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obsidiancreates · 9 months

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Something Strange Comes To Santa Barbra

(This may be the most Niche thing I've ever posted. @poltertoast this is for you, it's not the previously discussed crossover concepts but I might do those later)

Shawn ducks under the police tape and jogs right up to Lassiter. "This better be good Lassie. Gus and were just about to crush one of those restaurant food challenges down at a dumpling place."

"Just get inside." Lassiter gives Shawn a slight shove, and Gus makes sure to stay out of Lassiter's arm range as he follows.

Shawn's eyes go right to the wall; there's a huge bloodstain, and it's configuration is... strange. It looks more like a movie, or a video game, than a regular splatter pattern. His focus zeros in on one of the two beds next, highlighting an abandoned contraption that looks like an old GameBoy Color altered with all sorts of computer chips and wires and antenna. There's a book laying on the floor, open but page-down to show both the front and back cover in full. The Paranormal Prince: Ghost Hunting With Royal Blood by one Johnny Toast.

Shawn chuckles and nudges Gus. "Dude, read the name on that book."

"What boo- ... Johnny Toast?"

"Johnny Toast," Jules confirms, walking over to them. "Late twenties to early thirties, British, and presumed dead."

"Whoa, whoa. Presumed dead?" Shawn looks at the wall. "Seriously?"

"No body," Jules says with a sigh. "No blood trail indicating how it was moved, no missing sheets, and the owner of the condo says they didn't have any rugs. CSI didn't find any evidence of cleaning supplies, and no reports of gunshots in the area at the suspected time of attack."

"No gunshots?" Shawn looks again at the wall. It's really bothering him, he swears he's seen a pattern like that before but he knows it wasn't in real life.

Jules nods to the wall. "There's some deep gauges out of the plaster, we're thinking knife carvings. Murderer must've hit an artery, which makes the lack of blood anywhere else even stranger."

"No kidding. There's not even any on the floor." Gus keeps his eyes off the blood, and it's almost disturbingly easy to do so. The rest of the room is mostly spotless, save a strange image almost... superimposed onto the wall. A blue square, a red triangle, and a yellow V.

"What about this?" Shawn gestures at it. "Does the condo owner have the worst taste ever, or is this a calling card?"

"We looked into it, apparently it's a popular graffiti symbol in the victim's hometown."

"What town?"

Jules starts to say, and then takes in a deep breath. "Don't laugh," she warns. "Both the vic and the suspect are from a town in North Carolina called... Little Butts."

Shawn and Gus fail to not laugh. Jules looks like she wants to laugh too, but Lassiter walks into the room at that moment.

"You told them where they're from, didn't you?"

"They asked."

"After we agreed not to tell them because laughing at a murder scene is asinine."

"Ass," Shawn mumbles, and he and Gus laugh again.

"Just-! Tell us if you see anything." Lassiter gestures around the room. "Chief just called and she wants this to be top priority, apparently there's a serial killer from that town and she wants to make sure he's not taking a vacation in Santa Barbra."

"Well maybe I'd have a better sense of the case if you told me who the suspect is."

Jules nods while Lassiter scowls. "Johnny Ghost-"

"Johnny Toast and Johnny Ghost? Are they cartoon characters?" Gus whispers to Shawn. Jules ignores it.

"-late twenties, owner said he's short with red-brown hair and brown eyes, always wears a gray hoodie with this logo on it." She shows them a drawing.

Gus scoffs. "They spelled it wrong."

"What?"

"That's the symbol for Pi, Shawn. Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine, and then continues on forever? It's a fundamental of math."

"It's a fundamental of a good diet is what it is."

"It's a pun," Jules says. "They ran a ghost hunting business together, Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire. At least, that's what the owner said Johnny Ghost screamed at him when they introduced themselves."

Shawn looks back over at the beds. Now the DS makes sense... "So that's why the Chief wants me? See if there's a... spiritual connection? Maybe this Ghost fellow got possessed and offed his partner?"

"And to find the body, and Ghost himself. He was seen leaving the house alone around the time of the attack on some nearby security cameras, and hasn't come back to the house since."

Shawn nods, half-listening as his eyes travel around the room again and he does a slow, lazy-looking turn. He hones in on a business card, the corner just barely visible under the left bed.

