On the street there was a new surprise. Someone had tipped off New York's tireless press corps and a horde of people had converged on the scene. Uniformed police were struggling to keep them back from the Ectomobile. As the Ghostbusters emerged, covered in strange clothing, weapons, ectoplasm, and soot, the crowd broke into applause.
Spengler nudged Venkman. "You're in charge. You deal with them."
"Okay, Egon, but watch how I do this because we're all gonna have to know how." Venkman remarked.
The reporters surged forward.
"Nate Cohen, with the Post. What happened in there?"
"Dave McNary, INS. Did you really see a ghost?"
"Did you catch it?"
"Beverly Rose, Omni. Is this some sort of publicity stunt?"
Before Venkman could answer, Stantz pushed his way through and held up the smoking trap. Weak static charges played over the surface. The vapor was tiring out.
"We got one." Stantz cried jubilantly.
Flashbulbs and strobes went off, and a minicam crew fought its way forward.
"Can we see it?"
"No, I'm afraid not." Atticus replied.
"What's with the kids? Are they your mascots or something?"
Venkman leaned forward and raised his hands, and a brace of microphones was shoved into his face. "This is not a sideshow. We are serious scientists and these kids are our distinguished colleagues."
"What proof do you have that what you saw was real?" The woman from Omni called.
"Proof? Well, the manager of the Sedgewick just paid us five big ones to get something out of there." Venkman said as he wiggled the trap. "Is that proof enough for you?"
"Are you saying that ghosts really exist?"
"Not only do they exist, but they're all over the place!" Venkman replied. "And that's why we're offering this vitally important service to people in the entire tristate area. We're available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We have the tools and we have the talent. No job is too small, no fee too big. We're ready for anything..."
Spengler, confused by all the noise, had slipped away and was hanging back at the edge, eating a Baby Ruth he had shagged off the hotel newsstand.
"It's okay, Mr. Egon," Thor said to the smartest of the three Ghostbusters. "Let Venkman handle the reporters."
"Alright, I've got to figure out a way to safety-interlock that problem of stream length before someone gets hurt." Spengler replied.
"Okay, you do that." Atticus nodded in understanding.
"Mister. Hey, Mister! Come here, over here, Mister!"
Spengler peered into the darkness. Hanging over a police sawhorse was a young man dressed in a black canvas jumpsuit and chains, a red bandana tying back his chartreuse hair. "Me?"
"That's right. Come here."
Spengler had never seen anything quite like him. and wandered over to study the apparition. "Who are you?"
"They call me Mister Dave, man. You a Ghostbuster? Wha's your name?"
Egon pointed to his name, embroidered large on his chest, unaware that part of it had been obscured by flying ectoplasm.
"Okay, Spen'le. Lemme see that gun, man." Mr. Dave said.
"They're not guns," Egon clarified. "They're charged particle throwers."
"Yeah, yeah," Mister Dave whispered. "I know. I just wanna see em."
"I couldn't do that. You might hurt someone." Spengler warned as he turned to go, but the youth lunged across the barricade and caught his sleeve.
"Wait, wait! Let me ask you something," Mister Dave urged. "If you like shot Superman with one of those guns, would he feel it or what?"
Spengler considered. "On Earth, no, but on Krypton we could slice him up like Oscar Mayer bologna."
"Wow! Hey, thanks, Spen'le. You okay."
"Mr. Egon, come back here a minute." Mo requested.
Spengler wandered back to where Stantz, Venkman, and the teenagers had just finished singing the theme song from their commercial. The reporters were eating it up.
"Get over here, Egon, they want a group picture."
Spengler stepped between the two; they closed ranks tightly around him, and the flashguns went off. "We did it. We got one." he silently said to himself as his vision faded into a white blur.
"We're going down in history," Thor said to the others. "Probably more them than us though because no one ever listens to children."
The pictures hit the morning editions of every paper in New York, and by evening had spread halfway around the world. The three of them standing proudly in front of the Sedgewick, captioned "GHOSTBUSTERS!" or "GHOSTBUSTERS?" depending on the editorial slant.
Ray Stantz holding the smoking trap aloft.
"WE GOT ONE!"
GHOSTBUSTERS! screamed the Rupert Murdoch papers.
BOFFO BIZ FOR SPOOK KOOKS, cried Variety.
A STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN THE GARMENT DISTRICT, indicated a cautious Wall Street Journal, but The Village Voice kicked out the jams and ran a Feiffer caricature on the front page. Within six hours no one was talking about anything else.
"Ghostbusters. May I help you...?"
"Hello, America. This is Ronald Gwynne reporting from United Press International in New York. Throughout my entire career as a journalist I have never covered anything as exciting and incredible as the trapping of an actual supernatural entity by a team of men based in this city who call themselves the Ghostbusters. Now, most of us have never heard of the floating, slime-like substance called ectoplasm, but these gentlemen claim we will be seeing more of it than ever before..."
"Lydia, there's something moving around in the storeroom. I told Joan it was rats, but she insists that she saw something else."
"What?"
"The figure of a headless woman."
"Oh. Okay, better not take any chances..."
"Ghostbusters, would you hold please...?"
"Car 15, this is Manhattan Central. Proceed to the Museum of Natural History and help 21 keep the crowds away from that Ectomobile. And ticket them if they park in the red zone again..."
SOHO CHAMBER OF COMMERCE HONORS GHOSTBUSTERS
"Look, Central, I tried to ticket it. Its got some kinda detection system, radar an' microwave an' stuff. It zapped the ticket. Disintegrated, burned up, nothin' but black ashes left. I ain't goin' near it. You want 'em ticketed, you do it."
"Good morning. Today the Eastern Seaboard is alive with talk of hundreds of reported incidents involving multiple sightings in what can only be described as extreme events of paranormal extra phenomenological proportions. It seems that everybody is willing to bring their old ghosts and skeletons out of the closet. Roy Brady reports from New York."
"Thank you, Roger. Everybody's heard ghost stories around the campfire. Heck, my grandma used to spin yarns about a spectral locomotive that would rocket past the farm where she grew up. Now, as it some unseen authority had suddenly given permission, thousands of people here are talking about encounters they claim to have had with ghosts..."
"I thought it was a nun, Monsignor, until it walked through a wall..."
PHANTOM POSTULANT REMOVED FROM ST. PATRICK'S.
"So, Dr. Venkman, what's the most frightening thing you've come up against since you started Ghostbusters?" David Letterman asked as he interviewed Peter on live TV.
"Well, David, I think it was running into Larry Bud Melman in the dressing room before the show."
"C'mon, now, seriously..."
GHOST RUNS AMUCK ON SUBWAY PLATFORM. SCARES 20.
"Ghostbusters. All our lines are busy right now, but if you'd like to leave your number, one of our operators will get back to you..."
"How's it going, ma'am?" Atticus asked Janine.
"Don't ask. The cases are on the status board." Janine replied.
"Hello, this is Mr. Cover at Marvel Comics..."
"Hello, this is Janet Gluckstem at Revell Models..."
"Hi, this is Andy Newbry at TSR..."
GHOSTBUSTERS ANNOUNCES MAJOR MERCHANDISING EFFORT. FIRST FRANCHISES TO OPEN SOON IN PHILADELPHIA, D.C.
Janine grabbed Venkman by the arm as he stumbled past her desk. "You said I was going to get some help on the phones. I've been at this for almost three days without a break."
"Hey. We're all stretched here," Venkman said, suppressing a yawn. "I thought you were bored, with nothing to do..."
"Very funny."
Spengler appeared out of the storeroom. "Tough job. Want to share my Baby Ruth?"
"Aw, thanks Egon..."
GHOST TERRORIZES METS GAME.
"Ray, every time I hear about your company, I can't help thinking about that old Bob Hope movie."
Stantz smiled and nodded. "Actually, Joe, the title of that film was Ghostbreakers. Olsen and Johnson did Ghostcatchers, and the Bowery Boys did Ghost Chasers, Hold That Ghost, Spooks Run Wild, Spook Busters, and Spook Chasers."
Joe Franklin laughed, pleased with his guest's wit. The man might be certifiable, but he was also a certifiable success and terrific copy. He leaned in conspiratorially. "Well, in any case, I guess there's one big question on everyone's mind and you're certainly in a position to answer it for us: Have you seen Elvis, and how is he?"
Venkman was sorting the mail into business, pleasure, and cranks. He looked over an envelope with the printed initials LL.M. in the corner and a colophon he did not recognize. "Ray, who do we know in Marin County?"
GHOSTBUSTERS CLEAR EMPIRE SPOOK BUILDING.
