Bohemian Rhapsody

Written by CJ Bacon; Edited by Rob Smith

Act II

Chapter 3: My Friend Who Died

"When they told me who was here, I wasn't sure I should believe it." Brian said when he walked upstairs. "Holy shit--its been too long." He was laughing.

Sitting in the upstairs library with his back turned towards the door was a slender young gentleman with combed back dark hair, no different from Brian's, except it was thinner and unkempt. When he heard Dr. Roig enter the room, he turned around and grinned.

"I thought the same thing when I found out how you make a living these days", Jayson Riddle said as he patted Brian on the back in a familial embrace. "It's good to see you, Tons-of-fun." Things had changed since Brian last saw Riddle. He had appeared to be an unhealthy young man. His complexion was pale, as stringy dark hair carelessly hung over his visage. He was nearly the same age as Brian, and yet the lines that crisscrossed his face gave the impression that he was older.

"You know I've always hated that name", Brian jovially corrected his guest.

"Are we missing anything?" CJ asked as he poked his head in. "Otherwise, I could order Chinese."

"No, its okay. Tell everyone to come in." Once all the members of Doom Patrol were in the room, Brian stood to the side.

"Guys", he said. "This is Jayson Robert Riddle. We were roommates at Rutgers State University and later pursued foreign studies for a good while in Tibet." He turned back to his guest. Riddle extended his hands to the team; both of them were gloved in dark leather, causing the handshake to feel uneven, but still firm.

"Brian is modest, but I didn't stay there long. I had other endeavors to tend to overseas at the time," he said with an aristocratic calm and a hint of a mournful tone in his voice, "Though, I lost my love for the mystical arts."

"Yeah right!" Brian laughed. "The Old Master said you had all the makings of a Magus."

"Haggis?" Andrew asked raising an eyebrow.

"Magus", Riddle responded amused by the misunderstanding. " It's a meaningless title given to those who have mastered all forms of mysticism and magic in the known world. Its just a load of crock really."

"Ah, I see. Well, it's evident that you're Brian's guest and we don't want to impose on your reunion. We were on our way out the door. The rest of you, let's go feed CJ before he goes crazy. You know what happens past midnight."

"Oh, right, a Gremlin joke. How nice", CJ groaned. Rob laughed as they closed the door to the library.

* * *

"There's a restaurant in Chinatown that you might want to check out if you have a taste for General Tso's Chicken--Jade Harbor--it's open till 2AM", Rob suggested to CJ as they followed behind the others down the stairs. They passed Erin in the stairwell as she was carrying folders in her arms to place back in her desk before she left for the night and asked if she wanted anything back from the restaurant. She declined. Rob and CJ headed to the garage, while Andrew and Salina left through the front door of the building.

Once outside, Salina pulled Andrew aside.

"Is it me", she said, "or did that guy seem, I don't know, um…"

"I was getting that vibe too", he replied. "He was nervous about something."

"And what about that handshake? Did you feel how cold it was? I thought I was shaking hands with a skeleton."

"Metal", Andrew said as he hailed a taxi.

"Come again?" She asked.

"That's what it felt like. Metallic. There is no hand there."

"That's a unique assumption, Andrew. And you surmised that just by touch?" Salina asked, as Andrew turned and faced her.

"My father got his right arm shot clean off during the Vietnam War shortly before Nixon signed The Paris Peace Accords in '73. Everytime he put his hand on any of us, it felt like being touched by a Terminator."

"That's...healthy for a child", Salina said.

"Yeah. On Halloween he'd trick the neighborhood kids by pulling that arm off", Andrew said, trying again to hail a cab. It was close to 10PM.

"Charming."

Rob pulled up around the corner in his used 4-door 2002 Ford F150 with CJ in tow. "Are you sure you two don't want a ride with us? It's no trouble."

"Thanks, but we're good. I'm showing Ms. Duran there's actually a city out there beyond our library." Andrew half-grinned.

She looked at her shoes ruefully. "I lost a bet"

* * *

The door to the library closed behind the two old friends. Inexplicably, the feeling of elation disappeared from the room once Jayson and Brian faced each other. His look flickered from Brian as he wandered around the room, trailing his gloved hand along the stacks of books. Brian studied these movements and noticed, if only for a moment, that he had seen them once before six years earlier in Tibet.

"Something's wrong isn't it?" He asked, sitting down on the couch opposite where Riddle had just been. Dr. Roig looked down at the carpet and laughed silently as he remembered the time CJ had overloaded a PKE meter and dropped it. It had melted itself onto the floor. Nobody had really done a good job of cleaning up the mess, but it did prove to be a bit odd when someone noticed the stain.

Riddle looked up from the book he had just pulled down from the shelf. It was Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.

"Why do you ask?"

Brian sighed. "As glad as I am to see you, man, most of my friends don't usually drop by after nearly six years just to say 'hi'. They usually send something telling me they're coming, you know? It's called mail."

Riddle replied. "After all this time, I can say the thing I missed most about you was your witty sense of humor." He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf.

Brian said. "So what can I really do for you, Jay?"

Riddle stuck a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a ledger. He handed it to Brian.

"Here", he said. Brian looked at him quizzically as he opened it. Inside, there were newspaper clippings of various articles. However, their language ranged from Middle Eastern to Japanese.

"And this is?" Brian asked while thumbing through them all. "I don't understand"

"Sorry. I forgot how you never learned to speak foreign languages. You really should learn one of these days."