"OH!" He dramatically drops to the floor, trying to make it look like he was yanked. "Oh, the spirits are strong here! But they're scared, yes, of the ghost hunters, they weren't ready to contact me before but now!" Shawn drags himself across the floor in one motion and snatches the card, jumping back up. "Now they're screaming! Crying out saying-!"

He discreetly peeks at the card and then holds it up to his forehead, text-side facing out at the 'crowd' that is his friends and fellow investigators. "Santa Barbra School Of Dance!"

Lassiter stalks over and grabs the card, reading it for himself. "Who the hell did the sweep?" he growls. "O'Hara, bag it as evidence!"

As Jules does, Shawn catches sight of a handwritten phone number on the front. Who writes extra notes on the front of a business card?

"Let's bring in the owner of the dance studio and find out what they know." Lassiter looks at Shawn and Gus. "Stay out of my interrogation."

"No problem, Lassie." Shawn puts his hand up in promise. As soon as Jules and Lassiter leave, Shawn drops to the floor again and reaches further under the bed.

"What're you doing?" Gus crouches down. "Did you find more blood?"

"No, Gus, no blood. But I saw this-" Shawn pulls out one of those lockable pencil cases. "-while I was grabbing the card. Here, give me a bobby pin or something."

"Why would I have a bobby pin?"

"I don't know, you're the one who loves cracking safes-es."

"Safes."

"I've heard it both ways."

"This is barely something you can crack anyway, just force it open."

"Force it open? Yeah, right. Do you know how many of these I tried to force open in middle school because someone wouldn't lend a pencil?"

"You lost it every time! My parents were gonna go broke buying that many pencils for me!"

"Just, find something I can jimmy this open with!"

They end up finding the key also under the bed, and popping it open they find... a box of macaroni.

"What the hell?" Gus picks it up and turns it around. "I've never even heard of this brand. Lettuce Squirrel Whiskey and 'Roni?"

"Why is there a dinosaur on the front? Man, that was a total bust, I really thought it'd be important. ... Let's go check out that dance studio."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dude, what kind of dance studio has a teenage mutant ninja turtle as it's mascot?" Shawn turns, keeping his eye on the oddly swaying figure just outside the door until they're fully through. Something about it is bothering him... but he can't quite place his finger on what.

When they push open the door, there's a woman chatting with the receptionist. As soon as the first woman sees them, her face contorts into a nasty scowl. "Oh, no! Get out, you- you spineless rubes!"

Shawn and Gus freeze and put their hands up and take a step back in unison.

"Whoa!"

"Coming on a little strong considering you've never met us," Gus huffs.

"Yes I have," she seethes. "Over the phone, three months ago! I contacted your agency to investigate a haunting for me!"

"A haunting?" Shawn looks at Gus, who shrugs. "Which one of us did you talk to?"

"You." She points at Shawn. Her scowl could rival Lassiter's, maybe even Henry's. "And you told me to seek help!"

"That doesn't sound like me." Shawn casts his memory back. "Wait... were you the one who said that Donatello the turtle was haunting you?"

"All four of them!" she snaps. "And yes! Yes, I did! And you never came by! And it kept happening so I had to hire some out-of-town specialists-"

"Johnny Ghost and Johnny Toast of P.I.E?" Shawn asks, hand by his temple.

She blinks. It seems to shock her out of at least some of her rage. "Yes. Yes, and-and now I have bullet holes all over my studio."

"Bullet holes?!" Gus ducks. "They shot up the place?!"

"They had guns?"

"Yes, and yes! They saw one of the ghosts and-and I don't even know where they pulled the guns from, but it got away and they chased after it!"

"Did you call the police?"

"Not until that damn ghost is- oh, for heaven's sake!" Her eyes focus on something behind them and she storms to the door, flinging it open. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

It dawns on Shawn what disturbed him about the figure outside.

It hadn't been swaying in the wind at all. It had been bobbing like a person waiting.

The figure, Raphael by the mask color, shouts in fear as the woman screams at him-

And then phases through the floor and disappears.

Shawn freezes, the sight so not computing that it breaks him for a second. Gus's eyes go so wide they may try to run away since their owner isn't, and then they roll back up in his head and he collapses.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sit in the Psych office, Gus nervous-eating an entire box of dry cereal while Shawn has his hands pressed together and covering his mouth, eyes trained on the floor.