"Tonight Johnny's guests will be Charo, Arnold Schwarzenegger, 82-year-old hooker Nancy Winkie, and Ghostbuster Egon Spengler, so don't go away..."
"Guess what?" Ray said, poking his head down from the attic. Spengler and Venkman looked up from their meal of take-out chicken and light beer as Stantz lowered a small valence trap by its cord. "I just caught a ghost, a little one, right in our own attic."
"Aw, Ray. Not while we're eating."
"Mr. Director, those files you requested."
"Hmmm, yes... Really...? Well, they don't look dangerous, but perhaps we'd best keep an eye on them. Never know what they might turn up. Do you suppose there are Communist ghosts?"
PRESIDENT COMMENDS GHOSTBUSTERS. ACLU CALLS FOR RIGHTS FOR THE DEAD.
"Peter, Isaac Asimov on two..."
"Our phone-in topic today: Ghosts and ghostbusting. The controversy builds as more sightings are reported and some maintain that these professional paranormal eliminators in New York are the cause of it all. Why did everything start just when these guys went into business? Should they be allowed to carry around unlicensed proton mass drivers? And what's wrong with ghosts anyway? Call us... all our lines are open. Hello, Larry King."
"Hello, Larry? I think what Dr. Spengler said in his interview last night was true. The world is in for a psychic shock, 'cuz my aunt reads coffee grounds and she says..."
Hilda was communicating with Zelda in a special crystal ball they both shared to at least keep in touch even if it wasn't the same as when they used to live together until they heard about their brother's divorce from a certain woman and this made them take custody of their niece until a certain secret was let out about their family. "Oh, Zelda, you should see the kids right now," she said with a small sigh and smile. "I'm so proud of them, they really helped make names for these Ghostbusters."
Three young girls by the names of Abby Yates, Erin Gilbert, and Jillian Holtzmann were even wearing their own Ghostbuster uniforms and attempted to be just like them, but only as young girls who had a clubhouse, they tried to turn into their own Ghostbuster business. Many people found this attempt cute, some found it to be none of their business or concern, though they found some support from Cherry of all people.
"It's not too bad," Lionel commented. "They're like Junior Ghostbusters. Almost like those other kids, Donald, Jason and Catherine."
"Seems like everybody wants to be a Ghostbuster now." Thor commented.
"Tell me about it." Atticus agreed.
"Well, this is good for them at least." Mo agreed.
"Anyone else wanna try this Ecto Cooler stuff that they're putting in supermarkets now?" Cherry offered as she took out a Hi C juice box that had a slimy green juice inside of it.
"Aw, yeah!" Thor beamed as he took one and drank some.
Cherry then passed it along to her friends since she had enough to share.
"How did you get all of this?" Atticus asked Cherry.
"They had a special discount at the store for 'friends of the Ghostbusters'," Cherry smirked. "Luckily I made them remember who I was."
"Nice," Lionel smiled. "Oh, guys! Listen to this!" And he turned on a nearby radio.
"Still making headlines all across the country, the Ghostbusters are at it again," came the cool voice of Casey Kasem. "This time at the fashionable dance club The Rose! The boys in gray slugged it out with a pretty pesky poltergeist, then stayed on to dance the night away with some of the lovely ladies who witnessed the disturbance. This is Casey Kasem; now, on with the countdown."
"Wow! Even Casey Kasem knows the guys now!" Thor beamed.
"Did we do that?" Atticus wondered.
"We helped in a way." Cherry nodded.
MEANWHILE...
Lucille Zeddemore threw the newspaper in her son's face. "Okay, boy. You been back from the service a month now. Time you got a job. Get to it." she demanded.
"Aw, Mom. There's never anything in the want-ads that's any good." Winston shrugged as he had good qualifications such as a degree, but that would not do.
A small, bordered box caught his eye. "Are you trained in computers, heavy weapons, electronic surveillance or radar maintenance, hand-to-hand combat or related activities? Are you fit and athletic, able to work odd hours for good pay, with no questions asked? This might be the job for you".
"Right. Looks like somebody's getting ready to invade Cuba again..." mused Winston. "Just what I need, get my butt shot off, no questions asked." He glanced at his mother, preparing dinner in the kitchen. "Hand-to-hand combat or related activities? Hoo-boy...sounds crazy, but It might be a good deal and it sure beats being a janitor." he soon copied down the address.
