Lunar Impact Three: Blood Moon Rising

by Ectodude

New York is in chaos. Winged creatures and Norse beasts have destroyed countless buildings in Manhattan, and the Ghostbusters are powerless to stop it fast enough. The secret Order of Asatro now have the means to destroy the world, and there's no telling how quickly the end will come. The Sailor Scouts are the Ghostbusters' only chance... Or are they?

14. Holiday Jennifer Bautista

Chapter 14: Holiday Jennifer Bautista

Monday June 30th, 2002

10:25 AM

Old Man Dan was on the 3rd floor pulling his now cleaned uniform from the dryer. He grabbed the suit by the shoulders and shook out the wrinkles to get it to lay flat then held it up. After a moment he looked at the logo on his sleeve and noticed the stitching on the embroidery was slightly frayed. He remembered when the damage happened, "Oh, yeah. When I was thrown into the street near the twin tower memorial," he looked over the suit and started to notice all of the rips and snags in the fabric. The suit looked rather beaten, "I need a new suit when I…" he stopped as he realized what came to his lips, "I mean, if I get home." He sighed as he draped the suit across his arm. He reached back into the dryer.

Down in the garage on the first floor was Chi-Ecto - the 2000 Ford Explorer that was Old Man Dan's team's Ectomobile. Serena had the back hatch of the vehicle open. She was edging toward dangerous territory rifling through the vehicle as she was, but she needed more of an idea of who this other Dan was. Sometimes you have to open the door without permission to be welcomed inside. It was something she thought she grew out of coming to the end of High School, but she felt this was a terrible circumstance. She felt she needed to stop a horrible pain this man was having before things got worse between him, the Sailor Scouts, and this world's Ghostbusters.

In the cargo area of the SUV was an equipment rack similar to the one in the back of the Ecto-1, but it looked like it held the packs two-by-two beside each other. There was only one pack, and it was the one Old Man Dan used last night. The truck wasn't as large as the Cadillac so there wasn't as much space to use for storing equipment. It was a really stripped down version of the sprawling ambulance she remembered taking a ride in all those years ago to get to Starlight Tower. Beside the rack was an open space where the PKE disrupter sat before it was pulled out. Behind it was a box that had two older style Ghost Traps sitting inside two slots. The device had a label on it that read, "MUON TRAP BATTERY MAINTAINER. WARNING: DISCONNECT ALL TRAP CARTRIDGES BEFORE REMOVING ELECTRIC SERVICE".

Serena read that and tilted her head to the side, "What're 'muons'?" She shrugged and continued to rummage around the vehicle. On the passenger side of the cargo area was a book. It was bound in black canvas with its spine sticking out of the storage cubby. She pulled it out and saw a piece of masking tape on the front with "GB:CD Caselog: OPERATION BLOOD MOON" handwritten on it with a permanent marker. She opened it to find handwritten notes. After a minute of looking at the structure of writing on the page, she realized this was a personal journal. It belonged to Old Man Dan.

Serena looked to the inside cover and read what was written there quietly to herself, "'Property of Dan Shannon, Ghostbusters: Chicago Division, 212 West Cermak Road, Chicago, Illinois.' So there really is a Ghostbusters office in Chicago!" She flipped through the book and found several pages with several dates going as far back as May of 2022, which made little sense to her considering it was only 2002. She flipped back to the first entry and started reading, "'May 5th, 2022. We've been called out to Franchise Zero in New York for an all-hands emergency. We're spending the first day getting Andy and Vee from the Wisconsin Ghostbusters down so me and Hessler can start heading east. Last night after the night of the Blood Moon here in the States, we all registered huge PKE spikes across all offices across the world. The hardest spike was recorded on Manhattan Island. Dr. Stantz personally called and instructed me to bring Chi-Ecto and as many spare Proton Packs in the GB:CD arsenal the truck can carry. He also instructed us to get COVID tests done before heading out, so I sent James to pick a few up at the Walgreens down the street.

"'We're not sure what's going on. When we got the Zoom call, Dr. Stantz explained several of these weird winged creatures started terrorizing people. Some are in hospital isolation for a disease after being attacked. Like the Commie Cough wasn't enough; now we have extra dimensional herpes to deal with.'" Serena wasn't sure what COVID was, but from the sound of it it was a sickness. She remembered him saying something about hospitals being overrun because of this COVID stuff and that the Man-Bats made the situation worse.

