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Ghostbusters: Daybreak

Chapter 6

(Revisionist History)

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

Special Thanks to Boredom

Golden light spilled up from beneath the metal grating that covered the basement floor. The air smelled faintly of ions, like the atmosphere during a thunderstorm. The yellow trapezoidal metal feet of the disc trap slipped into the open notches of the containment unit's mounting ring before Nine rotated and locked the trap into place. The underside slid snugly into the embedded port. With a few presses of buttons and a firm pull of a lever, the contents of the trap were drawn out into the containment grid. The recessed light panel turned from red to green, then black. Nine rotated the trap back, pulled it out of the socket and set it down before sliding open a square slot. He slid the rectangular box trap into it, pressed a release switch and dropped the inner core of the trap. The slot was slit shut, the buttons pressed, the lever pulled, and once again the lights indicated the cycle was complete.

A yawn escaped Nine's youthful face, although a bit of ginger stubble was growing out across his cheeks in a juvenile, somewhat patchy pattern. The short ponytail on the high back of his head was messy with strands that had escaped. Despite Icelos' best efforts to give them all a chance to rest, the fact was that Nine Mercer had school during the day and Ghostbusting at night, leaving him little time to sleep. To make matters worse, both jobs required homework. The traps were hung back up on their hooks to wait for another job before Nine trudged up the metal steps to the ground floor, hung a right and made the ascent up to the second floor. Nine slowed a bit, spotting that Miguel was sitting on the couch.

"I'm not used to seeing you here so late." Nine said, making his way over to the fridge. He eased it open and looked around before opting for a bottle of iced coffee. He popped the lid and tipped it back, grateful for any caffeine he could find.

"Angel is getting some tutoring for an AP test and his mom decided she'd have a night out on the town with the girls. I didn't really feel like eating dinner in an empty house." Miguel said. Nine smiled at that and nodded.

"I can't say I blame you. How about we blow some of our petty cash and have some Chinese food delivered?" Nine offered.

"How much petty cash do we have, exactly? Our last couple jobs were more out of emergency sake than anyone paying." Miguel said. Nine shrugged, taking another sip of his iced coffee.

"This dinner would be the last of our petty cash, but its Ghostbuster tradition." Nine said. Miguel grinned, pulling up a delivery app on his phone. Nine considered for a moment, running things back through his head.

"What subject is Angel's AP test in?" Nine asked.

"He didn't say." Miguel replied, not looking up from his phone.

****

The sound of the music was audible from outside the club - in fact it was more than audible. Angel could feel it vibrating his diaphragm beneath his lungs. The lights pulsating from the milky windows of the establishment were vibrant blues and greens and pinks, all shades that Angel had come to associate with supernatural energies. He stood in the parking lot, watching a few people come and go before he hesitantly approached. From the outside it looked like any other venue; packed parking lot, loads of lights, ambient sound that would have challenged the noise ordinance if the club had any neighbors.

It wasn't until Angel got closer that he noticed the first signs that this club was different. A sheen of bubblegum pink slime was slowly collecting on the edges of the window frames, stretching down to the ground in thin gooey webs. As far as mood slime went, pink was the best color. It was the color of joy and happiness. It had a repelling effect on malevolent spirits and was a potent antidote for any possessions. A frown crossed Angel's lips as he realized just how much he was thinking about work. He swallowed a bit as he approached the door and the rather robust looking man outside it.

"ID?" the man asked. Angel looked up with his honey brown eyes, giving a nod of his head before he fished out his wallet, producing both his ID card and a hundred dollar bill. The bouncer pocketed the bribe and inclined his head to the door, "Have a good evening sir." he said. Angel tried not to show the relief on his face as he opened the door and was engulfed in a wall of music. The vibration in his diaphragm became a jackhammer in his chest as he crossed the threshold and the door swung shut behind him. He'd finally made it to Club SeeThrough.

