(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

The first thing one notices upon opening the door into New York is that it's hot. August is a hot month in most of the Northern hemisphere, but even for August, it's vile outside. The smell of horse is on the air, and hydrocarbon. A nasty tang of ozone can be felt across the teeth; the sky has an unwholesomely orange cast across the darkness.

Ray glances around and lays a hand on the side of the building next to him. "We're home," he says.

Comments

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

A large, orange and grey boulder on a crawler rolls into the muggy heat...not that Naraht minds. He's got lava for blood. "Intersting. I've been in holodeck simulations of historical New York, but they don't seem to quite convey it accurately."

[k_in_black]

Someone who knew K well--aren't there aren't many of them around these days--would see him startled for a second by the look of this New York.

Back home, there's weirdness aplenty, but the MiB has it easy. It's kept underground for the most part. The challenges look a bit tougher here.

And there's a twinge of sadness. The WTC is gone here too. K was allowing himself to hope.

But the shades stay unmoved. Time for business.

"Where do we start, Chief?"

[gone_byebye]

"This way," Ray says. THey're in an alley next to a three-storey building- grey stone below, red brick above. "The guys are inside. They need to know."

He leads them around the front of Hook and Ladder No. 8, pausing to touch the memorial plaque beside the door before opening it. Inside, Ecto-1 sits in the midst of the space once filled to bursting by fire engines.

"GUYS!" Ray bellows, holding the door for Naraht. "WE HAVE BACKUP!"

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

Naraht expertly maneuvers his vehicle through the doors. He spots a woman sitting behind a desk toward the back of the room. "Good day, Miss..."

His greeting is cut off by a blood-curdling scream. He sighs. "It figures."

[k_in_black]

K walks in. The shades stay on.

"Even in New York. That's tough, Naraht. Sorry about that."

K marvels at Ecto. Ray was right, black or not, it is a *fine* piece of work. He starts to walk around it slowly, his eyes noting details here and there, trying to guess what each of the instruments are. Then he ducks a head through the driver's side window to check out the dashboard and let's out a low whistle of admiration.

[gone_byebye]

"It's okay! Janine, it's okay!" Ray darts forwards, both hands up. "This one's on our side!"

The woman, a redhead with narrow, green-framed glasses and wide, wide eyes, stared at him. "You gotta be kidding me-"

"I'm not. Milliways, remember?"

"So he's not one of the-"

"No. Nothing to do with what's been going on. He's backup."

Janine exhaled. "Good, 'cause we've got three more calls- hey, what's that guy doing? Hey, you can't-"

"Actually, he can." Ray smiled a little. "Janine, allow me to introduce you to my new associates from Milliways. The gentlebeing on the machine there is Lieutenant Dahai Iohor Naraht of the starship Enterprise-"

"!", said Janine, which is very hard to do.

"Naraht, this is our office secretary and head of communications, miss Janine Melnitz. As for the other fellow, he's going to be handling our fifth proton pack." He looked to K for the current designation of choice.

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

Naraht slides off of his crawler and glides over to the desk. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Melnitz. Don't worry about it. I tend to get similar reactions quite often."

[k_in_black]

The shades come off, and now meet Mr. Smooth.

"Janine, how are you." He got a good-ole-boy smile on and holds out a hand. "My name's Kay. Friend of Ray's and Naraht's here. We're sorry to put you out. I think we'll only be here for a few minutes anyway."

"And may I say that's a lovely outfit you have on today, ma'am."


You can take the boy out of Texas...

[gone_byebye]

... but you just don't get that kind of treatment in New York City, as a general rule. Janine smiles, and reaches over to shake the hand. "Why, thank you," she says. You could cut bricks with that accent of hers. "I think I like this one, Ray..."

"Good." Ray was rooting through the nearest of the supply lockers, and so did not look up. "The guys- can you get them down here, please? I don't think we have much time."

"I'll say you don't," came a voice from up above. screeeee*thunk*- the sound of one (1) Ghostbuster sliding down a fire pole. "Ray, you've been away for less than two minutes!"

Ray lifted his head as two more thunks heralded the arrival of the rest of the team. "Excellent, you're all here... Kay, Naraht, these are my colleagues. Winston Zeddemore, Dr. Egon Spengler, and Dr. Peter Venkman. Guys? We have backup now."

There was really a lot of staring going on in the firehouse tonight.

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

Naraht finds himself chuckling at the sight. "Perhaps you should have sent a note through first, Ray."

He then wonders if this particular Peter Venkman shares his counterparts abilities and thinks as loudly as he can, Hailing frequencies open. Can you read me, Dr. Venkman?

[k_in_black]

"Peter Venk--?" Aw, hell. Should have known.

He shakes hands fast, since time's a-wasting.

"Venkman. Zeddemore. Spengler. Pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Now if you could direct me to that spare proton pack, I'd like to give it a once over before we get into this thing."

[gone_byebye]

Aside from a brief look that suggests he might have to sneeze, Peter gives no particular sign that he's perceived anything from Naraht. He does, however, look at Kay with momentary puzzlement. "How do-"

"Milliways," says Ray.

"Ah."

