Since the Christmas season is almost here, I thought I'd begin my Real Ghostbusters photonovel anew. But I realized that my original thread has so many updates and other posts, so I thought, “Why not simply give the story a new thread?”

And I thought of the possibility that it might look like a duplicate thread. So, I will make this VERY clear: this thread will contain nothing but the Photonovel. No comments, no updates, nothing but the actual story. All comments can be redirected to the original thread:

http://forums.ghostbusters.net/showthread.php?t=10294

Right. Now, I have a very important question for you: Ghostbusters.net, WHO YA GONNA CALL?

…

I said, GHOSTBUSTERS.NET, WHO YA GONNA CALL?

Oh, wait. Got to turn the sign on.

Ah, THERE it is!

Janosz Poha hadn’t had a good year. Oh, certainly, there were one or two highlights—successfully obtaining a few grants at the Manhattan Museum of Art, accompanied by a nice, big raise and subsequent move to a new apartment (one of those unusual, pre-furnished Victorian-revival jobs)—but the poor curator still wasn’t happy. It was probably just the oncoming New York winter, and its near-constant snow, slush, ice, and cold, cold, cold, that made him feel grouchy—and he was never really a fan of the Holiday Season anyway–but this year it made Janosz’s mind turn toward his ignominious defeat the year previously.
Curse those Ghostbusters, he thought. First they had to shatter my dreams of love to pieces, and wreck Lord Vigo’s plans, but then they had to leave me dripping with goo!



The effects of the positively-charged mood slime had long since worn off, and all his good feelings were now replaced with those dreaded winter blues, coupled with the fact that his water now took a while to get hot; indeed, that was the one and only flaw in his new apartment. There he stood, waiting for some hot water so that he could start the dishes, but the water was only lukewarm—and then it stopped.
“I wonder if my neighbors are having problems like this,” he sighed. “Better go and call the superin…hmm?” He paused, noticing the odd gurgling noises coming from within the pipes. He opened the cupboard underneath, expecting to find some leak under the sink, but there was no water under there.

He heard a sudden gushing noise above him, and he found something unusual in the basin. It was a thick, pink sludge. He put his hand in, picked some of it up, and confirmed his suspicions.
“The slime has returned,” he said. “At long last, I will be vindicated!” The slime took on its full power, and brought out all of Janosz’s darkest thoughts, which he articulated in a good, soul-cleansing, Evil Laugh.



“Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The next day, the Ghostbusters returned to HQ, bedraggled from a particularly exhausting bust. Ecto-1A rolled through the doors, its mighty engine coming to a full stop.



The boys emerged and groaned, Ray and Peter carrying a bundle of smoking ghost-traps in their hands.

“Oh, boy, that was really a knockabout of pure fun,” Peter moaned sarcastically. “I can’t wait until that new guy can start.”

His attention turned to their receptionist. “Janine, were there any calls for us while we were gone?”



“No, Dr. Venkman,” she said, barely registering his presence. “As a matter of fact, I was about to do some early Christmas shopping…and then, I’m going to put up some mistletoe!” She did a pretend fall into Egon’s arms, batting her eyelashes at him. Egon caught her, and coughed awkwardly. “Yes…” he said absently, “I’ve been meaning to run a few tests on the mistletoe plant in case we ran into any werewolves…” “That’s not what I meant!” Janine testily exclaimed.



That’s when she remembered. “Oh, that reminds me, I have a present for all of you here.” “How thoughtful,” Peter said. “You shouldn’t have!” “It’s not mine, Dr. Venkman,” she shot back. She brought out the gift from a drawer. “It was sitting out in front of the firehouse in an unwrapped cardboard box. There was only a sticker reading ‘Urgent—For The Ghostbusters’ on it.”

Ray examined it. “It’s…a toy school bus?” he said, curious. Winston looked at it. “I always wanted one of these when I was a kid,” he said. “Great, now you can enjoy a second childhood,” Peter replied. Everyone glared at him. “I wonder what it does…” Winston mused, rolling the toy along the desk. Suddenly, there was a loud click, and the unusual hiss of a tape being started. A quiet, suspenseful tune, not unlike the Mission Impossible theme faded in until it practically filled the room.

“Good afternoon, Ghostbusters,” a deep, serious-sounding voice said. “This is Mr. Zero. It is my solemn duty to announce that you have been chosen as the guardians of the Christmas Season, so listen carefully. Voltar, a Ghost Wizard from beyond time itself, has his eyes set on present-day New York City as the perfect place for him to resurrect himself and launch his plans for galactic domination. You must stop him before he can carry out his dastardly plans. Good luck, Ghostbusters. You are going to need it. This message will…'elf-destruct'…in five seconds.”



“SELF-DESTRUCT?!” the Ghostbusters cried out in unison. Winston looked around for a moment, hit upon a nearby garbage can, threw the bus away, and ran for cover, along with the others.





“A ghost wizard, huh?” Ray said, getting a fire extinguisher and putting out the charred, still-smoking remains of Zero’s secret message. “Well, boys, it looks like we’ll have our work cut out for us. C’mon, let’s go put our ghosts into the containment unit.”

Inspired by the possibilities the slime held, Janosz made a point of going to the New York Public Library to see if he could find anything in the Arcane Knowledge section., which he found deep in the Library’s lower level. He noticed an old woman standing next to a bookshelf and reading a thick, heavy tome. The dear old lady was oddly transparent and glowing, almost as if she was…a ghost! Undaunted, Janosz moved in to speak.
“I am begging your pardon, madam,” he began, “but my name is Janosz Poha, and I was wondering if you could not help me?”



The ghostly woman turned to look at him.
“Hmm?” it said. “Oh, I’m sorry; I’m halfway through Helen Hooven Santmyer’s And Ladies of the Club, here. I died before I could finish it, you know. Anyway, didn’t you notice the ‘QUIET PLEASE’ sign?”



She suddenly turned into a gigantic, terrifying beast, roaring loudly. Janosz, however, was unfazed by her sudden transformation.
“Your abilities are not scaring me,” he said firmly. “I’ll have you know I resurrected Vigo the Carpathian last year. You are like the buzzing of flies compared to him!” She transformed into a sweet old lady again.

“Is that so, huh?” she said. “Well, what did you need help with? Let me guess…the Arcane Knowledge section.”
“Yes,” Janosz said.
“Now isn’t that just grand,” she cackled, adding, “Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” with just a hint of ironic delight. “You’ve come to the right place.”



She looked through the shelves and found an interesting volume called The Book of Nasty Magic, Vol. 1, edited by “Mr. Creepy”. “Well, it’s not the Necronomicon, but it’ll do just fine,” the ghost said, randomly flicking through the book. Janosz took the book and headed upstairs to sign it out.

Back at HQ, the Ghostbusters were crowded around Egon’s computer, which was, at the moment, logged onto the Internet version of Tobin’s Spirit Guide.
“Okay,” he said, “we’re on. Searching for all entries pertaining to Ghosts and Wizards, with Voltar as the name…let’s see what comes up.”