#i wanted to test a psd *nods*

[dutchessofcaladan]

Ghostbusters: Soul Resurgence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3! This chapter's gonna be a bit more exciting than the last 2. We're also getting a new character! Once again, hope you guys enjoy and as always, a big thank you to @phantomoftheparadise0002 for beta-reading this!

Summary: When the spirit of Sumerian sorceress Ahassunu, daughter of Vigo, possesses Alexis, the Ghostbusters must band together to determine the fate of the world

TW: Some language, paranormal violence, major character death (don't hate me)

Translation for Sumerian:

Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma inu utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma inu tamtu samsum isatum ma inu elenu maqatu:

And I looked, and he opened the sixth seal, and behold, there was a great earthquake. And the sun became as black as sack cloth, and the moon became as blood.

Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu:

The prophecy to be fulfilled...judgment day

Alka:

Come

Taking another sip from his drink, Elis sighed, pulling out his phone. Jumping as it began to ring, he quickly answered.

“Hey, Ray.” He sighed again. “I was just about to call you. Do you have any idea where Alex is? I've called her five times already.” He froze, hearing Ray inform him about what had been going on. Quickly paying his tab, Elis raced to his car.

Arriving at the Firehouse, Elis immediately went inside, causing everyone to stop mid-movement. “What the hell happened?!” He shouted. “One minute I'm sitting in a bar, thinking my girlfriend of 3 years somehow forgot our anniversary, and the next I'm being told she's been possessed by some ghost and is going around blowing up buildings around New York.”

“Dr. Cristiano,” Ray said in an attempt to calm Elis’ nerves, “we have everything under control.” He sent him a reassuring smile.

“Under control? What do you mean?” Elis could feel his heart beginning to race.

Heaving his pack into the Ecto-1, Ray explained, “We’ll restrain her using our packs while Phoebe and Lars fire up the PSD-”

“PSD?” Elis asked, feeling lost.

“Portable Separation Device. All admit, it's not a very snappy name but-”

“Separation device?!” Elis nearly screamed. “What the hell are you going to do to her?!”

Ray sighed, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his ever increasing anxiety. “To even have a chance at saving Alex, we would need to separate the spirit from her.”

Elis nodded. “So, it’s safe, right? You’ve used this thing before?”

The look on Ray’s face was enough to cause Elis’ anxiety to return three-fold.

"My God, you haven’t even tested it, have you?!” His eyes were wide with fear.

“Well, no-” Ray began, not wanting to lie to him.

Quickly pulling his shoulder from the older man’s grasp, Elis’ hands flew to his hair, frantically running through the short strands. Blinking tears from his eyes, he asked, “So, so you have no idea if this thing will end up killing her?” He whimpered.

“No.” Ray admitted, no longer able to maintain eye contact.

The pained whimper that left Elis shattered the hearts of the team as they stood, stock still, only Janine going to comfort him.

“We’re gonna get her back.” She soothed, running a hand up and down his back as his tears dampened her jumpsuit. Turning back to the rest of the Ghostbusters, her gaze switching from one to another until it landed on Ray, who’s eyes now glistened with fresh, unshed tears. “Fight like hell and bring her back.” She commanded, voice faltering slightly.

Ray nodded, heading towards his bike as the rest headed to the Ecto.

The street had become complete chaos. People had abandoned their cars in the middle of the street and had begun to run in an effort to survive.

“Alka.” Alex commanded, her voice echoing in their heads.

The commotion ceased as the crowd turned and followed the order they’d been given. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, she began to speak.

“Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma ina utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma ina tamtu samsum isatum ma ina elenu maqatu.” Looking out at the crowd, she smirked, enjoying that she had 100s under her control. “Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu.”

“Dayyanum suluppu.” The crowd repeated.

With a raise of he hands, the souls of the crowd fled their bodies, transferring their life-force to Alex. Just as the ritual had finished, the siren of the Ecto-1 could be heard approaching fast. Watching as the car screeched to a stop a few blocks away, Alex became intrigued.

Firing up their packs, they created a barrier between Alex and the Ecto, where Phoebe and Lars continued to work on the PSD.

Stepping to the front of the group, Ray began to speak.

“Alexis!” He commanded.

Her sneer turned to him, slowly morphing to a smirk.

“In the name of the city, county, and state of New York, I command you under the National Invasive Species Act to depart this world immediately and return to your place of origin or to the nearest parallel dimension.”

This time, there were no snide remarks from Peter. No jokes. Each member of the Ghostbusters knew the severity of the situation. The power that this spirit had was unlike anything they’d seen before. Not in Garraka. Not in Vigo. Not even in Gozer.

Alex’s smirk grew as she began to levitate.

“Light ‘em up on 3! 1! 2!”

Before Ray had even finished the countdown, Peter had fired his pack.

The group stared in shock as, with a wave of her hand, Alex froze the proton stream in place.

The world went silent, seemingly moving in slow motion as she curled the stream back towards Peter.

Before anyone could react, a strangled noise left him as the white-hot energy stream ran through his chest.

“Venkman!” Ray shouted, catching him in his arms as Winston shut off the stream. Applying pressure to the wound in a vain attempt to save his friend, he watched through tear clouded eyes as Alex watched with a malicious glint in her eyes before flying off.

[capinejghafa]

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 01 [PREVIEW]

Note: Please view on the main blog page for an optimal reading experience. :D Chapter One is about 95% revised to my liking. Here is a somewhat lengthier preview whilst work begins on 02 & 03.

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease—as this did not necessarily mean they weren’t carrying others. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a sign of impatience at the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their project coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack, starting to seem like more of a possibility. Criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged during their meetings with the project coordinator. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Karner; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times at the behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and private. Whenever they had a break, he would often disappear frequently on calls. He’d been coming back tenser as of late and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the project coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“Well, it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Karner chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” Francis didn’t answer immediately. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

“Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded. Francis paused. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she particularly wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Francis seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Karner shook his head. In a few minutes the break subsided and they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own grave without further interference.

The next few days blurred together in her recollection. Karner made no attempt to converse with her. Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from insurrection.

It was just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind refused to settle in either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Karner. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the project coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the project coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of the FSP the losses were minimal. Several doctors, including Herrmann, had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. A few others, including Dr Karner, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack to the government, but as an interception of an attack by local terrorists.

 “Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent and complexion would presume a Czech or Russian background but he could have come from a variety of surrounding countries. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, she had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Karner?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

 “That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the project coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to him. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She had not locked it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Karner?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“You were asked to monitor Dr Karner. Why?”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Karner was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Karner and the project coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the project coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her was razor-sharp, unwavering. She’d said too much. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Karner exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. And I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept the apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Karner’s lifestyle outside MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his duties. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor privately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “The project coordinator is waiting for you downstairs. Thank you for your time.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Team was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint, slowly overtaken by daybreak.

When she’d first arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you. No one else of importance will come for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around, she was safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.