the woman (Salina Duran) as she helped Ralph and Evangeline up.
However, you do not understand the dark powers of Abraxas! Salina did not know what was going to come next. She could only guess as she finally got Ralph to his feet, and Evangeline cradled in her arms. The entity that had taken control of Jackes's simply stared at the porch and Salina could feel the PKE valences in the air.
She whispered in Ralph's ear. "If you can, I want you to jump."
Ralph looked at her confused.
"Don't argue. If you want to save your brother, I want you to jump...NOW!" The floorboard of what had been the Jackes's front porch exploded in an intense fury of fire. Ralph and Salina rolled in the grassy knoll near a bush. Both were unhurt.
"Stay here", Salina said, lying the still unconscious Evangeline under the bush. "Don't come out until I tell you to." Ralph automatically understood. Salina smiled as Ralph watched her turn her back towards him, revealing something he had seen on the news months ago with his father. It was about an incident in Toronto where he had seen several people wearing these strange backpacks. He had asked his father what they were.
He answered simply.
"They are proton packs, Ralph. They're Ghostbusters."
Down the street from the Jackes's home and parked rather outlandishly, inauspicious amongst the groves, was a large black van. There were various gadgets of all sorts on top of its equipment rack. Inside, a wiry African-American male watched in utter disbelief on the camera as an explosion occurred. He watched as the entire front of the Jackes's house blew up. Something had gone wrong.
The voice on the little radio he carried confirmed it.
"What are you three waiting for, a smoke signal? Get your asses in gear. We're about to have a helluva fight; we need back-up pronto!" It was Andrew Williams, the resident gung-ho member of the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. Before the African-American male could respond, Andrew had turned off his radio. The male turned his attention back to the camera, as he saw Andrew's muscled figure sprint back to the house.
"Dammit", C.J. London said under his breath as he turned towards the stout man sitting next to him. There was a note of worry on his face too. He did not need to ask CJ any questions. He had already pulled out his neutrona wand.
"So what are you guys waiting for?" said the driver in the front as he looked at his two companions in the rear-view mirror. He was another African-American, more built than the thinner CJ. He also had a shaved head.
The stout man (Brian Roig) nodded in agreement. "HAUL ASS!" he shouted, as Rob Statler floored the Ecto-1M, its twin motors roaring down the road as the van sped towards the house.
At that moment, a thought dawned on CJ.
"You're not going to ram through the house, are you?" he asked, his eyes wide. Rob casually placed a fresh toothpick between his lips and grinned.
"Climb up to the Proto-Gat", Rob said, thumbing towards Brian. "From the readings I'm getting, we're going to have a hot night."
"I miss anything?" Andrew asked, running up towards Salina. He was not out of breath, despite running a good three blocks. She often wondered where he got the energy. But she was glad he was not. It had been nearly two years since Doom Patrol had first been established, two years since the nightmarish adventure in Dalton, Nevada, where she first met CJ, Brian, Andrew, and Rob, who hooked up with the team after the town's destruction. Everything that had happened since then was ingrained into her memories forever, some good...some bad, and she got a feeling of comfort knowing her four "brothers" would always be there for her and each other.
She shook her head, allowing herself to release a smirk. "No. Readings show that our possessee is getting stronger."
"How strong?"
Without taking her eyes off of Jackes, Salina showed Andrew her modified PKE meter. He glanced a look and snorted. That was how Andrew J. Williams, renowned hunter of the undead, reacted to things. Whether it was facing a horde of werewolves, the centuries old ghost of a heretical reverend, or demons from a plane of existence not yet discovered, Andrew would look them in the eye...and spit in it.
And he got enjoyment out of it.
"Okay, we've wasted too much time already", he said grinning. At his left side, he twirled the hilt of his trusty Hastings; in the other hand he held his neutrona wand. "I can't really wait for Rob and the other guys to get here. And is it me, or is everything suddenly getting hotter?"