"'May 6th, 2022. We pulled a rotating driving schedule getting to NY. We ran into several teams and their Ectomobiles on the way. After an initial headcount I saw at least 10 Ectos all with 4-5 Ghostbusters each, ourselves included. We had several more members arriving via bus due to the FAA grounding flights into NY.' Woah!" Serena was surprised at the number of Ghostbusters there were, but was more surprised and startled by the flights being grounded, "There's a lotta Ghostbusters in this world, 'I've been feeling this tension the whole ride to NY. All of the other team's members were leery of me. Vee absolutely refused to talk to me the whole trip. She's still mad at me; she still believes the whole thing Internal Affairs said about Jen.'" Jen? Who was Jen? Serena was about to continue when she heard the firepole nearest to the truck set off a clang. She heard streaking sounds denoting someone was coming down. Serena clenched in panic, the book still in her hands, "Uh, oh!"

Old Man Dan touched down on the ground floor. He was back in his Chicago Ghostbusters uniform wearing his ratty Chicago Blackhawks hat. He dismounted the pole and turned to his truck to find the back tailgate wide open. He stopped as he noticed, "Wait a sec, didn't I close this damn thing?" He looked inside and saw his pack and the two traps undisturbed. After a minute he sighed and shook his head in mild frustration, "Those blows to the head are adding up. Need to see a neurologist." He closed the hatch and proceeded to the driver seat. Using the garage door opener from his own dimension he opened the garage doors - it worked because the controller setting never changed. Dr. Stantz is Dr. Stantz, it doesn't matter what dimension he's from; they picked the same code. He backed out of the firehouse and drove past the city workers cleaning the final remains of the creatures.

As the strange vehicle rolled past, a worker in the back of a sanitation truck took notice of the SUV. Looking around to see if anyone was looking he quickly pulled up a polaroid camera from the bed and took a few pictures. After he pulled the picture from the device and shook it to develop the shot he looked at his work. He spoke softly to himself, "'Chicago Division'?"

Stoneface Masonry Storage Facility Office

12:10 PM

The sounds of vomiting could be heard through Madame Holly's private bathroom door. Being as drunk as she was soon after playing the Second Stanza she passed out on her office floor. When the workers came in to start their needless repair of the main building she awoke to the sounds of work being done on sheet metal. It was like needles in her eyes.

Madame Holly stumbled out of the door and walked to her desk. Her hair was frizzy from getting wet under the cloak. Her silk blouse was disheveled and untucked from her skirt. She ran her fingers through her hair to try and get some kind of focus. She sat at her desk gently avoiding a blunder into the floor much like she did hours before. She put her elbows on her desk and began cradling her head in her hands. This was one of the worst hangovers she's had in years. To be honest she was still drunk, but the amount she consumed was far more than she ever had before causing horrible repercussions for her stomach. She was beyond sick.

There was a knock at the door. She jumped, pulling her head from her hands as she looked at her office door. She growled as she spoke at the door, "Whatever it is, I'll talk to you tomorrow!" The person at the other side of the door ignored her. If anything the knocking came through louder and slower, as if to annoy her condition. She yelled again, "I said, 'Fuck off!'" The knocking now became pounding, the time between raps even slower than before. Holly was now angry, "Oh, mother fu…" she stood up and rounded the desk at a heightened pace. A bad idea considering her ability to stand straight let alone walk. She ended up stubbing her toe on the leg of her desk causing her to hobble a bit before almost falling down. She stabilized herself before starting for the door again, "Goddamnit, what part of 'Go away' do you not grasp?!" She reached the door and flung it open…

"To be frank, I don't grasp the whole phrase." Holly's eyes squinted to focus on the man at the door, who was leaning on the frame. When she realized who was standing there her eyes went wide. Old Man Dan locked eyes with her as he pushed off the frame of the door and began walking into the office. Her heart started pounding as panic inexplicably took hold. A man who she believed she personally kicked in the side and ordered to be beaten to incapacitance was walking into her office. She backed up into the front of her desk as the man walked slowly toward her. Like she had done to her universe's version of Dan Shannon, this version of Dan began to do the same, "Holiday Jennifer Bautista. Born October 29th, 1977. Mother died giving birth. Father: Jason Robert Bautista III. Third generation concrete mason. Only child. Took over family business in 1984. Died July 17th, 1992, Cardiac Arrest," Old Man Dan was now inches away from Holly as she cowered in fear, "Said Cardiac Arrest caused a car accident where you received a head injury."

