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Dec. 12th, 2007 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebye"We don't have to do this, you know," said Peter as he navigated the hearse through the tangled mess of streets, traffic, and holiday pedestrians that inevitably thronged Herald Square at this time of year. "There's still time before your dad's plane lands to call a taxi or a limo or something for him."
"I wanna pick him up myself," said Ecto stubbornly. "I just wish all these people would get out of the way."
"You and me both, kid, but it ain't happening." Peter shook his head. "You sure we can't just head east and get on the FDR?"
"The traffic's even worse there. It's just that there's less stupid people," said Ecto. The steering wheel jerked under Peter's hands as the car swung herself aside to avoid a pedestrian who'd stopped and changed direction halfway through crossing the street. "Stupid stupid stupid stupid-"
"Hey, as much as I agree with you, that kind of talk isn't gonna help," Peter said. "Just take a deep breath, or whatever it is you do, and relax, okay? This is Christmas in New York. It's not gonna get any better until the twenty-sixth."
Ecto heaved a sigh and flicked her radio on. After a few riffling searches she settled on a station playing what sounded like classical Christmas stuff. "-rising of the sun and the running of the deer-"
"There you go," said Peter. "Okay, now, if we can just-"
Peter's cell phone went off. "Huh boy," he muttered. "Ecto, can you turn on the handsfree for me?"
"Sure."
"Dr. Venkman? Ecto?" came Janine's voice. "We gotta problem."
"What kind of a problem, Janine? I'm up to my ass in tourists right now."
"Well, put on a couple of platform shoes, because we got an emergency call up on Forty-ninth."
"Forty-ninth- oh, no."
"Oh, yeah."
"Oh, no no no, Janine, no-"
"Sorry, Dr. V-"
"No, Janine, do not tell me we have to go to Rockefeller Center for this!"
"Hey, if it's any comfort, Egon seems to think you should be able to get it wrapped up before he and Winston arrive."
"Not cool, Janine, not cool!" But Ecto was already plotting her course.
"Oh, this is even better than I'd imagined," Peter said dryly as Ecto pulled up alongside the police barricades. "All right, just what seems to be the problem, Officer?"
The police officer slid her hat back with one hand and let out a sigh. "This one kid on the rink started doing pirouettes in one place," she said. "The management figured she was gonna gouge a hole in the ice, but when one of their people went out to stop her, they couldn't. She was spinning like a helicopter rotor and she just kept getting faster- and then there was this huge green light and something blew up out of the ice under her feet."
"Is she okay?" asked Peter. He glanced sideways briefly as something moved in the corner of his vision, but it was just one of Ecto's instrument panels as the car started scanning. "They got her out, right?"
"Just barely. The kid's completely covered in slime and screaming for her mother."
"Story of my life," said Peter. "Okay, so, Skippy the Slime Monster wants to ruin Christmas. That's when the building people called, right?"
"Right. We called for the Spook Squad, got everybody out and cordoned off the area. We didn't think you'd get here ahead of them."
"We were in the neighborhood and figured we'd stop by," said Peter. "Can you show me where Skippy went?"
"That's not gonna be necessary, Uncle Peter," said Ecto. "He's in the Tree."
The cop stared at the car, but Peter only frowned a little. "In the Tree?" he repeated. "How in are we talking here? Just in the branches, right? Please tell me just in the branches."
"Um..."
"Skippy the Slime Monster possessed the Tree?" Peter clapped a hand over his face. "Great, that's all we need."
"No, no, it's not that bad!" Ecto hastily reassured him. "He's up top, sorta circling. It's all right. I just don't know what your proton stream is gonna do if it hits the star."
Peter froze. He'd seen that thing before they put it on top of the tree. Anything that had that many crystals, facets, and other reflective surfaces was serious bad mojo when it came to being zapped. "Oh, man," he said. "One wrong zap and the whole area's toast, isn't it?"
"Maybe," said Ecto uncertainly. "Maybe not. It depends on how much it's moving when it hits."
The proton throwers tended to thrash around like firehoses under the best of circumstances. A strike from street level on a star designed to be as reflective and refractive as possible would result in so much proton scatter that Peter would have to start using Egon's vocabulary to describe it. "That's not good," was all he said instead.
"No, it's not," Ecto agreed. "But I think I have an idea, if the police don't mind."
"Huh? Mind what?" said the cop, blinking; she had one of those 'your car can talk, why can your car talk' expressions.
"Oh, no," said Peter, who was a little quicker than the cop. "Ecto, you know how I get about heights."
"Uh, the building windows don't open, Dr. Venkman," said the cop.
"She's not talking about the window," Peter said grimly. "Are you, Ecto."
"Mmmnope," said the car. If Peter didn't know better he'd swear it was grinning.
"Man, screw this- we'd make better time in a pedicab," grumbled Winston under his breath. "Or the subway."
"I hardly think that our proton packs would be welcome on the subway at this time of year, Winston," said Egon. "The MTA already has issues with people carrying ordinary bags that don't fit on their laps. A taxi was the only viable alternative."
"Yeah, but with this kind of traffic I'm surprised we- holy cow!" The taxi swung onto Forty-ninth from Sixth, just in time for an enormous burst of purple-white light to shoot out from between two buildings. "I think Peter got started without us!"
Egon shoved a handful of bills at the driver as the cab screeched to a halt. "Keep the change," he said tersely. "Come on, Winston."
Winston had his proton pack on and powered up by the time they reached the police barricade. "Okay, we made it," he said to the nearest officer. "What've we missed?"
"Everything, I think," said the cop, whose eyes were firmly on the Tree-
Well. No. Not so much the Tree as the giant robot standing next to it.
