Day 1

[captainryan]

Ryan’s eyes open and he stumbles at the sudden change in scenery. Already reaching for his sidearm, it comes out on instinct, safety off and pointed up. He blinks again, nostrils flaring, to be sure he really isn’t hallucinating and, yes, he is in a wide open field. Except it’s oddly flat and smooth, and very, very colourful. He twists his neck, scanning his surroundings, absolutely dumbfounded by the two-dimensional cows.

“Moooooo!”

He growls and shoots the bovine a glare and it decides that that end of the pasture would be much healthier for it.

But how - the angel. Son of a bitch. It transported him here, wherever here is. He looks around again, seeing nothing but the field and the huddled cows at the far end. He’s still taken aback by the flatness of everything, more so than the bright colours (though those are close to giving him a headache). It’s like watching a picture move, or an animated show on the telly. At least everything smells normal, if unfamiliar, and there’s even the scent of humans and civilization emanating from…somewhere.

He has to get back to Milliways and Suzi and Deitmar. And once he’s made sure that they’re all right, and they know he’s all right, he’s going to take a sledgehammer to that fucking statue, rules be damned.

But one bridge at a time. He has to find a Door, first. He puts up his weapon and starts walking towards the scent of humans.

He’d run, but he’s not yet used to moving in a cartoon world.

Two fields over, Ryan finds a road and a signpost. "Nassburg," he reads aloud, frowning at his lack of recognition and the lack of a posted distance. Still, a town is a town and it doesn't smell all that far off.

Comments

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It's not that far away, which is good, because even today it's still a woefully small town a ridiculous distance away from any of the major highways. It's the sort of town where there are:

- two or three places selling what they bill as Antiques, in an effort to keep people's stuff in circulation;
- a small bookstore with a selection of a few new books and an awful lot of used ones;
- a grocery, selling mass-market goods down the left side and local produce, dairy, and bread down the right;
- a bar, with a faded green-and-gold sign proclaiming it to be Spengler's;
- the St. Matthew's United Methodist Church, where the sign out front says that Congregation Beth-El meets there on Saturdays, too;
- and a farm supply place selling tractor parts, horse harnesses, and a number of nasty chemical things in drums.

And the houses, of course, but the commercial part of town is all clustered up in one place.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan pauses outside of town to pull his shirt out of trousers and hide his sidearm. He's reluctant to do even that much, but he has no way to prove that he has a license for it. And, well, he doesn't. He never wore the weapon in civvies until he came to Milliways.

Thankfully, the shirt is more than long enough to conceal the weapon. That done, he heads into town, keeping his eyes open. He needs a door, preferably one that nobody else will be using. He's aware, though, that the Door doesn't open just anywhere and that it's possibly that it won't show up.

The thought does not cheer him and he has no desire to stand about opening and closing a door repeatedly.

And he still has no idea where he is, though he's fairly certain this isn't England. Of course, with everything being animated, he could be completely wrong. He eyes the various shops along the street, deciding which would be best to pretend to ask for directions at.

Eventually he decides upon the pub, partly because he could really use a drink (not that he has any money or forms of identification) and partly because pubs are the best place to get information from the locals.

He pulls open the door to find a bar on the other side, just not the bar he wanted. With the frown on his face settling a little more firmly, he steps inside.

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It's a little early in the day for the place to be very busy, but it's a good small-town bar- by American standards. The bar proper is to the left, and looks clean enough and well-cared for, with the usual assortment of bottles behind it. To the right is the unmistakable sound of pinball machines, one being played, one in idle mode. At the far end of the room (it's only got one apparent room, rather longer than it is wide) are three men playing pool. As for the bar proper, there's a skinny, somewhat over-tanned woman behind it, in her late thirties by the look of her, and one man in a blue-and-red Rangers cap working on a beer at the far end.