"Well, lately, I'm starting to grasp ASL (American Sign Language)."

Riddle took the ledger back from Brian and pulled out one of the clippings; it was written in Chinese. "Brian, do you remember Eddie Franklin?"

Brian thought on this for a few seconds. "The weird guy with the big glasses? Yeah, I guess."

"You remember how he moved to Beijing after his training?"

"Yeah. Look, what does all this have to do with..."

"He's dead."

Brian stopped talking and looked at Riddle, confusion on his face. "Dead?" was all he could say. An expressionless Riddle nodded.

"Quite. The Beijing police have ruled it as a suicide, as he was found in the Yongdong River. Or I should say his body flowed right into the city from the South."

Brian shook his head, the words still trailing. Eddie Franklin may have been odd, but he was a kind guy who was always full of big ideas. Mysticism wasn't his thing, but he still took it up to know what it was all about. Open-minded and intelligent, Franklin didn't seem the type to kill himself.

Still sitting down, he looked up and saw Riddle pull a cigarette out of the inside of his jacket pocket. He offered it to Brian, to which he declined. Unphased, Riddle used it for himself and lit it with a Zippo he'd carried in his pants pocket.

"Franklin's not the only one", Riddle said. "There are seven more from the Order that made headlines in the Obituaries. In Thailand, Cecilia Bones was another...they couldn't take a picture of her for the forensics labs because the photographer kept getting sick."

"Why was he getting sick?"

"Ol Bonesy's entire stomach had apparently liquidated all the way through the ground. It was like looking into a giant mucous hole." Brian had suddenly gone pale with the thought of that image in his imagination. Getting up, he went over towards the little refrigerator in the room and pulled out a glass of water.

Riddle looked on.

"I'm fine", Brian said. "Just the details of it all. I know I should have a stronger stomach in my line of work, but all the same that's gross. So...Franklin and Cecilia are dead? Accidents?"

Riddle continued and shut the ledger hard. "That's what the police wants the general public to think. They don't see the connections."

"What connections?"

"These seven people were all members of the Order. You're aware of Bones and Franklin, of course, because they studied with us. But the others were also members at one point in their lives. Take John Welles: prominent British aristocrat, lover of the fine arts...and a heart for black magic. A fire ravaged his entire home. He wasn't found, but the likelihood he survived is lower than Einstein's 4th grad math scores. He was also a member during the 1940's era of The Order," Riddle said flipping through the ledger again until he found a new subject. "How about Stuart Potts? He was strung up to a tree. That didn't kill him, but what did was a harpoon impaled through his abdomen. The Welsh papers actually have that picture of him hanging from that fir tree when he was found."

"Please...stop..."

"You're beginning to see it now aren't you? These people had one thing in common and that is that they were all members of The Order of Ra. And the reason I'm here is not to tell you horror stories. I'm here to warn you."

Brian's eyebrow's shot up. "Warn...me? Why?"

Riddle sighed. "Please try to understand. There is somebody killing members of the Order of Ra. I said they weren't random; the murderer obviously knew who he or she was looking for and caught these people off guard and knew how to isolate their powers and kill them. The bloody wanker..." Riddle stopped and took another long drag from his cigarette, "knew how to get into my head."

Whatever doubts Brian had moments before were cast out. Riddle had learned how to keep his mind shut from outside influences years earlier...it was one of the things that made him such a wonder pupil at their former monastery in Bangladesh. By using this technique, nothing--and no one-- could manipulate him.

And that was what Brian feared. No matter what monsters he had faced in his profession as a Ghostbuster, no matter what dangers he had put himself in, and no matter how many times he had faced death...he did not want to face the Jayson Riddle he had once known years ago.

Riddle continued. "The murderer was somewhere around me when I was in Turkestan following up my theories. I felt that presence; I could sense it. And you might think of me a bit daft for saying this, Brian, but I actually wanted whoever is doing this to follow me."

Brian's face was expressionless.

"I swear to God," Riddle continued. "I knew it was foolish, but what other options did I have? I know I'm powerful, though we both know full well that my abilities aren't as they were years ago. But whoever was able to kill the others has power on a very grand level to be able to do what he or she did. And if it was this easy to do that to the others, then for all intents and purpose I should also be dead and never should have left Asia alive."

"Unless the killer wanted you to live and deliver a message to me", Brian said softly. Now it was Riddle's turn to be confused.

"Elaborate."

"Earlier today, we stopped a demon poltergeist from taking possession of a kid up in the suburbs. Before we toasted him, he took me into some kind of dark void..."

"He used your shatterpoint against you didn't he?"

"Yeah. He was giving me all this stuff about how he wanted to talk to me. And then he said a funny thing. When I asked him what he was, he...he told me to ask you."

Riddle dropped his lighter on the floor next to the stain the PKE had left behind on the carpet, his cigarette now hanging from his lips. "Me? What the hell would a demon know about me?"

"I don't know", Brian said. He wanted to add But I think you probably do, but in respect to the levity of the present situation, it wasn't the time to bring that up. The two of them stood there for a few minutes.

"Jay, how long are you in town for and…how exactly did you find me?" Brian asked. "I never kept a permanent address."

"I know. Which didn't make it easy. We lost touch over the years, but I came into a bit of luck in Great Britain while looking into the death of John Welles. I man by the name of Ben King directed me to you."

"Ben King?" Brian tried to remember, but the name didn't register. "I can say for certain, I'm not familiar with that name. Should I know him?"

