Chapter 10: Reach Out and Waste Someone
It was Andrew who first began to sense that something was terribly wrong.
In his room at the Highrise, he attempted to sleep, despite the fact it was nearing the afternoon. He hadn't slept in the last two days; add to what had happened between himself and Salina hours earlier, he knew he was going to lose another day's rest. He was used to it by now. After all, he'd once spent more than a month's worth of sleepless nights trailing a supernatural serial killer calling itself "the Fantom".
Reflexively, he ran his fingers through his massive shock of aburn hair, smoothing it out in mid-yawn. He stared out of his window, and noticed the approaching graying skies. He shrugged it off as he went over to a corner of his room and pulled a black shirt from a pile of dirty laundry. His usual boots and leather jacket were the only things folded in the otherwise unkempt domicile. His present clothes weren't his usual style. After a couple of years of wearing the same trench coat over a flight suit, he figured it was time for a change. God knows he didn't want to be pegged as a comic book caricature of himself. He grinned at the notion of being likened as a comic book character, but then put those thoughts aside knowing its an improbable pipe dream.
Salina had been in his room at some point, he figured, grabbing his boots.
Andrew realized how quiet it was when he made his way downstairs. Erin was not at her desk, which wasn't unusual; occasionally, she did some errands for the crew when asked. Rob, he figured, was probably down in the basement with CJ working on the schematics for god knows what. Though he benefited from their technical abilities, Andrew much preferred weapons of his own make. They'd never failed him before, and, as they say, why improve upon a winning formula?
He went into the kitchen, going towards the refrigerator. The contents reflected the various personalities of the team, ranging between junk food and beef to yogurt, fruits, and vegetables. Andrew grunted in annoyance to himself as he noticed that the last two beers had been drank, evidenced by the empty bottles sitting at the bottom of the recycle bin. It was just as well. He wasn't really hungry anyway.
He stayed in the kitchen for a few moments longer, his back against the fridge door. What was it that had happened between he and Salina last night?
You know what happened.
Just be honest to yourself for once in your miserable life. You have feelings for her.
That was an odd assumption to make. Salina had been his teammate for almost two years now. It was odd that, now, something would come of that. Truthfully, he really didn't know what was really going to happen. When they had left Fairmont Park, Salina was standing closer to him, closer than she had ever had before. Andrew could feel his heart beating faster with each step.
He had to ask himself: Is it really right to do this? They were teammates, maybe friends (though prior history would have contested that fact). But, could they honestly be lovers.
The question haunted Andrew as he reached inside his pocket. He pulled out a small, beaded metallic necklace. It was slightly rusted, missing one of its beads.
It was Ashley's.
She had submitted it to Professor Salaway that night at the gym, as part of the incantation that would be a demonstration to alternate planes. That night when Salaway had briefly opened a gate to the realm of the Old Ones. Things went wrong, horribly, for all involved. Students were killed, others disappeared; a monstrous vortex swept through the gymnasium like a tornado, pulling students inside the gate. To Andrew's horror, Ashley was grabbed by one of the demons emanating from the gate, slowly pulling her inside. She kicked and screamed as Andrew tried to pull her back out.
He would not forget her screams as she was pulled inside the hellish domain. She cried for Andrew to help but he could do nothing but watch. That night, he vowed to never again allow himself or anyone who he cares about to be a victim. He made that promise now as he gripped the necklace tightly in his fist.
Suddenly, outside, he heard a loud crash. It was familiar: a car hitting a pile of garbage cans. And yet he could feel a sudden surge of electricity pass through his body. Something was making him go outside. He wanted to shrug it off, but peered out the window.
It was Erin's car.
He erupted from where he was just standing and was outside within moments.
Under abnormal circumstances, anyone else would have become morbidly disturbed by the scene Erin had just witnessed. There was blood pouring from a small cut to the top of her head, caused as she attempted to escape from Independence Hall.
From Adrik Thorsen.
…From Brian.
Even as she tried to get back to the HQ, she could not believe that it was really Brian back there. The man she encountered looked like him, had his body structure, moved like the Brian she knew. But the main difference was that the Brian she knew had feelings behind his eyes, not like the person she had just left. The secretary had seen enough case profiles to know what she was looking at… a killer.