They haven't spoken since they watched the Ninja Turtle Ghost phase through solid ground.

Their phone rings again. Neither pick it up.

It's silent for another hour until Jules runs by the window, sees them both inside, and runs in.

"We've been trying to reach you guys for hours, we have-! ... What happened?"

Shawn flattens his hands against his face and rubs it. Gus raches into the now-empty cereal bag, pulls out nothing, "eats" the nothing, and then repeats without ever blinking.

"Seriously," Jules sits down on the couch in the nook. "What happened?"

Shawn drags his hands down his face. "Those uh... those ghost hunters were onto something big," he croaks out. "Real... real big."

"How big?" Jules leans in. "Because that might make our findings make a little more sense."

"You uh... you talked to the dance studio owner?"

"Yes, but we didn't get anywhere. She just insisted that she was haunted and we find them so they can finish the job. What we did find out is that Johnny Toast is..." She shakes her head. "I don't even know how this is possible, but he's the grandson of the Queen of England."

"He's what?" It's jarring enough to snap Shawn out of his complete Brain Breakage. "Why's he in America hunting ghosts?"

"No clue. But it means our list of suspects got a whole lot bigger, and Interpol might get involved. This could become a diplomatic incident. You didn't find out anything related to that?"

"Uh, no. No, we... we didn't. Our thing seems stupid now." It doesn't. But how the hell does he explain why he, a supposed psychic, is rattled by a ghost?

Jules shrugs, putting her hands up and then plopping them back in her lap. "I'll take anything you've got."

"... Well, um... I see violence. Yes, great, great violence. They were both very experienced with guns, and had them on their persons during this trip."

"But there were no signs of gunshots at the hotel. ... Which might mean this was pre-meditated! It was done quietly, no witnesses- shoot, it's looking more and more like we'll have to get overseas offices involved." Jules stands up. "Thanks, guys. But answer your phone next time! Lassiter almost got the Chief to kick you off the case for ignoring us."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, what've you got?" Shawn looks up at Gus from across the room.

"Almost nothing." Gus frowns at his laptop as he scrolls. "It's like this 'Little Butts' place barely exists. All I've found is a bunch of sci-fi and fantasy forums where some kid named TheMightySpence with threes instead of E's is complaining about living there."

"Dang it. I'm not getting anything much better. There's a few clips on the internet of these ghost hunting guys, a TV commercial, and some kind of... fan club website for Toast. None of it gives me any motive, in fact, these guys were best friends by the looks of it! There's mentions of them growing up together, Toast lost his mind once because Ghost disappeared according to this clip from some terrible TV show I found, it just... doesn't add up. And all I can find on this 'serial killer' from that town is urban legends."

"This case is beyond us, Shawn. Real ghosts, and now a town that doesn't really exist, and it's an international incident? We're in over our heads!"

"I know!" Shawn shuts his laptop. "But we can't just back out because our entire worldviews were shattered, Gus, because the police think I already believe in ghosts!"

"Tell them that this one is something you've never seen!"

"It is something I've never seen!"

"I know tha-!"

"Excuse me?"

They look up. In the doorway stands a tall, handsome man, with stylish stubble and clothes fit for some type of fancy business party. He has a posh British accent, and...

He's definitely the guy from the book cover.

"Sorry to drop in uninvited, I saw you were closed but the door wasn't unlocked so I ah, let myself in. I was wondering if you'd be available to help me and my partner?"

Gus makes a high-pitched squeal-scream sound from deep in his throat. Shawn stands up, slowly, and goes to swipe his arm through the man's body.

"OW!" The man grabs his arm where Shawn slapped it. "Sir! They're hostile!"

"I'M COMING, JOHHNY!"

A short man in a grey hoodie comes racing in, gun drawn! "BACK UP A SECOND THERE, SNICKERS, OR I'LL SHOOT YOU RIGHT IN THE FACE!"

Gus lets the scream out fully and backs up against the wall while Shawn quickly draws away with a scream of his own. Ghost keeps his gun on Shawn as Toast rubs his arm.

After a long moment of Shawn and Gus screaming, Shawn is able to take in a few details. He hones in on the various stains all over Ghost's hoodie, some of which are unmistakably blood, meaning he doesn't wash it. There's dark circles around his eyes, and bags, and his clothes are hanging pretty loosely on him. So he can't take care of himself very well, may even have mental problems.

