Chicago

[gone_byebye]

The door opens onto a construction scene as the sun is setting. "This is Navy Pier," says Ray. "The Robert Mackenzie was supposed to come in here back when it was still a serious commercial facility. We're kind of assuming that's where it's trying to come back to."

Comments

[mago_sonriente]

Carlos looks at the oncoming storm and wonders if he's done something very very stupid. He considers a few idea for channeling the storm before deciding to just use his staff, for better or worse.

Please don't let me die a virgin.

[gone_byebye]

( Steel boats and iron men)
There's a peculiar quality to the storm, difficult to put one's finger on. It has the feel of something that ought to have been more dangerous- a thin, threadbare sort of feeling, for all its sudden onset and terrible size. Some vital component that should have been there, isn't.
( Thirty-two down on the Robert Mackenzie)
Further up the pier, on both sides, uniformed men and women are hunching over their radios and listening intently even as the winds begin to surge.
( Steel boats and iron men)
Outside of Carlos' range, three of the Ghostbusters are clustered around the fourth. Winston apparently knows more than he let on; he's working the Coast Guard radio as if he were born to it.
( Thirty-two down on the Robert Mackenzie)
"Come on," Winston mutters, fingers moving deftly over the radio controls as the others exchange worried glances or peer out over the growing waves on the lake. "Come on, I know you guys are out there, I know you can hear me- Mackenzie? Captain Phillips, of the Robert Mackenzie? Can you hear me?"
( Steel boats and iron men)
And as the storm, threadbare though it might be, gathers itself to break... out on the waters, there is a ship in the darkness where there hadn't been one before.
( Thirty-two down on the Robert Mackenzie)
"-mayday, mayday- I repeat, this is the Roberth Mackenzie-"

[mago_sonriente]

He starts in Spanish, speaking prayers to slow the storm and to still the spirits behind it. It's mostly for his own comfort, for something to believe in and something to settle himself. Then he switches to Latin, praying again, the old prayers of the Catholic church, those part of the Rite of Exorcism, words he'd learned from books too old for most people to know of let alone to read.

There were perks to being an apprentice to a venerable old wizard, after all. The library was one of them.

Then he opens his eyes, looks out to the storm and puts out his staff, sticking it in front of him on the ground. It stands there, as if jammed into the ground.

That's when he starts in on the Nahautl, the true magic, his bread and butter. Words, built in chains as the language required, making connections and rearranging energies, his hands moving as well. He was going to attack this from two ends: use the energy from the storm to settle the storm.

If he could pull it off. Either way, it's going to hurt.

[gone_byebye]

As the storm begins to stammer, Winston leans forward a little more sharply. "Captain," he says firmly, one hand on his microphone. The other is gesturing to Ray, or the Coast Guard captain, or anyone who- oh, there we go, there's the chart he wanted. "My name's Winston Zeddmore. I'm at Navy Pier along with a whole bunch of Coast Guard sailors who'd love to see you into port safe and sound. Do you have a current position for me?"

"Wish I did, Zeddmore, but we lost our radar and our other navigation's shot to hell."

"Figures," says Winston dryly, looking up to the Coast Guard representative. "You got anything for me?"

"Soon as we can get our chopper down through those clouds, he'll be able to pinpoint the ship," the captain says. "How are you getting the radio to do that? Nobody else is even picking the distress call up!"

Winston silently points at the PKE meter that Egon loaned him; he's rigged several of the radio's wires to interface with the signal arms of the meter.

[mago_sonriente]

He pulls off his sword and sticks it into the ground behind him. He didn't want metal on him when he did this. It just wouldn't be good. Especially not that sword.

Then he reaches out a hand and grabs the staff, banging it two times on the ground, then a third, before raising it to the sky.

"Ilhuicaxitiatletleco!"

And that... that was either going to do it or--

Holy shit this is gonna hurt--

[gone_byebye]

There's a moment when everything seems to hold its breath, and the smell of ozone fills the air. Ray and Egon, who've had some experience with this kind of thing, step backwards swiftly.

Then the lightning strikes, knifing its way downward towards Ramirez' staff with unstoppable force. When the blue-white levin light clears and people can see again, the winds've picked up once more- but they're spinning upwards, scouring into the clouds and pushing them apart in every conceivable direction.

"What the hell was that?"

[mago_sonriente]

The Witch of November versus the Wizard from Los Angeles.

The energy courses through him, burning so good he's laughing, grinning wild and mad and it hurts, dios mio but it hurts and every cell in his body feels like it's going to explode from the strain of it but he adjusts it, reaches back and grabs the sword and grounds himself between the two impliments as the winds begin to tear at the storm, tear the clouds apart, breaking up the low pressure systems and all.

[gone_byebye]

"Captain," says Winston, "I think we're gonna need some people-"

"Already on it, Mr. Zeddmore," says the Coast Guard captain with a grin. She points a little further up the pier to where a slew of midshipmen and lesser officers are preparing the dock for the ship's arrival.

