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Sep. 7th, 2005 12:37 pmSaturday, Sept. 29, 2002
Upper Manhattan
Apartment 2D
Evening
The phone rang.
It was a funny thing, but over the years Peter Venkman had found that even on the simplest and oldest of telephones, you could tell who was calling just by the sound of the ring. Not always with the greatest of accuracy or precision, but generally with enough to know that there were some calls you shouldn't answer. And at a time like this, in the middle of a perfectly civilized Saturday at home, out of reach of students and administration alike, he knew right away that the incoming phone call was not one he wanted to answer. Not if he wanted any more of his weekends to be relaxing, ever.
Was that an exaggeration on his part? Somehow, he didn't think so. There was a weird sharpness to the ringer on the second tone that he didn't like at all.
Third ring. Maybe if he holed up in the bathroom-
Fourth ring, and it ticked over to the answering machine. Good. Not his problem.
"Peter? Peter, it's me," Ray's voice started, almost before the machine's beep ended. Peter clapped a hand over his face. "This is important, Peter. We've got a hot one. I've been investigating this building on Central Park West and I really believe you need to come and see it- there's going to be trouble, big-time, you need to know-"
If there was more, Peter didn't hear it. This was trouble from start to finish and he didn't want to hear about it.
Saturday, Sept. 29, 2002
Howard Beach, Brooklyn
Apartment 14C
Later Evening
The phone rang.
Egon was too busy going over his grad students' papers to pick it up. It was perhaps a measure of the tone of that ring that he nevertheless put down the one he was looking at and glanced in the telephone's direction. His machine was set to two-ring pickup; if this was important, it wouldn't take long, and if it wasn't, it wouldn't waste much of his time.
Two rings. "Spengler? This is Stantz-"
It could be anything. He waited.
"A snare without escape, set for evil, / A net whence none can issue forth, spread for evil. / Whether it be evil Spirit, or evil Demon, or evil Ghost, / Or evil Devil, or evil God, or evil fiend-"
He lunged for the phone. "Stantz? When the hell did you learn Sumerian?"
Upper Manhattan
Apartment 2D
Evening
The phone rang.
It was a funny thing, but over the years Peter Venkman had found that even on the simplest and oldest of telephones, you could tell who was calling just by the sound of the ring. Not always with the greatest of accuracy or precision, but generally with enough to know that there were some calls you shouldn't answer. And at a time like this, in the middle of a perfectly civilized Saturday at home, out of reach of students and administration alike, he knew right away that the incoming phone call was not one he wanted to answer. Not if he wanted any more of his weekends to be relaxing, ever.
Was that an exaggeration on his part? Somehow, he didn't think so. There was a weird sharpness to the ringer on the second tone that he didn't like at all.
Third ring. Maybe if he holed up in the bathroom-
Fourth ring, and it ticked over to the answering machine. Good. Not his problem.
"Peter? Peter, it's me," Ray's voice started, almost before the machine's beep ended. Peter clapped a hand over his face. "This is important, Peter. We've got a hot one. I've been investigating this building on Central Park West and I really believe you need to come and see it- there's going to be trouble, big-time, you need to know-"
If there was more, Peter didn't hear it. This was trouble from start to finish and he didn't want to hear about it.
Saturday, Sept. 29, 2002
Howard Beach, Brooklyn
Apartment 14C
Later Evening
The phone rang.
Egon was too busy going over his grad students' papers to pick it up. It was perhaps a measure of the tone of that ring that he nevertheless put down the one he was looking at and glanced in the telephone's direction. His machine was set to two-ring pickup; if this was important, it wouldn't take long, and if it wasn't, it wouldn't waste much of his time.
Two rings. "Spengler? This is Stantz-"
It could be anything. He waited.
"A snare without escape, set for evil, / A net whence none can issue forth, spread for evil. / Whether it be evil Spirit, or evil Demon, or evil Ghost, / Or evil Devil, or evil God, or evil fiend-"
He lunged for the phone. "Stantz? When the hell did you learn Sumerian?"
