Note: Did I ever mention that I don't own any of the coprighted stuff in this fanfic? Nooo, so let me do that now: I don't own any copyrighted stuff in this fanfic. I just wish I did. Then my student loans from 10 years ago would already be paid off. This is purely for entertainment. So if you're not entertained, I have even less to worry about, huh! ^_^
The Damocles Solution 14.
Janine hummed contentedly to herself as the early morning sun shone in. She shifted a little, and snuggled her hands deeper underneath her fluffy pillow. "What a great dinner," she mumbled to herself. "Never thought brainy people could be so much fun." Her eyes cracked open. "Well, Dr. Spengler's sort of fun, but mostly when he's trying not to be, so—"
Her eyes popped the rest of the way open, and she shot up from the bed, then nervously snapped her head this way and that way. "Whaaaaa….? How'd I get here? I was eating…or ah," she innocently held a hand to her head, "rather, I was drinking…and then…"
She noticed something on the bed under her, after groaning to herself in annoyance over how much lipstick she got all over the pillow she slept on. Picking it up, she saw it was a man's handkerchief, with a simple scarlet "S" embroidered on it.
Closing her eyes, she sighed, embarassed. "Oh gaaaaaaaawwwd. I can't believe I let him help me here!"
She got up from the bed heavily. "Oh, well, I'm pretty sure I did good at callin' 'im—," and she lowered her voice and made quotes in the air for a moment, "—'Dr. Spengler' all night, so I gotta pat myself on the back for at least that." She dragged herself off the bed, to the closet. "Ugh. Now I gotta change into somethin' more comfortable."
Soon enough, she was in a nightgown and housecoat again, and curled up with a coffee that room service had so graciously provided. She flipped the TV in the room on, and turned it to the morning news.
The show was just beginning, and the program was capping the top stories of the day. There was the local coverage of the EPIC gathering; an interview with locals saying that there should be regulations on the amount of holiday lights are outside the home (as if there weren't, yanno,more important things to do a news clip about! she thought), and a story about a dog whose tail would pop out when you pushed its nose in.
She rolled her eyes. "Where in heck do these people think this stuff is news?" she complained.
But one in particular was a brief mention of the death of a prominent scientist from overseas, and she started when she recognized his photo.
"Ohmygosh!" she whispered in shock, straightening a bit. "That looks like the guy that sat next to that weird guy with the old lady! At our table!"
She was starting to feel sick. She picked up the phone and dialed Egon's room number, but got forwarded to the front desk.
"Hey! This is Miss Janine Melnitz. in 402. I was trying to call Dr. Egon Spengler in room 414?" she asked the attendant.
"Oh, yes, he left much earlier this morning. He has a message here in case he would get a call. He will be out indefinitely as he is on urgent business."
She took it as a healthy hint that he knew about the issue already, but still felt uneasy. She thought for a moment about how many times all the guys just walked out the door into God knows what, and always felt like this about Dr. Spengler. Hey, Melnitz, if those guys can handle Gozer, that thing on 5th, and the Netherworld and still come back and want a pizza and a beer, or even not a beer, but still be back, then it's all good, and you're just watching too many Alfred Hitchcock films…right? Right?
"Hey…ah…thanks." And he has a communicator too. So…
"Oh, and this is Miss Melnitz? He has a message for you, too. His message says he will contact you the minute he's back, so there's no need for concern."
"Oh…really?" she asked, grinning. Just for her. She had this one in the bag, and he was one more step toward forgiveable now.
"Um, yes ma'am."
She waved her hand in the air. "Well, aren't you great! You just made my day. Thanks for the info!"
"Uh…you're welcome!" he said, surprised at her informality and her compliment.
She hung up, still a bit uneasy, but forced herself to return to the news. She made herself watch that stupid story about the weird dog, thinking about what breed of dog would make a good mascot for the team…then groaned, as she remembered Slimer ate enough to be the equivalent of about ten dogs every week, so they'd never be able to afford one, or keep Slimer out of its share of the food.
