CHAPTER 1. Ghostflusters
The void resounds. Space seizes and warps as the bounds of relevance erode away to nothing but the wishful nostalgia of times passed. There is a hole in the middle of the universe, and it is hungry.
But the denizens of this particular iteration of Earth C don’t know it. All of this is just business as fucking usual for a planet plagued by war, continuous inclement ghost weather, and the general malaise of being absolutely severed from canon. They spend their days absorbed in the petty and pointless pursuits of “having jobs” and “raising families” and “falling in love”.
In the midst of this, a middle-aged man kneels in a garden. It isn’t his garden, and he already has a name, but we will begin our story with him regardless.
Plants, Jake has decided, are really the best sort of chums. They are quiet, friendly, and easy to please. All they need is a little water and fresh earth, and they are perfectly happy to lie there all day in the sun. And they don’t make increasingly inhumane arms deals and appear on talk shows expounding on the dangers of interspecies marriage. They have never, as far as Jake knows, fucked a clown.
John has been an incredible pal, opening up his home to Jake and his son on such short notice, and even offering him a pair of pants, as well as a shirt that he has so far neglected to put on. John’s house doesn’t have air conditioning. It’s a charming little cottage, but it could sure as aces use some airing out. And dusting. And just general upkeep. The old place really has gone to seed since John’s been away. Jake shudders to think what sort of state his own mansion is in. Jane will probably have it demolished now, he imagines. It, like the rest of his assets, is in her name. She’d seen to that as soon as they were married.
Back at chez Crocker, there had been a legion of hired help to take care of the ins-and-outs of running a household. Jane’s far too busy to bother with such things, and Jake... well, he just never bothered. Why should he, when there were other people to take care of it for him? But the decades of easy living don’t change the fact that he spent the first 16 years of his life in the deep, lush bush of the south pacific jungle. There certainly had been no one to cook and clean and bring down the big game then! Besides his grandma, but she had him shooting as soon as he could hold a pistol.
No pistols are shot today, but Jake is determined to have the place in tip-top shape by the time John gets back from...wherever he is. He hasn’t seen much of Tavros today either, but that’s not unusual. He’s probably out with his kismesis, the one he thinks Jake doesn’t know about. He washes the floors and windows, cleans a toilet or three, and chases a family of squirrels out from the inside of the attic wall. They chitter angrily at him but he doesn’t back down.
As the day wears on and the shadows grow longer, Jake washes the dirt out from under his fingernails, and his eyes fall on the bottle still sitting on the counter. John had opened it, but together they’d barely touched the stuff. Jake had promised him and Tavvy he’d dry up his act and all, but... well.
One thing at a time.
The jungle air is heavy, humid, and familiar. Twenty years on and the thick drag into his lungs settles on him in a blanket of nostalgia, reassuring in its discomfort. A pistol is strapped to his leg, and all around him the shadows move in slow, threatening sweeps. He is deeper in the jungle than he’d ever venture in his waking hours. There were places on his island that not even his Gran would tred, and she’d been the bravest person he’d ever known.
Here there be monsters.
Jake doesn’t recognize anything. The jungle of his dreams is wild and unknown, and there are things moving in the dense undergrowth. He slaps at a mosquito on his neck. Sweat drips into his eyes. He drops a hand to his gun, the tension prickling hot and tight at the base of his neck.
A sudden wind thrashes the canopy. There are pine needles in his mouth. There aren’t any pine needles in the jungle.
The only warning Jake gets is a resonate growl that seems to come from every direction at once, before the monster is on him. A lithe creature of darkness and fury, with more legs than anything mammalian has a right to. He hits the ground hard enough to drive the breath out of him, but he doesn’t have time to catch it. He has to run. He knows, in the deep, prophetic way of dreams, that he is no match for this monster.
It is right behind him, its hot, damp breath wuffling at his hair. What does it feel like to be eaten? He’s about to find out.
JAKE: I...
JAKE: Who…
JAKE: Dirk?????
DIRK: You’re welcome.
JAKE: But...youre dead!
DIRK: Nah.
JAKE: Yes you are i know that much. I saw your body! I carried your coffin chock full of all those stupid fucking swords!
DIRK: Nope.
JAKE: Dont nope me mister!
JAKE: I know a dead dirk when i see one!
DIRK: Sure you do. But that wasn’t me. Are you really surprised to find out I got a couple of spares?
JAKE: So what youre saying is you arent my dirk.
DIRK: ...That is a whole ‘nother conversation that we really don’t have time for, pertaining to exactly who or what ‘your dirk’ actually constitutes.
DIRK: Do you mean the Dirk from your timeline?
DIRK: Then yes, that Dirk is dead.
DIRK: If you mean the Dirk that you fucked and then ghosted, no, I’m not your Dirk.