Egon cast a skeptical glance at the man, but Winston's attention was taken up largely by Naraht. "You... okay, question," he said, holding up a finger. "You look kinda... familiar."

Winston's late-night television viewing included considerably more Star Trek than Janine's did.

"I've got the spare right here," Ray said, but Egon intruded.

"Sir, I'm not going to ask about any paranormal experience you might or might not have, since I trust Dr. Stantz here to judge properly in that department. I do have to ask whether you're proficient in any kind of energy weapon."

Ray just smiles.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," says Peter. "Did Janine tell you about the new calls, Ray? We got problems. Big, ugly problems."

"We had them before-"

"Not oozing out of the sewer gratings, we didn't."

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

For better or worse, Naraht still doesn't know that he's fiction in another universe.

"Oh?" he says, puzzled. "I don't know how you could. If I recall correctly, there are no lifeforms similar to Horta on your planet at this time...but this is another universe, after all."

The bit about the sewer gratings grabs his attention. "I take it we need to get underground ASAP. It is urgent enough to make our own way?"

[k_in_black]

K gives Egon that K Look for a moment.

"Janine. Think you might be able to get by without that wastebasket there?"

Janine hands it over, with an uncertain look at her face.

"Much obliged, ma'am." K finds an empty garbage can and puts the wastebasket on top.

He walks back next to Egon and in one fluid motion draws an impressive looking weapon. Within seconds K breaks it down, reassembles it, and begins the powering up sequence. A low whine starts to echo around the room.

"The Series 4 Deatomizer. Manufactured on the fifth planet of the Detrazi system. Three power cells energized by medium force atomizers in a reverse polarity the Detrazi say Earth won't even imagine for another three centuries. Battery pack guaranteed to last three weeks without recharge." He looks at Egon. "The Detrazi get around."

The echo suddenly kicks out, and with another fluid motion, K whips it into a firm grip and blasts the wastebasket to atoms. There's a brilliant flash, and suddenly the top of the trashcan is empty.

"Any further tests, gentlemen, or can we get this mission underway?"

[gone_byebye]

"... I think we're good," Egon says.

Silently, Ray hands over the pack, and heads over to start opening doors and the back hatch of the car.

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

"And away we go," Naraht says as he hauls himself into the cargo section of the converted hearse. The suspension system creaks, but Bonnie's modifications paid off.

[k_in_black]

K slides into a seat and somehow manages to get the proton pack in his lap, where he starts to check it out.

It looks almost exactly the same as the one he used on the demon bunnies before. He check the readings and feels the grip on the thrower. It's all good. The Ghostbusters obviously take good care of their equipment. But, then, having met Ray and Peter, K would expect no less.

He feels Ecto coming to life around them. Damn. An impressive rig all right. He might have to ask Ray for the specs once this business is done.

[gone_byebye]

Ray waited for the others to take their seats before sliding behind the wheel. "Okay, fill me in," he said. "What's been going on in the last two minutes?"

"It doesn't look good, Ray. It looks even worse than it did when we pulled in here earlier this evening." That was Egon, who was seated in the back, near Naraht. "The focus of the problem seems to be tightening- I had enough time to plot our GPS data out by time on a map of the city. PKE levels are soaring throughout the city, yes, but they're rising much, much faster here in Manhattan than anywhere else."

"Those three calls I was telling you about?" said Winston. "Right here on the island. All of 'em. One down by the stock exchange, one from the Cloisters, and one big one from Rock Center."

Ray winced. "Priority?"

"Stock is nearest, but it's just a couple of goopers- and the Cloisters are gonna have to wait," said Peter. "The post office under Rockefeller Center's where the problem is. They've got this goo that the security guard on duty said looked like ducksauce from hell welling up out of every hole, grating, and drain in their floors, and it's starting to eat the furnishings."

Ray nodded grimly and leaned out the window. "Janine? Tell the guys on Wall Street we'll get to them as fast as we can. Hopefully, before the market opens tomorrow."

"Not a problem, Dr. Stantz."

He cast a glance back over his shoulder. "We might have to cut through a piece of actual street if the sewers are backing up all around the building, Naraht. Think you're ready for some hydrocarbon-ridden asphalt?"

The car peeled out of the Firehouse as if propelled from a rocket, flinging itself over the cobblestoned streets of Tribeca.

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

Naraht clung to the floor and sides of Ecto-1 with every bit of fringe. This was not the time to get unbalanced. "Asphalt? Lots of tar-products in that, right?" Naraht says, digging up what little he knows about ancient building materials. "Not a problem. And rather tasty depending on the grade of tar they use."

He notices the look that Peter is giving him. "What?" he asks innocently. "Is it a crime to occasionally indulge in junk food?"

[k_in_black]

That gets a silent, "Fucking Milliways" from K, though very much a comrade-ly one.

Ecto's suspension is holding up beautifully. K can *feel* Naraht's mass nearby, but the former hearse is taking the corners like a top-end speedboat. Might have to chat up those talking cars sometime after all.

Sewers, though. Damn. Subterranean work is always the worst. Just got the suit pressed too. K wonders how the rodent population is holding up in Ray's New York, what with all the slime.