She snorted, annoyed. Sometimes, thinking about Slimer, she considered herself ready for a change of pace. After all, Slimer'll never be bright enough to bring a Mercedes or a BMW to the door of the firehouse like Dr. Spengler's cute dragon was. I loved that little guy. Would eat more than a hundred times as much as Slimer, though. She sighed, annoyed. Ya just can't win!
The news story came on about the death of their table fellow. "Hmmm…ran into a tractor trailer. Police are still investigating the cause…".
And the phone rang.
"Hey…whaddayawant?" she said into the receiver.
"Oh…well," said a calm, beautifully elegant voice she recognized on the other end. "Miss Melnitz? This is Mrs. Rhoda Dendron. Phil's wife?"
Janine's eyes went wide in excitement. "Wow! Hello again!" she said. "It's really you?"
"Oh, yes! I am calling to offer you to visit us on our grounds today We can have a car pick you up. We would love your company for the day if you don't have a schedule you need to attend to."
She pumped a fist in happiness. "Ohmygawd! So Dr. Dendron was serious when he offered?"
"Oh, yes he was! He loves giving detailed tours of his greenhouse. Just be ready to stay quite a while when he starts talking about his prized collection of carnivorous plants. Some even stay overnight after he insists on giving them a full dinner, so he can showcase the various fruits and vegetables he's growing in the chef's cuisine." She whispered confidentially. "But that's just to get them to stay another day so you can see the grounds and the vineyard, the next day, too."
She was shocked. "He has his own vineyard?"
Rhoda laughed. "Well, that's more my project than his. But I do say, I love when he takes a look at them and gives his take on how they're growing. I sincerely believe that happy grapes make happier wine!"
"Wow. Would I ever like to be there! When should I be ready for?"
"Someone will pull up for you at about two PM…if you are feeling up to it after your dinner last evening...Are—are you alright to travel?"
"Aaaaaah!" she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can drink some of the guys I work with under the table. I'm good to go!"
"Oh…my…" she said, incredulous. "Ah, well, in that case we will look forward to seeing you!"
"Wonderful. You are both so gracious!"
Peter was buried ankle-high in unopened envelopes as he kneeled on the floor of the firehouse.
He picked some of them up, and threw the envelopes high in the air in joyous celebration. "WOOHOO! Excused! Pardoned! Rescheduled! I LOOOOOVE MY JOB!" he cried at the top of his lungs before falling backwards, flat on his back, on the floor. "I'd never thought they'd get here soooooo fast!" He held up a thumb high in the air from where he lay, and closed his eyes. "Mr. Mailman! You are a great man of service. Thank you thankyouthankyou!"
Opening his eyes, he yelped and started—because he was looking into a pair of goofy-looking, yellowish eyes and a gigantic, green grinning mouth an inch away from his face.
"PEEEETERRR HAPPYYY!" said Slimer before splatting into him unceremoniously.
"EEEW, YUCK!" he cried, flailing his arms. He sat up, pushing the ghost away and then wiping his own gooey face. "Looka spud, just because you have no idea what I'm so happy about doesn't give you the right to participate!" he said, each word doubling in fury.
"Awwwwww…" said Slimer, his shoulders falling sadly.
Peter pointed at the ghost. "You're not even supposed to be down here, you're supposed to be sitting VERY STILL for Ray!"
The ghost ooooooohed in sudden realization.
"Now you get lost and go hang out with Ray while he works on…whatever he's doing up there, and STAY THERE!" He got up, and started up the stairs to get to the shower. "Cripes almighty, no one can ever say we're not clean people, we must wash at least five times every DAY here…" he grumbled, trailing off as he rose with each stairstep.
Simer shrugged. "Helllllllp Raaaaaaay," he managed to say, and obediently headed up the stairs to get to the lab, following Peter.
Peter turned around suddenly when he saw the ghost a step behind him out of the corner of his eye, and Slimer halted in mid-float in total confusion. The two locked eyes for half a moment.
"WILL. YOU. STOP. FOLLOWING. ME!"
Slimer pointed upstairs and scratched his chin. "But…Raaaaay…there!"