Portland had hardly been one of the go to destination cities for an active nightlife, but in the last few weeks it had certainly started moving up the list - at least privately. It was a precarious position for SeeThrough to be in. The so-called Ghost Apocalypse had driven most to stay inside and avoid crowded areas. It had only been the innovation of C2's Ecto-Tech watches and then their newly announced Lepton Barriers that had emboldened people to start going out again. That alone would have been enough, but then had come the reddit post, then the dark web rumors, and finally the open source code. It had taken all of that to build the foundation for Club SeeThrough and now Angel was seeing it with his own eyes.

The club hadn't just risen despite the times, it had embraced them. Pink slime bubbled up from fountains in the corners of the club, a translucent ghostly rave boy thrashed on the dance floor and a pale pearlescent glow came from the EctoTech watches of the other guests. Each of them had rooted the watches, turning the psychokinetic field from a defensive barrier into something else entirely. As Nine had pointed out, PK energy made up the barriers of reality and it was the footprint humans left behind. Now that energy was being used to manipulate the guests, to dip into the cosmic energies, to collect and convert and experiment with. The results were undeniable.

The clip-clop of hooves came as a pair of satyrs passed Angel, each wearing a varsity jacket and nothing else. Their goat tails flicked above furry asses while long, plump cocks wobbled in front of them. Their horns were tall and proud, earrings dangling from their ears, patches of fur adorning their chests. A short distance away, a woman and a man were making out at the bar, their heads covered in snakes rather than hair. There was a dragon man playing with a pile of golden chains around his neck, another young man that seemed to be trying to cope with an excessive amount of blue slime spilling from his mouth, and countless others.

Angel swallowed, feeling his heart race with anxiety. The Ghostbusters had worked for years to pull people back from the brink, to restore them from the corrupting influence of ghosts. Their predecessors had even had to develop intricate technologies to reverse the lasting influence of that corruption, and here he was in the middle of a club of teens and twenty somethings doing it all on purpose... and Angel had come for that very reason. He'd lied to his mom, he'd lied to Miguel, he'd wired hard to carve out the time to get away and now he was here, in the flesh so to speak.

"Pick your poison?" a voice asked. Angel blinked and turned, looking at a bare chested young man who happened to be sporting four pectorals and a double set of arms. The tell-tale pearlescent glow radiated from his wrist, the EctoTech watch pushing him beyond the normal confines of his mortal form. Angel lifted his wrist, brandishing his brand new EctoTech watch.

"I want to be a demon, a fallen angel." he replied. The multi-armed waiter grinned, pulling out a phone from his pocket. He began swiping through the club's menu, finding the modified code for such a thing.

"Any particulars, or should I surprise you?" he asked. Angel's heart fluttered a bit more.

"Surprise me." he said. The waiter nodded before pausing.

"Do you like men or women or both?" the waiter asked. Angel looked at the young man, at his smooth chest with his four nipples, then the supple way the muscles curved on his double set of arms. There had been a time when Angel would have said he preferred both, but his last several months had pushed him clearly into one camp.

"Men." Angel replied. The waiter nodded, modifying the last few options before he held the phone out and tapped it against Angel's watch. The screen fluttered as the near field receiver accepted the code before it began to glow with pearlescent energy for a moment before it suddenly turned red. The waiter's eyes widened in shock.

"D-Did you already have modifications?" he asked, looking at Angel in surprise. Angel looked back at the waiter.

"Not to my watch..." he murmured, though he had failed to mention the fact that hanging between his legs was the memento the Tikbalang had left him, a cock worthy of a horse. A heat began to build inside Angel, fizzing and crackling, jumping from muscle to muscle, then conducting through his bones. He murmured, feeling the power building and saturating him. His grin began to change as his canine teeth stretched out longer into fangs once more. The light in his eyes shifted, the brown draining away to leave only golden hues. Even his bleach blond dreadlocks began to darken, taking on a vibrant crimson hue.

"I-I should get my manager..." The waiter murmured. Angel gave a menacing grin and shook his head.