Salina could definitely feel that Andrew was right. She stared at Jackes for a moment and he stared back at the two of them. The atmosphere around them had suddenly elevated. She knew this feeling quite well, having once faced similar settings on an expedition into the deepest bowels of Rankipoor. Whatever demon had gotten hold of Jackes was channeling its powers through the air; building towards what CJ would have called a "cataclysmic finishing move!" There would not be much time to waste. She and Andrew had to act now.
Salina was the first to open, shooting out a jet of red plasma towards Jackes. Andrew followed her. She was grateful that Rob had modified these packs, which were stylistically different from the Mark IV's that were the standard trademark of most Ghostbusters franchises. These new ones were slightly lighter in color than the original coal-colored packs. The newer models (which Rob dubbed the Mark V) could do everything to originals did, with one minor difference: the protons could now be harmless to possessed humans. Though it still didn't eliminate the need for the Slime Blowers, the fact that now you could confine the host in a neutron stream made things easier to handle.
Andrew sniffs the air, "You hear that?" He said, chancing a glance behind his shoulder. It sounded like an engine, going at 80...no, 100 miles per hour? Bursting out of the rubble of the kitchen, and performing a landing that would have been worthy of Bo and Luke Duke was the Ecto-1M, appearing as if it were some black monster, landing between Salina and Andrew and Jackes, separating them from the demonic teenager. Sliding the door back was a slender young man of African-Indian descent, with dreaded hair hanging in front of glasses. Perched upon his head was a battered pair of Ecto-Goggles.
"Yo'", CJ London said to his comrades, stepping out of the van. Strapped to his back was a 1989 model Slime Blower, a piece of weaponry he was quite fond of. "We heard you needed some help."
"Better late than never", Andrew said. He looked up and saw Brian had slid back the canopy towards the Proto-Gat. He did not need to be told that he was holding Jackes off, but the Gat had very little of its own power. All it would do would make Jackes even madder.
Behind CJ, Robert Statler strapped on his pack and hopped out. "Brian gave us enough time to get ready, but I think it ain't working", he said. He looked over at Andrew, who had shielded his eyes.
"Jesus, Stat!" he said. "When the hell are you going to grow some hair? I nearly got blinded by the sheen!" Statler flipped Andrew a silent middle finger, as Salina and CJ stifled their laughter.
Looking down at the ground to see that everything was set, Brian knew he had to shut down quickly. From the moment that had gotten no more than a few feet away from the house, he had sensed something...ethereal about this whole thing.
Brian's whole stigma was that he was an advanced sorcerer, a damn powerful one at that. Though his main profession had been occult studies, like Salina, he had supplemented that with immersing himself in the knowledge of every form that the art of magic could teach him. One of the "tricks" he had learned was to use his "Second Sight": as the Ecto-1M approached the Jackes house, he could see the powerful aura around it. While regular humans saw only a house, Brian saw a crippling blackness all around, with the house at the center.
A shatterpoint, he had learned it was called. These shatterpoints had the devastating potential to be either gateways for other entities or were the focused energy of the entity therein.
In this case, it was both.
And now, as he stood looking at Eric Jackes, he was shocked to learn that he could not see his shatterpoint. It was not there. All Brian saw was the desolate blackness that, the man who had taught him this ability had said, drove the ignorant insane with its bleakness. Brian didn't feel crazy at all. That was far from his mind at that point.
The demon used Jackes's eyes to stare back at Brian. The stare caused the stout young man to feel a cold pang in his bones, as if everything around him was completely frozen.
You are one with great power. I can feel it.
The voice startled Brian as he made a move towards the Gat. But he couldn't. It was as if his whole body had suddenly gone limp.
Why do you insist on remaining a child? These paltry "Second Sight" antics are beneath you...
'Damn', Brian thought to himself. 'Bastard's getting into my head'. It was at that moment that Brian realized that he was no longer in the Jackes's backyard. He wasn't even in Philadelphia anymore. The black hole had seemed to sweep over him, as the demon had somehow transported himself and Brian into another plane of existence far beyond the ones that Brian had been in and researched.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice echoing endlessly in the distance.
