Overconfidence [Ghostbusters; Ray Stantz]
Jan. 3rd, 2021 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schizoauthoress_libraryTitle: Overconfidence
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none, set in a vague timeframe of the first two movies
Warnings: mild language
Prompt/Fill: "Please tell me that was just the wind"
Word Count: 694
Summary: No matter how mild the haunting, ghost busting is a two-person job.
Overconfidence
Janine had said it sounded like the usual low-grade haunting – temperature dips and spectral manifestations the peak of what this particular spook could do. Ray saw no reason to delay. While Peter stomped up the stairs for yet another shower, Ray picked up an empty trap and double-checked the charge on his proton pack. He was at about seventy percent. Plenty of power to bring against a fairly weak ghost.
Now, dodging a heavy glass ashtray flying at his head, Ray internally cursed his hubris. He should have asked Winston or Egon to come along as backup, if not waited for Peter to finish washing up. (He’d felt bad about accidentally putting Peter in the line of fire for an ectoplasmic attack from the last ghoulie, wanting to spare the man yet another disgusting encounter.) The ghost in question was a full fledged poltergeist, and struggled hard enough against Ray’s single proton beam to drain the pack’s power dangerously low.
The hinged panes of the window in front of the ghost flew open, swaying wildly. Despite the howl, despite the chill in the air, Ray knew it couldn’t be caused by the wind. Not a natural wind, anyway. The ghost beckoned with one thin hand, curling its rotten-looking fingers like claws – Ray gave a startled shout as his feet slid along the wooden floor toward the open window. He was on the top floor of a six-story walkup. A fall from this height would be deadly!
‘And the prospective new roommate is really ugly,’ popped into Ray’s head unbidden, even as he tried to dig his heels in and resist the poltergeist’s pull. The thought sounded so much like a quip that Peter would have come up with. Through the terror, Ray wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or to cry.
A truly heinous glass lamp came flying at him next, and Ray had to stop firing the beam in order to throw both hands up to protect his face. Ray was forced to lurch forward, and tried to drop lower, drop out of the ghost’s grip. His knees slamming into the wooden sill hurt like hell, but it was also a relief. The ghost shrieked angrily at being thwarted.
Ray forced himself to turn over, and braced his back against the wall. He fired again, ensnaring the poltergeist in the beam. But… the trap was still hanging from his belt. He hadn’t had a chance to set it out before being attacked.
Oh, he really really wished one of the guys was here.
'But they aren’t… and that’s your fault… and it’s all up to you.’
Ray gritted his teeth, and dropped one hand from the beam-thrower to the ghost trap. The weapon bucked wildly, but he managed to direct the muzzle downward, if shakily, just enough to keep from slamming the poltergeist into the ceiling and giving it an avenue of escape. The fingers of his off hand fumbled with the carabiner clip securing the trap to his belt, and Ray hissed aloud, “Come on, come on…”
The poltergeist howled, and a surge of energy slammed into Ray’s body – rocking him dangerously close to the open window. The latch on the clip finally released, and Ray threw the trap wildly. In the next moment, he renewed his stronger, two-handed grip on the beam-thrower and jerked the entangled ghost downward.
The ghost trap landed on one corner and tilted sideways – Ray felt his heartbeat rise, so quickly that he felt lightheaded – and somehow, mercifully, rocked the other way and landed right-side up.
Ray averted his eyes as the doors of the trap swung open, looking up into the poltergeist’s furious, snarling spectral face as it was drawn into containment. The creature fought against the beam, but as low as the power was, it held steady. With a snap, the trap closed over the poltergeist’s head.
The howling stopped. The cold wind settled.
For a moment, Ray just leaned back and felt the sunshine on his face again. Then, he gazed around the wreck of the storage room and said, with quiet sincerity and the utmost conviction,
“Fuck...”
*-*-*-*-*
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none, set in a vague timeframe of the first two movies
Warnings: mild language
Prompt/Fill: "Please tell me that was just the wind"
Word Count: 694
Summary: No matter how mild the haunting, ghost busting is a two-person job.
Overconfidence
Janine had said it sounded like the usual low-grade haunting – temperature dips and spectral manifestations the peak of what this particular spook could do. Ray saw no reason to delay. While Peter stomped up the stairs for yet another shower, Ray picked up an empty trap and double-checked the charge on his proton pack. He was at about seventy percent. Plenty of power to bring against a fairly weak ghost.
Now, dodging a heavy glass ashtray flying at his head, Ray internally cursed his hubris. He should have asked Winston or Egon to come along as backup, if not waited for Peter to finish washing up. (He’d felt bad about accidentally putting Peter in the line of fire for an ectoplasmic attack from the last ghoulie, wanting to spare the man yet another disgusting encounter.) The ghost in question was a full fledged poltergeist, and struggled hard enough against Ray’s single proton beam to drain the pack’s power dangerously low.
The hinged panes of the window in front of the ghost flew open, swaying wildly. Despite the howl, despite the chill in the air, Ray knew it couldn’t be caused by the wind. Not a natural wind, anyway. The ghost beckoned with one thin hand, curling its rotten-looking fingers like claws – Ray gave a startled shout as his feet slid along the wooden floor toward the open window. He was on the top floor of a six-story walkup. A fall from this height would be deadly!
‘And the prospective new roommate is really ugly,’ popped into Ray’s head unbidden, even as he tried to dig his heels in and resist the poltergeist’s pull. The thought sounded so much like a quip that Peter would have come up with. Through the terror, Ray wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or to cry.
A truly heinous glass lamp came flying at him next, and Ray had to stop firing the beam in order to throw both hands up to protect his face. Ray was forced to lurch forward, and tried to drop lower, drop out of the ghost’s grip. His knees slamming into the wooden sill hurt like hell, but it was also a relief. The ghost shrieked angrily at being thwarted.
Ray forced himself to turn over, and braced his back against the wall. He fired again, ensnaring the poltergeist in the beam. But… the trap was still hanging from his belt. He hadn’t had a chance to set it out before being attacked.
Oh, he really really wished one of the guys was here.
'But they aren’t… and that’s your fault… and it’s all up to you.’
Ray gritted his teeth, and dropped one hand from the beam-thrower to the ghost trap. The weapon bucked wildly, but he managed to direct the muzzle downward, if shakily, just enough to keep from slamming the poltergeist into the ceiling and giving it an avenue of escape. The fingers of his off hand fumbled with the carabiner clip securing the trap to his belt, and Ray hissed aloud, “Come on, come on…”
The poltergeist howled, and a surge of energy slammed into Ray’s body – rocking him dangerously close to the open window. The latch on the clip finally released, and Ray threw the trap wildly. In the next moment, he renewed his stronger, two-handed grip on the beam-thrower and jerked the entangled ghost downward.
The ghost trap landed on one corner and tilted sideways – Ray felt his heartbeat rise, so quickly that he felt lightheaded – and somehow, mercifully, rocked the other way and landed right-side up.
Ray averted his eyes as the doors of the trap swung open, looking up into the poltergeist’s furious, snarling spectral face as it was drawn into containment. The creature fought against the beam, but as low as the power was, it held steady. With a snap, the trap closed over the poltergeist’s head.
The howling stopped. The cold wind settled.
For a moment, Ray just leaned back and felt the sunshine on his face again. Then, he gazed around the wreck of the storage room and said, with quiet sincerity and the utmost conviction,
“Fuck...”
*-*-*-*-*
