camwyn: Me in a bomber jacket and jeans standing next to a green two-man North Andover Flight Academy helicopter. (approve)
[personal profile] camwyn
(Part one, the intro, can be found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/camwyn/327430.html . Man, I should get a Ghostbusters icon to go with these.)

It was a bright, warm, sunny day in New York City. The sun was shining, the traffic snarling, and there wasn't an active spirit, spook or ghost anywhere on the island of Manhattan. At least, if there was, no one had phoned the firehouse at the corner of Varick and North Moore about it. Which explained, perhaps, why Peter Venkman was able to lug himself down the stairs into the kitchen, mumble, "G'morning," and get a curtly snapped, "Afternoon" from Egon by way of reply.


"Is it?" He squinted at the clock on the microwave. "Huh. Sure feels like morning."

"It was morning when you got in, too."

"Pssh. It's not morning until the sun's up."

"Which it almost was. Where were you last night, anyway?"

"Long, boring story. You wouldn't be interested." He yawned again; Egon muttered something, shook his head, and ducked out of the kitchen. The slow weeks, as far as he was concerned, were research weeks. How Peter could waste them so casually, he'd never know. He had three different experiments in various stages of progress laid out in the lab, and there was a copy of Semiconductor Spintronics and Quantum Entanglement waiting-

"RAY!" came Peter's yell from upstairs. "Why's the kitchen all weird?"

Ray poked his head out of the small room next to the lab; reorganizing his research library was his pet project for the month. "I finally got your mess cleaned up, that's why!" he answered, equally loudly. He glanced down the hall and winced apologetically. "Sorry, Egon."

Egon waved a hand in a vague it's-all-right gesture; upstairs there was silence for a moment, followed by, "Oh."

Ray shook his head. "He just got up, I'm guessing?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Have you seen my-"

"RAY! I can't find the bread!"

With a sigh, Ray called back, "In the breadbox!"

"Which is where?"

"Under the cabinet next to the microwave!"

"Oh."

"Remind me to see about rigging him up with an IV caffeine infusion," Egon murmured. "That ought to-"

"RAY! I can't find the mayo!"

"It's in the fridge, where it belongs! You left it in the pantry!"

"Oh."

Ray shook his head. "Never mind the caffeine. What he needs is a good stiff dose of synthetic amphetamines. Too bad they're illegal."

Egon smiled faintly. "No argument here-"

"RAY!"

"I'm busy, Peter!" Ray snapped back. "Find it yourself!"

There was a moment's quiet.

"EGON!"

"Sorry, buddy," said Ray sympathetically as he turned back into the library. "This one's all yours."

Egon snorted and went to the stairs. "WHAT?"

"We've got an owl! What do you want me to do with it?"

There was a muffled clatter and a sudden 'ow!' from behind him, as of a man whose head has collided with the bottom of a bookshelf. "Uh… what sort of owl?" Egon asked warily.

"What do you mean, what sort of owl? An owl owl!"

"Peter, you're going to have to be more specific-"

"Hang on a second, I think it's gonna land. It's got something in its claws…"

Egon spared a quick glance over his shoulder; Ray had scrabbled to his feet and was leaning out of the library again. "Peter?"

There was no answer, only the sound of feet on the stairs. Moments later Peter appeared, scowling and wiping ineffectually at the blood rolling down his forehead from gashes raked at the edge of his scalp. "One of you has a letter," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and up the stairs. "In the kitchen."

Leaving Peter with the lab's first aid kit, Egon and Ray headed up the stairs. "I doubt it's for me," Egon said dryly.

"Why? You know more people in Europe than I do."

"And I'm persona non grata in more wizarding jurisdictions than you are. I very much doubt there's anyone in the world willing to communicate with me who still uses owl post, Ray."

"Oh, come on. You can't have alienated everyone."

"Wizard culture in Europe is a lot less forgiving than it is in the States. There were a couple of teachers at Durmstrang who wanted me burned at the stake."

"That's pretty impressive. How'd you manage that?"

"They didn't appreciate the idea that a solid grasp of arithmantic number theory and magical principles could be used to strip the traditional wizardly trappings and pseudoscientific influences from everything they did and turn magic into something properly systematically testable. Said the very existence of the idea was a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, never mind the fact that it still didn't work for people without properly expressed mana-manipulating genetic markers."

"That doesn't sound like grounds for burning at the stake to me."

"It had more to do with the presentation," Egon conceded. "I got a pretty hostile reception and a poor grade when I turned that essay in. Calling the instructor a walking anachronism who'd left both his frontal lobes in the care of the Sorcerer of Trois Freres Cave may not have been the most diplomatic way of handling the appeal."

"Ouch."

"Well, it was true."