And maybe not so much the giant robot as the unbearably smug-looking (if somewhat slimy) Ghostbuster standing a good thirty feet or more above ground on the robot's uplifted palm, holding up a smoking trap for all the world to see.
"I wanna pick him up myself," said Ecto stubbornly. "I just wish all these people would get out of the way."
"You and me both, kid, but it ain't happening." Peter shook his head. "You sure we can't just head east and get on the FDR?"
"The traffic's even worse there. It's just that there's less stupid people," said Ecto. The steering wheel jerked under Peter's hands as the car swung herself aside to avoid a pedestrian who'd stopped and changed direction halfway through crossing the street. "Stupid stupid stupid stupid-"
"Hey, as much as I agree with you, that kind of talk isn't gonna help," Peter said. "Just take a deep breath, or whatever it is you do, and relax, okay? This is Christmas in New York. It's not gonna get any better until the twenty-sixth."
Ecto heaved a sigh and flicked her radio on. After a few riffling searches she settled on a station playing what sounded like classical Christmas stuff. "-rising of the sun and the running of the deer-"
"There you go," said Peter. "Okay, now, if we can just-"
Peter's cell phone went off. "Huh boy," he muttered. "Ecto, can you turn on the handsfree for me?"
"Sure."
"Dr. Venkman? Ecto?" came Janine's voice. "We gotta problem."
"What kind of a problem, Janine? I'm up to my ass in tourists right now."
"Well, put on a couple of platform shoes, because we got an emergency call up on Forty-ninth."
"Forty-ninth- oh, no."
"Oh, yeah."
"Oh, no no no, Janine, no-"
"Sorry, Dr. V-"
"No, Janine, do not tell me we have to go to Rockefeller Center for this!"
"Hey, if it's any comfort, Egon seems to think you should be able to get it wrapped up before he and Winston arrive."
"Not cool, Janine, not cool!" But Ecto was already plotting her course.
"Oh, this is even better than I'd imagined," Peter said dryly as Ecto pulled up alongside the police barricades. "All right, just what seems to be the problem, Officer?"
The police officer slid her hat back with one hand and let out a sigh. "This one kid on the rink started doing pirouettes in one place," she said. "The management figured she was gonna gouge a hole in the ice, but when one of their people went out to stop her, they couldn't. She was spinning like a helicopter rotor and she just kept getting faster- and then there was this huge green light and something blew up out of the ice under her feet."
"Is she okay?" asked Peter. He glanced sideways briefly as something moved in the corner of his vision, but it was just one of Ecto's instrument panels as the car started scanning. "They got her out, right?"
"Just barely. The kid's completely covered in slime and screaming for her mother."
"Story of my life," said Peter. "Okay, so, Skippy the Slime Monster wants to ruin Christmas. That's when the building people called, right?"
"Right. We called for the Spook Squad, got everybody out and cordoned off the area. We didn't think you'd get here ahead of them."
"We were in the neighborhood and figured we'd stop by," said Peter. "Can you show me where Skippy went?"
"That's not gonna be necessary, Uncle Peter," said Ecto. "He's in the Tree."
The cop stared at the car, but Peter only frowned a little. "In the Tree?" he repeated. "How in are we talking here? Just in the branches, right? Please tell me just in the branches."
"Um..."
"Skippy the Slime Monster possessed the Tree?" Peter clapped a hand over his face. "Great, that's all we need."
"No, no, it's not that bad!" Ecto hastily reassured him. "He's up top, sorta circling. It's all right. I just don't know what your proton stream is gonna do if it hits the star."
Peter froze. He'd seen that thing before they put it on top of the tree. Anything that had that many crystals, facets, and other reflective surfaces was serious bad mojo when it came to being zapped. "Oh, man," he said. "One wrong zap and the whole area's toast, isn't it?"
"Maybe," said Ecto uncertainly. "Maybe not. It depends on how much it's moving when it hits."
The proton throwers tended to thrash around like firehoses under the best of circumstances. A strike from street level on a star designed to be as reflective and refractive as possible would result in so much proton scatter that Peter would have to start using Egon's vocabulary to describe it. "That's not good," was all he said instead.
"No, it's not," Ecto agreed. "But I think I have an idea, if the police don't mind."
"Huh? Mind what?" said the cop, blinking; she had one of those 'your car can talk, why can your car talk' expressions.
"Oh, no," said Peter, who was a little quicker than the cop. "Ecto, you know how I get about heights."
"Uh, the building windows don't open, Dr. Venkman," said the cop.
"She's not talking about the window," Peter said grimly. "Are you, Ecto."
"Mmmnope," said the car. If Peter didn't know better he'd swear it was grinning.
"Man, screw this- we'd make better time in a pedicab," grumbled Winston under his breath. "Or the subway."
"I hardly think that our proton packs would be welcome on the subway at this time of year, Winston," said Egon. "The MTA already has issues with people carrying ordinary bags that don't fit on their laps. A taxi was the only viable alternative."
"Yeah, but with this kind of traffic I'm surprised we- holy cow!" The taxi swung onto Forty-ninth from Sixth, just in time for an enormous burst of purple-white light to shoot out from between two buildings. "I think Peter got started without us!"
Egon shoved a handful of bills at the driver as the cab screeched to a halt. "Keep the change," he said tersely. "Come on, Winston."
Winston had his proton pack on and powered up by the time they reached the police barricade. "Okay, we made it," he said to the nearest officer. "What've we missed?"
"Everything, I think," said the cop, whose eyes were firmly on the Tree-
Well. No. Not so much the Tree as the giant robot standing next to it.
And maybe not so much the giant robot as the unbearably smug-looking (if somewhat slimy) Ghostbuster standing a good thirty feet or more above ground on the robot's uplifted palm, holding up a smoking trap for all the world to see.
