Chapter Text
1984
Amity Park was disgustingly quaint in Vlad Master's opinion. Sure, the local stories were interesting, but that didn't mean the general architecture of the town wasn't uninspired or that the people who lived there were anything more than generic.
At the very least, the old broadcast station they came to investigate was impeccably kept. It meant that not only was the place clean, but also the current owners hadn't littered cheap Halloween props inside and tossed fake blood everywhere. It was a ridiculous trend for some of the people who allowed ghost hunters onto their properties. Maddie used to think it was cute and Vlad delighted in how her opinion slowly changed the more they ran into the practice as they went on their hunts. It was the best sort of validation for his own opinion.
Vlad adored being right.
"You know that place is haunted, right?"
Vlad frowned and looked over his shoulder. On the sidewalk, a teenage girl stood with both her hands clutching the strap of her guitar case. She had a sloppy blue dye job and the Metallica logo on her shirt looked hand-painted. He wasn’t impressed. “I do know.”
She gave him a slight nod when her eyes found the Dead Kennedys concert shirt peeking out from under his trench coat, but her expression stayed judging. “I’m just saying: this isn’t a tourist trap for you and your friends.”
Vlad’s tone was flat when he said, "We're here for the ghost. And we came prepared.”
"Then you must got a death wish.”
And here Vlad was, politely not telling the girl her efforts to look metal made her seem younger than she likely was. “We’re experts. The ghost will not manage to hurt us.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What, you gonna protect yourself with magic?”
“Science.”
Instead of laughing, the girl looked confused. It wasn’t a bad reaction in Vlad’s opinion. It meant she wasn’t completely closed off to the idea. “You’re really gonna drive him out, then?”
“We plan to,” Vlad nodded to the black cases still waiting beside their rented van. He tried to consider her with fresh eyes and warm his words when he asked, “Would you be willing to do an interview with me on the ghost? The more information we have, the better for our research.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then looked over her shoulder at the townhouses across the street. “I’ve got a curfew.”
“It won’t take that long, I promise, miss…?”
“McLain. Ember McLain.” She pointed at the building behind him. “And I’m not gonna die young in that place. Any questions you have you can ask out here.”
“That’s more than fine, Ember. My name is Vlad Masters.”
“Cool name.”
“Ah,” Vlad hesitated, surprised. “Thank you.” He’d never had anyone compliment his name before.
After getting his notebook from the car and turning on a voice recorder, Vlad sat down with Ember on the street curb. “It’s January 21st, 1984. This is Vlad Masters with local Ember McLain concerning the Amity Park case.”
Awkwardly, Ember cut in with a careful “Hi?”
Vlad decided to not acknowledge her interruption. “McLain, can you tell me what the local rumors are about this building and of Jacob Crane?"
“He doesn’t leave the building.”
Ember’s soft delivery immediately put Vlad on edge. That was not how he was expecting her to begin. He thought she’d repeat the usual overview of “cranky old man pitches a murderous fit about rock music.” Instead she'd dropped any and all uncertainty.
Ember continued: “We’ve been assholes, us kids, playing music on the street. Hell, I keep a window open when I practice and I live right there. Across the street,” she pointed, not directly but one over to the left. Vlad didn’t interrupt her, though. “Old Man Crane doesn’t leave the building. Can’t or won’t, I don’t know. But back when my mom was a kid, some of her classmates went inside with a record player.”
Vlad nodded and hurried to start writing that Crane would remain on premises. “You’re referring to the Halloween when a squatter beat up some middle schoolers enough that one of them died from complications?”
“That’s the official story.” She twisted slightly to face him better and waved a hand around them. “Look, this has never been a bad street. This is the nice part of town. The classy part. Always has been.” She leaned in, utterly serious, and stated, “That Halloween, it wasn’t a fuckin' squatter.”
As much as he hated the question, he had to say it: “Any proof?”
As expected, Ember shook her head. One of her ringed hands went up to her messy hair and rubbed a lock a little nervously. Her short nails were painted black just like Vlad’s were. “I said he doesn’t leave the building, not that we don’t see him. It’s not proof, ‘cause photos haven’t worked and it’s like… he’s not trying to be noticed, I don’t think. It’s just when we’re really loud. That’s when he gets seen. Angry.”
“Which window?”
Ember gave him a commiserating look. “That’s the thing. Everyone says different windows. I’ve seen him twice and on completely different floors. It’s like he’s stuck in there patrolling. And it’s like he can’t help being seen when he’s pissed.”
Vlad’s frown turned a little more severe, but he looked away from the teenager back to the building. He wasn’t annoyed at her, but he was at the facts—fuzzy as they were.