"It's fine, it's better than fine. You did good." Angel murmured, reaching out to give the waiter's meaty pec an affectionate grope. The waiter cooed a little, looking up at Angel, watching his brown skin taking on a reddish hue.

"Then I hope you like the surprise." he said softly. Angel let out a little growl.

"I know I will." he murmured, leaning in to give the waiter a kiss, feeling his tongue flex and writhe before the tip split out into forks. The waiter shivered in delight before Angel broke the kiss and began moving over toward the bar, intent on getting a drink. Each step felt heavier and easier than the last in a strange contrast. The heat seeping through his body felt like a great relief as well, soaking away faint aches and loosening up his joints like some kind of hot yoga. Most of all, however, Angel felt the weight lifting from his spirit as he shrugged off his anxieties. He didn't have to be the good boy here, or even the good Ghostbuster. This was a place for people to feel good, to be themselves, to let loose. There were no masks, they were SeeThrough.

Angel didn't quite make it to the bar, stopping as his eyes fluttered shut. His chest rose and fell, heavy with his breath, although each time he exhaled, it didn't quite shrink back as far as it had started. His shirt grew tight as his pectorals thickened and his abdominal muscles defined more. The sleeves of his shirt started to constrain and press into his arms. His pants were growing tighter too, not as much with an increase of flesh but instead with the tingling string of thousands of black hairs bursting from his skin and pressing out into a fine coating of fur that swept down from his fattening ass cheeks down his thighs and around his femur.

The music thumped and throbbed, shaking up Angel's body, coaxing on the fizzing, frothing energy. It was as if he could feel the heartbeat of the Nightclub, the energies of those around him. No, not their energies, their souls... Angel moaned, his forked tongue running over his wicked fangs as his ears burned and pressed into points. His hair had turned a rich cherry red, his skin taking on a muddled brownish-red color. Even his bleach blond goatee had changed, though it had darkened like the fur on his legs. As he wobbled and tried to steady himself, the fizzing reached the surface. Angel's youthful face darkened as stubble emerged, creeping up his jawline and down his cheeks, meeting somewhere in the middle.

The hair was dark and coarse, wiry, far thicker than anyone in high school should have been able to grow. Not only was each hair thicker than it should have been, but they were clustered so tightly together. It was nearly every pore, from ear to chin and under his jaw. Each hair had emerged like locusts after a great slumber, intent on one purpose. The shadow had crossed his face, but it was far from done. Each hair began to grow outward, extruding and stretching, adding on centimeter after centimeter. It grew out fast and thick, bushy and voluminous, counterbalancing the dreads that Angel had worked so hard to perfect. When his yellow eyes opened again, they seemed almost drunk with pleasure.

The volume of the music was too loud to hear the stitches snapping on his shirt, but he certainly felt them. His collar gave out, then the seam under his arm, then the side. Angel reached up and clutched at the fabric, pulling it away. The fabric surrendered to its fate as it tore, releasing his broad shoulders, thick slabs of pectorals and his mountainous abdominal muscles. A triangle of black fur had crept up from the waistline of his pants, surrounding his navel. Angel ran his fingers across the fur, his back arching a bit when he felt a new sting. His eyes darted down, seeing that his fingernails had stretched into points. As he watched, they darkened from ivory to black, sinking deeper into his fingers, anchoring themselves firmly as they thickened and stretched out even more.

"Give me a fireball." Angel said to the bartender as he reached the bar. The bartender gave a nod and went to mix up the beverage, leaving Angel there panting and sweating, feeling the strange energy ripping through his body. His brow ceased as his shoes felt tight. A momentary flash of realization hit and he stepped on the back heel of his left shoe, popping his foot out just in time as the toes merged and warped, his foot stretching and contouring in his sock. He shifted his balance to his other foot and removed his shoe before his mutating feet would have torn them to shreds. As sexy as it was to tear through his shirt, shoes were expensive and it was something he didn't want to have to explain to anyone.

