.

It would have been bad enough if that 'ghost' (was it a ghost, or did they just call it that as part of their cover story?) had been the only thing to come out of the… Whatever it was. It wasn't.

More things emerged. These were more recognizable. Animals, mostly. Haglike creatures with long fingers and crooked teeth. Floating balls of light. Everything bright and glowing.

"Oh, my god," moaned McGee. How in the world was he supposed to explain this to his superiors?

"Yeah," said Patterson. "That's… more than usual."

"I'm making the call."

"Who could you possibly call for this?" asked McGee. "The Men in Black?"

"We're not calling the government for this," said Patterson. "You saw how incompetent the Guys in White are."

"Besides, these are ghosts," said Collins, phone pressed to the side of his face. "What do you think the Men in Black could possibly do?"

"Who then? Who are you calling?"

"Haha, this sounds like a Ghostbusters commercial," said Patterson. "He's calling the Fentons."

"The chintzy mad science tourist trap people who are connected to the mob." Wow, McGee was just spewing all his theories right now, wasn't he? "The ones weirdly connected to the unidentified teenage body you found last summer?"

"They're perfectly respectable ghost scientists," said Collins, "and – Hi, Maddie. Patterson and I are here in the Neon District. We've got… How many would you say, Pat?"

"Bout a dozen," said Patterson.

"A dozen or so low-level ghosts. Night hags and small animals, mostly. Yes, I know it's a school night. Maybe you and Jack – Really, it's fine. This is the Neon District, after all. Not much unbroken. Hm, yeah, okay, but we do have the new guy. McGee. Yeah. Might do him some good to see? Alright. See you soon." There was an audible beep on the other side of the line, and Collins closed his phone with a snap.

"Now what?" asked McGee.

"Now," said Collins, "we wait."

"With all of those… things?" He waved a hand towards the windshield.

"Yeah. The car has a coating."

"All the police units do. Most ghosts can't phase through it," said Collins.

"Most?"

"Most," confirmed Collins.

"There are always a few outliers. Besides, we're nice and hidden here in this alley. No reason for them to come after us."

"Unless they're fear eaters," said Patterson.

"They're all fear eaters."

"You know what I mean. The ones who want to eat fear."

"Well, considering what some of these guys look like…"

"They'd be on us already with McGee, here. I mean, I can smell his fear."

"Give the guy a break. It's not every day you find out that the undead exist."

"You can't be serious," said McGee. "This can't be happening."

"It is, though," said Patterson.

McGee slumped down in the back seat, hopefully low enough not to be seen by the ghosts outside. Ghosts. Ghosts.

How was he supposed to explain ghosts? How was he supposed to tell his superiors that the people in Amity Park were being completely honest when they said that the town was under attack from ghosts?

He was never getting out of here unless he quit.

He did not want to lose his life to something that shouldn't even exist. He didn't want to lose his job to things that shouldn't exist.

A halogen glow grew at the end of the street and a loud rumbling distracted McGee from his thoughts.

"Oh, that's fast," said Patterson.

A giant military monstrosity affixed with enough lights to illuminate a football field barreled down the street, bright laser-lines of green shooting out of it. And – What kind of messed up sci-fi film was this? Ray guns? Energy weapons?

Had he been drugged?

At least now he knew where the glowing paint came from. He saw new, bright splashes form where the- the ghosts were knocked into walls. The lasers traced bright lines on the brick.

Mr. Fenton, in full orange glory leaned out one of the car doors, a massive bazooka in his hand and an even bigger smile on his face, firing away.

Everything. All of this. It was too much.

.

"Where does Danny Fenton fit into this?" asked McGee.

"Huh?"

"Danny Fenton. And the body you found."

"Well," said Collins. "The Fentons are training Danny to deal with ghosts – And the ghosts like him quite a bit. He's one of those… What did you call it?"

"A medium," said Patterson.

"A medium." Collins turned sharply, onto a side road. "This is faster," he said.

"And the dead teenager?"

"Belongs to a ghost."

"Belongs to a—What does that even mean?"

"Like, it was their body," said Patterson, "and then they died. Pretty straightforward."

"So, you just… don't investigate it when that happens?" They couldn't be serious.

"I mean, we did at first," said Patterson. "But he didn't want us to, and it was pretty clear there was no foul play after a while."

"The body was buried in the woods."

"Yeah, but he was the one who did it. Kid panicked. It happens. Not like we're going to charge a ghost for improper disposal of human remains."

"This is insane."

"You get used to it," said Collins as he pulled into the station lot.

"Please tell me this is it. That this is the explanation for everything."

"Hah. Hardly," said Patterson. She popped the door open. "There's so much weird ghost stuff going on it'd take days to explain it all."

"Like the Truce," said Collins, shutting off the car.

McGee scrambled to follow them out. The cold night air hit him like a sledgehammer, and he shivered. "What about the truce?"

"Winter Truce," said Patterson. "Most ghosts respect the winter solstice as a time of peace and leave off attacking for a few months around it."

"Attacking?"

"Yeah, do you think all the damage is just from them coming through peacefully? If it was just tourists from the other side, we could handle it. We do handle it."

"Patterson?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're overwhelming the guy. Give him a break. McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"Go home. Take tomorrow off. Take some time to… process, okay? This is a big thing. We know you're a spy who'll betray us as soon as you get what you came for, but you're not a bad guy."

"Plus, we run most people off by this point, so."

"Unfortunately, that is true."

"Ha! Wait until you hear about the ghost cops."

"Not now, Patterson."

"Yeah, um," said McGee, raising a hand to rub at the lower half of his face. "I'm just going to go home now."

"Drive safe!"

What would happen if he didn't? What would happen if he died here? Would he turn into a ghost?

McGee forced a smile he didn't feel because social pressures were still a thing, evidently. "Sure," he said.

.

He parked by the graveyard. It was quiet there, this long after sunset.

He knew he shouldn't be there. Not if ghosts were real. But he had to see it.

The grave.

It glowed faintly in the moonlight.

"I'm going to solve it," he said. "I'm going to find out who you are and why you died."

Because, frankly, he didn't trust Collins or Patterson. Who knew why they'd said what they'd said? Who knew what they were getting from all these stories?

"You already know why I died. Don't you?"

McGee yelped and twisted. There was a ghost floating there. McGee knew this ghost. Well, recognized him, anyway. Phantom, the ghost at the center of the whole tourist trap business.

"Come on," said the ghost, "don't tell me you're surprised to meet a ghost in a graveyard."