At first glance the kitchen seemed just the same as always. It took a moment to spot the telltales: the open window here, the half-made sandwich there. And, of course, the staring contest at the table, between a wary-looking Winston and a bedraggled tawny owl with an envelope clutched in its talons. "Don't make any sudden moves," Winston said as the kitchen door opened. His eyes didn't leave the owl's for a second. "One of you just ease over and close the window-"

"It's all right, Winston," said Egon. The owl's head suddenly swiveled in his direction. "He didn't steal it, he's delivering it." He held out a forearm, fist clenched; the bird hooted and leapt up from the table, dropping the envelope into Egon's other hand. It wrapped its claws around his arm and settled to preening its feathers with an affronted air. "Ray? Would you mind opening this while I see to our friend here?"

Winston shook his head, settling back into his chair. "Who keeps owls in New York City? I mean, pigeons, yeah, but owls?"

"He's not from New York," said Ray absently. He'd sat down in one of the other chairs and was skimming over the bird's letter rapidly, a small pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. "This species is native to Great Britain and Ireland. The letter's from England, dated yesterday. He must've come down the Floo Network through Canada. There's no way a bird his size could make it to Manhattan that fast on his own."

The owl hooted, hopping up and down briefly on Egon's shoulder. "Sounds affirmative to me," the man said, his voice muffled; he was rooting through the back of the freezer. "Did you get rid of that Baggie full of mice when you defrosted last, Ray?"

"No, but I vacuum-sealed them and wrapped the packet in foil. They're behind the durian ice cream."

"Whose idea was that, anyway?"

"Jeanine's, I think." Ray turned his attention back to the letter. "Says here-"

"Uh- question." Winston held up one hand. "What's a Floo Network?"

Egon popped the microwave open. Over his shoulder he said, "A network of supernaturally connected fires, both active and dormant, stretching across most of the Commonwealth countries and into parts of the United States. Extremely inefficient as a means of transport, since it depends on-"

"Egon-" Ray set the letter down, turning all of his attention to Winston, who looked as if he didn't know whether to believe Egon or not. "Winston hasn't been briefed on that, remember?"

"Oh. Right." There was a quiet ding! from the microwave. "Well-"

"Here's an idea," said Peter, who had successfully bandaged his scalp wounds and returned to the kitchen. "Why don't I tell him-"

Egon straightened up immediately, his back to the microwave oven.

"-and you promise me you'll never, ever, ever heat up dead mice in the same microwave I use for my lunch again."

"I'm not heating up dead mi - ow!"

"Yeah? Then why's the owl biting your ear off?"

". . . jet lag?" Egon winced, and tried to push the owl aside with one hand. It bit him again. "Ow."

Peter shook his head and pulled out one of the chairs. "Egon, you're a brilliant scientist, but you're a terrible liar," he said as he straddled the chair back-to-front. "Winston, it's like this. Ray and Egon here have a long and glorious history of not putting stuff on their CV's. Number one item on the list is that they are, in fact, wizards."

"No offense, Peter, but I kind of figured that out for myself that time we went to New Orleans."

"Yeah, well, there's more. What they haven't told you is that there's a lot of other wizards out there, pretty much world-wide, and that they don't trust us mundanes to know about them and not go ballistic."

"The International Statute of Secrecy was passed in response to real persecution-"

"I know, Ray, but it's been a couple hundred years, hasn't it? When was the last time I tried to set you on fire? On purpose, I mean?"

"Well-"

"Anyway." Peter turned back to Winston. "Wizards have this secrecy thing, like I said. Most of 'em don't live in close contact with normal people, so if they're going to travel or send messages, they have to do it by magical means. Or by means of small, vicious birds of prey that are stinking up my kitchen with their lunch-"

"All right, all right, I promise I won't put any more mice in the microwave."

"Thank you, Egon." He grinned and drew a tally-mark in the air with one finger. "Score one for our side."

Winston glanced over at Egon, who'd put the owl's plate on the windowsill. "How come we haven't had an owl turn up before this, then? I mean, if there's as many wizards as you say-"

"They don't want to talk to us, mostly," said Ray.

"They don't want to talk to me, you mean." Egon looked up from the owl's lunch-in-progress. "Ray's isolation from the rest of the 'wizarding community' is an unfortunate side effect of our association. Most of the world's born mana manipulators-"

"English, Egon. We speak English in this firehouse."

"I am speaking English, Peter. Considering the variety of ways the human race has found to manipulate universal forces, it pays to be precise. The people who call themselves the 'wizarding world' or 'wizarding community' are born with a certain capacity to affect the physical world through magic, and sometimes the spirit world as well. I haven't isolated the genes involved yet, but-"

"What Egon is saying is that most wizards aren't very fond of mundane science," Ray interjected.

"Mundane?" Winston raised an eyebrow. "The stuff we do?"