A clink came as a glass was set down in front of him on the bar. Angel lowered his head and then shivered, feeling the coarse tickle of his growing beard against his chest. He looked up quickly, trying to find anything with a reflection, feeling his nipples and cock both jolt in erection as he saw himself. He lifted his clawed hand up, running his palm across the edge of his thickening beard. It had to be at least three inches out from his cheeks and just as far from his chin. He felt its contours, its edges, its length. He slowly sunk his clawed fingers in and gave it a tug, then nearly fell to his knees as he felt the beard respond. It pulled out from his face, growing longer. He tugged, pulled, then looped the coarse hair around his fingers and pulled again.

A deep, growling moan escaped from Angel's mouth as he felt his beard stretch to four inches, then five, then six - but it wasn't enough. He looped the hair again for a better grip and pulled more. The thick manly mane stretched out to his collarbone, then his nipples. As it grew longer, it grew wider and thicker, creeping toward his lips. It was so thick and dark and dense, black as night, black as his fur, in sharp contrast to his cherry red dreads. Angel paused to gasp for breath, finding it all intoxicating. It was only that thought that reminded him he had ordered a drink.

Angel let go of his manly beard and grabbed the shot glass, tipping it back into his mouth. The alcohol burned his forked tongue and then his throat, only adding to the fire coursing through his body. The energy swirled and shifted, seeping through his veins, rising to the top like heat tended to. His head sizzled, his brain stung, his skull burned. All of that heat focused into two spots, his reddish brown forehead starting to swell and stretch. Lumps formed, the skin growing irritated as something rubbed back and forth beneath the surface, pressing out, pushing and fighting and struggling. The skin grew tight, the pain grew hotter and then as Angel gasped, a black point burst through one of the lumps. A streak of blood ringed it, running down as the pressure was released. A moment later, the other lump was pierced by the tip of another horn.

The skin pulled back, growing resilient and healthy again, edging back as the black bone pushed out little by little at first, then faster. It grew wider at the base, the points curving upward, It edged out of Angel's skull, curving forward and up, thicker and taller, complimenting his pointed ears, his pointed fangs and his forked tongue. Angel moved to sit down on the bar stool but as he did, he felt his pants tearing all around him. The khakis shredded apart, revealing woolly black furred legs and his thick, leathery, brownish black horse cock that reached almost all the way to his knees. Finally released, the thick tube of flesh began to wobble and rise, arching upward, the blunt flat head glistening with the sheen of perspiration in the light before it smacked against his stomach. The entire length quivered, pulsing, but the medial ring seemed to announce Angel's heartbeat the loudest.

As Angel settled onto the bar stool, he felt an uncomfortable lump beneath him as if he'd sat on someone's belt, though the wince of pain indicated that whatever this lump was, it was his. Angel stood back up long enough for the whip like tail to flick free, still stretching out and growing, the spade tail flexing a bit. Angel sat back down, exhaling with sinful pleasure. All of his fears and concerns and anxieties were gone. He was someone else, something else, something that didn't have to bother with the expectations of family or duty or society. He was a creature of sin, of pleasure, and he was intent on milking it for all it was worth.

Angel grabbed his shot glass and brought it up again, only to realize it was empty. He gave a fanged snarl of disappointment and looked for the bartender, only to see him at the far end of the bar. Surely there had to be some way to sate his thirst. Angel looked around before his yellow eyes descended to his immense horse cock. It only took a split second to make up his mind before he lowered his mouth, his lips popping over the flared edge. He began to sink down lower, his forked tongue teasing his own urethra. The only shred of clothing Angel had left were his socks, and even they frayed and tore as his thick black hooves broke free, growing larger and larger until the socks fell away to the floor. His toes were webbed together and coated in thick keratin, each hoof the size of a dinner plate.