"Your city is so dirty," A man named Wallance sniffed, his nose buried deep in a handkerchief. "Nothing like Paris."
Dana had been to Paris and knew that it could be every bit as dirty as New York, but she smiled and let the matter pass. Wallance changed his tack and began angling for a shot at a late supper.
"I'd love to, Andre, but I promised my mother I would call her tonight." Dana lied, keeping him off balance to make the game interesting.
"Ah, the mother, yes," Wallance nodded. "How about tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately, I am occupied. A dinner with the French consul and his family," Dana replied. "Terribly boring. I would get out of it if I could, but alas. Perhaps Thursday-"
"Thursday. Let me check my book." Wallance said as he opened the door and they stepped out onto the plaza before the Metropolitan Opera House.
It was a blustery late October day, cold and sunny, with a hint of coming winter, and the concourse held only a fragment of its usual collection of peddlers, break-dancers, and itinerant hustlers. And there, in front of the fountain, hopping along in a strange little Curly Howard dance step, was a familiar figure in gray coveralls and an orange jacket.
Dana turned to Wallance. who had paused to put in drops against the smog "Andre, excuse me for a minute. I've just seen someone I know."
"Certainment." Wallance mumbled to his eyedropper.
Dana strode across the plaza to where Venkman stood smiling at her.
"This is a surprise."
"Great rehearsal." "
"You heard it?"
Venkman nodded enthusiastically. "You're the best one in your row."
Dana favored him with a skeptical smile. "You're good. Most people can't hear me with the whole orchestra playing."
Venkman shook his head. "I don't have to take abuse from you. I have other people dying to give it to me."
"I know. You're quite a celebrity these days," Dana replied. "Are you here because you have info about my case?"
"You certainly know the technical terms," Venkman said, indicating Wallance, who was looking impatiently in their direction. "Who's the stiff?"
"That stiff happens to be one of the finest musicians in the world and a wonderful man." Dana explained.
Wallance looked uncomfortable; with New York, the weather, and certainly with the presence of Peter Venkman. He resorted to a bottle of nasal spray.
"Is he dying or something?" Venkman asked off that.
Dana ignored the remark, preferring to study Peter Venkman's cockeyed smile. "I don't know what it is about you. They never had anyone like you back home," she said quietly, though more to herself before she spoke mostly to Venkman. "He's a very close friend," she said at last. "Now, do you have some explanation of what happened in my apartment?"
"Yes, but I have to tell you in private at a fine restaurant..."
"Do you? Can't you tell me now?"
Venkman shrugged. "I'll cancel the reservation. I found the name Zuul in..." He paused to pull a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and pat it flat.
"The Roylance Guide to Sacred Sects." Atticus said as he seemed to randomly show up.
"Uh, yeah, what he said." Venkman added.
"Sacred sex?" Dana asked out of confusion for a moment.
"That too. I don't suppose you've read it." Venkman then added.
Dana shook her head. "You must have gotten the last copy."
"Uh, yeah, I heard about it in school," Atticus said with a forced grin, though his left eye twitched. "The name Zuul refers to a demigod worshiped around 6,000 B.C. by the Hittites, Mesopotamians, and the Sumerians. Zuul was the minion of Gozer.'"
"Who's Gozer?"" Dana wondered.
Venkman tucked the paper back into his pocket. "Gozer was very big in the Sumerian religion. One of their gods. A real big guy."
"What's he doing in my refrigerator?"
"We're checking on that. I think we should meet Thursday night at 9:00 to talk about it," Venkman suggested before flashing a look to Atticus. "Without extra company."
"I'm just looking out for my new friend." Atticus reassured him.
Dana looked Venkman up and down. He was almost the exact opposite of Andre Wallance, of the classy, self-assured men who usually went after her, and her first reaction was to laugh at him, but somehow she couldn't. He was right. She had thought him a geek and a charlatan, but now he was one of the most famous men in the city. Not that that was important, but he and his colleagues had proven their case. There were ghosts, and Peter Venkman was out there every day, dealing with them, catching them. And that made him every bit as successful on his own terms as any man she knew. Still, he was so strange...
"I don't think so. I'm busy Thursday night."
Venkman looked reprovingly and leaned in close to her. "You think I enjoy giving up my evenings to spend time with my clients? I'm making an exception because I respect you as an artist and a dresser."