There was a tremble in her voice, "How did… Why…"

"A little Google-Fu goes a long way."

Almost immediately in a gesture to get control of the situation Holly squared herself, getting into Old Man Dan's face, "What do you intend to do? Don't bother with the police! Just so you know…"

By this point Old Dan caught a whiff of her breath. His eyes crossed and rolled at the scent of alcohol. He backed up a bit as he waved his hand in front of his face, "Jesus, he wasn't kidding when he stated you were just south of combustible. Yikes!" he attempted to get the conversation back on topic, "You got them under your control. Yeah, when you took over the Bishop's goons all of them had an ultimatum: Either you, or the ground," Holly gasped in terror. The one thing she had up her sleeve didn't phase the man before her. He continued, "There's a thing about that. What if I were to tell you there was a reason why it happened?"

Maybe it was because she was still intoxicated, or maybe it was the panic blocking her ability to think rationally. For all she knew it could have been both, but she clearly didn't understand, "What in the high-holy hell are you talking about?"

Old Man Dan looked uncomfortable. He had to say it to make her realize it was all a farce. He explained it, "After the accident, you were admitted to a hospital…"

Friday July 17th, 1992

Lenox Hill Intensive Care

6:17 PM

The set of doors burst open as a teenager is being carted on a gurney to Emergency Surgery. Her long brunette hair was caked in blood as a massive head wound under her hair discharged the blood. Doctors called out for various medicines and nurses called out vital signs as the girl was carted beside the operating table. The doctors, emts, and nurses in concert lift the girl's body off the gurney and onto the table.

As they were shaving your head to begin the process of stopping your internal bleeding, your father's body was being examined.

Tuesday September 8th, 1992

Lenox Hill Hospital

After you were put into recovery and observation your father's toxicology report came back and they found accumulated amounts of Dichlorodifluoromethane in your father's heart and bloodstream. When you awoke after 6 weeks in a coma you were questioned extensively about the accident.

In the hospital room we see a young Holly, head shaven with stitches on the side of her head sitting in her bed with two NYPD detectives. Holly was becoming emotional as the detectives pressed her. The doctor in the room had stopped the questioning several times to remind the detectives she was still recovering and that the trauma to her brain may have caused memory loss. Getting fed up with the interruptions the second detective hauled the doctor out of the room as the first detective started pulling pictures from a file folder.

They showed you the pictures from the accident. The car; the damage to the highway divider; your father's body. They were influencing you by emotionally manipulating you.

Holly threw out her arms and shouted for the detective to stop. She was starting to cry hard as she looked at the pictures of her father still strapped into the car by the seat belt. His eyes were open.

I've seen these pictures. There was something off about them and the accident blotter that was run in the newspaper. Nevertheless, you told them what happened leading up to the accident.

Friday July 17th, 1992

5:40 PM

The car both Holly and her father were in was traveling down I-278. The two of them were having an argument of some kind. Holly's long flowing hair was being blown around due to the window being down, but it didn't interrupt the shouting match the two of them had.

You had just been expelled from school. You were taking summer school classes due to your attendance and multiple failing grades in several classes. You were a very gifted kid, but you had a propensity to buck authority. You liked to play hookie a little too often which got you caught and as punishment you ended up in summer school. After you were caught drinking with other delinquents on the school property your father was called and he picked you up. At this point your father was starting to breathe heavily. From here, things started to get hazy for you.

Tuesday September 8th, 1992

Lenox Hill Hospital

You were crying. If you still had your hair you'd be pulling it. You wanted so badly to physically grab the memory and pull it forward so you could see it clearly. You confessed you could only vaguely remember one thing: That you grabbed the steering wheel.

A smirk appeared on the detective's face. A rather… unsettling smirk. There was some kind of joy involved in that confession. The detective pulled out his notebook and started writing. After a moment, he closed the notebook and started explaining it to her.