Her car came to a halt when she plowed through the garbage cans outside the HQ. She didn't care. Despite how barely calm and rational her mind was at the time, she knew she had to compose herself long enough to relay what she'd just been through to the Ghostbusters.
She stumbled out of her car and cursed when she realized that in her escape she had badly sprained her thigh. She wasn't a gymnast, and yet she had performed moves that would, in her estimation, be worthy of Bronze Medalist.
"Cummins!" She looked up. It was Andrew. He extended a hand to help her up. He first noticed the blood trailing down her cheek as he made himself into a crutch for her.
"Andrew, where's everybody?" she said panting.
"Brian went downtown for a meeting with Riddle, Salina's up in her room, and CJ and Rob are down in the basement."
Erin shook her head. "No, CJ's dead."
The words felt so sudden, and yet unreal, the way she said them, stopping Andrew.
"What...?"
"Andrew, he's back. Adrik Thorsen is back."
"...and then he said 'I hope your last thoughts of your teammate is how much he fucked this up' and then he...he..."
Erin couldn't finish. She was sitting in the kitchen of the Highrise. Salina was fixing a splint to the side of her leg, so that Erin's pain would be dulled. Rob was now standing where Andrew had only been minutes earlier. The exception now was that Andrew had been brooding; Rob was sullen.
"So that's it then." Rob said in a low tone. "He just up and killed him." Andrew noticed how much trouble it was for Statler to accept it. CJ had often displayed the devil's luck when it came to certain situations. Out of every bad event that had come to Doom Patrol, he had sometimes come out of them with minor scrapes, a few scars, but was always remotely alright. Andrew looked to Salina, and felt the urge to comfort her. Her bottom lip was quivering as she fought back tears that would not come. Not at least at this time. They were not needed and Salina would not show them.
It was quiet. Nobody said a word. Andrew could feel how cold everything was between the four of them. Suddenly, Rob punched a nearby wall, creating a large dent. He stood with his head lowered under the archway of the kitchen door, with his head lowered in tears.
"This ends now", Rob said. "Thorsen is going to pay and I'm going to personally hand him his ass."
"And kill him? Rush in there without knowing a damn thing what to do?" Andrew said holding up three fingers, ticking each one off as he spoke. "We don't know what the hell Thorsen's up to this time. If memory serves, we made that mistake once before back in Dalton and almost got the shit beat out of us. Second, if he's got allies behind him this time, we need to be smart and form a plan of before walking into danger. And third's the most obvious…we don't forget who we are and turn into murderers."
Everyone stared at Andrew. It was different to see him act like this: they were used to seeing him gung-ho and out for glory. He rarely showed this type of depth.
"You know", Salina said, "if CJ were here, he'd say something like 'Hell's frozen over! Andrew makes sense!' " Everyone laughed, even if a little sadly. Though, Rob couldn't muster a smile.
Erin could feel the coldness that had once settled in the room dissipate. It was suddenly warmer, but inside she could feel the bitterness still within as her mind rolled back to that room in Independence Hall.
And then she remembered something vitally important.
"Guys, there's no if Thorsen has somebody to back him up." All eyes were turned on her now.
"What are you saying, Er?" Rob asked.
Downtown Philadelphia was a warzone.
No, that's an understatement, thought Senior Detective Wyatt Madison as he surveyed the area. As a veteran of both the Vietnam and Persian Gulf wars, he was used to destruction. He'd seen the worst of it back in 'nam, of course, but, as he drew on his dangling cigarette, he knew that the scene before him was very close to what he had viewed back in Saigon.
The shops were hollowed out, gutted as if somebody had bombed them. Not impossible, but of course, again, he was using police thinking. This city gets weirder every year.
The street he stood on was an anomaly too: the concrete was raised from the ground, as if someone had pulled it out and shook it like a rug. Jagged, long cracks ran along the sides of what wasn't destroyed. A fire hydrant was being handled by two units of firefighters nearby. Behind him, he heard the creak and then collapse of a street light.
He took another puff on his cigarette.
"This looks hella bad, sir." Tom Kennedy was new to the division, but he already had a keen sense of detective skills that would, as Madison knew, make him go far. "Well son", Madison said, "It ain't good either." He saw the younger man glance at the ambulance (one of many, who swooped down upon the area within minutes of each other) helping those that had survived the carnage.