"You're too much." Dana laughed. "All right, since you put it that way."
"I'll pick you up at your place. I'll bring the Roylance Guide, and we can read after we eat."
"I've got to go now," Dana said, not adding what she was thinking: my "stiff' is waiting. There was something refreshing about dealing in Peter Venkman's terminology.
"Remember," Venkman called. "I'm the only one standing between you and a heavy Hittite." Then he turned and hopped away.
More time had passed with the kids going to help the Ghostbusters while checking in with Drell and Hilda occasionally. Hilda seemed to be hiding something from Drell and the kids, especially the former as she wasn't sure how to tell him as she paced around, rubbing her hands together as the kids got ready for another new day on the Ghostbusters team.
"I'm not kidding, you guys, but I heard words of them making a Ghostbusters cereal." Cherry said to the others as she drank more Ecto Cooler.
"Really now?" Lionel asked. "Sounds like that could be pretty neat!"
"I just hope this product placement doesn't get annoying." Sabrina commented.
"Hopefully, it shouldn't." Cherry added.
Hilda smiled fondly at the kids, though she still looked a little on edge.
"We're leaving now, Aunt Hilda." Sabrina then said.
"All right, you guys have fun," Hilda said with a small smile. "I don't wanna interrupt your kiddie fun with me being an adult and getting in the way."
"You could come with us and get to know the Ghostbusters better," Atticus suggested. "Besides, we've been in New York for a while, might as well get used to some company from here."
"Yeah?" Hilda asked. "I mean... maybe."
"Couldn't hurt," said Lionel. "I mean, what are you doing here anyway?"
"Oh, Drell and I are just doing... grown-up things... to and with each other..." Hilda replied.
"That's enough detail for me, thank you." Cherry piped up.
"Same here." Sabrina added.
"Well... I guess I could get out of this stuffy hotel room for a bit and see what you kids are up to," Hilda admitted and nodded. "Zelda got to have the special time travel adventure with Doc Brown, who says I can't hang out with the Ghostbusters?" she then decided.
Janine was keeping ahead of the stream of phone calls only by dint of sheer perseverance. The lines were all lit, and each time she would clear one—case, crank, or curiosity—it would light again. She was, however, gaining an instinctive sense of what was profitable and what was not, what was dangerous and what was not, what could be contracted for and what not to touch with a ten-foot induction rifle. You would think that this would make me indispensable, she thought. You would think that this would make me a valuable asset. You would think I could at least get some help, but no...
"Ghostbusters—please hold... Good afternoon, Ghostbusters—please hold...Yes, may I help you?"
Winston Zeddemore looked up from the chair where he was filling out the Ghostbusters' job application, wondering just what kind of lunacy these people were tapped into. The little red-haired chick hadn't stopped answering calls since he'd walked in. The place was nothing but an old firehouse, but Zeddemore, with his electronics countermeasures training, could see that their equipment meant business. If it was a front, it was an awfully complex one. Surely these people couldn't really be after ghosts.
"Yes," Janine was saying. "Is it a mist, or does it have arms and legs...?" she checked the multicolored wall chart that Stantz had drawn up. "That sounds like a class-two anchored-proximity phantasm, serious, but not necessarily harmful... Would I kid you?... Well, the soonest we could possibly get back to you would be a week from Friday... I'm sorry, but we're completely booked until then... Uh-huh... All I can suggest is that you stay out of your house until we can get to you... Well, in that case, I'd be careful not to provoke it... You're welcome." She put down the phone wearily and eyed the blinking lights without enthusiasm. "Just what I always wanted to be: Jewish mother to the spiritual population of New York..." she muttered a bit. "You got a question, sir?" she then asked the man who was standing there.
"Well, yeah. The ad in the paper just said what they wanted," Winston explained. "But what's the job?"
"I don't really know, Mr. Zeddemore," Janine replied. "They just told me to take applications and to ask you these questions: Do you believe in UFOs, astral projection, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, full-trance mediums, psychokinetic or telekinetic movement, cartomancy, phrenology, black and/or white magic, divination, scrying, necromancy, the theory of Atlantis, the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot, the Bermuda triangle, or in general in spooks, specters, wraiths, geists, and ghosts?"
"Not really. However, if there's a semi-regular paycheck in it, I'll believe anything you say." Winston replied with a nod.
Cherry and the others were soon on the streets until they passed the Ghostbusters car.