He told you you were responsible. He told you that in your rage the action you took in grabbing the wheel caused the accident. Because of your open window as the car flipped your head went just outside the window enough to graze the pavement. As the event took place the panic in the accident caused a heart attack that stopped your father's heart. From that point you were told you were under police observation and that you were to be tried for manslaughter, if not outright murder in the second degree.

"Wait!" Holly was starting to get agitated as she broke up the flow of Old Man Dan's narrative, "That's not right! You said my father's heart attack was the cause of the accident! It was the other way around!"

"I know what I said," the older grizzled engineer was walking around the office looking at the documents in frames on the walls, "I mean it. You see, like I mentioned before," he turned to face her. She was still sitting at the front of her desk's edge as the man walked around, "your father had elevated concentrations of a chemical called Dichlorodifluoromethane in his blood."

She shook her head, "Di-chloro-d… what?"

"More commonly known as R12 - freon refrigerant," Holly tilted her head in confusion as Old Dan continued, "I uncovered a great deal of old IRC logs floating around in the dark reaches of the internet. Apparently the Bishop family had a huge number of construction jobs awarded to them in a majority of Manhattan Island. Your dad - honest man he was - started to lobby to get a more fair-play business contract approval process put into place to stop pay-for-play schemes," he stopped as he looked to the ceiling of the office as he noticed something, "There were a lot of P's in that sentence. Anyway," Holly cocked an eyebrow at the strange non sequitur that came out of the Ghostbuster's mouth, "it seems the Bishop's didn't like what your dad was pulling so they contacted someone to pull something of their own.

"Are you familiar with the name, 'Joseph Saculopholus'?" Holly tried to stifle a gasp by not breathing. It didn't help her due to Old Dan's Ecto-Activation ability to see her aura. Holly attempted to compose herself folding her arms across her chest as she answered, "The name is familiar." "Is it now?" his eyebrows raised as he looked at her inquizically, "Would that explain why the clown went and, 'committed suicide' the morning the first earthquake happened?" He saw a hard flare up on her as panic slowly etched on her face. He continued, "Saculopholus was an inventive little shit. The front company he was a part of was an auto salvage yard. He'd stuff bodies of hits into cars that were intended to be sent to steel mills to be melted down quickly. R12 was becoming phased out because of the whole O-Zone thing. His yard had collected hundreds of pounds of the stuff for recycling and he learned breathing the gas could induce heart attacks. Tell me," he looked Holly dead in the eye, "you knew your father was killed by this guy, didn't you?"

He saw it. There was a look of terror on her face worse than anything he's seen. The worst part was her aura. It wasn't what he was expecting…

She didn't have a clue.

Outside of the masonry facility Matthew was seen walking the grounds watching the work being done on the damaged building. As he rounded the corner to the front he found himself in the parking lot. He stopped short when he found a blue SUV with very familiar equipment adorned all over the vehicle. When he noticed the logo on the doors he realized what was going on, but only to a point. Without a word he turned his way into the main building.

"Are you telling me… I mean…" Holly was lost. She was beside herself. Old Man Dan filled in the gaps, "The detective lied to you. He was on the family payroll. I found a few years after this he ended up dead undercover at a homeless shelter in Dyker Heights. Place should sound familiar to you."

Holly was absolutely speechless. In an hour's time this man did enough research on her to know where she'd been and where she was going. The only question she had on her mind was the most confusing at best, "Why? Why did you come here to tell me this? To intimidate me? Threaten my life?" She pushed off her desk and took a step forward, "Give me one reason why any of this should stop me."

Old Dan sighed. She was stubborn. Being she had a breath chemical vapor count that would be counted in parts per hundred it wasn't surprising she was just digging her heels in. Nevertheless, he went ahead, "You're not evil. What I think happened caused you to break and your father's competition convinced you you were at fault to make you give up your inheritance. You were hurt and confused. They took control of your life and you were cast aside to rot. They treated you like damaged goods because of the voices."

Holly's gray eyes went wide.