"I know what's going through your mind", he said.
"No, you can't", Kennedy replied as he bent down to check the pulse of a middle-aged woman, but knew she was already dead.
"Yeah, I can. Trust me, live in this city for as long as I have and you'll see a lot worse." Kennedy sighed.
"When I signed on to join up, I had no idea that things like this happened. At least not here."
"Let's take a walk kiddo", Madison said, indicating an alley that appeared to be relatively untouched. Kennedy looked quizzically at his superior, until he noticed the familiar WPVI Channel 6 news van appear on the scene. He followed behind Madison.
"Twenty years ago, I would have agreed with you. Hell, I never would have believed in ghosts, demons, or zombies for that matter."
"Ghosts? You think..."
"If I said that, I might as well reject whatever crap I learned at the academy right now. All I am saying is that there are things here that go beyond logical explanation. Things that make you question everything you know...and things you don't know."
"Or want to know."
"Exactly." Madison stopped as he looked around the alley. Old habit rather than a feeling. He noticed Kennedy doing the same.
Kid doesn't know what he's looking for", he thought. He'll make one helluva cop. The alley was darker than most of the others downtown, perhaps due to the buildings that sandwiched it reaching higher than the usual two or three story flat. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the place; the garbage cans, tossed around as they were, looked normal compared to the street.
He took one step and felt something slick underneath his shoe.
"Goddammit", he said in disgust. He saw Kennedy grin a small mark of ammusement. The older detective shook his head as he attempted to wring the hem of his pants dry.
"You get a good laugh out of that, Detective?"
"Sorry, sir. I'll be sure to watch where I'm walking from on." Kennedy waited a few moments for Madison's response, but it never came. He saw the older detective stare at his hand. "What is it?"
Madison ignored him as he looked down at the ground. He pulled a white cloth out of his pocket and dipped it into the puddle. Pulling it out, he showed it Kennedy.
"Blood", he said. The rookie knew then what to do: shut up, ask no questions, and let the professional do his job. It's one of the first rules they teach you at the academy.
The Detective moved quickly, though keeping his footsteps silent as he moved down the alley. His revolver was drawn. The puddle formed a trail, as if the victim had dragged themselves from where Madison was to a secluded place. Waiting to be rescued.
Waiting to die, Madison concluded.
"Hey, you two."
Madison stirred slightly, keeping his cool but instinctively pointing his gun at the source. Behind him was a man, propped up on the ground in a sitting position, though Madison could tell he was only like that because of the trash cans. Had he no other support, the man would have been lying on his back.
Even in this dim light, Madison could see the extent of the man's wound: there was a bloody splotch around his abdominal area, indicating that that he had more than likely been shot or stabbed. He wore no shirt. Madison noted the sickly pallor of the man's skin. Even his hair looked ill. But what attracted Madison's eye was the prosthetic he wore, a metallic fixture that was in the place where his arm should have been.
He spoke again. "Would you mind not lookin' at me like I'm some godammed freak and do me a favor?"
Madison regained his composure. "What?"
"Call a doctor. And tell him not to stick me in a meat locker when he gets here."
"This is unreal," the senior detective thought.
"What you got there Wyatt?" Kennedy asked.
"Call one of those EMT's over here, kid", Madison said, not taking his eyes off the wounded man. "Hurry!" Kennedy moved quickly, calling out in the middle of the road for someone to come and fast.
Madison bent down to the man's level to get a better look at him. He appeared half-dead, and didn't believe he'd live long enough for the trip to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital. His breathing was shallow and the odds of him surviving his wound were slim.
But, he did what he always did in these situations.
"What's your name, son?" he asked.
"Riddle", the man replied calmly, as if he was sitting in a bar. "Jayson Riddle."
"Before the medics get here, Jayson, I need to ask you: did you see what happened here today?"
"No, sir", Jayson mocked. "I've been a little busy singing 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' while bleeding to death."
Jayson coughed. A bit of blood dribbled from his mouth.
"Take it easy, you're going to be ok..."
The young man wiped away the blood. He attempted to stand up, but fell back down. "Can't. I have to…OW! Christ!" He tried to help himself up again, cursed as his right leg gave out from under him.