Most of the time, ghosts weren’t described like they were full characters in a story. They were described in tandem with the staples of a haunting. Cold spots. Wonky electronics. Vague feelings. Shadows.
But whenever ghosts were described as individuals, like Ember was describing Crane, it made him nervous. And it made their research and their theories feel a little bit flimsier than they already were.
Jack thrust his arms up as he leapt into the foyer. “First ghost hunt of the new year, baby!”
“Keep shouting like that and you’ll scare them away,” Vlad teased out of habit. The majority of his attention was still on his notebook. He had to make sure he distilled his notes enough that Jack would internalize the key points. (Colored highlighters helped a ton.)
Meanwhile, Jack didn't bother reacting to the tease. He rarely did whenever anyone tried to admonish him. "You know, they should really put some couches here."
"We have some camping chairs."
"It's not the same."
Vlad held back his amusement. “Well, what we sacrifice in comfort we will hopefully make back in information gathered.”
“Speaking of,” Jack spun on his heel to Vlad and the motion was dramatic enough that it made Vlad look up from his notebook. “Maddie’s been at the station for, like, a really long time, right? Should one of us have gone with her? What if they’re sexist and aren’t cooperating?”
Vlad couldn’t write off Jack’s worries. Madeline had gone to the police station to fact check the “not a fucking squatter” incident and if the locals were fulfilling the old stereotype of small towns being backwards and xenophobic then she definitely wasn’t going to get anywhere. "I think we may need to worry about her getting arrested if she punches one of the deputies."
Jack laughed. Vlad had been entirely serious, but Jack’s laughter did relax him a bit. It was like the man’s confidence was contagious sometimes. "I guess you're right that Maddie can handle herself. Oh! Did she tell you I finished the ambisonic microphone? It should be in the blue bag, but I'm not sure where to set it up. I couldn't get it to work wireless. Not well enough."
"How far are the cords for it?"
Jack winced. "Gonna be limited to the first floor with it. Unless we pick up more extension cords and maybe another power generator? There's gotta be a place around here."
Vlad shook his head. Their funding more amounted to Jack's dad refraining from checking his family bank statements than any actual school funding. "We can work with the first floor.” The incident where the kids had been attacked had happened on the first floor even if the actual murders and suicide occurred on the upper floors. “Besides,” Vlad added, “We still have the parabolic microphones.” He pointed to the four small dishes that he’d already unpacked and set against the wall.
“But then we have to review the audio in the morning and that takes ages,” Jack complained.
Vlad couldn’t fault the stress his friend was showing on his face at the idea of reviewing the audio. They only had a couple nights to investigate the building and when the whole point of the audio was to pinpoint ghosts, it wasn’t always helpful to learn where they were several hours after the fact. Worse, Ember had made it clear the ghost roamed frequently. Rather, the locals believed it was roaming.
Jack’s voice was uncharacteristically somber as he said, “I have the feeling none of us are gonna get a lot of sleep on this one.”
“The building isn’t that big.”
“Feels like it,” Jack argued, still serious.
Vlad closed his notebook and twirled his pen in his hands a few times. “Why, Jack, you almost sound like you’re nervous.”
“There was a bug earlier.”
Vlad frowned. “Sorry, what?”
Jack heaved a sigh and leaned against the plastic table they’d brought. The whole thing shifted back an inch, but Jack ignored both the movement and the noise with practiced ease. “When I was unpacking, there was some sort of bug that flew by. I thought it’d mess with the motion sensors so I tried to kill it. Tried to chase it. I lost it. It’s still in here.” He held up his hand to show the width of two inches between his thumb and pointer finger. “A big guy, too. He’s gonna cause problems for us later for sure.”
Sighing, Vlad looked to the ceiling and started to tap his pen against his notebook. “Jack, there’s always bugs. We always need to account for them.”
“Sure. Gnats. Moths. But this was a beetle of some kind.”
“That’ll be easy to discredit.” Vlad was more than a little annoyed at this point. “Why are you really so set on complaining now? You were the one that pushed for Amity over the motel.”
“Oh, I’m confident there’s something here.” Jack placed his hands on the edge of the table and Vlad had every expecting if not breaking under the college junior’s weight. The guy could have been a football god if he’d had any motivation towards the sport. “I’ve just got a feeling that we won’t have enough time. This place—town’s got a bad vibe to it. It’s gonna make our mission tougher.”
“I thought it was a pretty boring town, to be honest.”
Jack shook his head. “You’re always so pessimistic, Vladdie. You make quick judgements.”
From anyone else, Vlad might have taken the scolding a little more seriously. Since it was Jack, he rolled his eyes and opened his notebook back up. “I’m plenty open-minded, Jack. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
“If you say so.”