Nowhere, yet somewhere. Not dead, but alive. Here you can exist everywhere at any time. I just wanted...to talk.
"Take me back now", Brian said, his voice becoming hard. Jackes just smiled and crossed his arms.
Or what? The subconscious binding spell I've got you under cannot be broken unless I will it so. Besides, I did not go to all this trouble just to be brushed off.
"What are babbling about?"
Oh yes. My defeat is indeed inevitable. I have seen it. The moment we return, your friends will capture me and I will become just a nameless villain to you. But I choose this body for a purpose, just so I could get your attention.
"What?"
It worked quite well, wouldn't you think. I could have just as easily snapped the spine of that Andrew Williams if I wanted to. Or made sure that that pretty Salina Duran never saw the light of day again. But I didn't. You're probably asking yourself the usual Why, Who, and What's. Two of which I cannot answer, as I've revealed too much already, but I will answer one. Can you guess which it is?
Brian quickly tired of this game. His eyes flashed a dark blue, as he suddenly regained control of his limbs. Letting his "Second Sight" guide him, Brian jumped from the van ("Why the hell was it even here?" he wondered to himself) and, whipping out his neutrona wand, landed in front of Jackes, the wand pointed directly underneath his neck.
"What are you?" Brian asked, his gloved hands gripping the teen's throat. Suddenly, he felt himself shocked by the voice that came out of his own voice. It was foreign, very much alien to him. Jackes just grinned. He seemed pleased by Brian's flash of anger.
"Ask Riddle", Jackes said and laughed.
"BRIAN! GET DOWN NOW!"
Brian's senses snapped back to reality. He was back in the Jackes's backyard, and his teammates were behind him. His eyes looked up once to see the broken end of the shovel (forgotten in the midst of the battle) hurtling towards him. At the last minute, Brian broke the sharp end off of the shovel, but it was a half second late: the spade itself knocked Brian across his head, sending him to the ground with a thud.
"That does it!" Andrew said firing at Jackes. "I am so freakn' sick of this creep! CJ, hose his ass!"
"With pleasure." The pink slime shot from the cannon of the blower like a flowing river, reminding CJ of a fire hydrant being loosened. The force of impact from the cannon knocked down Jackes, as he was completely covered in mood-altering slime.
"I think he's done", CJ said turning off the blower. Indeed, Jackes lay flat on his back, not unconscious. The slime neutralized the affected host, causing whatever had possessed him to pass out of his body. He would be waking up feeling like a million bucks.
"Get ready!" Rob said leveling his neutrona wand. The Doom Patrol members watched as Jackes's body glowed yellow for a moment, as a silvery mist slowly rose from his chest. It did not take form, but sprouted red eyes. It looked over at Brian's limp form and laughed.
It was at that moment that Rob, Salina, and Andrew fired their packs in unison, ensnaring the ghost in a neutralizing field. Seeing that the ghost was firmly secured, CJ unlatched the Ecto-Sphere from his belt.
"ECTO-BALL, GO!" he shouted and tossed it in the direction of the demon. The quintet all turned their eyes from the next scene as a burst of energy escaped from the ball, illuminating for a moment the yard. The ghost was ensnared as the positive neutrons weakened him. He did not struggle as he disappeared inside the ball.
Within seconds, it was all over.
The best part of being a Ghostbuster appears here:
Several minutes after the poltergeist has disappeared, an ambulance arrives. Very quickly considering how out of the way the nearest hospital is from the suburbs. It parks itself beside the Ecto-1M. Salina, going over to check on the kids one more time, helps them over to the EMT's waiting for them, as they load Jackes's onto a stretcher. He is not hurt, but the effects of CJ's Slime Blower were still purging his body of the evil effects that the poltergeist had wrought on him. As Salina busied herself helping the paramedics in the ambulance, nobody (for a few moments) noticed the sleek white van driving slowly up the road towards the house.