"Please, stay still. You're in no condition to go anywhere."
"I've been through worse."
"Yeah, well not on my watch. Do you have a death wish or something, Mr. Riddle?"
Riddle looked stoicly at his metalic prosthetic limb and murmured, "Everyday."
Madison was about to question this last comment when the EMT attendants finally arrived on duty, attending to the young man's wound with dexterity. Dispite his injuries, Riddle continued to struggle
"Do what you can, but I need to get to the Ben Franklin Bridge immediately."
"What for?" Madison asked.
Riddle grunted in frustration, "What for! Look aroud you. The devestation you see is not just another act of terrorism. I..." He stopped, a shot of Thorazine from one of the on-field nurses calmed down Jayson somewhat as he slumped back to the ground.
"Gotta get to...need...Ghostbussss..."
"He's delirious from the pain," the nurse concluded.
Lingering on the last word Riddle uttered, Madison thought otherwise given the events that had occurred over the last few days.
"Will he be alright?" Madison asked.
"It's hard to say, he's lost a lot of blood. He was stabbed through the abdomen alright, but we can't be sure of the extent yet." Madison watched as the young man was strapped to a carrier bed and wheeled away to an awaiting ambulance.
Chapter 11: Welcome to the Dead Zone
"What's that?" Erin asked.
Salina felt her PKE meter as it came online, vibrating and sounding off eratically in her pocket. She pulled it out quickly and examined it with dred.
"No way," Salina's expression grew grim. "Guys, a trio of Class VII's are within the area."
"What direction are they moving?" Statler asked.
She looked up and stared at everyone before she spoke.
"…Here."
Andrew didn't stand idly by. He reached below the kitchen sink and removed a proton pistol that had been strapped underneath. "Rob, go down with Salina to the basement and get the packs. Suit yourself up and toss Erin one."
All eyes shifted from Andrew to Erin and back to Andrew.
Andrew gazed at Erin. "You heard right. We'll need an extra hand."
Erin was about to protest when she was held back by Salina, who asked, "Wait a minute Rambo, are you saying that you're going to hold off three Class VII's all by yourself?" Andrew grinned as he grabbed a second proton pistol and strapped it to his hip.
"It'll give me a chance to draw their attention away from you so we can evacuate the building and isolate the fight outside."
"But they'll rip you apart!"
"Sal's right, Texan", Rob said. "I'll stay with you and fight."
"I appreciate the thought Stat", Andrew said as he charged the pistols. The familiar whirring sound and the smell of it was a pleasant aroma ti gun. "But, you need to assist the girls. I know Salina can handle herself, but Erin isn't trained. If the ghosts bypast me and approach them, they'll need all the help they can get. Now, get going." Although under protest, Rob helped Erin to her feet (her leg still slightly tender), both trotting off to towards the basement to get to the packs. Andrew's back was still turned, but he knew he was not alone. "Why are you still here?"
Salina pursed her lips and looked at Andrew sternly. "You can't stop them alone", she said. He noticed there was not a hint of a plea in her voice. It was more of a matter-of-fact tone.
Turning to face her, he said, "I know. And you're probably right about them killing me. But till then, I'll just do what I've always done."
"And what's that?"
Andrew aimed the proton pistol at the window.
"Give 'em hell."
In the back of his head, Andrew could hear himself saying Hug her you moron! Tell her how you feel!.
"Salina, I..."
Andrew snapped to attention, his head turned towards the kitchen window. "DUCK!" he shouted, pushing both himself and Salina to the ground as the wall exploded in a sudden, brilliant fury. Salina shook shards of glass from her hair as she looked up.
"Go, now!" Andrew barked as he got to his feet.
"That's twice", Salina said as she got up.
"What?"
"That you've saved my life. Promise me one thing Andy..."
"What?"
"Watch your ass."
Andrew cocked his head slightly as he stood in front of the gaping hole in what was their kitchen. He cast a smile that said it all for him: Just take care of yourself kid. Salina understood this and nodded as she ran to join Rob and Erin. As she left, she heard another explosion and the collapse of the archway that led to the kitchen, blocking the only exit Andrew had.
Andrew counted the ticks of the seconds in his head. The clock was broken, but he didn't care as his flicked the trigger of the pistol in his right hand. He knew that last blast had trapped him.