He floated a little less closely behind Peter, who was complaining under his breath now that the ghost didn't even need to have anything to do with the stairs at all, and eventually made it into the lab. There was Ray, smiling and waving. "Hey, Slimer!" he said gently, offering the ghost a lab chair, surrounded by lots of whirring and pleasantly zapping gizmos. "How 'bout a guest spot in the hotseat while I test this new imaging device for a sec?"
Slimer turned his head curiously. "Ooooooohkaaaaaaay." He floated over to the chair and down into it.
Ray turned his palms up. "I promise ya this won't hurt a bit, lil' buddy, and also you might think what you're gonna see is pretty neat!" He pointed at a monitor, which Slimer could also easily see from where he sat.
He reached over to Egon's desk, and brought over a small looking device that seemed to have a bright orange shell around it, attached to a very, very long plastic-looking tube with wires snaking inside. In turn, the tube was connected to the monitor Ray previously pointed out.
"This is an ectoplasmic resonance camera, Slimer. It's gonna turn the energy fields inside you to graphics, and display them here on the monitor!"
"Cammmeraaaaaaaaa," confirmed the green spectre, not very thoughtfully.
"And ya know what the best thing about this gadget is?" he leaned in a bit and winked. "It's got a candy coating!"
Slimer's eyes enlarged, and shone brightly. "Caaaaaaannnndyyyy!" he drooled, clasping his little green hands together. Almost spontaneously, the camera disappeared when a huge tongue licked up the camera. Slimer then started to suck in the camera wire as it if were a giant spaghetti.
"Whoa, whoa, boy. WHOA! Lemme turn this thing on." He leaped over to the monitor and switched it on, and with a flash, waited with anxious anticipation to see Slimer's innards and test his theory.
After more than a few minutes, indistinct darker- and lighter-green shapes continually swirled by the camera. Ray could not make sense of any of it, and Slimer just shrugged his shoulders when questioned.
Ray's brow was compressed downward in frustration. "Awww, c'mon, it's gotta be there. It's gotta! We went through almost a mile of tubing already!" He did not see anything confirming his theory yet.
Another half-mile of tubing disappeared into the little green ghost. By now, Ray had his head supported by a hand. "Talk about an alternate universe…," he said to himself in amazement of how large Slimer's internal space actually was compared to his outer appearance.
Now finished with his shower, Peter sauntered into the lab. Curious, he stood behind Ray, slung his towel over his shoulder and fixed on the monitor. "Wow. I think—I think I see the third season of Freakazoid in there!"
Ray turned around, casually glaring at him. "I thought you didn't watch cartoons, Peter."
Peter waved a finger in front of him. "Now, now, Ray. Freakazoid is one of the smartest cartoons ever made. Spielberg fit more sarcasm into one line of script on that show than an entire week's worth of Senate debates."
Ray rolled his eyes. "There's nothin' stupid about Murray the Mantis, either. Why even Egon says tha—" He glanced back at the monitor, then slammed his hands down on the desk in front of it, eyes wide with happiness. "WOW! Eureka!"
"What? Whatarewelookin'at?" asked Peter in alarm, getting closer to the image on the screen.
"This is what's inside Slimer!"
Peter flailed his arms around in sudden disgust. "Wha-! Why didn't you say that? No, no…I change my mind. Freakazoid's definitely not in there!" Slimer looked annoyed in response.
Ray waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway. It looks like what's down there is exactly what I've been expecting! Look, Peter!"
Peter scrunched his face and backed away. "What the heck am I supposed to be looking at? And is this important enough to drag Sureshot away from finally getting together with his girlfriend after all this time?" All he saw was a view of a surface covered solid in little folds.
"Nah, it's the first time Winston's seen her in over a week. We'll tell 'im later." He couldn't help but smile for a moment at Peter's new pet name for the tall dark Ghostbuster. "Anyway, according to my hunch…those are rugae!" said Ray as he pointed at the screen, enthralled. Slimer looked back and forth from monitor to Ray, not understanding a single word.
Peter also looked back and forth from monitor to Ray, not understanding a single word. "What is that, and why should I care, and when are you moving on to something much better to discuss?"