DIRK: If you mean the Dirk that you felt closest to, that you really knew--
JAKE: I thought you said we didnt have time for this conversation!
JAKE: I just want to know how you can be here and also in the ground!
DIRK: You let a guy spend a couple decades as a dominatrix’s trophy husband and he forgets all about his old friends.
DIRK: Fuckin rough.
DIRK: What about the good times, Jake? What about when I almost made you shit your pants in front of a blue girl?
JAKE: Ahhh! Brain ghost dirk!
DIRK: In the ghosty flesh.
JAKE: Crumbs bro where have you been?
JAKE: I could have used someone on my side!
JAKE: You just disappeared one day without even the odd toodaloo to mark your passing!
DIRK: That isn’t strictly true. I did disappear, but it was in a catastrophic blaze of hope-drenched pathos. I even threw out a couple one-liners.
DIRK: But you wouldn’t remember that.
JAKE: Because...it was a different dirk?
DIRK: No, a different Jake.
DIRK: Until recently there’s been a shortage of ambient narrative relevance for Dirks, since one particular motherfucker has been sucking it all up like a thirsty little twink at his first interspecies rave.
JAKE: Twink?
JAKE: Cripes this is confusing.
JAKE: It appears that no matter what timeline were inhabiting i can count on you to be absolutely impenetrable!
DIRK: Don’t worry about it right now, it’s not important. I’m here, and that’s what matters.
JAKE: I suppose ill just have to trust you!
DIRK: Yeah.
DIRK: Good luck with that.
Consciousness hits Jake like a bottle to the back of the head. In fact, the bottle is on the table, tipped over and sluggishly dripping from the mouth. The kitchen reeks of whisky and his head pounds. At least he’d been home alone, and nobody had seen him slip back into old habits.
Strange days, Jake thinks to himself. And strange dreams! That was a real humdinger of a nightmare. He hasn’t dreamed of Dirk in years. And it had felt so real, almost like he could have reached out and touched him--
JAKE: What in the flibergating fuck!
DIRK: That’s not a word.
JAKE: Dirk!
DIRK: ‘Sup.
JAKE: Am I still dreaming? I have to tell you my dream hangovers are not usually nearly this bad!
DIRK: I wasn’t going to say anything, but holy shit, dude. You’ve really let yourself go.
DIRK: Not to say the sloppy drunk look isn’t working for me, because it absolutely is, but come on, man.
DIRK: You passed out in a puddle of your own drool. And what the fuck is that on your face?
JAKE: My face? What do you mean on my face?
DIRK: The moustache, Jake. Who’s idea was that.
JAKE: Oh! You dont like it?
DIRK: I didn’t say that.
DIRK: Point is, you are a fucking wreck, and no amount of well-maintained facial hair is going to be enough to hide that. Not from me.
JAKE: Now see here buster you dont know the situation. You havent been here!
DIRK: We’ve had this conversation before, dingus. I’m you. And I’m me. But I only exist because of your powers. The fact that I’m manifesting here, in the new universe, outside of a dream, is evidence in itself for just how absolutely boned you are.
DIRK: What are you doing? There’s a war happening. All of your friends are out there fighting, and you’re just here, what...dusting?
DIRK: Taking care of a house that nobody actually uses?
DIRK: You’ve been a useless sack of shit for two decades. I’m here to kick your ass back into active duty.
DIRK: You’ve spent years feeling sorry for yourself, totally convinced you made the wrong choices and that it’s all over. And it’s easier that way, isn’t it? If you’re a lost cause you don’t have to try to be better.
DIRK: But you do want to be better. Remember all those dreams about adventure? Life? Love? Remember when Tavros was born and there were so many things in this world you wanted to show him.
DIRK: Beautiful things, Jake.
DIRK: But none of those are going to come from sitting around playing house-husband to your ecto-son.
JAKE: Well what do you propose i do if youre so gosh-darned brainy!
JAKE: Im a cracking good marksman and no slouch when it comes to fisticuffs but what good am i in a war??
JAKE: Ive got some panache but i can hardly hold my own in the face of an army!
JAKE: And what side am i supposed to be fighting on? for jane or against her?
DIRK: Against her. Obviously. What the fuck, dude.
JAKE: But you were the one who wanted her to run in the first place! You wrote her bloody speeches!
DIRK: Yeah, I did. And every single one of them kicked ass. I wanted Jane to be the democratically elected president. Not a cake-slinging Jeff Bezos with a great rack.
JAKE: Jeff who?
DIRK: Don’t worry about it. The point is, you have a chance to make a difference. You’re in the perfect position to infiltrate her operation.
JAKE: Like...a spy?
DIRK: Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t appeal to you. Sexy little suit. Slicked back hair. A bunch of weapons hidden in unlikely places. We’re both liking this idea more and more.
