Time Keeps Draggin' On [Ed/Henry - Complete]

[Ed Zeddmore]

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, outline: 1px solid #B4B0A7; background: #070C0A url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2nktlrd.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; color: #B4B0A7;] I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die... There was a burst of static, and then the pale undersaturated glow of Ed's face in a webcam. "This is Ed Zeddmore, Head Ghostfacer, coming to you live from the Peyton House in Reno, Nevada. This house, famously one of the most haunted in the Old West, is about to be...Ghostfaced!" A pause. "Ghostfacered!" Another pause. "It's gonna be faced. Down. By a Ghostfacer." He reached off to one side and clicked on a light, showing that he was wearing a Ghostfacers t-shirt and a pair of low light goggles shoved up onto the top of his head. "I am out here alone, bravely braving this terrifying situation because Ed's boss said he couldn't have the weekend off. My every move is being monitored by the Ghostfacers team back in Los Angeles and I will face this ghost alone, with only you, our viewers, for company. Now, to fill you in on the history of this--" he broke off as there was a thumping off to his right and he grabbed up his Ghostfacer Official Ghost Martial Arts +2 Melee Weapon (a fireplace shovel, because Ed had hogged the poker like a pussy) and headed to the door to see what was going on in the foyer of the tumbledown old house. Henry marched up to the old house almost silently. He was still, days later, fuming over his meeting with Zaza's new boyfriend. Eventually, Louis had tired of his incessant ranting and kicked him out of the hotel room. Flynn had gotten a call from Zee and Zaza was off with that...that guy again. Quite frankly, it pissed him off. It was unfair that she got to be so pissy at him when all he'd done was...Okay, so shooting him hadn't exactly been his smartest plan. And then getting proved wrong twice hadn't been part of the deal. But still! Anything not human was bad. He knew it. This shady Mike fellow was going to bring some serious trouble in his wake, Henry could feel it in the pit of his stomach. So, quite childishly, he'd raided the truck and loaded up on weapons before climbing onto his motorcycle and roaring out of Las Vegas. He'd spared enough time to glance over Louis's shoulder and read about a nearby hit. So, Henry had made a beeline for Reno. Back to the here and now, he laid a hand on the door and heard something on the other side. Flinging the door open, he stomped into the foyer, a shot gun pointing into the darkness. Nothing. He heard footsteps to his left and ripped open another door, finger prepared to squeeze the trigger. Only to realize that he was staring at a human. A moronic one, at that. "What the hell?!" "Sha-yahhhhh...holy shit what are you doing here?" Ed managed, barely, not to slam the shovel right into the guy's face, and the shock made him shrill as he demanded, "Who are you? What are you doing here? This is...trespassing!" Henry steamed and seriously considered shooting Ed with rock salt. It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt a god damn lot. "You're trespassing too moron." His finger squeezed the trigger, but he instead poked Ed's shirt, almost derisive. "Ghostfacer? What the hell is that, some sort of new rock band?" A noise deeper in the bowels of the house and Henry froze. "Fuck. You need to get out." Ed sneered. "I am a professional paranormal investigator and you have no idea how much danger you're in. Now you get out, or else stay behind me and do exactly what I say if you want to live." And he stalked off toward the sound, feeling very badass. Henry actually gave pause. He stared after Ed for a mere second before trailing after him quietly. "Whatever you say, professional." Now he just wanted to see what so-called professional would do when he encountered a actual ghost. Possibly a very angry one at that. "You see?" Ed stage whispered to the shoulder-mounted lipstick cam that was aimed at his face. "You must be firm when dealing with members of the general public. They instinctively respond to a voice of authority, they WANT to be told what to do. If you encounter a civilian during a ghost hunt, expect them to be disoriented, frightened. To need a firm hand to keep them from doing the wrong thing. Remember, YOU are the one in charge, it's up to you to keep the civvies from hurting themselves." It took everything in Henry not to hit the man upside the head. He was holding a shotgun for chrissake! Was this Ghostfacer fan that oblivious? However, he didn't let Ed's voice distract him from the looming danger. A conveniently placed axe 'fell' and he yanked the camera guy back. "Well, that was interesting. Looks like you woke it up." "Don't show fear!" Ed raised the shovel and stepped forward carefully, staying between the ghost and the panicky civilian. Poor guy must be terrified, but he was doing a pretty good job at covering it up with sarcasm. It hit some people that way, Ed was just glad the younger man wasn't weeping with fear. "Daniel Bishop Peyton, I know your name. Show yourself to us." He was really hoping to get a little decent footage before he tracked down the remains and burned them. Henry was incredulously eyeing the so-called professional. "Really?" Of course, the ghost's response to hearing it's name was to shove ancient, decaying books off of a shelf and fling a piece of furniture at the ghost seeker. Henry ducked down and whirled to find a massive bearlike figure in the doorway behind them. He lifted his shotgun, squeezing the trigger and firing the rock salt without hesitation. "This is no time for games, stupid. Our ghost friend doesn't seem to like being called out." "Oohhhh," now he understood, dawning comprehension filled Ed's tone. "You're a fan. Look, I appreciate the assist but I can do this alone. And frankly, you're not very good at this. You banished the ghost before I could get any footage." A kindly smile. "I'll be happy to give you some tips later." Henry's arms and fell and he openly stared at the deranged man. "A fan of what? You want footage of someone's nightmare? Damn, but you really are a sick bastard, aren't you?" A piece of wood slammed into his back and he grunted. "Dannyboy