"Perhaps not", Riddle replied. "But he is somewhat familiar with you--being that you're both in the same field of business. Our paths crossed as we were investigating the same murder. A prominent sorcerer dies in the United Kingdom and it's likely to attract the Ghostbusters. I needed to find you and your name came up in conversation. As he told me, your group's appearance on television a few years ago attracted his attention, and he in turn remembered who you were. It was quite a pleasant and unexpected coincidence. "

"Small world."

Riddle Smiled. "But to answer your other question, it doesn't really matter where I'm staying. I'm mobile, remember?"

"That's right. Well, if you want to stay here for a while--you know, till I can figure out this whole thing--you can. I don't think the guys would mind."

"If its no offense, I'd rather not. I don't want my responsibilities to compromise their lives", Riddle said grabbing his coat off the couch. "I have a place on the west side of town. Besides", he said grinning. "Who's going to be keeping an eye on you?"

Brian punched Riddle in the shoulder. "You don't have to go so soon. My car is in the garage. You didn't meet the guys properly enough. Before he left, Rob told me he was going to Jade's Harbor; that isn't too far from here, that is, if you want to come along. We can catch up with them later. Until then, what do you say about us taking a ride around South Street and catching up on old times?"

Riddle looked at him for a moment. Brian noticed that a faint glint sparked in his near-pale eyes.

"That would be good", Riddle said. "I haven't had a bite since I arrived. What do the locals eat around here?" Brian perked up at the question he knew only an out-of-towner would ask and replied with one of his own. "Ever had a Geno's cheesesteak?"

Chapter 4: In The Flesh

"So I'm standing there, looking down at the mealy mouth bastard, and you know what he does?"

"What Tim?"

"He fucking starts crying! Can you believe that shit? A grown man starts blubbering like a little woman!" Tim Bondo took a long swig of his beer, trying to keep it from coming up his nose. He sat in a dimly lit bar in downtown Philadelphia, just one of many that were open to the barfly republic after the ungodly hours of late night.

Bondo's friend, Vinny, took a drink from his own mug. "What a cunt, that guy," he said, looking over his shoulder. His eye fell toward an empty pool table. He then looked back at Bondo. "Up for a round?" Nodding sluggishly, Bondo was already ten past his normal limit, but thought he could walk it off. He rose from his stool and walked over towards the table with Vinny following behind. Grabbing a cue, he chalked it up as Vinny set up the balls.

Shooting the 6-ball with an English side-spin into the corner pocket, Bondo looked up for a moment as he sized up his next shot to see two others enter the bar. The first one was a tall, black-haired fellow; dressed in a faded Leather Jacket, flannel shirt, and black jeans. But it was the exotic woman who came in after him that caught his attention. She was dressed casual, but in a slight modern new-wave style. In addition to a belt holstering a small metal rod in the shape of a flashlight kept to her side, she wore a navy-blue T-shirt with a picture of the band Tears For Fears atop a pair of acid-washed jeans, white sneakers, a silver necklace, and a flowing mane of raven hair…

"Damn", he said as he shot prematurely.

"I really don't think we should be here", Salina said, eyeing the bar suspiciously as she walked inside. The dinging of the bell above the door unnerved her more.

"Why?" Andrew said, taking a stool at the front of the bar. "Hey keep!" he shouted at a bald-headed man with a walrus mustache at the far end of the bar. "Fix me up with a Heineken, and leave the water out of it." He turned back to Salina. "If you don't like it in here, Rob and Ced are still at Jade's place."

"That's not what I meant", replied Salina, now joining Andrew on a corner stool beside him. The patron next to her blew a gray-rimmed gust of smoke at the back of her head. She coughed, but pretended not to notice.

"What did you mean then?" Andrew said, just as his beer was placed in front of him. He wasted no time in downing it. "Another", he said, slamming the mug down with enough force that a hairline crack appeared at the side of the glass.

"Ya punk", the bartender grumbled, refilling the mug.

"Well…", Salina began. All of a sudden, she realized she didn't know what she meant. She generally wasn't fond of the bar scene, and looking around, gathered this one was no exception. She wasn't afraid of the lot it attracted. Andrew knew she could handle herself fine and that's all he knew, but being where they were reminded Salina of the wayward life she left behind at the King's School, Canterbury with Jaslean and Deirdre when she was a teenager. At the far end of the establishment, she saw two old men had fallen asleep in their drinks. Another patron, probably a homeless drunk, rested in a pile of old newspapers and rags in a nearby corner.

She was edging towards something that she didn't yet want to admit, to herself or even to him.

"Well?" Andrew asked again, this time with a smug look on his face. He was now on his third glass. As he began raising it, Salina popped the bottom of the glass in a moment of anger, causing the beer to splash Andrew in the face.

"You're a dick", she said in a huff and walked off towards the ladies bathroom.

Andrew lingered in his seat for a moment confused at what just happened, the beer dripping from the tip of his nose down his shirt and glasses. Behind him, he heard the patron who had blown smoke at Salina's back guffawing at the scene that just took place, at how much of a jackass Andrew was and how that sexy little number had shattered his dignity.

He looked at the patron, his eyes lingering on the guy's double chin's jostling in petty amusement. The guy went back to his drink.

A moment later, Vinny looked up from the billiards table upon hearing a very hard punch land on what sounded like a slab of meat. He looked over at the barkeep's table and saw Andrew rubbing his knuckles while standing over the rude patron who was now cowering on the floor.