A news van bearing the logo of local Philadelphia news station, WPVI Channel 6 Action News, as well as the logo of news nuisance Jane Robards, appears at the scene a mere two minutes after the ghost has been caught. The first person to catch a glimpse of this is Andrew, as he helps CJ load his Slime Blower back into the van. Rob is already inside checking the specs on the Ectomobile.
"Good God", he groans, nearly dropping his end of the blower onto the ground.
"Hey! Watch out!" CJ yelled, catching the middle of the Slime Blower with both hands. "What the hell'd you do that for?" Andrew did not look at him as he nodded his head in the direction of the fan. Before CJ had a moment to fathom what he was looking at, he found himself staring into the receiving end of a rather large, black microphone.
"Dr. London! What a nice surprise!" Jane Robards in her pitched, near squeaky-clean voice. Robards had, at one time, been one of Philadelphia's rising news journalists. She remembers a point in her life when the best stories would always be credited to her name.
The Hershey Killer? Covered by her. A book deal was in the works, but things had somewhat fallen through recently.
The ENRON scandal? WPVI was the first to crack it.
9/11? Robards stayed on the air that whole terrible week, reporting not live from New York City, but from the studio. The information she received was from the BBC, NBC, Fox, and CBS. But, fancying herself an actress, she poured heart into it, raising more relief funds than any institution in Worcester County.
And yet, even as she pointed the microphone at CJ, smiling sweetly at him, inside...she reviled anybody who wore that idiotic No-Ghost symbol. She remembered back in 3rd Grade watching all the boys play Ghostbusters with their baseball bats. Even then she thought it was stupid. Her father said so himself, and he was Philly's most prominent reporter. She could never fathom what it was about a bunch guys (and, as of lately, girls) who went around zapping ghosts. Despite the fact that she had had an encounter herself with the recently deceased, Jane Robards still did not buy what the Ghostbusters were trying to prove.
So when this new team, calling themselves, "Doom Patrol" (what the fuck kind of name is that? she had wondered) made their base of operations here, Jane was assigned to cover their adventures. She did her producer one better: it's more entertaining to discredit the hero rather than shower them with praise. And were there many opportunities. But those opportunities came to bite later on, as she was seen as nothing more than a muckraker of the sort that made Geraldo Rivera cringe. She hated her new reputation, but if she was going to go down a few pegs in journalism, she figured she might as well take a couple others with her.
"Dr. London", she began, already preparing the question she was going to grill the Ghostbuster with in her mind. "What do you say to a recent survey of the citizens of Philadelphia that property taxes have gone up 29 since the Ghostbusters have arrived?"
"Wha---?"
Robards smiled. She'd caught him off guard. After an event at Conan O'Brien a few years ago, she had learned that it was easier to interrogate this one than let the vampire hunter (whom her lead cameraman Mike was distracting) be interviewed. "Yes", she continued. "The highest tax hike in the last thirty years apparently. Most are saying that you are nothing more than glorified troublemakers."
"Well, I...uh..."
"And what about allegations that you end up scarring more people than saving them. A little boy whose name will remain anonymous says he cannot go to sleep without thinking about how close he came to be eaten by a..." Robards stopped for a moment to stifle a laugh. "...A big bad wolf ghost?"
"Now wait just a minute! We saved that kid! I--I'm sorry if he can't go to sleep, but at least he's alive! Be thankful for that!"
"Is he now Dr. London? How would you like it if you found yourself entrenched in a soul-stealing nightmare about a black shadow that is coming to rip you to pieces, hmmm?"
"I'll handle this." CJ turned around suddenly to see Rob standing in the doorway of the Ecto-1M. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this interview Miss..."
"Robards. Jane Robards. We met before on the Conan O'Brien Show a few years back."
Rob pointed his finger. "Oh yeah, I remember you now. Weren't you on the Morning Show or something like that at the time?"
"I...found other career options." Jane could definitely see that this one was cleverly distracting her now, as Dr. London had gone over to get Andrew off of Mike the cameraman.
