The Real Ghostbusters 2033

1 - Shadows on the Horizon

Ray Stantz gripped the steering wheel of the Ecto-1, the engine's low hum vibrating through his fingertips. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the motorway. New-York City, once a hotbed of spectral activity, now thrived under the watchful eyes of not one, but two teams of Ghostbusters. Ray had watched from the sidelines, a relic of the past, as the younger generation zapped phantasms and wrangled poltergeists with precision.

But Detroit, Motor City, that was a different story. The once-vibrant metropolis now suffered in silence. Its abandoned factories echoed with ghostly whispers, and its forgotten alleyways harboured secrets darker than the night. The city needed protectors, and Ray Stantz was about to answer that call.

He looked over at the Proton-Packs in the back of the car, memories of his former team flooding back, causing a tear to fall. Retirement hadn't suited him, the firehouse felt emptier without Egon's quiet genius, Peter's irreverent wit, and Winston's steadfast resolve. Ray needed purpose, a reason to keep going beyond nostalgia.

The decision had been made. Ray had purchased an old fire station in Detroit, on Lawndale Street, built in 1912. It had been named Ladder 33. A relic of a bygone era, its red-brick facade weathered by time. It would be their base of operations, the heart of the Detroit Ghostbusters.

As Ray approached the fire station, he glimpsed two figures waiting on the steps. Dave Stantz, his nephew, stood tall, inheriting both his uncle's name and his unwavering belief in capturing the supernatural. Dave's enthusiasm rivalled Ray's own; he saw the family legacy not just as a business but as a sacred duty.

Beside Dave stood Bobby Matthews, childhood friend and quick-witted comedian, Bobby's irreverence matched Peter Venkman's, and he'd definitely be able to dodge ectoplasmic slime while cracking jokes. Together, they'd form the basis of a new generation of Ghostbusters.

Ray parked the rusty Ecto-1, its iconic white-and-red stripes catching the fading light. Dave grinned, looking into the vehicle, "Born ready, Uncle Ray" he said with a smile. Bobby adjusted his jacket. "Let's make some money people!.. oh, and make some ghosts regret their post-life decisions"

And so, Ray Stantz stepped into Ladder 33, the echoes of history whispering through the walls. The Real Ghostbusters of 2033 were about to write a new chapter, one where Detroit would either fall to darkness or rise from its spectral ashes.

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The morning sun painted Ladder 33's red-brick facade with a warm glow. Ray Stantz, Dave Stantz, and Bobby Matthews, stood outside, while a makeshift sign sat propped up on an easel, with the words, Ghostbusters Hiring Today, scrawled across it. They'd cleaned the fire station, dusted off the old-proton packs, and even tried to polish up the Ecto-1. Now all they needed were recruits.

The first few interviewees trickled in. Some wore suits, others leather jackets, but none seemed quite right. One claimed to have battled a poltergeist in his grandmother's attic, but his wild-eyed enthusiasm bordered on delusion. Another insisted he could communicate with spirits through interpretive dance. Ray exchanged a glance with Dave and Bobby, they needed practicality, not performance art.

As the day wore on, the stream of applicants continued. A woman in a lab coat rambled about quantum entanglement and spectral harmonics. Bobby stifled a laugh, muttering, She's auditioning for a physics conference, not ghostbusting. Finally, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, they pulled in the sign. Ray leaned against the Ecto-1, wiping his brow. Well, gentlemen, he said, it seems we're out of luck.

That's when Maurice Richards shuffled up. His tweed jacket was frayed at the elbows, and his glasses perched precariously on his nose. He squinted at the sign. "Ghostbusters eh?" His voice held a hint of cynasim.