It didn't take much coaxing before thick silvery demon spunk began to leak and spill from Angel's immense cock, splashing his tongue and coating his throat as he gulped it down. The sinful brew seemed to accelerate the shift. Each swallow packed on more pounds of muscle and mass. Angel's furry black balls swelled larger, growing to the sizes of oranges and then grapefruits. His pecs stuck out further, his nipples elongating and plumping. His tail thickened, taking up more and more of his backside, but the strangest shift came from his back. From a distance, it seemed that Angel was hunched over at the bar. To a small degree that was true given that he was sucking his own equine phallus, but given its length he was nearly upright.

The hunched shape came from the muscles and tissue forming beneath his reddish-brown skin - tissue that was moving. The skin squirmed and shifted before it began to stretch outright. The outer layers of skin grew translucent and thin before it tore, allowing a leathery bat wing to peel itself from Angel's back. A moment later a second wing unfurled from beneath. They fanned out and gave a light flap, the skin hardening and the bones setting. The flesh beneath was tender for a few moments before firming up and taking on a healthier sheen. All the while, Angel continued to drink his own cum.

Gulp after gulp, the sinful sludge filled his stomach. New patches of black fur sprouted between his pecs, from his elbows, and especially under his arms. The bristly, wiry black hair collected his spicy scent, locking it in. His red dreadlocks grew longer, stretching to brush his shoulder blades and then tickle the tops of his wings. Even his beard grew further, this time even without him pulling. It was nearly twice as wide as his face and long enough to reach his sternum, curving out in a straight line under his lower lip before reluctantly curving down to join the rest of the mass. The beard cradled his thick cock, curving around it.

"Is there enough to share?" A familiar voice asked. Angel's yellow eyes snapped up to see the waiter from earlier standing two feet away. Angel willed his orgasm to slow from a fountain to a slow dribble before he popped his mouth off of himself, leaving a trail of silvery cum down his bushy black beard.

"You want a tip?" Angel asked, his voice a bit deeper to his own surprise.

"Hopefully more than a tip..." The waiter murmured, "I took off the last few hours of my shift. I was hoping to have some fun of my own. How do you like your surprise?" he asked softly. Angel turned around on the stool and leaned back, his huge wings bracing against the bar, his cock rising between them like a pillar.

"I feel like you chose this off the menu for yourself. What exactly were you ordering?" Angel asked, a clawed hand moving to slide up and down his huge horse cock. The waiter shivered, a bit of drool involuntarily escaping his lips.

"I wanted someone powerful, manly, someone to corrupt me, someone to make me his own and show me how to live... Someone I could call daddy." the waiter whispered, "I never thought I'd be able to ride him like a cowboy too." he said. Angel gave another soft growl.

"You want me to be your daddy?" Angel asked, thinking about Lil Slyme's video. That hadn't been the role he'd originally pictured, but now that he was starting to live up to it, it felt far nicer than he'd expected.

"I'd love to call you daddy." the waiter whispered. Angel reached out, his wicked hand curving over the waiter's bare shoulder, pulling him closer.

"Well, I have to warn you, I might be big enough to hurt you..." Angel murmured. The waiter slipped one hand over Angel's left shoulder, one onto his right rib, one closed around his huge cock and the last reached up to caress Angel's thick black beard.

"I'm a growing boy, I'm sure I'll adapt. And besides, this is just your first visit to the club... Each time you can push it a bit further. If you think this is manly, just wait until you grow so big that this seems like a teenager and his first mustache." the waiter whispered. A thick glob of silver cum erupted from Angel's cock, running down the length and spilling over the waiter's hand.

"What do I call you?" Angel asked. The waiter blushed.

"Besides boy?" he whispered, "Marcus." he replied.

"Multilimb Marcus, m sexy boy..." Angel whispered before he grabbed onto the twenty year old with two clawed hands and lifted him up. Marcus yelped in delight, his hands quickly going to his belt and pants, tugging them off. As the fabric slumped down, two respectable, meaty, reddish-pink cocks flung upright from his groin, sending a splash of clear pre across Angel's crotch fur. The demon grunted happily.