"That was when the drinking started, isn't it?" Holly grabbed her upper arms as though a chill rolled up her spine, averting her eyes. Old Dan continued, "After you awoke you said you heard voices. It was always telling you things like it was talking directly into your ear. You were afraid the head trauma made you insane. You found alcohol quieted the voices. Unfortunately that gave the Bishop family goons a means to oust you from your family business saying you were an irresponsible child with schizophrenia. A psycho alcoholic that killed her father. I couldn't imagine being labeled a worse thing."

"But… but me grabbing the wheel…?"

"Sack-of-nickels likely emptied a canister of R12 into the car before your father left to get you that day. It was a fairly light gas so it floated to the top of the cab. With enough refrigerant some could escape the car and keep just enough after entering to start breathing in. Because you had the window open the R12 didn't affect you, but he had already inhaled enough to do its job. When the heart attack came you likely grabbed the wheel to prevent the accident."

Holly locked eyes with Old Dan again as she stated, "That's why the detective smirked. I-I…"

"You made his job easier." Tears started to form in her eyes causing her to turn away from the Ghostbuster before her. She was overwhelmed with the information he provided. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, "I know what it's like to be blamed for things outside your control. It makes you think the world has gone inside out, that black is white. It makes you think it'd be better to scrap it and start over. They did it to you and put it on you so they could wash their hands of your family. Why? Greed; what they call, 'Business'. You were mad at your father, but you didn't hate him. Because you've been called a monster for so long even your dad's employees started to believe it."

Holly turned back to look the older man in the face. She saw his eyes glassed over as he was talking. He was serious. There was a compassion radiating from him she hadn't experienced since her father passed. She had an interest in this man. Through all of her own research she knew what kind of man Dan was, but she never saw anything that indicated he was responsible for the death of another. It never came up. That was when she realized, "You're not Dan Shannon. You're someone else."

He shook his head, "I am Dan Shannon," he pointed to the name tag on the suit indicating he had said identity, "I'm not the one you know. Your screwup with the recorder brought me to this world this morning."

Okay, now Holly was at her limit. She blinked and pulled away, "Excuse me?"

Old Man Dan suddenly winced in pain as he closed his eyes and put the tips of his fingers to his temple. He sucked air through his teeth as he stumbled back. He groaned as he moved both his hands to the sides of his head. Holly saw what was happening and actually became concerned, "What? What's wrong?"

His eyes snapped open as he looked at her, "Something's coming."

"Madame Holly?" Old Dan spun around to find a man nearly at his height wearing all black with slicked back gray hair. Matthew presented himself at the door with his hands behind his back. His even tone sounded slightly puzzled as he frowned, "Ah, I see our guest made his way to you. Would you like to have this… gentleman escorted out?" To most others, Matthew's appearance was mostly normal, say for the hair. To Old Man Dan, however, it was a whooole lot more alarming. The man was pulsing with an aura he only saw in class sixes and above; it looked like the man was emitting a Cherenkov-type glow. Now he knew why he had a massive headache, "What in the hell are you?" It took a moment, but Matthew concluded why he said that let alone the look on his face. He saw him.

The real him.

"I wouldn't presume you to be the same man as last night," Matthew said cryptically, "However, you shouldn't ask too many questions. You know what curiosity did to the cat?"

Old Man Dan stared the man in the eye as he answered, "Make him apply for a green card two days after the last time this happened?"

Matthew's voice raised, "Do I have to get security in here?" That clearly angered him. Old Dan could see his already powerful aura flare up. It seems this man knew his past was shrouded in mystery and it was intended to be that way; having it exposed aggravated him. It was a tell. A very dangerous one at that. Old Dan finally answered his question, "No. I obviously found my way here, I'll find my way out." Old Dan walked past Matthew and walked out the door, but before walking down the hallway he stopped and turned to look at Holly one last time.

Holly took notice of his green eyes as he looked intently at her. He hoped what he did next got through to her despite her inebriated state: after seeing her eyes on him, he shifted his eyes at Matthew briefly before looking back at her. It conveyed something to her she had suspicions of. It shot a chill down her spine. Matthew noticed this and looked back at the man again to see him burn holes into him with his eyes. After the silent exchange Old Man Dan walked out down the hallway.

