Tet descended upon the world of Remnant, and naturally, for his first location, he chose Vale.
The kingdom was a bustling center of culture and commerce, a blend of sleek modern buildings and old-world charm. With its airships, diverse crowds, and gleaming skyline framed by distant mountains, Vale was a city of vibrant life and quiet tension beneath the surface.
As Tet strolled through the streets, unseen by the masses, he observed the people going about their business—shopkeepers calling out deals, students from Signal Academy chatting excitedly, and Huntsmen moving with quiet vigilance. He couldn't help but feel a little excited, his mismatched eyes sparkling with amusement. But he wasn't going to be distracted. He had a job to do—real quick.
Looking around with a hum, Tet soon found the warehouse tucked away in Vale's industrial district—the hidden base where the White Fang and Cinder's faction were currently laying low.
Inside the office of that very warehouse, Roman Torchwick was lounging in his usual cocky fashion, sitting on a worn leather chair, one leg lazily draped over the armrest. A cigar was clamped between his teeth, curling smoke rising in lazy spirals as he smirked into the haze. Neo—Neopolitan—was nearby, elegantly sprawled across the couch like a silent porcelain doll brought to life, twirling her parasol between her fingers with a bored look in her mismatched eyes.
Then Roman said, "We need to find a way out of here. No way she's just going to let us go after this plan of hers is over."
His voice was low, roughened by smoke and cynicism, tinged with just enough unease to betray how little he trusted Cinder Fall.
Then they heard a cheerful voice say, "I think I can help you with that~!"
Immediately, they were on their feet and on guard. Roman flicked the cigar to the floor and, in one fluid motion, pointed his cane—Melodic Cudgel—toward the voice, its built-in firearm primed with a click. Neo, in contrast, was silent as ever, already holding her closed umbrella like a blade, her stance perfectly balanced, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
They saw before them a small child with white hair and mismatched red and gold eyes, wearing a red cap and a red coat with gold trimming, a playful grin stretched across his face as if he'd just walked in on a game he intended to win.
Roman said, with a skeptical sneer, "Who are you, then?"
Tet gave a whimsical twirl, his coat flaring out before bowing with exaggerated flair. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tet—God of Games—and now the new ruler of your world. My friend Hermes asked me to collect the two of you while I was here."
Roman stared at him for a beat, then threw back his head and laughed. "You expect me to believe you're a god, pipsqueak?"
His voice dripped with sarcasm, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.
Tet's smile never wavered. "I didn't expect you to believe me. I'll just show you instead."
Then Roman said, raising an eyebrow, "Show me how."
Tet snapped his fingers with a carefree flourish.
They were immediately transported—no flash, no warning. One moment they were in a dim office filled with smoke and crates, the next they stood in a surreal expanse of glowing patterns, floating staircases, and constellations that spun in impossible ways across a shimmering sky. Giant chess pieces drifted across the void, and the very air shimmered with playful madness.
Roman's cigar fell out of his mouth as he took in the mystical realm he'd been transported to. His jaw slackened slightly as he turned in a slow circle, taking it all in—the impossible geometry, the colors that didn't exist on any palette.
He had never seen anything like it.
He rubbed his eyes hard with his sleeve, muttering under his breath, then looked at Neo.
"Neo... did you put something in my lunch?"
Neo raised an eyebrow at him and lightly punched him in the side, her lips quirking into a silent smirk.
"Ow, okay," Roman grunted, rubbing his ribs with a sigh. "That proves I'm not dreaming."
Then Neo began to type furiously on her Scroll, fingers flying across the screen. Her mismatched eyes were sharp and focused, calculating—trying to signal someone or find out where Tet had brought them.
But before she could finish, Tet tilted his head with a playful grin and said, "Yeah… none of that."
He reached forward and gently poked the center of her forehead with one finger. A soft wave of glowing energy pulsed through her body.
Without thinking, Neo suddenly blurted out, "What was that for?!"
She froze in place, her eyes wide with shock.
Then Neo said, her voice trembling with disbelief, "I… I can talk. Holy crap, I can talk! Roman—I can talk!"
Roman blinked, his mouth opening in stunned disbelief. "I know," he said slowly, his voice distant, like his mind was still catching up. "Still... processing that."
Then he turned to Tet, lowering his cane slightly but still on edge. "So, the whole god thing—let's say I believe you now. What do you want with us?"
Tet rocked on his heels, fingers laced behind his back and his usual grin stretched wide across his face.
"Oh, I don't want you," Tet replied casually. "Hermes does."
Roman narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Who's Hermes?"
Tet spun on his heel, cloak fluttering behind him. "God of messengers, travelers, deception… and thievery."
Both Roman's and Neo's eyes went wide at that. Roman lit up like someone had handed him a solid gold vault key.
"Did you say thievery?" he asked, grinning like a schoolboy about to meet his idol. "Are we about to meet the god of thieves?"
Tet nodded. "Yep. If you'll just follow me~"
With a snap of his fingers, they vanished—and appeared at the steps of a grand, open-air villa floating in the sky, with columns carved from crystal and clouds drifting lazily beneath.