"More than just multi-lmbs then..." he said with contentment before he lowered Marcus down, finding the crevice between his perky bubble butt cheeks. Marcus moaned out as he felt his fleshy ring stretch and widen as the blunt, flat, flared horse cock wedged in between. Marcus squirmed, all four hands grabbing onto Angel for support until he suddenly sank down four inches with a satisfying pop.

"Fuck!" he moaned.

'Language, my son.' Angel grinned. It was especially naughty given the fact that he was clearly younger than Marcus, but this waiter had turned him into something more. He was a demon daddy worthy of many sons and Marcus would be his first. He thrust his hips up even as Marcus wriggled down. The waiter's extended torso made room for the huge shaft of meat to delve deep into him, snaking in and out, deeper and harder. The bar stool started to groan as Angel bucked up and down. Marcus leaned in and kissed the demon, feeling his face tickled and engulfed by the bushy black beard.

Angel's skin was hot to the touch, the air around him smelling of sweat and cinnamon, of sulfur and cum. Angel rammed his huge cock into Marcus, getting as deep as he could until he could practically feel the boy's soul. He ground and shifted, grinding like a madman, their kisses sloppy and heated. Marcus was right, this was Angel's first visit. With his EctoTech hacked, anything could happen. He could get even bigger, but he could also twist Marcus in his image. The waiter would look quite hot with a demon tail and horns of his own.

The idea of corrupting his partner made Angel groan into their kiss, his huge cock started to unleash his semen once more. Squirt after squirt filled Marcus' hungry hole, making him feel warm and loved from within. He rode the demon's dick, panting and howling, adding in to the unheard symphony of orgasmic moans that formed the undercurrent of the music filling the SeeThrough club. Angel and Marcus were hardly the only ones indulging themselves. There were no rules, no ordinances, no adherence to decorum or protocol. It was a bastion of the depraved, an anarchist's dream.

More colored illumination spilled across the dance floor - not from the light tracks mounted to the ceiling, but from more ghosts that had come through the walls to join in the party. Some were the echoes of humans that had passed, others were creatures from other dimensions made of the same psychokinetic energy that formed the barriers between realms. All of them had come to have a good time. The music was loud, the drinks were plentiful, and the lines between humans and ghosts had never been thinner.

****

How was it that someone could be so tired and yet unable to sleep? What sort of ancient curse had been threaded through the minds of man? Nine lay in his bed, his knees steeped up with a cozy yellow comforter stretched over them like some kind of blanket fort. The updated copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide rested against his legs, the red leather binding like the color of blood. Nine thumbed through the thick yellowed pages for the thousandth time, looking at sketches of the Grundel, Stay Puft, Aphshai, Idulnas and the Spider Witch.

In a way the world was lucky. While most of the Ghostbusters had disappeared and most of their containment units breached, the headquarters in New York still stood strong. The world was flooded with the former prisoners of the Ghostbusters, but the most powerful few were still trapped. The thought simmered on Nine's brain for a few moments before his brow creased. He slowly lowered the spirit guide against his legs, looking less at the entries and more at the book itself. It had been updated and annotated by Doctors Spengler and Stantz after their years in the field. It contained stories and anecdotes, insights and advisement. It had been written by the victors...

Nine tried to imagine what the book might have looked like if written by the ghosts, or at the very least what they might have thought about everything. He couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of resentment they would have had for the Ghostbusters, or how that resentment might have evolved over decades of an eternal imprisonment. If that resentment was compounded by every ghost ever captured by every Ghostbusters franchise, it could have been an incredibly powerful thought... and psychokinetic energy was the manifestation of thought.

"Oh my god..." Nine whispered, swinging his legs out of bed before stumbling where he'd been tripped up by his yellow comforter. He eventually broke free and sat down in his computer chair, rubbing at his bare chest with one hand while the other slapped at his mouse to wake it from its slumber. He navigated through his hard drive until he found the files decrypted from the codex Grayson Kale had left before he disappeared. Nine brought up the files on the spirit that they called the Gray Eyed Boy, the spirit Rerun had revealed as the Man Trap.