"They must've just finished a crazy adventure." Hilda guessed.
"That sounds right to me." Atticus agreed.
The group then continued along their own way to the Ghostbusters headquarters as people greeted and met them, wanting pictures and autographs even if they weren't as popular as the three main Ghostbusters.
Venkman wheeled the Ectomobile around a tight corner, waved wearily to the crowd of autograph hounds and tourists clustered around the front of the firehouse, and slid the old Cadillac into the garage bay. "Open your eyes, Ray. We're home."
Stantz sat up, mumbled to himself, and climbed out. The Ectomobile looked like it had been through the Battle of Stalingrad, streaked with smoke and slime.
"Not often we have to chase the rotten things down on the road and zap them from the car." Venkman replied. "Hatari with ghosts." he then added before helping Stantz to unload the smoking traps from the back, his hands sticky with ectoplasmic residue.
The teenagers then came to help out the adult men.
"Ew... Peter, you're all sticky..." Thor grimaced.
"That's the only part of this job I really hate," Venkman decided. "The slime. Why can't ghosts be as clean as they look? No, they have to leave trails of this ecto-snot whenever they get excited. If that's what being dead is like, I ain't going."
"Yes, I imagine it's a handful." Hilda remarked.
"Oh, uh, hello there, lady," Venkman said as he faced her. "Haven't seen you before."
"I've kind of been out of commission for a while, yes," Hilda admitted. "I'm Sabrina's aunt, Hilda Spellman."
"Pleased to meet ya." Venkman nodded at that with a friendly smile.
Stantz shook the Mark II trap experimentally, watching the static charges play over its surface. "Boy, that was a rough one." he then commented.
"Sorry that we missed it, but we kinda had a late start to our day ourselves." Mo said to him apologetically.
"Ah, it's okay, I guess, but I can't take much more of this," Stanz replied. "The pace is killing me."
"Come on then, let's go see Miss Janine and maybe she can help make it better?" Atticus offered.
Janine looked up impatiently as they entered the reception area.
Venkman threw a paid invoice down on her desk. "Here's the paper on the Brooklyn job. She paid with a Visa card." he then said.
"And here are tonight's calls." Janine replied, passing them a bundle of work orders.
Stantz shuffled through them, sorting them by way of distance and difficulty. "Rats, Peter. We've got two more free-roaming repeaters here." he remarked.
"And this is Winston Zeddemore," Venkman replied. "He came about the job."
"You're black!" Stantz said delightedly.
"Yes, I know." Winston stated.
"No, you see that certain forms of vapors, particularly the later types of cyclical roamers, respond better to black people," Ray said before he stuck out his hand. "Ray Stantz, and this is Peter Venkman."
"Hi."
"Come on back into the equipment area, Winston, and I'll show you just what it is that we do here." Stantz reassured as he was leafing through the resume.
The kids all smirked at each other as Winston was definitely new around here.
"How does it look, Ray?" Atticus asked.
"Very impressive," Stantz said as he glanced through the resume with ease. "Strategic Air Command ECM school, black belt in karate, small-arms expert, as far as I'm concerned, Mr. Zeddemore, you're hired. Now, as you may have heard, we locate ghosts and spirits, trap them with streams of concentrated quantum energy, and remove them from people's homes, offices, and places of worship." he then added to Winston.
"Yeah, I heard that," Zeddemore replied, following Stantz down into the basement. "Now tell me what you really do."
Venkman was still standing by the desk, reading through the work orders. He calculated the rising demand for their services against the projections Spengler had made regarding approaching PKE peaks. "Yeah, we'll definitely need help. Better hire the Zeddemore guy, and see about digging up another ambulance." he then admitted.
"Probably a good idea." Mo agreed.
Venkman then looked over and saw that Janine was staring at him impatiently. "You say something?" he then asked her.
"I said that someone from the EPA is here to see you." Janine explained.
"What now?" Venkman complained.
"Eepa?" Thor asked. "What's an Eepa?"
"E.P.A," Mo explained to Thor. "The Environmental Protection Agency."
"Oh, I knew that." Thor then said.
"Sure you did," Lionel replied. "Anyway, what does the EPA want?" he then asked.
"I didn't ask him," Janine explained. "All I know is that I haven't had a break in two weeks and you promised that you'd hire more help."