"I see." Rob nods his head with his arms folded, feigning interest. "You know, you really shouldn't be around a scene like this", he said, pretending to glance over his shoulder at the ambulance.
"And why is that?" Robards asked, a hint of offense creeping into her voice. But Rob just smiled back.
"I'm just saying, you never know if the ghost had any friends around. They could be dangerous."
"Mr. Statler, reporters have gone into the field of danger longer than your group's existence and we will keep doing so if it means getting the truth across to a populace that can name Jerry Springer and Home Delivery as their favorite television shows. We have faced bullets in Vietnam, snipers in Kuwait, and kidnappings in Iraq. I think whatever it is you have faced is less of a threat than...than…"
Andrew mumbles in the background, "waking up to your horse-face in the mourning?"
"What was that, Mr. Williams?" Robards asked; missing the insult Andrew threw her way.
Rob shrugged his massive shoulders. "All right", he said. "Would you mind backing up? The ambulance is getting ready to leave and we have to head on out. Some of us have legitimate work to do Ms. Robards?"
Salina had now stepped out of the ambulance, having made sure the kids were secure. She groaned when she saw the news van parked in the yard.
"Damn", she said underneath her breath, adjusting her glasses. Behind her, the ambulance was pulling out. And that was when she heard Jane Robards scream. Salina's eyes perked up for a moment to turn her head slightly. Standing where the ambulance had once been was a large, purple creature, it's fangs bared out at the group below.
She shook her head. She did not even have to be a detective to figure out the source. Had it been a real PKE reading, her meter would have gone off like crazy due to the massive size of the creature. But it was silent. She was positive she was not the only to notice that. Nor was she sure that she was not the only to notice Brian pretending to be asleep, even though he was moving his left finger. She walked over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hmmm?" he said, looking up, as though he had been napping.
"I think your acting skills need some work," she said smirking. Brian grinned back at her as he looked over at Robards and her crew. The cameraman, Mike, had long piled inside of the van, and Jane, backing away from the ghost that Rob pretended not to notice, found it difficult to find words to express the scene.
"I think this might be the cake on the icing", Brian said dryly. The creature opened its mouth, and bent down low enough so that it was level with Rob and was staring at Robards.
"Boo", it said. The color drained from Robards's face as Mike grabbed her, pushed her into the van, and started the ignition.
"Nice", Andrew said picking out the remains of what had been a tripod out of his hair. "So, how we getting paid anyway? The parents aren't home, and the guy who called us was a tech nerd."
"Well", CJ said looking at the remains of the Jackes's home, "I'd wager we'll be hearing from them soon anyway." He yawned and stretched. "Besides, that old guy down by the river still owes us for that job a while back so we gotta' collect from him."
"You mean that senile fisherman with the funky eyeball?" Rob asked incredulously. "No… hell no, Ceej! You know good and well he's gonna' pay us with fish."
"Well, we gave him two weeks and he said he'd have it." O
Chapter 2: Piper at the Gates of Dawn
"That should be them right now."
"Thank you."
The Ghostbusters's High-rise HQ was built underneath the Benjamin Franklin Bridge that connected commuters in and out of the city. Rob turned the car over towards an impasse that led off the bridge (but was off-limits to others) and towards their base. It was already late evening.
The High-rise itself stood three stories high, just about the same height as the Ghostbusters New York's original Firehouse, Hook and Ladder No. 8. Colored a distinct brown, the High-rise bore the familial No-Ghost logo on its wooden doors. Beside it was a garage for various modes of transportation. Rob could work into the endless hours of the day on projects that kept the team mobile.
Erin Cummins was standing outside as the Ghostbusters pulled up towards the garage. She was the team's secretary, a position that has had some of its less than interesting perks. But, the pay was decent and her employers were no less as decent.
"What up, Brown-Eyes?" Rob asked getting out of the car.
"You've had a visitor sitting upstairs in the library for a few hours now", she said. Then she looked over at Brian. "It's actually for him, but he was interested in meeting all of you."
