gone_byebye | (no subject)

Mid-January, 2008
RCMP/Ministry of Extraordinary Threats Emergency Hangar
Alert, Nunavut, CA

Even in times of the highest tension and most danger, people find ways to keep themselves busy, and neither the Ghostbusters nor the men and women of the world's northern watch bureaus were any great exception. "Ray? Ray! Ray, check it out." Venkman shook his friend's shoulder. "Egon's in a fight with one of the Inquanok guys."

Ray opened an eye and glanced sideways. Several of the Danish contingent and a couple of the Pohjola Project's Sami members were gathered in a semicircle centered on Egon and a broad-faced, dark-eyed man in Danish uniform. "Wow. Spengs is looking kinda..."

"Green," Winston finished for both of them. "That's freaky. What are they fighting about?"

"The worst thing they've ever eaten," said Venkman. "Eske's winning."

Ray and Winston exchanged glances. They both knew Egon's eating habits. "How?" Ray finally asked.

"That's not food," Egon suddenly said, loud enough to be heard over the snickering Greenlanders. "That's biological waste. You can't consider anything with that level of ammonia in it to qualify as edible."

"This from the man who admits to eating casu marzu," said his opponent with the serene smile of a man who knows he's won. "Hákarl is nothing-"

Winston shook his head. Ray gave up on the possibility of a nap and stood up. "Has anyone seen where Captain Korpan went?" he asked, and one of the Finns pointed. "Thank you."

He found the Canadian in the tiny office attached to the hangar, one hand pressing his headset against his ear and the other taking frantic notes. As Ray walked in Korpan lifted his eyes, winced, and held up a piece of paper that read:

Magnetic fields flaring
Deep ones report Russian helicopter near 82.7° N 114.4° W
Radio comms dorppinng like brick

A moment later Korpan scribbled one last line:

Dammit, I can spell. Marines on the way. Tell the others. We're going in.

Ray shuddered, nodded, and went in search of a better door.

[OOC: Assume everyone will be arriving from Milliways within five minutes of each other. Also, don't click on the food links above if you have a weak stomach.]

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"I can," he says with utter confidence. "But it requires sacrifice. The blood of three need to be spilled to power the spell. And their souls will be trapped in the spell, used to power and guide it, unless it is broken again." He looks down at them, still hovering. "Virgins are best for it, too. And volunteers make it better - adds power to the spell." He can be serious.

"But we don't have a lot of time, so..."

Lua'al-rei looks at the nearest chunk of Dagon.

(There are three proton streams now- no, four. Ray's back on his feet. Unfortunately they're not aimed at the rifts, because things not-quite-perceptible have started coming through, and if someone doesn't take the Space Eaters down at least temporarily, no one will be left even after the rifts are closed.)

"Four hundred thousand years," he suddenly says. "Four hundred thousand years we've lived here, in this world, in these oceans. Without him. Three thousand generations and more we've been born and lived and died here, without him. We are our own people and this- this-" He kicks at the chunk, and it quivers vilely. "This would have snuffed out every last one of our lives from here to the Middle Waters for being lacking in his eyes! Well, to the cesspits with you, humanfucker! Never again!"

Pause.

"No offense meant by the 'humanfucker' thing... but give me a moment, I'll go get two more volunteers."

"None taken," he assures Lua'al-rei. "I've banged some mermaids and fishwomen in my time. As long as they're sexy, I don't care where they came from."

Because that's how things go with Dark Schneider, his cloak falls out of the sky onto his shoulders, fixing that nudity thing through comedy.

"I'll start preparing. It's not an easy spell to cast and I need to focus." He puts his hands together in front of his chest, fingers intertwined, and starts his focusing technique. Behind him, the Red Sword of the Efreet fades into view, hovering behind him.

There are some things that are beautiful.

A tree in the light of a rising sun. A beach, tranquil and empty. A litter of kittens curled against their mother. A newborn child.

All poetic tripe aside, there was nothing about the pissed off, irritated, blood-lusting Alorn king who has just noticed that there's some more things that the Universe has provided for him to vent his irritation on that was 'beautiful'. But on the other hand, the veritable dance as said Alorn king dove into the frey in the midst of beserker rage?

That was damn pretty.

If only for the dive and swoop and slash and spin of the massive blue-flamed sword.

The ground troops would be having a much worse time of it if there wasn't a Man in Black unleashing a constant barrage of white-hot plasma in what seems three directions at once.

K has finally found something more entertaining than a demon-bunny hunt. The Yuggoth back in his dimension is going to be getting one hell of a visit sometime soon.

Meanwhile, he's doing his level best to depopulate the one in this dimension. And blasting a few Children of Yig when one of the Marines gets himself in a bind.

"Ray! How long before you gents plan on closing that damn rift?"

Shame, really. But all good things...

"Wait for it," Ray calls, aiming for one of the faster and nastier things diving towards Garion's head. "Wait for it..."

"I'm getting a little tired of waiting, Ray!" answers Egon, who at this point is not only firing enough protons to make Edward Teller go 'oh, I say, do that again' but has taken to kicking the parasitic spider things that come too near.

"... and... now."

Four purple-orange-white streams of atomic fire smash into the central rift all at once, and space in the immediate vicinity begins to ripple furiously. The air itself suddenly seems to pucker as the spell matrices involved reach the point of overload and start to come apart.

Dark Schneider, however, has met the other two willing sacrifices. After a brief discussio, they took their places and waited. He began to chant, loud enough to be heard over the wind, the monsters, and the weaponry.

And suddenly, louder than all of them, came three sounds in quick succession, like someone chopping an apple in half with a single blow.

Brilliant light sprang up into the air, three streams, that intertwined and then lanced back down, into the ice without leaving a trace.

Those who are closest can see the three streams of light as three Deep Ones; at the top of the arc, before diving down, they flip Father Dagon's world the bird, and drop down to seal the largest of the rifts.

And Dark Schneider drops to his knees, and then his face as he passes out from exhaustion.

The battle goes on, even as the spells fly to pieces and the rifts snap shut- first one, then the next, then the next. There are still monstrosities on this side, but there are no reinforcements now and no avenue of retreat. Just the endless polar ice, and a lot of very angry humans, both arcane and mundane, with very long distance weaponry.

As things start to lose their nerve and break and run (and a couple of the Deep Ones get the fallen Exploder Wizard off the ice and over to the nearest Scandinavian contingent), Ray takes a moment to push back his hood and wipe his brow on his sleeve. "Looks like I owe Ecto that raise in her allowance after all," he says to no one in particular.

"You have won this round, Stantz." the not-a-whisper is for Ray's ears only, as is the feeling of heated breath against his cheek; the over-all effect being that of someone standing far, far too close to his back, "How slowly do the stars move?"

( I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend / the rest of your nights with the light on... )

"Guuuuuuuuuh."

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