Perfect.
In front of him, he could make out the corporeal mist beginning to swirl and take shape. He may not have been as trained as CJ, Salina, or even Rob and Brian in understanding the classes of ghosts, but he could sense that this one was going to be a mean little bastard.
It's crimson eyes opened and stared hungrily at Andrew. He laughed.
"You do realize you've just fucked up our disaster insurance premium!" he shouted. He fired a single proton stream from the pistol in his left hand, hitting the ghost directly. It roared in pain as it rose from the ground, leaving behind a vaporous trail similar to fog. "Oh, don't leave the dance yet" Andrew asked mockingly as he fired into the air. "We're just getting started!" The ghost swirled around Andrew, creating a protoplasmic duster to catch the hunter off-guard as it went through him, knocking Andrew to the ground.
He reached for the charger attached to his hip and hit a button on the top of the device. A compartment opened, revealing three micro Ecto-Spheres that Rob had created, but not gone through a successful (or even unsuccessful) test of the equipment. Today was, as Andrew judged, as good a time as any to do find out. He fired again as the ghost dive bombed towards him, his orange stream encircling the ghost in it's positive ionization. Pressing a small button on the Ecto-Sphere, Andrew tossed it in the air and looked away quickly. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face when he heard the opening of the Sphere and the roar of a defeated foe.
The Sphere clattered to the ground as a green light flashed.
That was too easy, Andrew thought. He turned his back for a second, checking the Ecto-Sphere, a mistake that would cost him dearly. Without realizing it, his keen senses were dulled by the ghost, it's effects giving the hunter a small euphoric feeling that trounced his steady awareness. The ghost had lured Andrew into false security.
Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the formless shadows on the ground beginning to take shape.
The shadow slammed into Andrew, knocking him to the ground. Disoriented for a moment, he scrambled as he grabbed his proton pistol to fire at his new opponent. The shadow looked at Andrew slyly and crushed the pistol with a psionic blast.
"I was told not to yet kill you" it said. Suddenly, Andrew felt shockwaves run up and down his body. The slayer gritted his teeth in defiance.
"I wouldn't recommend struggling, Mr. Williams."
That voice. Andrew raised his head.
"So", he said, "it is true."
Adrik Thorsen walked through the ruined kitchen, crushing glass underneath his boots as he faced Andrew. The pain stopped once he entered, but Andrew found himself still immobile. Thorsen stood over Andrew, with his arms crossed and smiled mockingly at him.
"I had always envisioned you either at my side or at my feet", he said. "Guess I got my wish."
"Well, you can shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which one gets filled first!" Andrew said, still struggling to get up.
"A sense of humor, the one common trait you Ghostbusters share. I also wouldn't recommend reaching for your other pistol, Mr. Williams", Thorsen said. He walked over to Andrew's second proton pistol and crushed it under his boot.
"What'd you do to CJ?" he asked. Thorsen laughed.
"As much as I would love to tell you, some things are better left unsaid."
"So what, ya gonna kill me too?"
"Oh no, Mr. Williams. Your incredible strength impressed me in our last encounter. Though, I now garner a need for it." He grabbed Andrew by his shirt collar and stared at him.
"But, Andrew, you're going to regret what happens next."
Erin frowned slightly as she hauled the original Mark IV proton pack on her back. Rob and Salina, used to the weight, were wearing Rob's modified versions. "Now I know why this was the part of the business you guys hated", she said. She was dressed in a spare uniform, Salina's older ones from the groups earlier adventures. It hung slightly looser in the pants area, Salina being a foot taller than Erin, but still a good fit. "Are you guys sure this'll work?"
Rob switched his pack on. "It's supposed to", he said, checking his PKE.
"Supposed?" She replied uncertain with a hint of annoyance.
"It's not broken. We just haven't used it in a while." Erin nodded in agreement as she unsheathed the neutrona wand and charged it up. "Anything I need to know before we get out there?"
"Don't cross the streams", Both Rob and Salina simultaneously advised.
"Why?"
"Trust me, you don't wanna know." Salina replied. Erin's heart pounded heavily in her chest.
"You'll do fine Er", Rob soothed as he heartily patted her on the back. "Ready?"
"I guess", she said, trying to convince herself.
