Note: I still don't own anything that I don't own! That includes the 'Busters and Janine, Dendron, um...Freakazoid, Wild Kingdom, and anything I could have used to pay off my student loans.
Hope you enjoy.
The Damocles Solution 18
Consciousness hit him like a freight train this time.
He opened his eyes, and sucked air in hard.
The fire. Egon had long lost track of time trying to fight the fire that raged in every cell of his body. The poison had raced through his arm, and from there, to everywhere else. It was an excruciatingly slow killing recipe, if it was in fact meant to use to kill at all.
He fought for his composure yet again, his vision swirling in sickening green. The old woman was right; it definitely was potent enough to keep his mind occupied on his misery instead of insulting her when she walked in to check on him. It enraged him.
She could have been in there since the last time he was aware of his surroundings; however, he would have never have known, because most of his time now was spent gritting his teeth, gasping for air, and fighting his bonds, but not out of a desire to escape any longer. It was rather a reflex action from the inner fire that smoldered ruthlessly in his veins, and the heat within there surfaced in turning the cold underground prison into what felt like a roiling, airless sauna. Every ounce of concentration was spent on simply keeping breathing in and out as painless and efficiently as possible
He tried focusing his mind again for a moment to be wary of a method of escape. However, it was all just too much. The assault from the day before and poison made his mind unable to process anything except pain management.
The fire. He kept hoping against false hope that Janine would somehow have a reason to stay away from the hotel from now on. He also would even have been immensely satisfied if she flat-out left him there; the best place for her from now on was no where near himself.
"I am going to retrieve your woman very soon, Dr. Spengler," he heard a cool voice say.
Dragged out of his concentration again, he turned his head ever so slightly to his right, and shifted his eyes to their corners. Just past the barrier, there was the blurred image of Morgan, sitting calmly on the well-hardened earthy ground, a scarlet blur in his hands that softly clacked occasionally.
Morgan nimbly fingered Egon's glasses. He seemed entirely pleased at the struggle the physicist had in trying to cover the effects of what his mistress had given him. He positively drank in the dark-circled eyes, the completely spent, pained expression on his face, and his fevered cheeks. He smiled at seeing them. "I am pleased to have met her already. She is quite intriguing. Spirited."
The demon smirked at the stubborn stony silence, broken only by teethy breaths, he received.
He continued on calmly. "I promise nothing will happen to her except a change of locale. She will be only encouraged to have you cooperate. The lady of the house prefers the peacock on display, of course, rather than the homely street pigeon."
The demon was sure this would cut a rise out of him. Instead, he flinched back when he saw out of the corner of the physicist's eyes, a glint of the ominous, damning stare he received when Egon willed himself through the barrier. It was of the purest, calculated fury he'd ever seen…fury that, if he were unbound, would obliterate everythingin its way, in the most efficient way possible. Perhaps not even by his own hand…but it would, unalterably, happen. The silence, the stopping for a moment even of his harsh breathing, that accompanied it was deafening.
Egon soundlessly turned his eyes back, and closed them.
Morgan arose to his feet, uncomfortable. "Nonetheless," he said, attempting to don a mask of immovability. "The next time I return, you may be able to discuss how your dinner was with her more in depth. I doubt you had a chance to do so yet." He stepped away. "Until next time, Dr. Spengler."
When the demon was gone long enough, Egon pulled with all the rage burning within him at the black coils binding his left hand, his eyes burning again, full of indignation. Two heads arose, and they hissed in agony as he attempted to tear the thin serpents in pieces if he only could. As he winced, straining desperately to free his limb, his arm rose ever so slightly off the floor as the tension in the snakes' bodies increased, and he could feel their grip tightening in answer.
The coils finally proved too strong, or he himself proved too weakened. He fell limp, gritted his teeth harder in utter frustration, and rolled his head back. At least when Janine had been targetted before, he could do something. He could run toward her, he could shield her, he could stop it from happening or continuing. The knowledge that she would be brought here, and he was absolutely powerless to stop it, was an evilly wiley way to attempt to drive him mad.
The serpents now hissed softly, almost laughingly, though they seemed aware of the roiling maelstrom in Egon's head, and watched it surfacing in the searing look in his eyes.
Street pigeon! STREET PIGEON!, the voice inside his head roared, above even the swirling flames of paranormal fire in every vein of his body.
Janine took a sip of her Sauvignon Blanc, which she ordered for herself solely to spite the dark-haired psychologist back at the firehouse. "Aaaaah!" she sighed, savoring the flavor.
Her expression turned to annoyance. "Gawd, no matter where I go, and whatever I do, it turns into a business meeting!" She replaced the glass on the edge of the tub while raising a fist into the air, making iridescent bubbles fly all over the place. "I'm gonna inform Dr. Venkman about how many of these science guys wanna pick my brain about the Ghostbusters!" She forcefully brought down both hands into the luxurious bubble bath, splashing water and sending chunks of a two-foot-high layer of bubbles all over. "And here I thought I was gonna learn somethin' from them!" She sighed, and closed her eyes. She sunk back into the hot water for a few more moments, before deciding that she was getting too pruny to stay there. She climbed out, dried off, and threw on a flowing, dark green nightgown, a pair of strong but comfy slippers, and her now-favorite plush hunter green housecoat.
She made it out of the bathroom, and got comfy in her bed. "Well, I can't complain about the great day and a half I had at Dr. Dendron's place. Boy, that Rosie could give Dr. V a run for his money. I'm gonna make sure she comes along if they ever plan on seeing us at the firehouse."
It was annoying to her that she had picked up the phone twice since getting in, in an attempt to get in touch with Dr. Spengler, however, he was continually not in. Now she had to admit that she was a bit worried. She sighed, a creeping feeling returning.
She looked over the apple recipe book she got from the private orchard Dendron had taken her to the day before. Scanning the various delectable-looking desserts, especially the ones a la mode, she started when she heard a knock at the door.
Thinking it might finally be Dr. Spengler visiting, she leaped off the bed, and over to the door, strightening her hair vainly a bit before looking through the peephole.
There was Morgan outside the door, in a very formal-looking black business suit.
She opened the door, puzzled as to why he should be here at her door on his own.
"Ma'am…I…I have news about your employer," he said apologetically.
"Oh my gawd….do you? Dr. Spengler's been gone way too long, in my opinion! Do you know anything about where he is?"
"Yes. He had been invited for a visit to my mistress' home. Please, ma'am, allow me to enter and I'll be able to inform you."
"Oh! Please do." She opened the door, and Morgan walked in, his gloved hands behind his back. "Is he alright? Where is he? Is he with you?"
As soon as the door was partly closed, he grinned. His skin turned darker and greenish, and began to assume the appearance of scales. "Yes. And if you don't mind," he said, lunging at her, disabling her and closing a hand around her mouth before she could make a sound, "I'll take you right to him!"
She tried struggling, but he was demonically strong; she seemed light as a feather to him, and soon the scenery was zipping by. He was traveling now as a demon, untiring, at a bizarre, lightning-fast pace. The entire hotel around her seemed reduced to a strange, mind-disorienting series of pictures around her rather than a three-dimensional world.
He took her, possibly as a display of sheer arrogance, right past the front desk of the hotel—she could see it flashing by as she stretched out her hands, and uselessly tried to scream for help. There wasn't even enough time to see if anyone reacted, and soon enough, they were traveling on a long, empty stretch of highway in the black of night.