"All right, poor choice of words." Ray shrugged. "I think you know what I mean, though."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay, then. They don't want to talk to us because we spend so much time trying to unify science and magic, basically."

"They consider us a threat," said Egon. "Always have."

"And they figure Egon is more dangerous than I am. At least I have the decency to treat magic like magic most of the time, and science like science, is how they see it."

"Uh-huh." Winston leaned back in his chair. "So… if wizards aren't supposed to let people who aren't wizards know that they exist…" He trailed off, looking inquiringly at Peter.

"It's amazing how much people in Scotland will tell you when they're too drunk to hold onto the floor." Peter snickered.

"What does Scotland have to do with it?"

"Uh, hello? Ph. D. in parapsychology? The one hanging next to my Caddyshack poster? They didn't start handing those out in the States until Columbia got a parapsych department. I had to go to the University of Edinburgh for that."

"But you said-"

"He ran into a student from the biggest school of magic in Europe during an end-of-term pub crawl," muttered Egon, covering his face with one hand. "Potter told him everything. I throw up just thinking about it."

Ray cleared his throat loudly and adjusted his glasses. "Can we get back to the subject at hand, guys? This-" He held up the letter. "-says the British Ministry of Magic has a nationwide ghost situation even their Spirit Division can't handle."

"Wait," said Winston. "Ministry of Magic?"

"Told you there were a lot of wizards," Peter said. "Got their own governments and everything. Egon, I'm going to reach into that refrigerator in a minute and finish making my lunch. Please tell me I'm not going to find any more dead rodents."

"Of course not."

"Oh good."

"They're in the freezer."

"Thank you, Egon. That makes me feel so much better. Ray? Are they going to pay us?"

"Yep," said Ray, scanning the text of the letter. "Pretty well, too, and cover our room and board while we're there."

"In real money or moon-man money?"

"Probably the latter, but I know where we can change that for pounds sterling."

"All right. England, here we come."

Winston just shook his head. "Good thing I just got my passport renewed, huh?"

"Passport?" Egon laughed. "Where we're going, we don't need passports."

Date: 2004-04-08 08:24 pm (UTC)
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
1) Eep! No Peter/Egon or Ray/Winston! I guess I can live without the slash, but it's going to be hard for me.;) (Somehow I see Peter/Egon as a sort of default - I always start reading expecting that either that's the case or it soon will be.)

2)Caddyshack poster! Ha!! :)

3)Winston's reaction to being told Egon and Ray are wizards - *chortle* that's perfect. He figures things out about people and doesn't bother to mention it - seems exactly in character.:) (I'm actually rather weirded out by Egon and Ray being wizards, but I knew as soon as someone mentioned it that you would do it that way.)

4) One question, though it's pretty minor - do the timelines actually match up for Peter to have met Harry's father? I could go look up timelines but I need to sleep tonight.

Date: 2004-04-09 01:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wal-lace.livejournal.com
Heh. That was the last crossover I expected, and well worth reading.

Thought: Of the four people I know at Edinburgh, three have changed course while they were there. The Scottish universities system is rather more flexible in that regard than most. Would Peter have set out to study parapsychology, or would a drunken encounter with a teenaged wizard have put him onto a new path?

Date: 2004-04-09 07:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hangingfire.livejournal.com
*cackles*

Brilliant stuff. The dialogue is superb.

Date: 2004-04-09 09:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gehayi.livejournal.com
Wicked. Absolutely wicked. I love this and wish I'd written it.

One thing--if Egon went to Drumstrang, that means he isn't a Muggleborn. Durmstrang doesn't admit Muggleborn students.

Date: 2004-04-09 10:33 am (UTC)
aberrantangels: (Harry Potter)
From: [personal profile] aberrantangels
"Calling the instructor a walking anachronism who'd left both his frontal lobes in the care of the Sorcerer of Trois Freres Cave may not have been the most diplomatic way of handling the appeal."

*dies* Love it. Very Egon thing to say when confronted with hidebound stupidity. (In fact, all the dialogue is so spot-on that I can hear Coulier, Welker, LaMarche and Jones — or Music, Welker, LaMarche and Hall — delivering it quite readily. I have to admit, it takes me a little stretching to get Murray, Aykroyd, Ramis and Hudson, but that's just because they got a lot less screen time in the parts.)

And I've got a title, if you want it: "Who Ya Gonna Owl?" ^_^

Date: 2004-04-09 10:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] terrie01.livejournal.com
That's great. Very much loving this (and your others). I don't suppose we'll be seeing Janine at all, will we?

Date: 2004-04-09 11:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] feonixrift.livejournal.com
I nearly lost track of my plans for the day while falling down laughing over how wonderful the dialog was. Very much looking forward to the next installment.

