Damn it, pick up. Ray Stantz was anxiously pacing about the empty vehicle bay on the main floor of the firehouse. He was trying to contact Egon and Winston through Ecto-1's CB radio and was reaching only busy signals. By his watch, two and a half hours had passed between his descent into and return from Labyrinth. It had felt like forty intense minutes at most. Time must have passed differently between the two realms. Maybe the Leviathan had something to do with it…
"Any word?" Asked Janine Melnitz.
"Unh-uh," shot Ray. "I found several e-mail messages on the computer in Peter's office from Egon that mentioned Pinhead's journey down to New Jersey. I really hope the guys haven't encountered them yet."
By now it was early morning. Peter was having no trouble sleeping in his bed, but anxiety kept Ray from attaining such relief.
"I'm worried too, Ray," empathized Janine, handing the auburn-haired occultist a sleeping pill. "Here. We should both take these and get some sleep. I can sleep on the couch in the TV room."
Janine was sleeping well enough, but Ray kept tossing and turning before finally waking. His eyes went wide as he surveyed the surroundings. The bedroom was the same color as the night sky, purple "darkness" shining in through the small window at the end of the room. Ray recognized the rows of chains hanging from the ceiling and feared the worst. The scientist sat up and looked over at his colleague's bed. Peter was still sound asleep and apparently unharmed. Ray arose out of his bed and walked through the bedroom doorway out to the main room with the fire pole.
The eerie silence of the bedroom gave way to many distant moaning voices that sounded at once painful and hopeless, the sound of suffering. The furnishings looked different. The three arcade machines in the far corner had been replaced by iron maidens, made ominous by the oozing of fresh crimson trails. Instead of the familiar small dining table, there was a large torture rack. Small bits of bloody flesh littered the table's cold iron. The fire pole had large iron spikes protruding from it. There were skulls of different shapes and sizes stuck on several of the spikes. The whole place reeked of tissue decay. Ray did not even want to discover the condition of Egon's lab.
Ray heard a gentle, longing voice coming from the shower stall in the bathroom. It seemed to beckon him. He cautiously traced the voice to its source. A single candle illuminated the numerous crimson streaks smeared along the pale cream tile. He heard the flow of water from behind the shower curtain, and spied a young feminine form. The showerhead was pouring out an opaque fluid instead of the expected translucent shadow of water. The dark liquid splashed off the form as she was gently humming a tune that Ray thought he recognized. All of a sudden the form looked toward him, shut off the shower, and reached toward the cream-colored towel draped over the curtain but instead pulled back the soft barrier.
Standing before Ray Stantz was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Long oak hair gently draped over her soft, round shoulders. Her skin was the perfect shade of peach. Ray looked her up and down. Her breasts were perfectly round, supple, and perky. They were neither large nor small, but erotically curvy for her slender body. Her figure was the perfect hourglass form, hips just a couple inches wider than shoulders. Ray noticed that she shaved, as his eyes continued their journey downward. He shifted his stance, trying to hide his growing erection. Her skin was blemish free. Perfectly shaped ankles and long, fleshy toes with perfectly round, red nails met the tiny cloth fingers of the bath mat. Ray glanced back up at her face. A sly sensual smirk adorned the full ruby lips. Her opaque pupils and high cheekbones echoed the sly sentiment.
"So you like what you see, hmmm Raymond?" she purred.
"How… do you know my name?" quietly asked the aroused man, with a big lump in his throat.
"That's a mystery. You love mysteries, don't you? That's why you do what you do."
A little spark of dread crept into his erotically flammable state of mind. "Can't I at least know your name?"
She giggled. "Angelique." He could have sworn he had heard that name somewhere before…
He was a little surprised as she advanced toward him and embraced him, throwing her body right on top of his. "Mmm, I can tell you like me," she said as she came in contact with his lower regions.
"What's this all about?" Squeaked Ray.
"Well, you're my new hero. The way you led your buddy into Hell and rescued your secretary. You didn't even let an old enemy stop you. And you thought of the daring chasm crossing that saved all your lives. Brave, bold, and resourceful, exactly the qualities in a man that make me hot." She grabbed his hand and guided his fingers down between her legs; she was wet. He was quickly getting there too. She brought her mouth to his, and began. After several long, sensual minutes, she backed away and spoke.