"Hey!"

Andrew turned his head slowly to see the bartender with the walrus mustache pointing the blunt end of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat at him. Scrawled along the side, as if a knife had carved it, were the words "The Moderator". They stared at each other eye-to-eye for a few seconds.

"If ya wanna brawl," the bartender said, his voice calm, "take it outside. Otherwise, get the hell outta my place." Turning around to face him, the bartender's hand began to shake; not from the weight of the bat, but from fear at witnessing Andrew's iris' literally turn a shade of red. He extended his hand calmly, removed the bat from the older man's hand, and placed it on the surface of the wetbar. No one else had bothered to pay attention, save for Vinny and Bondo who had watched most of the scuffle unfold.

"The hell was that about?" Vinny asked. It was his turn now, as he cued the poolstick.

"Search me", Bondo said, taking a swig from his bottle of Miller Lite. "You gotta shoot at least five of yours to get close to me."

"Fifty says I do, and a hundred says I win", Vinny said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. Bondo's eyes lit up. Vinny grinned. "That's probably about the right amount to fix that two-wheeler of yours, ain't it?" Bondo's grew annoyed.

"I ain't got all night, son. You gonna' keep stallin' or shoot the damn ball?"

Vinny smirked as he shot. He missed the 2-ball by several inches and hit a stripe.

Not bothering to look up from the table, Tim outstretched his hand for the cash. "Fuck me…" Vinny griped.

* * *

The jukebox switched to a song by 'Black Sabbath' with Ozzy Osbourne's voice wailing over the speakers,

What is this that stands before me?
Figure in black which points at me.
Turn around quick, and start to run.
Find out I'm the chosen one…

Salina washed up as she stared at herself in the mirror of the ladies' room. What had just happened between her and Andrew was a surreal moment.

He had it coming, she assured herself. But somehow she didn't quite believe it.

Andrew was as dirty, rugged, and uncouth as the day they first met. It seemed strangely a lot longer than the two years they had known each other since that fateful afternoon when Andrew showed just how callow he could be when he doubted her profession in cryptozoology.

He's an asshole, pure and simple. But did you ever try to understand him at all?

His anti-social behavior, the swagger, the "me against the world" agenda. He seemed unreal.

Salina gazed at herself ruefully in the mirror. There was a time last year when she had a more honest glimpse into Andrew.

The Chestnut Hill Manor of wealthy Philadelphia socialite Walter Ruffin had been seized by a pack of werewolves in heat, who in human form were his disgruntled house staff terminated unfairly from their positions. Looking to satisfy their thirst for vengeance, they sought to attack and molest Ruffin and his guests for the evening. Andrew had been the only member on active duty at the time; Salina came down the stairs from her loft to see if he wanted some of the curry she was about to make as a pre-midnight snack. When he told her about the call, instead of letting him go by himself, she tagged along as backup. Salina had a fair to middling knowledge of lycanthropy and thought she might be able to help.

"Suit yourself", Andrew relented, grabbing his proton pack and hopping in the driver's seat of the ECTO-M. "Just watch your back because I might not be able to be everywhere at once."

"I can handle myself thank you very much", retorted Salina. The case proved a little more difficult than they anticipated. The wolves committed several casualties, most notably Ruffin's replacement staff. His guests found refuge in the ballroom, but the wolves purposely closed them in until they were finished with Ruffin.

When Andrew and Salina arrived, they deduced there were fifteen of them; nine were outside standing guard. Andrew was impressed with how organized they were, but it didn't last long. Salina's neutron beams scorched the sentinels on the patio entrance, laying each one on the ground to ash within the span of less than a minute. Andrew wasted no time in relieving the lives of those still writhing on the grass. Inside, they faced the remaining six on the way towards the main ballroom and came across the slain bodies of the victims they were too late to save…including Walter Ruffin's.

Salina was caught off-guard when she saw Andrew fall on his back. A wolf had backhanded him across the face. She ran to him, but was snatched by another feral hand and lifted off the hardwood floor of the manor's atrium. Her captor was a Siberian Grey She-Wolf; it smelt of blood and sweat. For a lingering few seconds, which seemed longer as Salina found herself paralyzed with fear, the wolf had removed her pack. They looked at each other face-to-face as it snarled hungrily. Suddenly, Salina felt a sharp wind blow across her face. The next second she looked, the wolf's head was gone, having rolled across the floor. The death grip still tight around her, she wriggled herself free, only to see Andrew breathing heavily, blood pouring from both of his nostrils, with his sword gripped firmly in his hands.

"I thought you said you wouldn't be able to help me", she had said. She almost wished she hadn't, instead wanting to say something more grateful like "Thank you."

"Yeah, well...I said might. You're too good to be one of them." Before continuing on, Andrew made sure that the wolf had not scratched her in any way, noting the transformative bacteria that courses through a wolf's blood can be transferred through it's claws and canines. Satisfied, he sheathed his sword and helped her up. They continued their hunt for the remaining wolves. Since that time, Salina didn't know what to think about Dr. Williams. He had proven himself valiant again months later when the GBDP faced a horde of ghoulish frogs at Upper Darby Middle School, saving a little girl from being crushed under concrete. Those two instances showed the real Andrew...or the man he struggled to be.

God, has it really been that long, she thought, still looking deep in the mirror. He's an enigma. I just--I mean one minute he's all psycho-badass and then he saves my life. It would have been fine if he said "What are friends for?" But he said, "You're too good to be one of them."