It wasn't the first time Nine had looked at the files. While most of the Ghostbusters franchises had disappeared without a trace, those few that had gone missing in stages had mentioned the Gray Eyed Boy. He had been like an angler fish engineering the lures to lead the Ghostbusters to their own disappearances... but the sightings had been diminishing, the disappearances tapering off. Nine bit his bottom lip as he looked up on the shared Ghostbusters database, looking for the dates the franchises had gone dark. They were nearly simultaneous at first, clustered densely several months prior, but then as time went on they stretched out further and further until there hadn't been a single disappearance in a month. If anything, a few of the remaining franchises had started training new recruits.

"It's like a Chinese finger trap..." he whispered in realization. The Grey Eyed Boy had fed on the resentment of the trapped ghosts, giving him incredible powers to disappear the Ghostbusters and to shut down their containment grids, but as those ghosts were freed, their resentment faded away and the Grey Eyed Boy's powers weakened. The closer he got to his ultimate goal, the less strength he had to do it. The Ghostbusters of New York had no doubt continued to thrive thanks to their skills and experience, but the Grey Eyed Boy might not have even had enough strength to take them on, and if he had opened their containment unit, he would have ceased to exist.

Nine sat in his chair before turning slowly, looking out of his bedroom window at the aurora of pink energy swirling and shifting high above Portland. The idea of a ghost powerful enough to kidnap hundreds of Ghostbusters had been terrifying, but if his theory was right, they'd never stood a better chance to find him and capture him... and if they captured the Grey Eyed Boy, there was a distinct chance that every spirit he'd captured would return to the realm of the living. The Ghostbusters had become victims of their own success and they had been trapped by the resentment of the ghosts they had captured, but that wasn't how their history would end. Nine would make sure that there would be many more chapters written about the brave souls facing the spooks, specters and ghosts from the great beyond.

****

It had taken a great effort to bypass every squeaky step and groaning floorboard in the old Portland home, at least doubling the time it took Angel to get from the front door to his bedroom. The last obstacle was perhaps the hardest. He turned the knob to his room slowly at first, but the sound of the old metal sliding against metal was audible too. He sped up a bit to at least shorten the duration. He used his bare toes to apply pressure on the door to try and ease it from the warped frame, opening it with the most minimal pop possible - and then he froze.

A moment passed, then two, then three. It was only then that Angel slipped in, keeping a firm hold of the door before edging it shut behind him and waited another long moment. He turned to move towards his bed, exhaling a bit with relief that he'd finally made it. The exhale had made it much easier to gasp when Miguel's desk lamp snapped on, the turquoise haired boy looking up in concern.

"Where in the hell have you been? I had to cover for you to..." Miguel trailed off as he looked at Angel. He looked okay, not hurt or anything, but... he had a lot more stubble than he'd had that morning at breakfast. It looked like more than he'd ever grown out before, at least a couple of weeks. There was something off about his face too, well, not his face, but maybe his ears? Were they different?

"It's not a big deal..." Angel muttered. Miguel looked around, realizing that Angel wouldn't have had time to both undress and put away his clothes in the time he'd turned on the light. Angel had come home naked, wearing nothing but his EctoTech watch.

"What do you mean, not a big deal? Angel, what's going on?" Miguel asked. Angel shot Miguel a glare.

"This is my house. I live here. I come back here when I feel like it. You're not my brother. Thanks for covering for me, but I didn't ask you to. I just want to sleep." Angel said. The two remained in silence for a long moment until Miguel gestured wordlessly to Angel's bed before he turned out the lamp, rolled over and curled into a ball. Angel winced a bit. He hadn't meant to be that harsh but it felt like everything about his real life was grating and chafing now after such a good night out.