"Janine, I'm sure a woman with your qualifications would have no trouble finding a topflight job in the housekeeping or food service industries." Venkman remarked as he wandered back toward his office.
"Oh, really? I've quit better jobs than this one, believe me." Janine replied.
Standing in Venkman's office was the tallest, thinnest man Venkman had ever seen. He sported a fashionably trimmed red-blonde beard and was dressed in a beautifully tailored three-piece suit. Venkman disliked him on sight. "Can I help you?" he then demanded, feeling annoyed already.
The man tore himself away from the collection of news clippings that Stantz had been tacking to the wall since they had started, and smiled.
"I don't like his smile." Cherry whispered to the others.
"He looks like a predator." Atticus whispered back.
"Yeah, like a ferret or a weasel." Lionel added.
"I'm Walter Peck," The man then told Venkman. "I represent the Environmental Protection Agency, third district."
"Great! How's it going?"
Venkman grabbed his hand and shook it warmly, managing to leave a large smear of ectoplasm on the man's suit. Peck looked at the slime with barely disguised disgust. Venkman shook his head sadly.
"Sorry about that. Holy water takes that right out."
"Holy water?"
"Right. What can I do for you?"
Peck looked him in the eyes and Venkman realized that the man wasn't especially tall, just thin. "Are you Peter Venkman?"
"Yes, I'm Dr. Venkman."
Peck stared at Venkman's soiled jumpsuit. "Exactly what are you a doctor of, Mr. Venkman?"
Venkman indicated the rank of framed diplomas behind the desk. Admittedly most of them belonged to Egon and Ray. "I have Ph.D.s in psychology and parapsychology."
"I see," Peck replied snidely. "And now you catch ghosts."
"You could say that," Venkman said, plopping himself down into his stuffed chair. Peck took a seat across the desk from him.
"And how many ghosts have you caught, Mr. Venkman?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"And where do you keep those ghosts once you catch them?"
"In a storage facility."
"And would this storage facility be located on these premises?"
"Yes, it would."
"And may I see this storage facility?"
"No, you may not."
Peck's smile dissolved instantly. "And why not, Mr. Venkman?"
Venkman's smile was all boyish innocence. "Because you didn't say the magic word."
"And what is the magic word, Mr. Venkman?"
"The magic word is please." Venkman said softly.
Hilda got a chuckle out of that.
Peck laughed nervously, totally at the end of his patience. "May I please see the storage facility?"
"Why do you want to see it?" Venkman asked sweetly.
"Well, because I'm curious. I want to know more about what you do here. Frankly, there have been a lot of wild stories in the media, and we want to assess any possible environmental impact from your operation. For instance, the storage of noxious, possibly hazardous waste materials in your basement. We want to know exactly what sort of scam you people are running here, Mr. Venkman. Now, either you show me what's down there, or I come back with a court order."
"Go ahead!" Venkman retorted. "Get a court order, and I'll sue you for wrongful prosecution."
Peck stood stiffly, his briefcase held in front of him like a shield. "Have it your way, Mr. Venkman." He said as he turned and strode quickly out of the office.
Venkman followed him to the doorway. "Hey! Make yourself useful. Go save a tree! And that's Doctor Venkman!" he then corrected.
"Well, Mr. Zeddmore, what do you think?" Atticus asked their newest friend as he was shown all around the Ghostbusters business.
"It's a damned prison," Winston began to say as he looked around. "A prison for ghosts."
Inside, the various multicolored spirits, wisps of color and light, swirled about aimlessly or slouched in despair against the walls. Occasionally one would drift up to the viewport and stare back, like a grouper in an aquarium.
"Well, I know it's depressing, but it's the best we can do rather than letting the ghosts run loose." Atticus said with a small shrug.
"Well, I guess this had never happened before," Winston admitted. "There had always been a few ghosts. Why so many now?"
"Yes, it's weird, but these guys actually catch ghosts and thanks to my favorite group of kids, they're making names for themselves with them." Hilda remarked proudly.
"And these guys actually catch ghosts. And I'm going to be a Ghostbuster," Winston lamented to himself. "Mama Zeddemore, I hope you're satisfied."
Spengler worked at the bench, repairing a damaged proton pack, muttering to himself about "hyper-spatial toruses" and "magnetic monopoles," stuff even Stantz didn't understand; but at this point Stantz wasn't interested. He was worried about the grid. "Winston."