"Salina. I need to talk to you." Andrew stood in front of the Ladies bathroom door, his eyes staring down at his brown Timberland® boots. He breathed slowly, his breath blowing the strands of dark hair in his face listlessly.

No answer.

He knocked again.

"What do you want?" Salina answered, her voice muffled from behind the door.

"I want to talk to you."

Salina leaned with her back against the door. Her arms were folded. "So?" she said. Andrew grunted.

"So?" he repeated, his voice a little harsh. "Just open the door."

"Why should I?" Salina said. "So you can make fun of me some more?"

"No, cause I think the only other woman in this joint just downed one too many Red Bulls and she's gonna need this in about five minutes. Maybe four."

"You always have jokes don't you?"

"I'm just full of 'em." There was a silent beat for a few moments.

"So what do you want?" Salina said finally. "You haven't said that yet."

Andrew hesitated. Salina heard through the door a pounding sound, and grinned for a moment.

"I..." Andrew began. Somehow, he was finding difficulty conveying what he wanted to say in words properly.

"I didn't mean the way I acted earlier", he said. "I'm...I'm sorry if I made you feel..."

"Dirty?"

"I don't know about that, but I am honestly, and genuinely sorry. And if you please open the door, I'll... (more hesitation) We'll go out to that new 80's dance club tomorrow night. I hear they've got Simon LeBon…or whatever his name is…deejaying."

He heard the door slowly unlock. Salina cracked it open and peeked her head outside.

"I thought you hated Duran", she said. Andrew shrugged as he tried to suppress his laughter. For some reason, being around Salina all this time, he forgot all about the promise he had made years earlier. Staring deep into her dark eyes, he felt, for the first time in a long time--human.

"Andy? Andrew?"

He snapped back into reality.

"What's with you?"

Andrew grinned.

"It's nothing", he said. "Nothing at all."

* * *

The final customers that this particular bar would have that evening (or ever have again for that matter) looked like this:

There were thirty of them in all, each one varying in height, possibly weight as well. Each one wore glasses so darkly dense; it was impossible to see the eyes beyond the lens.

The customers were dressed in matching camouflage uniforms, with a black bulletproof breastplate covering their chests, giving off the impression to the other patrons that they may have been part of the R.O.T.C. war games going on at Camp Bailey. Their helmets were also covered in green camo. They lumbered towards the bar, shuffling their feet on the floor. The sole woman Andrew spoke of earlier, between slight bouts of sobriety, pointed at them and laughed.

"What'll ya be having?" the bartender with the walrus mustache asked as one of the Camos sauntered up to the bar.

He didn't answer. Through the sunglasses, he stared at the bartender with cold eyes. The bartender squinted his own eyes to see only his own reflection.

"Hey, Gomer Pyle! I'm talking to you!" the bartender repeated, this time reaching for the sunglasses, preparing to yank them off his face. He wavered for a few moments as he felt the hot stench of the soldier's breath on the hairs on the back of his hand. He'd done this hundreds of times before with drunks, and knew what spoiled air felt like. But this...this was different.

Suddenly, the man opened his mouth, revealing many rotten teeth. He lunged forward towards the bartender. Startled, the barkeep blocked with his right hand. The man wrapped his teeth around the flesh of the bartender, biting off a chunk of his palm. The bartender screamed as the man crawled forward behind the bar, taking the bartender down to the floor with him. The only sound in the bar, save for Bruce Dickinson wailing "The Trooper" from the jukebox, were the dying pleas of the bartender--they ended just as quickly as they had begun.

Vinny and Bondo stared up at the scene with disbelief, Vinny's unlit cigarette falling from his mouth. They were not the only ones watching the same soldier rise from behind the bar, his uniform and mouth saturated in blood and entrails, with the veins of the bartender's neck hanging from the side of his mouth. He raised something up to his mouth. From a distance, it looked like a chicken bone.

"Holy Helen of Troy!" someone shouted. "That guy's eating Brody!"

"You think, Carl?" said his companion scrambling out of his chair, turning over the table in the process.

The clientele toppled each other in a panic attempting to get out of the bar as the undead soldiers swooped down upon them like vultures.

Andrew felt stupid for letting his senses drift that he didn't pick up the situation that was happening.

"Dammit", he said through gritted. Salina noticed that his attitude had changed too.

"What's wrong?" she asked, generally worried.

"Don't you hear it?" he said. Salina realized it too. They had both been in their own world, ignorant of the commotion that came from the bar. They inched cautiously towards a corner, to survey the situation. Salina cupped her mouth as the scene became real before her: there were zombies in the bar. She watched as one of the patrons (the one who had blown smoke in his face) was pulled down to the floor by one of the undead soldiers, his leg being wholly devoured. She tried to block out his cries by closing her eyes.

She felt Andrew's hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it out of here", he said.

"We haven't any proton packs on us", Salina said.

"And I left my katana in the car outside", said Andrew, as he ruefully covered his face with his hand. He felt like punching himself for not being better prepared. He had only several daggers in his jacket pocket, enough to neutralize some but not enough to lay them all down for good, which was the preferred method of dealing with these things But there was something familiar about the patterns, as he observed them. It was like he had seen this before, in another place.

Reaching for his Wi-Fi communicator, he hoped that either CJ or Rob were within range or even had theirs on.

"Come in Robert", he monotoned. No answer. There was nothing but static. He tried again, this time calling for CJ. Again, there was no answer on either side. Turning to Salina, he said:

"Line's dead it looks like. "

"Teriffic."

