fryertuck: (guys...)
[personal profile] fryertuck
They were late, and even though it was only by ten minutes, it was enough to raise Tucker's ire.

"Man, what took you guys so long?"

"SHHHH," hushed the harried-looking librarian, and Tucker started spreading stuff out on the table so they could see it too, pushing stacks of books and old newspapers and microfiche slides towards them. He had his laptop set up--he'd have just used his PDA, but he knew they'd all be reading and therefore he needed a bigger screen. He was taking advantage of the library's free wireless setup; there were multitudes of websites minimized.

"You guys need to take a look at this stuff. After seeing all this, it makes sense why our town is, like, Ghost Central. I'm starting to think it might not just be the Ghost Portal."

Date: 2006-07-17 05:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Danny snatched the article away from Sam and read it.

"Supposedly, this guy was the suspected leader of the cult, but they couldn't prove it. He was also a doctor with a reputation for performing 'macabre and unecessary surgeries. Witness say that chanting could be heard filtering down from the top of the building during certain times during the year, and it is suspected that the Brotherhood of the Silver Gate performed bizarre rituals on top of the highrise.'"

Danny paused, his brow furrowed. "This is it. This cult--they did something to that building--maybe the cult leader even designed it for something. That's why my ghost sense goes off every time and it's like a ghost magnet."

Date: 2006-07-17 05:47 am (UTC)
bringnewjokes: (i'm surrounded by idiots)
From: [personal profile] bringnewjokes
"Even I think that's creepy," Sam said, "and I'm a goth."

She tapped the old newspaper's photo of the building. "So... let's do what we do best with creepy things, huh?" She snorted. "Let's go kick it's butt."

Date: 2006-07-17 05:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"But how do we fight a building?" Danny asked, thinking.

For a long time, he stared at the old newspaper until the faded print of the architect's name was seared into his memory.

It was familiar. He'd seen it somewhere, or read it.

It was really starting to bug him. He wracked his brain for the answer, and it was hiding right at the forefront of his brain, taunting him.

He was sure that it was important that he remembered.

The he murmured, mostly to himself, "Ivo Shandor...where have I heard that name...?"


fryertuck: (Default)
Tucker Foley

March 2007

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