JAKE: Ahahaha well i do look fetching in a cummerbund.
JAKE: Wait! No! You tricked me with thoughts of spies and hijinks and two bros against the world!
JAKE: I left janey! Theres no going back now! She isnt exactly the sort to live and let live you know.
DIRK: That’s horseshit and we both know it. Jane would take you back in a second. She loves you.
JAKE: Psshaw. Not to be maudlin brain ghost dirk but jane hasnt cared about me in a very a long time if she ever did at all.
JAKE: I thought you knew everything i do.
DIRK: There’s a part of you that still hopes. You can’t help it. You’ll never be able to help it. You’re going to hope for a brighter future until you’re in the ground.
DIRK: Better you than me, honestly. Sounds exhausting.
DIRK: You’re going to do this, and we both know it. So why are we even still arguing?
JANE: Boo hoo hoo! Oh, Jake! Something awful has happened!
JAKE: It--it has? You mean more awful than usual?
JANE: The opposition has taken Tavros, Jake. They’ve finally shown their true colors. I knew it was only a matter of time before they attacked our family directly!
JAKE: Oh hahaa. Well. The scamps!
It’s then that Jake realizes that Jane isn’t mad because she’d never realized he was gone. It makes sense. There’s been plenty of times when the two of them didn’t cross paths for days at a time. The perils of living in a mansion, he supposes. She seems to have forgotten that she’d been cross with him the last time they met, because now that Gamzee is gone, there’s no one left to talk to.
She recovers from her crying jag with grace, straightening up and wiping at her eyes. Miraculously, her mascara remains unstreaked. Even in moments of vulnerability she is bulletproof.
Jake stands there and listens as she lays out her plans, plans of vengeance and violence, and he makes himself smile and he makes himself nod. Honestly, it’s not unlike any other night he’s spent with Janey lately, right down to the pit of misery gnawing somewhere below his belly button. All of it is made worse by the occasional wry glint in her eye, or moment of self-deprecation in the slant of her mouth. It reminds him of the Jane he used to know. Or the Jane he thought he used to know.
Then there’s the ghostly presence of his former beau and best bro. That’s different.
At first Dirk stands at Jake’s elbow, a one-ghost support staff, before he appears to lose interest in Jane’s rant and wanders off across the office, reading the spines of books and spending way too long staring at a startlingly phallic piece of installation art, the provenance of which Jake doesn’t know, but could hazard a guess it wore a codpiece. Then he settles on Jane’s desk, propping his ghost butt there and sort of just...well.
Here’s a picture of what he does.
Okay. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. It’s more like...this.
Whatever the case, it’s distracting. And by the time Jane loses steam and dismisses Jake from her presence, he’s thoroughly exhausted from attempting to pay attention to his supervillain wife while trying not to look at the crotch of a ghost man from his brain.
JAKE: Dirk i dont think i can do this.
DIRK: What do you mean? You just did it. You kicked ass back there.
JAKE: I didnt do anything i just stood there and felt bad about myself!
DIRK: All according to keikaku. It worked. Congratulations.
JAKE: Its only i promised i would never come back here.
DIRK: Promised? Promised who?
JAKE: Myself! I decided that enough was right and jolly well enough!
JAKE: You say you know your onions when it comes to me and my troubles but you just keep asking stupid questions!
JAKE: John and i had quite the gabfest the other night and i felt hopeful for the first time in years. Like i really could turn over a new leaf and it all felt like berries from here on out!
JAKE: i really didnt think id fall off the wagon so quickly. I dont think being here is good for my emotions to be honest.
DIRK: Yeah, probably not. But that’s okay. They don’t matter.
JAKE: Oh.
JAKE: I suppose youre right what with masculinity and all that.
JAKE: A true mans lip remains stiff even in the harshest of circumstances!
DIRK: Don’t know anything about stiff lips, dude. But that’s not what I mean. It’s not because you’re a man. You’re a god.
JAKE: Oh right. That.
DIRK: The world comes first, even at the expense of all your relationships and personal happiness. That’s what being a hero means.
JAKE: I guess...i never really thought about it like that.
DIRK: Think what you want about Jane, but at least she realizes that none of you can ever be normal, and she never bothered to try. Can it really be a god-complex if you’re actually a god?
DIRK: People like us don’t get happy endings.
JAKE: Thats bleak dirk i dont think i could possibly believe that!
JAKE: I know youre born from all the little bits and bobs inside my mind but whew boy i dont think ive ever thought something like that even on my darkest days.
DIRK: Yeah. That’s probably more a Dirk thought than a Jake one. I told you, it’s hard to tell sometimes.
JAKE: Is...is that really how dirk felt the whole gosh darned time?
DIRK: It doesn’t matter.