"We're not dead yet. We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. Ever see Evil Dead?"

"Not really."

"Follow my lead". Andrew walked from their hiding spot slowly, his boots echoing across the hall. There was genocide, death, and chaos all around him--he's had worse nights.

At his feet he saw the bat the bartender had threatened him with earlier, "The Moderator." Picking it up, he twirled it in his hands and set off.

Chapter 5: Standing in the Shadows of Darkness

Bondo felt a little bit sick as he punched one of the undead. I should have followed my first instinct and went bowling instead, he thought to himself.

"Tim! What the shit are these things!" Vinny yelled, defending himself with a broken pool cue. He stabbed one of the in the eye, the cue itself going through the socket and out the other end of its head. It was no use. He had missed the brain by several inches.

"How the hell should I know!" Bondo shouted back, laying another one on the ground with a haymaker, breaking its jaw. Bondo suddenly found himself surrounded by five more, all crawling and clawing at him. He kicked at one of them, knocking his boot into its face. He saw Vinny get overpowered by just as many himself, his friend's screams of "HELP!" not going unnoticed. Vinny was a goner, Bondo knew, and he was going to end up zombie shit himself in a few moments if he didn't do something about it.

"Get off me you damn dirty...whatevers!" Bondo shouted, trying to crawl his way back up towards his feet. One of the zombies had managed to crawl their way up to his face, it's mouth wide open.

::Spppplat!:

It's blood hit Bondo's face as if it were water. Beside his head, he saw the wooden hilt of a Meiji era dagger embedded in the floor, as the zombie fell to the ground in a lump. He noticed that the others were sliding off of them. Then he saw the guy with the dark hair who had walked in earlier, right before all this began. Weilding a bat in his hands, he beat the closest one to his shoulder, knocking its teeth out before using the blunt end to dent the zombie's skull. The bat was just a minor tool to him, Bondo noticed. He used hand-to-hand combat to fend them off, picking one up off its feet and hurling it face first at the jukebox.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, sliding up towards his feet, after the guy had dispatched the last of the zombies that had been on Bondo. He had done a sweeping motion with his hand, severing the its head from it's body.

"Dr. Andrew Williams", Andrew said. "Ghostbuster." He looked over in Vinny's direction. "Looks like your friend didn't make it."

Bondo tried not to look, but had to remain tough. Straightening his jacket, he pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. "Right, so I know how to kill these sumbitches."

"They're already dead, Brainchild", Andrew said sarcastically. He watched as Salina joined the fight. She had not been totally unprepared, having brought along what was attached to her belt when she entered the bar--her Proton Staff. She managed to rescue the drunken woman from before (that Andrew had mentioned) by scissor-kicking a zombie to the ground, pinning him there with her staff.

"Hey, I ain't stupid smartass!" Bondo said, interrupting Andrew. "I know they're dead. But they can be killed again."

"Not like this. Look at them," said Andrew in a low voice. It was almost guttural. He looked down at the ground. The zombies were already reforming their lost limbs. These were regenerators. "First time I've seen them, but I know what they are. They're called the Inferi. You knock em down, they stand back up!"

Bondo noticed this too and stepped back a bit. "Holy shit!" was all he could say.

"How you doing over there Sal?" Andrew said, ramming another dagger into an Inferi soldier's face. Salina held up her staff as another zombie attempted to attack. It instead wrapped its teeth around the staff as Salina kicked it in the abdomen. She pressed a button underneath her thumb, igniting a proton charge at the tip of the staff. The Inferi's head blew up underneath her."

"Just fine, but can you try CJ and Rob again?"

Andrew had a feeling that this was all to organized. Inferi were a different level of the undead. They were still mindless drones, but, under the proper spell, can be used for any means or gain. And the fact that his Wi-Fi channel had been blocked was further proof that this was part of a much larger plan.

"Here", Andrew said, handing Bondo his dagger. "Mine's bigger."

"You've got issues, son," Bondo said, putting his switchblade in his pocket. Andrew jammed his boot through the chest of another Inferi. Damn, he thought. The more we put down, the more that seem to come up. This isn't working. Where the hell is CJ and Rob? Getting a split second to free his hand, Andrew pressed a red button on the only piece of technology from the office he carried with him--his PKE meter. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

"What's that, a cell phone?" Bondo asked, slitting the throat of another Inferi.

"Sort of. The cavalry should be joining us shortly", Andrew replied. I hope.

* * *

"Funny", Rob said. He was sitting alone at the table inside of Jade's Harbor, while businesspeople were singing karaoke in the background. CJ had gone off to indulge in the buffet or ogle the Asian waitresses. Whichever one. Rob found both scenario's funny.

He was staring at what looked like an EMF detector mixed with a shoe-polish remover at first glance. It was the Ghostbusters' main mode of ghost detection, the Psycho-Kinetic Energy meter, PKE meter for short.

"What's that about?" CJ asked returning to his seat.

"Remember that case file I read where the meters can act as a sort of blood tracker for humans?" Rob said showing CJ.

"Yeah", replied the scientist, gnawing on a piece of Chinese rib. "Weaker readings though, less than 100. We ended up putting in our own D.N.A. patterns in ours, just in case something happened to us. Why you ask?"

"I've just picked up a reading. You'll never guess from who?"

"Elvis?"

"Andrew."