"That was just a small sample. You can have it all if you get both puzzle boxes and bring them to me. Then I won't have to go away anymore, and you will be able to spend an eternity with me. And I'll make sure nothing happens to your friends. Consider my offer, Raymond."
She shoved the stunned, silent man out through the bathroom doorway and closed the door in his face. His emotions were a conflicted mix of eroticism, uncertainty, and dread. He stood there trying to collect his thoughts and cool down when he heard a familiar klaxon from below. Someone was tampering with the Ecto-Containment Unit in the basement. Ray regained sense and hurried down the building's stairs to the main floor and then down the basement stairs, passing through the main floor without a glance. The large basement was orderly and organized, except for that dominant purple haze and the rows of chains hanging from the ceiling. Everything was normal until he checked the ghost-prison.
The Ecto-Containment Unit was missing, completely gone. In its place was Leviathan, pulsing with darkness. An odd mixture of fear and wonder rolled across the pudgy face of the occultist Ghostbuster. He ran up to touch the giant prism and found two large hardbound books. The covers of both books were remarkable: intricate brass lace patterns encircled what looked like large dark hazelwood buttons with tiny arrows pointing inward. He opened one volume and began reading with the marvel of a child trying out a new toy. Ray had found exactly what he had wanted. Here were the secrets of Labyrinth and Leviathan free for him to discover. Suddenly the book slammed shut and stayed that way, as though restrained by an invisible seal. A breathy voice got his attention from behind. "Doctor Raymond Stantz," He recognized the voice from his bookshop and turned instantly to face it.
"Silence, or they suffer." Ray could see Peter and Janine through the purple haze in the corner of the room. They were tied to the same thrones that he and Peter had freed Janine from in Labyrinth. Their whole bodies were bound tight in these thrones. Fear shot across both their faces as they watched a long iron spikes moving rapidly toward their foreheads.
"If you hear me out, nothing will happen to them. You and your friends have shown yourselves to be quite formidable opponents in my game. First, you escaped from your bookstore with the accountant when we came for him. Then you displayed intelligence and courage when venturing through Labyrinth: most would not escape. The few that have did so without their sanity. In fact, your rescue of the secretary and subsequent escape from Labyrinth forced me to change my plans. Finally, your two colleagues annoyingly escaped from me and took the Toymaker and the girl with them. And didn't even allow me to enjoy the suffering of that insipid nurse or her patients." The lead Cenobite approached the terrified yet curious scientist. "Walk with me, Raymond."
"How do I know you won't hurt me?"
"If that was my intention, you would already be suffering," assured Pinhead.
He led Ray toward the main floor stairwell. As they were walking, the lead Cenobite pulled out a tiny framed picture right out of the Twenties from a pocket on his hellish masochism outfit. It contained the portrait of a British military officer. Ray examined the picture carefully. Yellow shoulder stripes adorned the officer's dark khaki jacket. Tiny colored striped ribbon adorned the left breast pocket of the uniform. The black round bill of the angular khaki cap sat high on the officer's forehead. His face wore a proud and determined look. His mouth was still but his eyes were smiling.
"Do you see this man? He seemed to be proud to fight for his country and repel the German forces. But that was far from the truth. You see he had to witness every day another of his comrades – his brothers – fall to enemy bullets. The weather was cold and wet and often made a tiring exercise out of walking through the miry mud of the trenches. The suffering that is war was taking its toll on his soul and his sanity. He wanted a way out. He purchased the Lament Configuration from a gypsy in a small Gallic town upon promise that solving the puzzle would bring him great power, which he would use to end the war. The promise was fulfilled when he solved the puzzle. Soldiers on both sides of the conflict stopped shooting each other and began shooting at the creatures that emerged from the dimensional opening. Resistance was useless. Everyone there was slaughtered, except for the officer whom opened the box. He was able to close it himself, but at a price. He was dragged into Hell as he finished. His desire cost him his soul. This man was I." He threw the portrait against a back wall on the main floor. The glass shattered on impact and shredded the picture. "I've been trapped in this cursed state ever since. Only a few decades your time, but an eternity in Hell for me; surviving only through the sickly sweet scent of suffering."