A look of frustration crossed CJ's face. "Can't it wait till after dinner? I mean, we didn't stop at a drive-thru on the way here; it being late and all..."
"Just means we have to hold off on General Tso's Chicken until later", Rob said slapping his shorter counterpart on the back. Shaking his head, CJ handed Erin the Ecto-Sphere.
"Hard day I surmise?"
Flashback to CJ's facial expression as he and Statler crashed the Ecto through the Jackes's kitchen earlier
"You have no idea."
CHICAGO
Jenna Simmons could feel another presence around her as she walked away from the WGN radio station in North Chicago. She, along with her two friends from college, was one of the top Dee-jay's for the company and had successfully made 'J-love and Renee's Rap Top 40's!' a breakout hit on the airwaves; a radio show that had record producers elated with dreams of cash grandeur.
In fact, earlier that day, Michael McGrew, an executive of SIRIUS Satellite Radio, was attempting to broker a deal between the trio to bring 'J-love and Rene' to a wider audience beyond the localities of upstate Illinois. If things went well, Jenna knew, this could mean roughly $10,000,000 for all three of them annually; quite a leap from the paltry sum of $50,000 that WGN was paying for a relatively brand new show.
Simmons's footsteps reverberated throughout the empty parking lot. Though, while everything was going great for her, she began to feel an intense notion of anxiety. It was not the usual, paranoid thoughts that permeate through one's mind in the pitch black of night. She was experiencing a feeling of dread, as if something grim would soon occur.
She shrugged it off. When she was a child, her grandmother, an arcane Jamaican woman, would warn her of the mysterious ways of the world and beyond.
"Beware child", she had said. "Always keeps an eye a'lookn' for d'dark things. For they will consume you if you ignore them."
Jenna always believed the things her grandmamma would say were nothing more than fairy tales to scare little children.
But all the same, she questioned herself as to why she would be thinking of these things after so long? Perhaps it related to an incident in which her grandmother compelled her to undertake on her 18th birthday, long before she met J-love and Renee, the part of her past she kept secret from them. Something she felt no need to talk about; something she's tried hard to forget.
Simmons never saw the little red dot from a laser in the distance fixated on her back as she approached her Oldsmobile. She never saw the figure in the dark lick his lips hungrily as he aimed the outfitted Winchester. One which was now reformatted as an automatic weapon, the original muzzle replaced with that of a Soviet AK-78.
"Hey, brown sugar", he said tauntingly with a gravelly voice. She turned around, paralyzed in fear. She gasped and could barely let out a shrieking "No!"
Gunfire!
CHICAGO
"Come on now. Time to wake up."
Simmons felt something prod her in the side. She groaned slightly and tried to raise her hand to her forehead. She was shocked to discover that she could not. Her whole body was bound to a post; she was unable to escape.
Looking around, Simmons realized that she was not in the garage at all. Her new location was unfamiliar to her. It was completely darkened, save for a few objects that were visible by a faint light coming from another room. All around her, she heard what appeared to be machinery running. Was it some kind of factory? She wondered.
Suddenly, the light in the other room went out and Simmons was in darkness again. She heard footsteps walking towards her. They were not heavy, but rather calm and relaxed. Looking up, she thought she saw a shadow in the room, as the figure kept his face completely in the midst of the blackness. But she could faintly make out that his clothes were casual: a blue gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her worries had begun to amass, pondering what he wanted with her and praying he that he wasn't a sexual predator.
The figure stopped walking. He was no more than about three or four feet away from her.
"Cigarette?" he asked, in very much the same gravelly tone that had gotten her attention when she was abducted. Simmons shook her head, trying to suppress tears. She could see the man shrug, as he stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He took a long drag before exhaling a trail of blue smoke. For a few moments, there was silence between them.
She cried, yet tried her best to keep her dignity, "What do you want with me?"
Finally, the man spoke.
"I know what's going through your mind", he said going over towards a dark corner. It sounded as if he had just pulled out a chair and was moving across the floor, back to where had been standing earlier. "To be quite blunt: yes, I am going to kill you."