"That is surprising. He didn't even like the idea." Wiping his mouth, CJ tinkered with the Wi-FI on his wrist. "Andrew, come in Andrew. What's the gag?" Nothing but static. "Come in Andrew, you pooser." Again, static. CJ and Rob looked at each other for a moment. Rob tried his, switching the frequency. The channel wasn't working there either.

"He doesn't joke around you know", Rob said rising from his seat. "Where'd he say he and Salina were going?"

"I don't know. Earlier this morning he said something about checking out a bar on East Passyunk Avenue for tonight," CJ replied and then called over a waitress for the check. "We're on the edge of Center City. In this traffic at this time of night, it'll take us about 20 minutes to get there and longer since we don't know the name of the bar. And--if it's a spook problem, we don't have our throwers."

"We can't do anything about the traffic, but I don't think the rest of the stuff you just said will be a problem."

"Why?"

"Because if Andrew's in trouble, he won't be hard to find."

"And?"

"What's my name?"

"Statler."

"Right. So, you know I've got a thrower in the trunk of my ride."

CJ grinned!

* * *

Once outside, the two Ghostbusters made their way over to the bar, where Andrew's bio-reading had been emitting. Rob grabbed the handle. It was locked. "Whoever heard of a bar locking up this early?" he said.

"NOOOOOOOOO!

"I gather that's probably why," CJ said.

Rob put his ear against the door and listened closely. While he couldn't decipher the voices, he knew something bad when he heard it. After a sickening thud hit the door, he jumped back. "That--that's not good."

"What's going on?"

Both Rob and CJ were shaken at the unexpected presence of Brian walking up towards them. His friend Riddle stood beside him sipping a soft drink through a straw.

"How did you know to find us here?" CJ asked.

"We got a PKE reading of Andrew's blood signature from a little while ago", Brian replied. "We trailed it here."

"Us too. Something big's going down in there. And it doesn't sound good. But, you knew we would be here?"

"Actually no. We were just driving back from getting a late night snack while trying to pinpoint the sig and Jay noticed you two standing here and parked across the street.

Riddle chimed in. "You know, there's nothing healthy about American food, but I could care bloody less."

Rob perked up and looked to Brian. "You took him to Geno's didn't you?"

Riddle gave a gesture of approval.
Brian walked closer to the door of the bar. He could already feel the evil aura that emanated from it.

"This whole building's been tainted with death", Riddle said. Everyone around him was surprised, not by the revelation, but that he had come to that conclusion without getting close himself. "There's Inferi in there."

"What are those?" CJ asked.

"Zombies of a lower class", Brian explained.

Rob opened the rear of his truck, sliding out a mini-rack that revealed one proton pack.

Brian continued. "A reanimation spell brings them back to life, but the spellcaster can make the dead his slaves if he wanted to."

"Why would zombies be here? In this city?" CJ asked. "They usually infest New York."

"Okay, that's all well and good. You two can stand there and wax philosophic. But, I think I'll knock on the front door", Rob said, charging his pack.

* * *

This is insane, thought Salina as she rammed her bow into the skull of another Inferi. The atmosphere around her was thick with the stench of death. She rescued one more barfly, a man named Zolf, who was crouched in a corner defending himself with a broken leg from a stool. Standing over the remains, she watched in disbelief as the Inferi (it's head had been severed from its body) gathered itself together by fusing the ruined columns of its spine back together again.

"What the hell...?" she said. She looked around her. "What kind of a bar is this without any windows?" She thought out loud, thinking of a way to rescue the surviving patrons. Then her direction was turned towards Zolf, who had been sniveling in his corner, his arm covering his face so that he had not seen that he had been rescued. Salina noticed from his clothes that he was a detective. She also noticed he was armed, and for that matter, glad he'd forgotten to use his piece--which would have made a bad situation worse. Picking him up by his collar, she supported his weight over her shoulder, while fending off the Inferi as best she could with the percussive end of her proton staff. She looked over to the other side of the bar. Andrew seemed to have the situation under control for the most part, although she could see the frustration in his eyes at the fact that these zombies refused to die again.

Andrew didn't waste any time sitting in one spot. Moving to another end of the bar, he broke the nose of a zombie and gouged the eyes out of another one. Suddenly, the front wall of the bar imploded; dust, wood fragments, and debris scattered everywhere.

"This is a raid, everybody freeze!"

Andrew grinned, looking for Bondo.

"Backup?" was all Bondo said, slamming his fist into a zombie's face. Andrew nodded as he saw a wayward proton stream sail towards a group of the undead soldiers, scorching their brain activity to a crisp. They were dead again.

"Next time Andy Panda," retorted CJ after he walked through the gaping hole made by Rob's proton pack, "go to Kristopher's. The crowds a little more savory."

"Thanks for the advice", Andrew replied before kicking a lifeless zombie off a chair and slumping down in it himself completely exhausted. Over to the other side of the room, Brian surveyed the situation that surrounded them, then turned his forward attention toward Riddle. He remembered solemnly the conversation that they had had earlier in the Highrise: Riddle had been the most powerful mage in their group. And then suddenly it was all taken away from him. He often wondered what that might be like for his pride.

However, his attention was diverted back to the dead around them. He had thought, from prior experience, that an overload of the electrical impulses to the brain would cause a fatal stroke, killing the zombies. It had worked before after all. Here, he could not believe his eyes as the zombies rose again, smoke billowing from their nostrils.

As the members of the Doom Patrol went about their business, Riddle walked solemnly towards the middle of the room. The surviving patrons of the bar escaped through the hole that Rob had blasted. Before leaving, Bondo looked back at these Ghostbusters.