Toast is very well put together, and completely unphased by the response of a gun to a slap. He called out for Ghost, so he knew this would happen. Despite Ghost being smaller, and Toast being literal royalty, he called Ghost sir, so Ghost is both the wildcard and the one in charge. Given the terrifying glint in Ghost's extremely tired eyes, Shawn thinks that's not the best arrangement they could've come to.

"Alright," Shawn says, breathing heavily from the adrenaline, "Let's all calm down here!"

"Us?! You hurt Johnny!"

"I thought he was a ghost at first!"

"Why would he be a ghost?!"

"Because we're investigating his murder right now, which you are- were- the main suspect of!"

"Oh." Ghost looks at his partner. "Yeah, I killed him last night."

"That doesn't make any sense! He's here, he's real!"

"... Yes?" Ghost sounds genuinely confused. "Because it was last night? Of course he's fine now. After we went to the dance studio and got chased out by those turtle ghosts we got to the condo and the studio left him in a dancing mood, and then I caught him having macaroni! He was so out of it he almost did The British Disco right in front of me, so I killed him before he could!"

"Still sorry about that, sir."

"But how is he here if you killed him?"

"And what the hell does macaroni have to do with this?! And what's The British Disco?!" Gus keeps his distance, though his fear has subsided a bit.

Only a bit.

"We called Billy and everything was fine!" Ghost snaps as if that means anything. "And macaroni is a drug, obviously, and The British Disco is a dance so beautiful that it kills you if you see it and aren't either British or already dead!"

"If you can just come back from the dead-"

"Back from the dead, don't'ca just love bein' back from the dead," Ghost sings suddenly.

"... Right, sure. If you can just come back from the dead, why'd you have to kill him so you wouldn't die?"

"That's a different kind of dying!"

"There's only one kind!"

"Sir," Toast pipes up, "It seems this is one of those places. Where they don't follow the normal rules of reality."

Ghost's scowl disappears. "You're right, Johnny! Oh, I hate these places." The gun suddenly disappears from his hands. "Alright, let's try this all again. Ahem. I am JOHNNY GHOST, PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR EXTRAORDINAIRE, AND THIS IS MY PARTNER JOHNNY TOAST! Together we are P.I.E!"

Shawn nods, taking another step back. Situation diffused... for now. "Shawn Spencer, psychic detective," he says carefully. "This is my partner Nebulous Nevins."

Gus doesn't wave, but he does stop trying to melt into the wall so hard.

"Well, now that we're all ah, acquainted, could we... ask for your help?" Toast ventures. "See, our coworkers stayed back home and it turns out there's four ghosts at-"

"The Santa Barbra School Of Dance?" Shawn says, putting his hand to his head.

"Yes, exactly. We don't have any guns to spare you at the moment, however-"

"We don't do guns," Gus says quickly. "Not with ghosts."

"Well that's stupid," Ghost scoffs. "What do you do when they attack you?"

"I'm a psychic, not a ghost hunter. The spirits are generally on my side."

"You sound like Spooker. Let's go Johnny, apparently we have to clear up your supposed murder with the police!" Ghost grabs Toast's arm and drags him out.

It takes a full fifteen minutes for Shawn and Gus to relax after the two leave. Gus screams intermittently for five of those minutes. Shawn screams with him.

By the end they're collapsed in their chairs, completely unwound.

"... They're going to get arrested," Shawn says faintly. "If they tell that same story."

"Or put in an institution," Gus agrees.

"... Why do I get the feeling they won't stay in either one of those?"

"There's also still a real ghost in that studio."

"Yeah..." Shawn blinks, and then sits up. "Dude. Toast said coworkers. There's more of them!"

Gus looks horrified. "Who might come here looking for them, or to finish the job at the studio!"

"Close up shop." Shawn pulls the blinds down. "Gus, I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to keep those two guys out of prison so they can solve that turtle thing and get out of Santa Barbra!"

"How are we supposed to do that?! They're living in a completely different reality, Shawn! One word to Lassie and Jules will be enough!"

"I don't know! I-I'll think of something on the ride, but we are so not dealing with more than two people like that! I feel like my brain is trying to fry itself! Did you see the gun just disappear?!"

"Into thin air! They've gotta be some kind of demons!"

"With the way this case is going, I wouldn't be surprised."