"Uh-oh", quipped Salina. Her eyes looked at her PKE meter and then diverted to the ground floor. "Rob...Erin...If you could, fire two rounds of proton streams at the floor would you?"
"The floor?" Erin asked. "What for?"
"Now."
Rob wasted no time in catching the obvious. Despite his massive loss of hearing, he could feel the vibrations underneath his feet. Something was trying to claw it's way up. The cracks were already appearing. A yellow and blue stream sailed from his neutrona wand, blasting a hole in the floor. There, staring up at the trio, were a pair of demonic creatures in the shapes of bats. Rob had already blasted one back down into the hole, but the other managed to get a claw through the surface. Seeing its cohort attacked, the demon let out a chilling, high-pitched scream that sent both Salina and Erin to the ground.
As the batlike creature ascended, Rob managed to catch it in his grasp. The demon soared toward the ceiling, with Rob latched onto its hind legs. He pulled the demon toward him, as it lost is balance in the air. The sentient being lost control of its direction, following a staggering fist from the thirty-year-old Ghostbuster into its rib cage. The two came crashing down. When they landed, knocking over a bulletin board and several desk chairs, he grabbed the demon by it's throat. For a moment, the muscular Doom Patrolman, looked into the eyes of his attacker with utter disdain. He hated it, all of their kind…every last cretin of evil. And yet, he had never come to fully understand why.
He crushed its windpipe under the pressure of his gloved hands. Statler kneeled, wiping the sweat off his brow, and then stood upright.
"Salina? Erin?" he looked around the basement to see if they were ok.
"We're fine," Salina replied. The women walked over to him and observed the demonic corpse of the creature on the ground.
"That's one down," Rob said. "So, anyone want to tell me what that was?"
"Class VII Metaspectre", Salina explained. "I'll fill in the details later, but we have to get back upstairs. Andrew's..."
She was drowned out by her PKE. The color drained from her face when she studied it.
"What is it?"
"More."
The trio looked down into the hole, finding a swirl of screeching bat-demons encircling them as they flew to the surface. There were ten of them, each one destroying the basement and, to Rob's horror, the ECU. "Motherfu–!" he shouted as his voice was droned out by the fluttering of leathery wings. Rob fired his neutrona wand at another one of the the hellish creatures. His aim was slightly off, nicking the demon on it's ear as it flew and hovered above them. Salina and Erin fired in unison. Erin sent a whirring beam of protonic energy at one that whizzed about a foot away from Salina's head. Salina cursed under her breath, but was glad that Erin appeared as though she was getting the hang of it. For a woman who spent much of her time behind desk, she seemed like a natural using a proton pack.
"Erin behind you!" Rob shouted pointing to a demon as Erin swung her proton beams in the it's direction, hitting the monster as it fell.
"That...was fun", Erin said grinning.
"Yeah, and that ain't all of them", Rob deadpanned as he blasted another one as it rose from the ground, gliding towards him. "By the way, Erin…where'd you learn to shoot like that?"
She replied, "7-11."
Rob cocked an eyebrow.
"Um, they have a 'House of the Dead' game there?" She said sheepishly.
The group did not see the green, pulsating light emanating from the hole behind them
Elsewhere...
"This was all my fault", was the only thought Jayson Riddle had on his mind. I should have known...seen the signs more clearly than I thought...
He was at the steering wheel of Baptist Medical ambulance, the very one that had attempted to get him to the hospital. He was pumped with twenty CC's of Thorazine but it had little effect. The medics did not want to listen to Riddle once his wounds were tended to. They had patched him up, but was informed he needed more than that if he wanted to live.
"So what?" Jayson had made his decision a long time ago and knew he needed to correct it.
It took a little more effort to knock the EMT's and the driver out, draining him completely.
He shook it off upon seeing the Yogs, bat-like demons from Hell, in the surface world, attacking Philadelphia's citizens. He swerved around a corner, nearly hitting a street hot dog vendor as the man ran into the street, a Yog clawing on his back. Jayson looked in the rearview mirror to see the Yog shredding the man to pieces.
A spasm of pain crossed Jayson's face, nearly causing him to wreck the vehicle.
"Can't give up now", he said out loud to himself. "Brian sure as hell didn't."
To be concluded...