is pretty pissed. Can you just..I don't know...Leave? I think my sister would kill me if I got some moron killed after shoo-OW DAMMIT!" He turned around to defend himself from the onslaught of small items being flung from the foyer. Grabbing the door, he tried to pull it shut, but it shook and fought him. Ed ducked around the civvie, catching a lampshade against the shoulder and grunting at the blow, but he pulled a mixture of rock salt and iron filings out of the pouch on his belt and threw it directly into the ghost's face. "Don't call him Dannyboy," Ed instructed him severely as the ghost vanished. "It's disrespectful." He touched his bluetooth headset, "Guys, do we have footage?" Whatever he heard seemed to reassure him, "Okay, time to clean this house for good. Civvie, stick close and let me do the ghost-banishing from now on. If you want, you can help dig." And, entirely proud of himself, he started for the back of the house. The door loosened immediately and Henry stumbled back, nearly falling on his ass. He gaped at Ed, his temper only rising. "Disrespectful my fucking foot!" He stood. "Fine, if you're such a professional, dig the damn grave yourself. I am-" he ducked a book "-not going to take this abuse!" For good measure, Henry stomped his foot. "You're making him angry," Ed chided, calm and instructive. "And you're being very childish." He got as far as the living room door before the door was blocked closed by the ghost's will. "See what you've done?" He turned back to Henry and then jumped forward, swinging the shovel wildly. It dispersed the ghost that had been sneaking up on the younger man, and whanged smartly against Henry's upper back at the end of the arc. "Be careful!" Henry stumbled away from the shovel's blow. He was seeing red, he hated this! None of it was going the way he'd wanted. All he'd wanted was a simple salt-and-burn and here he was getting his ass chewed out by some moron with a camera. "You're making me angry." He frowned at the room at large before his gaze settled on the door to the sitting room. The door opened easily in his hand and he was able to discern that, despite just about everything in the room being destroyed, the painting above the mantel was still hanging where it ought to be. "I really wish you hadn't called him out." Giggling filled the air around them and Henry felt a shiver run up his spine. Moving quickly, he closed the door to the sitting room again and moved back to join the oddly-knowledgeable camera man. He had his gun at hand again. "Did you do your research, cameraman?" A knife, long-rusted and very antique, came flying from the direction of the sitting room and Henry blasted the image of a little girl away. "I'm not sure you have the right disposition for this kind of work," Ed said, trying to let the poor guy down easy even as he pulled a short, heavy mallet out of his backpack and took it not to the portrait but to the capstone of the fireplace mantel. "You always do your research before tackling a job. Going in half-cocked will just get you or other people hurt. Always know what you're dealing with." Four or five good blows knocked the brick clean away and revealed a gap behind with a crumpled tin box inside. "There's a diary, the little girl's. She kept locks of hair of her whole family in her secret place, in the fireplace." The ghosts whirled and howled as Ed went down to one knee to drop a wax paper envelope of kerosene-soaked salt directly into the box and then lit it with a wooden match. Henry would never admit that he had gone into the building without full knowledge of the haunting. His sister would have known all these things, filled him in as he moved through the house. Somehow this little worm had made him look and feel like a moron. "Well, aren't you a fucking Winchester." The sarcasm was thick, the tone harsh. Now he needed to go find something that would be far more solid. "I'm going to go find a demon. At least, with them, I can predict their asshole moves." He glared down at Ed. "Stay out of my way, otherwise it'll be your head I cut off." "Winchester? Hah! Those douchewads. They're jealous of us." He stood up as the contents of the box burned. "They don't like to admit it," he confided, "but the Ghostfacers broke some of their biggest cases. Of course they don't want to give the credit." "The Ghostfacers. You're a group of some sort?" He thought hard, vaguely remembering some ridiculous rumors about the Winchesters and a ghost group. "You know the Winchesters, huh? Please, pray tell, was it really you who died to save the world?" A crack of laughter. "Died to save the world? Wow. I'm always happy to meet a superfan, but I'm not Jesus." Ed shook his head and went back to start packing down the Eagle's Nest, raising his voice so that Henry could hear him. "And as if you don't know." An indulgent smile, it was sweet of the fan to feed him a line for the cameras. "The Ghostfacers are the number-One non-sellout ghosthunting team on the web. A hundred eighty thousand unique hits a week." He sounded justly proud of it. "But we stick to what's real. No religious hysteria, UFOs or JFK theories." He got the last of his equipment packed down and headed out, he wanted to be gone before the cops showed up. On his way to the front door, he clapped Henry on the shoulder. "You've got good hustle, kid. But try to keep your feet on the ground, huh? And next time, do a little research before heading into a dangerous situation like a ghost hunt. I won't always be around to pull your nuts outta the fire." Henry let the man go, stupefied, humiliated and irritated. With a quick shake of the head, he grumbled about handling himself just find before locating his motorcyle. "I'd like to see him save his nuts from a pack of croatoan..." With a roar of the motor, Henry was gone, headed off to find something he could beat or maim and highly offended by all that had transpired. Ed walked back to his car, whistling happily in the knowledge of a job well done and a fan's dreams fulfilled. That train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone.

[atrb=valign,center][atrb=style, height: 250px; padding: 10px 230px 75px 30px; font-variant: small-caps; color: #B4B0A7;] Location: Peyton House, Reno NV Music: Folson Prison Blues - Johnny Cash Notes: Transcript from an IM RP session.