Angel pulled back his covers and laid down on his bed, rolling so his back was to Miguel. He stared at his shadow on the wall cast by the dim pink light of the aurora coming through the bay window. Angel reached out, pressing his hand on the wall, splaying his fingers to make it look like his shadow had horns. For a few hours he hadn't had to be himself, he'd been someone new... He'd pretended he'd had a different life, a different history, that he was a demon bent on the corruption of the innocent. He'd certainly corrupted a few asses. He'd never put his horse cock to that much work before... but it wouldn't be the last time. He'd let the demon out again, he'd live a better life, he'd revise his history even if it was a few hours at a time and in his own mind.

****

Fog... Fog wasn't unheard of in Oregon, but this didn't exactly feel like fog. It was warm, it wasn't quite wet enough, and it was hard to tell where the vapor ended and he began. Eli's blue eyes opened slowly. He tried to blink the sleep out of them before he looked down at his bare arm, moving it forward and then back. It didn't seem like it was all there, almost as if it was translucent and ethereal like the fog itself. His eyes widened in shock. Was he dead? Had he died? Was he a ghost? The irony of the thought bubbled up, but then pieces started to fall back into place.

Memories seemed to return, the fog in his mind clearing as the fog around thinned a little as well. Eli moved to push himself up, though he wobbled a bit unsteadily. It felt as if all of his fight had been drained from his body, leaving his brain heavy in his skull and his muscles weary. His sweat soaked blond hair fell across his face until he brushed it back, taking a few labored breaths. Eli summoned every bit of strength he had to take a step, though as he did, flashes of memory jolted through his mind like a lightning burst.The horsemen of the apocalypse... Famine sharing his body... and the grey eyed boy - no, the Man Trap...

Eli recovered and looked around, seeing the fog swirl and shift as he moved. Wherever he was, it seemed to be cavernous, although the walls were just a bit too rounded and a bit too perfect to be a natural phenomenon. It seemed almost organic. The curved wall carried on for some distance, scored with grooves in even intervals. There also was no clear light source, just a vague pale grayish-blue light that felt like it was coming from far away. Eli took a step, then another. It was a struggle, but he felt his strength returning little by little. It was only then that he started to realize just how long he'd gone without a thought, without being able to think. He'd been stranded in desolation and isolation. The question truly was, what had changed?

"Nico?!" Eli called out, his voice echoing off the curved walls. "Gray? Seth?" Eli called out. There was no response, at least, not right away.

"Hello?" Another voice called from ahead. The fog swirled as someone else sat up, though it was someone unfamiliar. It was a man in his thirties, his reddish brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.He was wearing a navy blue jumpsuit emblazoned with an embroidered patch of a white ghost trapped behind a red ring and cross. Eli grinned despite himself/

"You're a Ghostbuster too..." Eli said, moving over, "Are you alright? My name is Eli, Eli Reed." he said, offering the other his hand.

"Sam Wallace. Which branch are you with?" the man asked, taking Eli's hand and getting up to his feet. Eli had to counterbalance his body weight to get the other upright, not realizing how much heftier he was at first. Sam rose up a good six foot two, loaded with enough muscle to fill out his jumpsuit.

"Portland Oregon." Eli said. Sam grinned.

"Orange County California." Sam replied. Eli stained, trying to get the gears in his head to turn as he clutched at some half remembered detail.

"Your branch went dark about three months before... before ours did." Eli said finally. This time it was Sam's turn to frown.

"What do you mean, went dark?" he asked. Eli felt that weight wrapping around his brain and shoulders again, as if it was trying to drag him down. Whatever had been keeping them unconscious had barely weakened enough for them to wake up. Eli had no idea how long it was going to last, but he was at least going to get some answers.

"When you were working your recent cases, did you see a strange grey eyed boy lurking about?" Eli asked. If it had been possible for Sam to look any paler in the dim blue light and the ethereal fog, he would have.

"How did you know?" he asked softly.