They reached the main floor and Pinhead guided Ray toward the second floor staircase. "When that accountant and secretary of yours opened our world yet again, we figured to have some incredible delights waiting for us in their suffering. However, we discovered that they had no such desire for the secrets of the Lament Configuration. I began to understand when we invaded your bookstore. The secretary and the accountant were friends of the Ghostbusters. I realized that you might be able to help me if you got involved."
"We're famous in Hell?" Ray asked incredulously.
"You are infamous in Hell," roared Pinhead. "The suffering of demigods and paranormal creatures eclipses that of human suffering. They are almost pure emotion, so we get much greater suffering for much less effort. You and your friends have certainly sent many such creatures to us through your activities."
So, those paranormal creatures we destroy end up in Hell.
"There are many others: Gozer the Gozarian, the Boogeyman, even Freddy Krueger. Oh, we have special torments reserved for child murderers," he said with a sinister smirk. "They all share one thing in common: fear and loathing of the Ghostbusters. We love to use their fear against them to milk more suffering."
Why didn't he mention Vigo? They began a slow ascent up the stairwell to the second floor, from where Ray had come originally. A question popped into his mind.
"You said you couldn't bring suffering on Louis or Janine. Why not?"
"There are rules governing my actions. Cenobites are mere puppets of Leviathan. I can see what it sees and know what it knows, but must do its bidding. We can slaughter whomever we choose, but only have access to the souls of those that wanted the secrets of Labyrinth for selfish purposes. Since those who opened the box had no appetite for such secrets, the rules were corrupted. I found the opportunity to be free of this curse, and to finally rest in peace. But, I must kill the Toymaker and end his family line along with my own lineage."
"Let me guess: Kirsty Cotton," said Ray flatly.
"You are sharp, Raymond. Only then will I be able to die from this wretched form and regain my soul." They reached the second floor, and Pinhead guided Ray over to the large hallway window. Downtown New York was visible. Fires danced out the windows of many buildings. Many other buildings had been bisected and destroyed. The familiar purple haze enveloped the dark sky. Labyrinth's geometric form resided over the proceedings like a federal judge.
"So the deal is this: Release to me Kirsty and the Toymaker, and I will return Louis Tully to you unchanged. In addition I will give you those books you desire so much. Then I will close up the Lament Configuration and destroy it, sparing your city and your world. If you do not comply, I will personally destroy you and your friends, but first I will make you watch as your fair city turns to Hell. You have until tomorrow afternoon to make your decision. I chose a fitting place to meet you: your bookstore. Be there at exactly three o'clock. If you do not show, I'LL TEAR YOUR SOUL APART!"
Pinhead raised his left hand. From out of the haze a steel mask locked onto Ray's face and started pumping a blue gas into his orifices. There was no discomfort, but his vision was starting to fade. Ray tugged furiously at this mask, trying to remove it. Consider my offer Raymond. The drowsy occultist heard the Cenobite's words echo in his mind before all went black.
Ray's eyes shot open and he sat straight up in bed to see his colleague facing him.
"Are you okay?" asked Peter. "You woke me up shouting something about Pinhead." Ray glanced around the bedroom. A soft white light illuminated three other twin beds, each in a different state of tidiness. They were all flanked on the left by tiny end tables of cheap wood, adorned by small reading lamps. Ray looked up at the ceiling. Instead of rows of chains, there was simply white plastered drywall interrupted only by the source of illumination – an ordinary light with a simple sconce. He leapt out of bed and hurried down both sets of stairs with Peter in tow. The commotion awoke Janine from the television room and she followed as well. Ray reached the basement and was greeted by the soft electronic hum of the Ecto-Containment Unit. He dashed over to the unit's small control console and checked the monitors. The large red contraption appeared to be functioning normally. Ray sighed in relief.
"You wanna' tell us what that was all about?" demanded Janine from the top of the stairs.
"Just a dream," sighed Ray.
"'Just a dream' does not make you moan Pinhead's name in bed like he's your gay lover," sternly reasoned Peter. "And 'just a dream' does not make you dash down two flights of stairs to check equipment. What's going on?"
Ray looked at both of them forlornly, realizing there was no dodging the question. Back on the second floor, all three sat down at their small dining table and Ray disclosed every last detail of the nightmare. Except, of course, Pinhead's proposition. No one else could know that; at least not yet.