The woman behind the bar glances up as the door opens, but waits for it to close before saying, "Welcome to Spengler's, stranger. What can I get you?" The accent is American- not, thankfully, the drawling sprawling mess of an accent you get in the Southern states, but the still somewhat rural-sounding speech of New York outside of the immediate city area.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan's eyes adjust quickly to the change in light, nostrils flaring slightly at the new scents. He recognizes the accent easily, mood lightening a shade now that he has some idea where he is. He sweeps over those present in the bar before turning to the lady who spoke to him, meeting her eyes while blinking. He's quite aware that this is new territory, and he licks his lips before offering a small, close-lipped smile to the 'tender. It's in no way sincere, but neither is it false.

"Good afternoon, madam," he offers, not hiding his own accent. It helps with the story he thought of while on the road. "I'm afraid I'm a bit lost." That comes out slightly annoyed, but he keeps the smile on his face for the lady's sake. No reason to upset the people he's trying to get information from.

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"We get that a lot around here," says the woman. "Ever since they changed the Thruway exit for Highway 9, two years back. Where you headed, Poughkeepsie or Albany?"

"There's other places, Joan," says the man in the Rangers hat. "He could be going back to New York for all you know."

"That's the same directions as the way back to Poughkeepsie-"

The tender and the patron start arguing over the quickest way back to New York City. One might notice a few things over the bar here, back among the liquor bottles: photographs of some of the locals, news clippings about the high school football team, and a somewhat yellowed but still quite legible front page article from the Nassburg Examiner about a Ghostbusters visit to the town about a year back.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He doesn't recognize either of the first two towns, but New York rings several bells. Now he has a very good idea of where he is, and starts scanning the walls for a map. The photos and newspaper clippings are ignored, except for the one with 'Ghostbusters' jumping off the front page. Brows raising in surprise then furrowing in thought, he walks up to the bar to peer over it at the paper. The fonts still a bit too small to read easily, but the date is more than apparent.

But that's only helpful if he knew what today was.

"When were the Ghostbusters here?" he asks loud enough to break through the noisy Americans' conversation. More importantly, do they still have their number?

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Joan looks up from the argument. "Last August. You should've seen it. Weirdest thing I've ever seen- they came in with that car of theirs, and a helicopter, and a dragon. Seriously. Big scaly thing breathing blue fire and everything."

"Stupid-looking, though," comments the man in the hat.

"Hey, when you're the size of a barn and breathe fire, you don't have to look smart either. Anyway- like I said, last August, up at Old Man Spengler's farm. You got a long way to go from here if that's who you're looking for. Wanna use the phone?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

We're in a cartoon, Ryan wants to say. Everything looks a bit stupid.

Instead he says with the same smile, "Please. I must be quite turned around." It's 1987 and he's animated. Turned around is putting it mildly. "Do you have their number?"

It occurs to him that the Dr. Stantz he knows and the one here are probably not the same. Still, it's probably his best chance of getting home.

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"Yeah, sure," says Joan, and hands over a business card. Well, at least it resembles the one Dr. Stantz uses, it's just... cartoonish.

Huzzah?

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's still not used to the cartoon thing, but he does take the card.

And stares at it, hiding his irritation. "I'm sorry," he admits, the smile slightly plastered on his face, "but I'm not quite sure how to dial this. The number system is different in England."

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Joan gives a small, wry smile, dials the number, and hands the phone to the stranger. Three rings later, the phone gets picked up.

"Ghostbusters," says a somewhat nasal woman's voice. "If you've got the slime, we've got the time. What can we do for ya?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Cheers," Ryan says as Joan dials, keeping his tone friendly.

He arches an eyebrow at Janine's greeting, but answers none the less. "Yes, I'd like to speak to Dr. Stanz, please, regarding Milliways." He gives the tender another plastered smile before turning slightly away from her. "This is Captain Richard Ryan."

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"Just a minute," says Janine, and the phone gets handed off. There's a few moments' quiet, and then a male voice- not the one Ryan knows- speaks up.