"Yes?" The new guy responded.
"I'll show you how to unload the traps," Egon said as he slid the smoking box into a slot on the wall of the storage facility. There were three, like airlocks of different sizes, for the custom traps Ray had put together. This one was a Mark II. "You set the entry grid, push this button, wait for it to cycle yellow."
The slot lit up. Stantz pulled down on a heavy knife switch, and the slot emitted a loud cycled humming, like the sound a Xerox machine makes, Winston realized, as the trap was cleaned. The sound ended with a loud snap, the humming stopped, the indicator flashed.
"The light is green, the trap is clean," Egon said as he tossed the little box into a bin marked For RECHARGE. "Got it?"
"Got it. Seems simple enough." Stantz smiled. "A lot simpler to run than to build, I can tell you."
Spengler put his head down on the bench with a low moan. "I've got to get some sleep, I'm starting to make mistakes. You okay, Ray?"
Stantz shrugged. He didn't seem to tire as fast as the others. And the job continued to be fascinating. He often came downstairs in the middle of the night to watch the ghosts through the viewing port, though lately he'd begun to have the same feelings that Zeddemore had experienced, that penning the spirits up like that was somehow wrong. But if there was an alternative to an endless matinee of Spooks Run Wild, he didn't know what it was. The facility was too small, this was true, but even Egon had never planned on the volume of business they were getting. Something very unsettling, very dangerous was about to break, and they had to find out what.
"Egon, I'm going to need two new purge valves," Stantz soon said. "How's the grid around the storage facility holding up?"
Egon adjusted his glasses and blinked back the fatigue. "I'm worried, Ray, It's getting crowded in there. And all my recent data points to something very big on the bottom." he then explained.
"How do you mean 'big'?" Zeddemore asked.
Spengler rummaged among the bits of wire, plastic, and lunch on the workbench until he located an intact Hostess Twinkie. He held it up by way of illustration. "Well, let's say this Twinkie represents the normal amount of psychokinetic energy in the New York area. According to this morning's PKE sample, the current level would be a Twinkie 35-feet long and weighing approximately 6000 pounds." he soon explained.
Zeddemore whistled. "That's a big Twinkie."
"We could be on the verge of a fourfold crossover... or worse," Stantz nodded. "If what we're seeing indicates a massive PKE surge, we could experience an actual rip."
The three adult men and group of teenagers were soon looking very depressed when Venkman came down the stairs. "How's the grid around the storage facility holding up?"
"I hate to say this, but it isn't good, sir." Atticus replied to Venkman softly.
"Tell him about the Twinkie." Winston said glumly.
Venkman looked curiously at Zeddemore, then at Stantz, who shrugged.
"We had a visit from the EPA."
"What'd they want?"
"A whole lot of doodly-squat."
"Well, I'm sure it'll get better." Hilda said, mostly to help out the kids.
"Yeah, I guess," Cherry shrugged before she looked around and took Hilda to the side for a moment. "So, uh, has Drell find out more about this Zuul person?"
"He said he was going to contact an old friend of his for more information." Hilda replied.
"And who is this old friend?" Atticus asked. "If you don't mind me asking."
"Vincent van Ghoul." Hilda revealed.
"Sounds like a big deal," commented Lionel. "Fellow wizard, I take it?"
"Oh, yes," Hilda nodded. "He was also trusted to look after a certain artifact in the Netherworld that could lead to disastrous results if released into The Mortal Realm."
"What's that, Aunt Hilda?" Sabrina wondered.
"It's called The Chest of Demons and it holds the 13 most terrifying spirits of the world who all intend to come into this realm for world domination," Hilda explained from what Drell told her. "He, Vincent, and a friend of theirs called Mortifer had to hunt down these ghosts and seal them in this chest to keep them away from this realm, though the 13th and final ghost Asmodeus was always tricky, especially with his powers to make your nightmares come alive."
"Yikes." Atticus said as that was all he could say, causing Cherry and Lionel to roll their eyes at that response.
"Is Zuul one of those 13 ghosts?" Sabrina asked her aunt.
"I don't think so, but Drell is very concerned about you all doing this with Zuul on the loose since it could lead to disaster in The Mortal Realm, especially with all of these other ghosts, though luckily none of them seem to be from The Chest of Demons but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous or a threat to you all, especially being a young group, either." Hilda explained.
"Got it." replied Lionel.