Matthew began talking as he looked back to his priestess, "Madame Holly…"

"Leave me alone, Matthew," Holly walked to her office window and turned her back to him as she spoke, a tremble in her now small voice, "I need to be alone for a little while." Whatever this other Dan told her shook her foundations. She was trembling as she faced the window. He watched as she gripped her upper arms again trying to stop her shaking. He didn't like what this man did to Holly. As calmly as he could, he obeyed her request, "Yes, my Gydja." He turned on heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Holly continued looking out to the work yard as she thought about the words Old Dan spoke to her. Under the window was a set of filing cabinets. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a framed photo. In the photo was a picture her a much younger version of her with long hair standing with a middle-aged man wearing a denim shirt, work jeans, boots, and glasses with his hair in a short buzz cut. The man in the picture was Jason Robert Bautista III; Holly's father.

"It was your 15th birthday."

She heard it again. That voice. This time, however, she didn't panic. She didn't reach for the drink. She acknowledged it, "We went to Coney Island. It was where him and mom met. I never went there before that," tears streamed down her face and onto the picture, "I haven't been back there since."

"The Ghostbuster is right. They lied."

Holly bit her lower lip as she started to think of all she's done. She thought about all the time she was blackout drunk and all of the decisions that weren't made in the best judgment. Her father had high connections in places due to the construction business he ran, but he still got down and dirty to do work. He was a man who wanted to work to build something good. Here she was trying to tear it all down, "I became the monster they labeled me as. Even if I didn't cause the accident, I'm ending the world now."

"You could always stop."

She closed her eyes, "The Order wouldn't like that. It won't be easy."

"Doing what's right never is. If it were, we'd never know strife."

This voice… it sounded familiar. It was manly and had an almost southern drawl to it. It wasn't like some of the other voices she ever heard since the accident. The voice came along two years ago just as her fight with her father's competitors ramped up. It quieted the other voices and allowed only it to be heard. It was a very persistent voice when she did sober up. Even now with the amount of alcohol in her blood she could hear it clearly, "Are you a figment of my imagination?"

"Let's just say I'm your conscience for now. Lord knows I ain't much an angel, so being your guardian would be a stretch."

Holly was now actively engaged, "Okay, so what do I do?"

"Now hold on, I'm only here to tell where the paths lead. You need to discover those paths on your own. For now I'd suggest thinking and sobering, and not particularly in that order."

"But…"

"Look, I know you're confused. Just know it's gonna be alright. I almost lost somebody years ago and I knew I had to make up for it. Hear me out when I pipe up and I promise I'll steer you right."

"When will I hear from you again?" There was no answer. For the first time since this voice started she didn't want it to stop talking and now all she had was silence. She turned and looked around the room in all directions as the tears came down, "Please, don't do this to me now!" When the silence in the room became deafening she put the picture in her hand to her chest and hugged it as she backed into her filing cabinets then slid down. She started to cry hard as she sat on the floor next to the cabinets.

Over the sounds of the construction on the building, Holly whimpered to herself. Her head spinning from the alcohol, she was lost and confused on her direction. Up until last night she was dead set on ending the world. Now what she thought to be true was a well-concocted and executed lie. Her reasons for wishing the world to be destroyed were in question. The doubts she was starting to have were manifesting and a voice she has been trying hard to avoid listening to was giving her the clearest sense of direction yet. She was afraid. She came so far, and now she's not sure if it was the right direction.

She was always afraid of the voices. It had been used against her, and now the voice is trying to help her. The more she began the sober the more she realized she was more crazy not listening to the voice. At least, that's how she's seeing it now. Then there was the man who was just in her office. Old Man Dan was laying out information she never knew existed about the situation surrounding her. The only thing lending credence to the voice that now spoke to her was the fact it agreed with Old Man Dan.

Finally, there was Matthew. Over the last few weeks Matthew had started acting almost uncharacteristic for himself. It was like he was getting angry because of how she was performing her tasks. That look Old Man Dan gave her… there was something about the way Old Man Dan conveyed information to her. It was almost like he was trying to give her a warning. Between the way Matthew has behaved, the voice trying to warn her about him, and Old Man Dan giving her the look for shifting his eyes towards Matthew as to almost say, "Watch out for him," she was starting to grow even more distrustful.

The voice gave her something of a goal to set for herself: it was time to sober.