Winston grins, looking up at the sky; the sound of helicopter blades can be heard. "Mr. Phillips," he says into the microphone, "here's what I'm gonna need you to do..."

[mago_sonriente]

For his part, as the storm finally clears, Carlos promptly falls over.

...he's cool.

...and he's good.

But he's not that good.

[gone_byebye]

It takes a moment or two for that to be noticed. Most everybody's attention is focused on either the faintly flickering (if mostly solid) ship slowly veering this way and that among the still-whipped-up waves on the lake, or on Winston as he reads off the Coast Guard's chart to the spirits at sea.

( hear me call across the waves: )

Most everybody- eventually Venkman and one of the junior Coasties, who's considerably younger and more attractive than her captain, spot Carlos and move to haul him out of the way to somewhere more comfortable.

( if I don't come home tonight, )

The storm is rapidly blowing itself out as the ship eases its way around the deadly six-fathom shoal and sets a course straight for the pier.

( I will make it home someday... )

It's fairly glowing as it slows itself down for the final approach.

[mago_sonriente]

Carlos is busy being passed out for the moment.

[gone_byebye]

No one's ever accused Venkman of being a medical genius, which is why he lets the Coastie confirm that Carlos' vitals are all right. He is, however, a reasonably dedicated Ghostbuster, which is why he twists around to see how Winston and company are doing... and why he's watching when the Robert Mackenzie finally manages, despite the remaining wind and rain, to halt at the dock and throw down its anchor.

"Where's the harbormaster?" calls one of the figures lined up along the ship's rail; they're all men, from their early twenties well into their late fifties, but they're all translucent and vaguely luminescent. A quick count turns up thirty-one of- ah, no, there's thirty-two. The man at the helm's come out along with the rest.

The Ghostbusters look to the Coast Guard captain, who steps forward and draws a deep breath. "I'm as close as you're going to get, gentlemen," she calls back, the spectral light from the ship playing over her features. "What can I do for you boys?"

A particularly tall, haggard-looking man raises his hand and smiles. "Captain Joshua Phillips requesting permission to disembark, ma'am," he says. "Permanently."

"Permission granted, Captain," says the woman. "Welcome home."

And, one by one, the crew of the Robert Mackenzie make their way down the gangplank... and, one by one, as their feet touch the surface of the pier they'd set out for all those years ago, their forms shimmer one last time and vanish.

[mago_sonriente]

A few minutes later, the Warden's eyes start to flutter and his fingers clench tight around the sword and the staff.

Then he groans, which his how he knows he's alive.

"Okay, oowww."

[gone_byebye]

At the rate the men are disembarking, he's just in time for Venkman and the Coastie to help him sit up and point him at the last of the Mackenzie's crew- the captain, who's standing at the very foot of the gangplank. "I wanted to thank you all," he says, "but two of you especially. You, sir-"

For a moment, as Winston stands up to greet him, Captain Phillips becomes visibly more solid. It's enough for him to shake Winston's hand and grin, but he slips back into translucency almost as soon as he lets go.

"And the young man who pulled that storm's fangs."

"Think you can stand up?" Peter asks. "No offense, but you're a little big to carry."

[mago_sonriente]

Carlos gives Venkman a look before getting to his feet and making his way over. He's not leaning on his staff, but he's not just carrying it.

He gives the captain a smile when he gets there.

"Hola."

[gone_byebye]

Venkman is a New York smartass. He fears no mere look.

Captain Phillips nods. "Son, you did real good," he says. "On behalf of my crew and my ship, and myself... thank you."

Once again, he pulls himself to something a little more solid as he sticks out a hand for the shaking.

[mago_sonriente]

Carlos gives a tired grin before taking the hand and giving it a good shake.

"No problem, man. Call me next time you wanna party, all right?"

[gone_byebye]

Captain Phillips laughs. "If Saint Peter says it's your time, sure will," he says. "You take care, okay?"

He lets go of Carlos' hand and takes a step forward. A moment later, there's a shower of shimmering twinkles in mid-air, and he's gone... and so is the ship. There's only smears of gleaming, faintly glowing ectoplasm on the pier and the water's surface to show that they were ever there.

Overhead, the stars are starting to come out.

[mago_sonriente]

"Can be beer time now?" he asks, looking at Ray hopefully.

[gone_byebye]

"Sure thing," Ray says, as Peter heads over to speak to the representatives from the city government who've been watching from a safe distance. "Although when you get the chance-" He jerks his head towards Winston. "No big hurry, though. You did a lot tonight."

[mago_sonriente]

He nods. Nods and nods and nods.

"Nap?"

[gone_byebye]

"Right this way," Ray says, and he and Egon (Winston being over with the Coast Guard delegation now) get on either side of Carlos and head for somewhere suitably dry.

Preferably with a door, since that means Milliways and that means cushy rooms.

[mago_sonriente]

Carlos gives an enthusiastic thumbs up... but most of his brains are centered on holding onto his staff and not falling down.