"This is Dr. Ray Stantz," it says. "How can I help you, Captain?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's taken aback by the unknown voice, but it only confirms his earlier thought. He scowls at the mouthpiece.

"I'm afraid I need your assistance. Are you at all aware of Milliways Bar?" Best to start with the simple things first.

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"Oh, sure," says the voice cheerfully. (Dear God, he sounds even more perky and energetic than the one Ryan knows.) "I've been there lots of times. Generally when the other me's in an alternate universe, since we can't seem to exist in the same universe at the same time. I take it you're one of the other patrons?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"This happens to you often?" Ryan says blankly before shaking his head. "Never mind. Yes, I'm another patron. I was transported here via," he glances at Joan, "unconventional methods. Would you be so kind as to open a Door for me?" he requests, the irritation in his voice plain.

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"I can try," says Ray. "I'm not nearly as good at it as the other me, though. Fair warning. Where are you now?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That is something he did not want to hear, but at least Stantz is willing to try.

"Nassburg. I believe it's near New York," he answers.

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"... huh boy," says Ray, and then half-covers the mouthpiece of the phone. "Egon! EGON! Guess where we're going!" A moment later, at full volume: "We'll come get you. It, uh, it's probably going to be easier back in the city. I'd offer the use of our philotic portal but we sort of disassembled it for other research- anyway, we can sure try, if you don't mind waiting for us to come pick you up and get you back to the city. Okay?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Fine," Ryan bites on the word. It's not as though he has much choice in the matter. "It doesn't look like I'm going anywhere. I'll be waiting in Spengler's pub. And...thank you."

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"Oh, you're welcome," says Ray. "See you in about an hour."

About an hour later- there's not that much traffic this time of day- there's a sound of something fairly large pulling to a stop outside, and four men's voices. Also, a fifth voice, perhaps a small boy's, cheerfully babbling in something that doesn't sound like English.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan keeps an idly eye on the pool game for the hour, but politely shuts down any conversation sent his way. At the sound of the car, he stands and nods once to Joan and her patrons before heading outside.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," he greets, still plenty irked at the entire situation. He doesn't recognize any one of the men, but at least Stantz' scent is familiar. That and the sickeningly sweet scent emanating from a floating green blob.

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Yeah, he really wouldn't. The orange-haired fellow in the tan jumpsuit steps forward. "Captain Ryan?" says Ray with a smile. "I'm Dr. Stantz. This-" He gestures to the dark-haired man in the brown jumpsuit. "Is Dr. Venkman, this-" The blond, with the hair that defies most of the laws of nature, and the blue jumpsuit. "Is Dr. Spengler, and this-" The black man in the white jumpusuit. "Is Winston Zeddemore. And this little guy-" The green blob waves, does an Immelman loop, and babbles excitedly. "Is Slimer. Don't worry, he'll be riding on the roof on the way home. I hope we didn't k eep you waiting too long?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He nods at each of the men in turn (Slimer is warily eyed), noticing that Venkman's scent is also familiar. He'd forgotten that he'd done a mission with the man's counterpart.

"No longer than I expected," Ryan answers, "but the sooner I can return to Milliways, the better." He shows a few teeth in something similar to a smile. "There's a statue I need to destroy."

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Ray nods. "Okay," he says readily.

"Statue?" says Dr. Spengler, stepping forward with a curious expression. "What sort of statue? I don't recall the Bar having any particular statuary the last time I was there. Then again, it has been some time."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Cartoons. It keeps occurring to him he's in a cartoon. This is possibly the strangest experience Ryan has yet had.

"A newer addition to the bar, though it's not truly a statue. For one, it's capable of movement, but only does so when no one looks at it. And its touch transports you to a world not your own," Ryan informs him grimly. "Hence my presence here. Which I would like to end as soon as possible." A not so subtle reminder that he'd like to get moving. Besides, they can always ask him more questions in the car.

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Egon nods. "Of course," he says. "Right this way, Captain."