And what he wouldn't give to have a semi-friendly giant unipod like Jeff around right now.

[gone_byebye]

"More tar than a cheap South Carolina cigarette," Ray says, leaning over to turn on the radio out of reflex.

A Public service announcement followed me home the other day / I paid it nevermind. Go away / Shit's so thick you could stir it with a stick...

"Okay, Egon. I got that. Any chance you guys were able to get Jim Brady over at the MTA on the phone?"

"Yeah," says Winston, grabbing at one of the interior door-handles as they shoot over Canal and make for Sixth Avenue. "No good. He says the drillers' union pulled all their guys out when the poltergeists started trying to take away their jackhammers- and nobody got anywhere near the old IRT lines."

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord, / Count your blessings / We're sick of being jerked around / We all fall down...

"Crud. You're sure?"

Winston nods. "Pretty sure."

Ray flicks a switch, and Ecto's sirens start blaring. "Anybody start speaking any languages they don't know? ANy reports of hearing voices?"

"Nothing," says Egon.

Peter, for his part, is looking out the window. "Guys?" he says, pointing up ahead. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"

It's a hallowed, hollow anesthesized / "save my own ass, screw these guys" / smoke and mirror lock down...

Wispy forms of what was either something spectral or of very determined smoke were leaking into the street from the sewer gratings. Literally. The smoky blur was pouring downward, vanishing into the storm drains.

"Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" Winston asked.

Without warning, a manhole cover ten yards in front of the hurtling hearse exploded into the air, spewing blazing orange-pink droplets every which way.

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord, / Count your blessings.
the papers wouldn't lie! / I sigh. Not one more...

"HOLD ON!"

Ray rams one foot down on the brake and yanks the steering wheel hard to one side. And the hearse...

swings.

In an absolutely perfect 180-degree arc.

And comes to a dead stop.

It's been a bad day. / Please don't take a picture / It's been a bad day. / Please...

[lt-naraht.livejournal.com]

Naraht slowly lets go of his grip on the car walls. "Well, that was exciting," he says. "Next up?"

[k_in_black]

"Great job, kid! But next time I wanna see a Bootlegger's."

K's shades begin to brighten and shift through several tints as he tries to get a reading on that smoke. It's not like anything he's seen--.

K's head jerks up as he hears a very weird sound coming from ahead. A bogey of some kind, flying right for Ecto. It's green, a lot like that damn drink Ray is always throwing back. With what looks like arms waving wildly through the air.

Damn thing's going to buzz us, K thinks. But they've got what feels like a reinforced roof above their heads, so he's not too worried.

Sure enough it whips by overhead, cackling madly. K gets a firm grip on his proton pack, but there's no way he can slip it on in here.

Greenie's already getting ready to make another pass. K tracks it as it starts making another run along the same flight path. He's not too hip to their system yet, but he estimates it's probably about a class 3.

"Hey, Ray, don't we have a--."

And suddenly K shoves himself back in his seat. The dark-green ghost has burst right through the roof and is whipping its arms around in the cab. K feels a wave of dizzyness hit him hard as an arm sweeps by his head.

"Hit the ground, men!" K roars, as he throws open his door and leaps from the cab. He spins in mid-air, curling his body in a ball around the proton pack. He lands on his ass but keeps rolling over his shoulder and then up on his knees. The Deatomizer ground into his side along the way, but K ignores the pain.

The other Ghostbusters are spilling out into the street, but K's eyes are on Naraht. How the hell is a Horta supposed to bail?

K throws the proton pack on his back and starts pulling the straps tight.

[gone_byebye]

There is, to put it mildly, screaming. From the ghost, from the Ghostbusters, from- oh, you name it, it's going on. And then there is mass exodus. You couldn't get the other Ghostbusters out of there faster if you lit a fire under their asses.

Which is what it feels like is going on out here. There is no way it was this warm when the car left the Firehouse. None at all. Then again there weren't neon-bright rivulets of orangey-pink stuff dribbling along the street, hissing their way into the asphalt surface, either. And the street lights weren't blinking out one by one, the cars on the cross streets screeching to a halt-

"Where's Ray?" Peter asks suddenly. He's about halfway across Sixth Avenue, proton thrower at the ready, looking this way and that as if he expects a spectral sniper to pop into existence any second.

He gets no answer- save the rear hatch of the hearse being thrown open. And a muffled cry of "NOW, Naraht!"

The dark-green ghost (still visible where it's flinging itself against the windows in a vain quest to find moving targets, rather like a fly looking for the way out of the apartment) pauses, turning to face the Horta's bulk.

The interior of the car erupts in searing blue-white light.

[k_in_black]

The shades catch most of the flash.

"Naraht!?" Silence. K grips the thrower, rises into a run back to Ecto, then ducks as another ghost hurtles over head.

"Dammit!" K has the thrower up a split second later and fires. The orange-white light rips through the air and slams into the ghost. K staggers back--ground is starting to buckle, and he can't get a firm stance--and the ghost slips out of the arc.

But K sure as hell got its attention.

Except now the damn thing is swinging back around for another bombing run.