Ray frowned for a second before continuing. "That's exactly what the lining of our stomachs look like underneath all the protective mucous. I think I've confirmed what Slimer is!He's not a haunted human, true, but he is a potential part of one! A haunted stomach!"
Peter UUUUGGGGGHHHHHHED as loudly as he could, clutching his head.
Ray nodded. "Yeah, really makes ya wonder what they were doing in that hotel to get Gozer's attention!" He flinched and shook. He wanted to make a loud blech! sound, but had enough tact to refrain from doing so, as it might have hurt Slimer's feelings.
Peter moaned again, this time even more loudly. "That…is just...gross. A constant ugly reminder of that unthinkable ProbeCorp job! I never wanna look at 'im ever again!"
Slimer obviously understood Peter perfectly well, because he put his hands on wherever his hips should have been, and spit out the tube and camera with a loud, long "raspberry" sound, and gobs of loose ectoplasm. He started babbling angrily at Peter.
"Oh yeah? Oh yeah, ya little food sack? No wonder you chow down everything in sight! No wonder we're using most of our petty cash to replace our own food, and no wonder I could bribe you with nothin' but Winston's chocolate sauce!" he roared.
The spud babbled back in furious incoherency.
"Peter!" said Ray, trying to keep the peace. He sighed, reminding himself that keeping the peace was futile in the firehouse.
"No wonder you're the most STUPID, DISGUSTING, GROSS thing anyone's ever had to deal with!"
The insults were starting to cut through Slimer, and tears started welling up in his eyes.
Peter continued, heedless. "I'd rather deal with a classroomful of nauseated toddlers than you, because at least they get over being nauseated, and get over being toddlers!"
Slimer had enough. He broke into a teary bawl, and, flailing his hands, smacked into the wall of the firehouse facing the street, and disappeared into it.
Ray furiously glared at Peter. "Great job, genius, now we hafta go and find 'im again!"
Peter leaned back innocently. "We?"
He felt his body pulled downstairs from the lab. "Yeah, Peter. WE!" said Ray, dragging Peter behind him.
The limosine glided along the highway in the early morning light, and Morgan proved to be an excellent chauffeur, if a rather stern and silent one.
Egon used the opportunity to do something constructive while he awaited his destination. He opened the combination locks on his briefcase, then examined the contents thereof—there was the calculator, the slide rule, the PKE meter. Underneath the PKE meter, there was the all-too-familiar stack of envelopes that held the court summons paperwork, silently mocking him. Picking up the banded stack of it, he turned down his mouth and wondered how many times Peter was on the phone, screaming his head off at some poor underpaid employee about the injustice of the justice system.
About to replace the envelopes, he saw a sheet of bright advertising that he knew was not there before. He took it out and examined it. All sorts of diamond rings were elegantly pictured on the front, with a list of jewelry store names that have seemed to be sponsors this pamphlet. The Diamond District—the Key to Your Forever, Right in Midtown! was the slogan on the cover.
Egon gasped, terrified at the implications of the document.
And he certainly did not put this in here. He opened the pamphlet, and inside was a letter.
"Hey, Spengs!
The guys and I decided this was a prodigious time to present to you this little piece of advice for your lovin' needs, since Winston was lookin' at em anyay. Check 'em out, some of 'em don't cost an arm and a leg, and we're sure you'll find a style she'd like.
We examined the whole thing for a skull and crossbones version, or a ball and chain version but couldn't find one. Maybe one of the shops can special order one for ya.
The Venkmeister."
His eyes went wide.
Then he had to stop and think. This briefcase was never unlocked at the firehouse. That meant—
He noticed there was more he didn't read.
"P.S., Spengs—Wanna know how I got the combination for your briefcase? It's from your oh-so-careful count I found of how many times you've had to flush Slimer's crap out my proton gun when he happened to be on a mission with us and splatted into me! Is THAT slick of me or what? Hope you're a smart enough boy to not wear your long johns for these few days, and keep in touch! "
He now felt nothing but immensely and irreparably violated, yet again, due to Peter's attention-starved antics. He snapped his hand holding the letter into a fist, crushing the pamphlet, and grinding his teeth with righteous anger.