They get into the car; Winston's driving, though Ray's in the front seat. Egon and Peter shuffle back and forth a moment before Peter wins, and Egon has to sit in the middle. The seat directly behind the driver is offered to Ryan, and once everyone is settled in and seatbelts are on, they're on their way.

"Captain," says Egon as the car starts and they head on their way (Slimer, true to form, is hanging onto the equiment on top of the car, "I think we need to hear some more about these statues, if you have any further information available. There've been a few cases of similar accidents occurring in the past with supposedly 'enchanted' statuary, but I've never heard of it happening at Milliways."

Ray twists around in his seat to get a better chance at listening. Peter? He's just trying to sleep.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan can totally climb in a car crowded with people he doesn't know!

He's cracking open the window, though.

"It's a female angel, usually seen with her eyes covered as though she were crying. The statue's large, taller than myself. As I said, they only move when they're not being looked at, but they move very quickly," he rumbles slightly. "It was across the room when I blinked and found my self in the middle of a field surrounded by cows."

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"Hm. That sounds familiar," says Egon thoughtfully.

"Yeah, Egon," Peter interjects. "That's what the ghosts in Super Mario Brothers do, remember?"

"You know I don't play video games other than Tetris, Peter."

"Too bad. You should try it sometime. Might loosen you up a bit."

"Was there any noise or feeling of disorientation involved?" Ray asks in the meantime. "Any sense at all of something unusual happening or about to happen?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Other than the realization that I was in a completely unknown world? No." He doesn't mention the cartoon bit. "It's instantaneous transport, as far as I can tell, between one blink and the next."

Stupid angels.

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"Fascinating," says Egon, simultaneously with Peter- who still has his eyes closed. Egon darts a glare across Ryan at Peter, who just smirks.

"You're predictable, Egon, what can I say?"

"I'm not talking to you, Peter."

"Aw."

"Captain?" says Ray. "Normally we don't see people teleported across entire worlds by the action of spirits and ghosts. If someone gets sent somewhere else, it's usually to another dimension, but it's one that's connected to their own world. Would you mind very much if I tried to get a preliminary PKE reading on you?" He holds up the PKE meter. "I promise it won't hurt. I won't even have to touch you."

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Ryan frowns. "You may, but I strongly doubt you'll have anything to compare it to." He didn't expect this to come up, but if it could help...

"I'm a deceased werewolf," he explains neutrally.

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Egon and Ray exchange glances. Peter opens one eye. "You look pretty good, for a zombie," he says. "Nice trick."

"He's not a zombie, Peter," says Egon with some asperity. "Milliways has a limited capacity for bestowing solid, working bodies on the dead. Captain, I don't mean to alarm you, but this changes matters somewhat."

Ray has the PKE meter out and the scan running already. "What was the limit last time you checked, Egon? Three days, right?"

"Approximately, yes."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan snaps to attention, spine ramrod straight. What had been reserved anger, irritation, and annoyance is now morphing into concern and wariness.

"Three days for what?" he asks, nostrils flaring on instinct.

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"The morphic field extended to the otherwise spiritual dead by the Bar is only persistent because of the constant influx of energy from the Bar's own standing mana field," says Egon as Ray examines the meter. "Those of the dead who leave the Bar's bounds begin losing physical coherency after thirty-six hours. There are ways of reinforcing the morphic field, but we haven't had the opportunity to test that on a Milliways subject yet."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Lose physical coherency? Meaning what?" snaps the stressed werewolf. He really doesn't like the sound of that.

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"Meaning you start fading out and 'going ghost', so to speak," says Ray. "Okay, I think I've got all the numbers I'm going to get."

"Don't worry, Captain. Between Dr. Stantz and myself, one or the other of us ought to be able to get you back to the Bar long before the Milliways limit comes into play."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

The limit's never been an issue before. Ryan has, quite obviously, never even heard of it before.

The thought of fading away frightens him.

Except for a flicker, though, it doesn't show. "Thank you. I appreciate it."