Simmons fought hard against a whimper that was creeping in her throat.
"W--why?" she asked.
Another drag on his cigarette.
"Because", he said. "I need to."
"No you don't. You don't have to kill me..."
"You don't understand Ms. Simmons..." This caught Simmons off guard. He knew her name. He was not just some random stalker. He knew who he was looking for.
"You don't understand a goddamn thing."
Simmons heard him rise out of his chair and walk towards her again. He held out his hand. For a minute, Simmons thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, he reached for her neck and ran his finger along the length of her necklace. Finally, with minimal strength, he took it off of her. She noticed his hand had an odd tattoo on it: a pentagram enclosed in a circle. She had seen something like that only once before. Her eyes opened wide at the sudden realization.
"Using your powers won't do you any good here", he said, annunciating each his as if he were a schoolteacher. "This structure is protected by a powerful negation spell that disconnects the user from its source. Namely you. And, with someone who has not used their powers in such a long time, your need to focus all of your energy through this," He held up her necklace, as if studying it for a moment. It was an unusual piece of jewelry: a hunk of red ruby quartz that was strung to a length of hemp. And yet, Simmons had worn it for years. Not as a way of providing her dormant spiritual abilities with a conduit, but out of respect for the people of her grandmother's tribe.
"Well", the man continued. "Consider yourself fucked either way." He held the necklace high above his head in one hand. Simmons watched, shivering and wide-eyed as her captor crushed the necklace into powder. Instead of throwing it away, the man pulled a small pouch out of his pocket, pouring the contents from his hand inside.
"I can smell your anger in the air", he said as he went about what he was doing. "Shame, really there's nothing your pitiful will can conjure that will save your life. You probably would have been a dish to fight."
He paused, and then stepped toward her slowly…still keeping himself hidden within the darkness.
"…Or perhaps, if the circumstances were different…"
He sniffed her perfumed neck, then lowering himself to her cleavage.
"…just a dish for me."
Putting the pouch in his pocket, the man went back over to the dark corner of his room. He rummaged for a few seconds before finding what he was looking for.
Simmons saw that he now held what appeared to be a milk jug. He unscrewed the cap. A sweet smelling scent entered the room.
"I'd recommend you close your eyes", he said. Simmons had little time to fathom the meaning of the man's words as he tossed the content of the jug on her. Upon touching her skin, it felt cold as a chill ran up her spine. The man repeated this process with another jug.
"There. I think that's enough." He took a few moments to admire his work. "Sure you don't want a cigarette?"
"Why are you doing this to me? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT? I don't even know you!"
The man stopped lighting his cigarette for a moment to study Simmons. Blowing out another trail of smoke, he walked up to her.
"Yes, my dear", he said. "You do."
He bent down close to the woman, so that she would get a good look at his face.
"It's…it is you!" she screamed, attempting to push herself away from the man. Recoiling, he did not reply to this.
"The oils I have poured on you will automatically incinerate your body. There won't be much left as far as police evidence goes. That's a special gift from...another friend of mine who happened to be the Alter Boy at the Vatican."
"But aren't you afraid of burning this whole place down too?"
"Not really. If you look down at your feet", he said, pointing at a red seal on the ground, "I've completely secured the parameter. It will be like watching an isolated volcano."
The man took one last drag on his cigarette before he flicked it in Simmons's direction. She jerked up and down desperately…crying…struggling to run despite her inability to move. He turned his head to the side as the flames jumped upwards, engulfing her body instantly. Her shrill screams, as her flesh melted from her body, echoed throughout the structure. For a moment, the man wished he'd brought shades, as the light flared brighter and brighter. Gradually, the flames ebbed.
As he walked out of the room, he saw the Stout man standing. Waiting for him.
"After that is done", The Disciple told the Stout man, thumbing at the dying flames in the other room, "please put the ashes in the fireplace. And burn them again."
The Stout man nodded as the Disciple left the room. He wanted to follow, but he was transfixed by the image of the dancing flames, as he had been earlier that day. O