-- me, who isn't a fan of either ghostbusters or harry potter

Date: 2004-04-09 02:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zou.livejournal.com
I am so loving this!
You're the best at crossovers. :) I normally don't like them.

Date: 2004-04-10 05:30 am (UTC)
aberrantangels: (fanboy)
From: [personal profile] aberrantangels
Thank you!!

*bows* You're quite welcome. Glad I could help.

Now I just need to find a screencap and make myself an icon!

Good job. I certainly approve.

Date: 2004-04-10 06:25 am (UTC)
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
1. Er... I've... never actually written any slash anything in my life and wouldn't have the first idea where to begin.

Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, there - I don't assume everyone writes slash, and I kind of thought you didn't, but I've read so much Egon/Peter that it feels almost like canon to my brain. (Ray/Winston is my own little pet adoration, apparently - it's not very popular, probably because it would be hard to wring much angst out of them and stay in character.)

Slash in a story like this, with a well developed story line, would be easy and non-intrusive, very subtle background stuff (The Look, The Touch, a little extra consideration or worry between the ones slashed). Unless one of the slashed characters was severely threatened by the events of the story, in which case a larger reaction would be called for. Er, don't think I'm trying to angle you toward it, it's your story, but you said you didn't know where you'd start, so I automatically started thinking of suggestions of where to start. *hides* Sorry!

And, hey, the timeline research impresses me! I'll buy it.:)

Of course, I will read the story however you write it, I'm thrilled by the concept and you write so well.:)
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
Remind me to tell you about the time I applied the 'if you changed the genders' test for slash potential to one of my fanfiction characters and came back with an answer of 'oh hell yes, but only if you changed the species, too'.


This has been nagging at me since you posted it, so I guess I have to get it out of my system.

It's obvious you're not a slasher. No slasher would be at all bothered by a minor detail like species.

:)

So, here's me reminding you to tell me about that time - what fandom was it?
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
*chortles* Yup, that was the answer I expected/hoped for.:) I can't see Sgt Preston with anyone else. Being fanfic you _could_ potentially make this work. Say they both got were disease. Yukon King would have an interesting time learning to act human and teaching Preston how to be a dog.

I'm telling you, true slashers are stopped by nothing.:)

Did you ever read "Dilvish the Damned," by Roger Zelazney? I had to wonder if that's what Zelazney was sort of skirting around when he had Dilvish's demon horse, Black, get turned into a man in one of the stories, and they both seem really _wistful_ about it when he goes back to horse-shaped.
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
Heh, funny, I really started thinking of the fact they were in Oz and there's magic all around (just like for Mary Tyler Moore) when I'd already turned off the computer for the night.
ext_14419: the mouse that wants Arthur's brain (Default)
From: [identity profile] derien.livejournal.com
I had to tell my friend Caw about the discussion concerning the possibility of a romantic thing between Sgt. Preston and his dog, and her first reaction was, "Ew, ick!" but within a second she recanted and said, "Oh, wait - he could be a phouka!" referancing "War for the Oaks" (Emma Bull, 1987) (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0765300346/qid=1083547481/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/103-9532921-9127039?v=glance&s=books), one of her favorite books, in which the (female) lead character's love interest is a guy who's also a dog. (And the book has been re-released, which makes me happy. :) Here's a closeup of the new cover with the phouka pictured, and with a statement from Neil Gaimon! :) (http://www.amazon.com/gp/reader/0765300346/ref=sib_dp_pt/103-9532921-9127039#reader-link))

(As an aside, I later read "Jack of Kinrowan" (Charles de Lint, 1999) (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0312869592/qid=1083547718/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/103-9532921-9127039?v=glance&s=books), and it felt like a bad knock-off of Bull.)

Mice In The Freezer and Owles With GB

Date: 2004-08-20 08:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gbegon-spengler.livejournal.com
I lovve this, so much humor. I love the mice thing that was a real die for laugher, at least in my idea. This whole thing was wonderful! Just Wonderful! Great use of words and context was super. You are by far a very good writer.

Re: Mice In The Freezer and Owles With GB

Date: 2004-08-20 06:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gbegon-spengler.livejournal.com
I found it through crossthestreams comment board. You can check out my story here. I haven't figured out how to post it like you have yours posted. I need help with it. Sorry for the spelling errors in it.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/gbegon_spengler/

Hope you like, please leave comments. that is if you like. How'd you get it to be linked in the crossthestreams journal?

Re: Mice In The Freezer and Owles With GB

Date: 2004-08-20 06:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gbegon-spengler.livejournal.com
Oh you did check it out, never mind. thanks.

Date: 2009-08-07 06:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sarekofvulcan.livejournal.com
"the Sorcerer of Trois Freres Cave"

*starts rolling on the the floor* You wrote that _how_ long before we first heard the Tale of the Three Brothers? :-)

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