He honestly could not imagine people willing to end their own existence to save others. But then again he didn't really care as he ran over to his Harley. He was gonna get out of this city right now.

"You guys", Salina said as she trotted over to Rob, CJ, Brian, and Riddle. Zolf fled with the others. "We can't let those things out into the city. Especially not since they've got a god-mode on their side."

"I might be able to do something about that", Riddle said taking off his gloves. His left hand was normal, if not paler than the rest of his body. But his right hand was, as Andrew had deduced, mechanical. Rather, he was moving it with the ability of a normal, fleshy hand.

Sensing that everyone was now seeing his deformed limb, he laughed. "You actually get used to it after a while." He looked over towards Brian. "Any chance you still know how to summon your chi into a protection shield?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard." Roig replied.

"Good."

Riddle took a marker out of his pocket and drew a symbol on the floor. What he drew was an odd circle with what looked like the Star of David in the center. "Could use that shield about now", he said, looking up. Realizing what was happening; Andrew darted out of his chair and stood with the others. The remaining horde of zombies re-awakened and began to close in on the group. Brian closed his eyes as he muttered under his breath an incantation. A blue mist surrounded the six people and formed into a transparent protective shield.

"Make sure you transport everybody far outside now, B."

"Jay, what are you about to do?" Brian asked. Riddle arched his eyebrows and sighed as he placed his hands on the circle. Suddenly, the building rumbled, as the group was transported outside of the bar. The rafters collapsed upon the remaining zombies, trapping them inside

* * *

"I don't fucking believe what I'm seeing." Detective Wyatt Madison of the 7th Precinct stood on the opposite side of the street, staring at what was once a large building. Now, where it had been, was a space between two other buildings. The ground where it stood was blackened. The two surrounding buildings bore no damages from the collapse of the bar--not a scratch. His partner, a young rookie named Keaton, stood behind him on the other side of their squad car.

"Sir, I'm not sure I can…" he said, trying to muster a logical explanation for what they just witnessed from the sidewalk away from the demolished building.

Madison did not answer right away. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

"You're new here right?"

"Yes sir."

"Then it's time you met the Ghostbusters." Keaton had a confused look on his face as Madison made his way towards an ambulance from Thomas Jefferson University Hospital parking near Rob's truck. He frowned when he saw him loading the proton pack back in the rear compartment.

I could have been in the FBI or the CIA, he thought to himself as he approached the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. Two of them, CJ and Salina, had out their PKE's, surveying the site they just escaped.

"Yeah, this place was definitely touched by a large paranormal entity", CJ said checking his readings. "The meter's bordering on 200 now!"

"A thing like that would have to be close to River of Slime levels", Rob said rubbing the back of his head.

"Not so much a thing, Rob", CJ said. "It could be a demon...or even a human under a profound magical influence."

It was blatantly obvious they were spouting useless jargon when Madison and his protégé approached, trying in earnest to make it look like this carnage was not their fault for once.

"Evening boys…and Ms. Duran," Madison greeted, strolling up to the team.

"Evening to you too Detective", CJ said. "If you're wondering what happened here..."

"Oh no", Madison said sarcastically. "I'll find out sooner or later. Since I'm out here though, I thought I might tell you guys something that might be interesting."

"What's that?" Rob asked.

"When I was called about 'zombie soldiers' on East Passyunk Avenue, I remembered that we'd gotten a call from Washington two weeks ago about the missing remains of over one hundred Gulf War vets who were on their way home for military burial."

"How does the Army lose that many corpses?" Salina asked.

"I don't know. If somehow these things you encountered tonight were part of that missing group, then I suppose..." He never finished his sentence. A scream permeated the air. Keaton, the rookie, was on the ground near the smoldering remains of the bar. Two hands had gripped his feet. A burned corpse crawled out from underneath the ashes. Half its face was burned off, the flesh melted and deformed. Once the corpse had revealed itself, its head was swiftly severed from its body. Keaton backed away, frightened by the sight. Holding a bloody rod he'd pulled from the rubble, Andrew stood over the mound of debris above the torso of the decapitated Inferi. Keaton was bewildered at how quickly Andrew was able to move--as was everyone else.

"What...who...how?"

Walking over towards the body, Andrew held the head in his hands. He pulled the corpse out. The torso was all that remained. Keaton turned away, covering his mouth in nausea.

"Stretcher please", Andrew called out, looking at the EMT's.

Brian stood away from the scene, standing with Riddle--who was enjoying another drink, this time from a flask he'd brought.

"How long have you been able to do alchemy?" Brian asked.

"Why? Surprised?"

"Not so much as I never thought you'd take it seriously enough to attempt to learn it."

"I may be impotent", Riddle said, "but my thirst for knowledge has never been diminished."

"Right."

(Brian)

Brian heard the voice in his head. He chanced a glimpse to look around with his eyes.

(Soon Brian. Soon.)

"Let's get back to the guys", Brian suggested. "Something looks interesting over there."

* * *

The tall man, accompanied by his loyal Disciple, emerged atop the roof of a nearby building overseeing the aftermath of this hour of chaos. So that is where you disappeared to Jayson Riddle, he thought, pulling the brim of his hat down lower over his face. Walking away from the scene, he chose not to interrupt this small victory of the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. Today's test had proved two of his theories correct.

Tomorrow, Hell would reign.

Act III

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