Waiting at the door was a tall, athletic man with windswept brown hair, wearing a traveler's tunic with a casual but confident smile. A winged staff rested in his hand, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Roman Torchwick and Neopolitan," Hermes greeted, throwing an arm around each of them with disarming warmth. "The three of us have lots to talk about."
Then, with no warning, he pulled them both inside like old friends reuniting at a party.
"Thanks, Tet! Bye now!" he called out as the door slammed shut behind them.
Tet sighed and shrugged. "Show-off," he muttered, spinning on his heel and vanishing in a blink.
He reappeared back at Bobby Singer's cluttered old salvage yard in South Dakota, flopping unceremoniously onto the couch beside Castiel, who sat rigidly upright, trench coat pristine as ever, eyes fixed on the screen.
"How's he doing, Cass?" Tet asked, eyes flicking to the monitor.
Castiel answered without looking away, his voice low and gravelly. "He's engaging in battle with a man called Ivo Shandor."
They turned their attention to the screen.
Sam Winchester stood shoulder to shoulder with the Ghostbusters—Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, and Winston Zeddemore—in the middle of a titanic battle inside a twisted supernatural dimension. Ivo Shandor, now a towering, spectral figure pulsing with dark energy, hovered ahead, protected by an unstable force field of pure malevolence.
Sam had figured out how to destabilize the shield, and the tide was finally turning.
The five of them drove Shandor backward, proton streams crossing through the air like streaks of lightning. They were forcing him toward a crackling, unstable portal.
"He's through! Now deactivate your capture stream!" Ray shouted.
Egon checked his gear, frowning. "I can't seem to turn mine off…"
Ray quickly added, "Hey—me neither!"
"Same here!" Sam called out, his brow furrowed as he wrestled with the controls on his pack.
Winston shouted, tugging at the straps holding his gear in place. "Who the hell decided to reinforce these shoulder straps?!"
With a loud surge of energy, the portal snapped open wider and pulled them in—Sam and all three Ghostbusters—yanked violently into the swirling void.
They fell through an endless maelstrom of ghostly wind, screaming echoes, and flashes of corrupted light.
They had entered Ivo Shandor's ghost realm—a corrupted, nightmarish dimension of impossible architecture and seething energy.
Colossal black spires floated in midair, defying gravity. Rivers of ectoplasm flowed like molten lava across fractured platforms.
The sky above was a swirling mass of red and violet storms, alive with spectral energy and the screams of the damned.
The very laws of physics twisted here, as gravity bent and reality warped. It was a domain shaped entirely by Shandor's fanatical desire for ascension and his hatred of the living world—a place where he reigned as a self-made god.
As they looked around the ruined space, still suspended in Shandor's twisted ghost realm, Peter Venkman squinted through the shimmering ectoplasmic fog and said, "Hey Shandor! Where's your Destructor form now? You leave it in your other suit?"
He said it with a casual shrug, voice laced with sarcasm, like he was trying to provoke the very dimension itself.
Then, after a few tense moments, a booming, ominous voice echoed through the void, shaking the fractured platforms beneath them.
"I have chosen. I am the Destructor. I am the Architect."
Peter rolled his eyes and said with a dramatic yawn, "Was someone waking up from their nap?"
Suddenly, the entire realm began to quake violently. Cracks formed along the floating platforms, and the structure around them trembled. The twisted remnants of what once resembled a chamber started to crumble apart.
Ray's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no…"
Egon's voice was low and serious. "That's very bad."
The ceiling above them shattered into fragments and drifted off into the swirling void. All around them, pieces of the realm broke free, pulled by invisible currents.
Peter looked up and said, "The Architect—ha ha. That's not so scary. Now the contractor, that's who really kills you."
Ray turned to him, concern etched deep into his face. "Peter, you don't understand. He's the Architect—he controls Ghost World."
Egon added, adjusting his glasses, "And he can enter our world. And what do architects do?"
Peter blinked. "Uh… they have automatic pencils? I don't know."
The voice boomed once again, louder, closer, more furious:
"I will pave over your fields to start anew. I will fill your seas with concrete and stone!"
Peter raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Whoa, take a break. Do you ever shut up?"
"I will pierce your world with girders of steel… and panes of glass!"
Winston grunted, proton wand in hand, and said, "That's just mean supervillain threats. Ray, all the bad guys talk like that."
Then Sam, standing among them, calmly asked, "Do all the bad guys have the power to back it up?"
Winston paused for a second, giving it real thought, then muttered, "Not usually."
Just then, the Destructor form of Ivo Shandor erupted from the void—an immense, grotesque, semi-corporeal being made of dark metal and glowing veins of spectral energy. His elongated body was adorned with jagged armor, twisted symbols etched into every plate. His face was hollow, mask-like, with fire burning inside his eyes and mouth.
He soared above them, arms wide, as if to embrace the world in ruin.
He began his assault, launching molten fireballs the size of cars at the Ghostbusters and Sam.
"I will crush your world under the weight of my cities!" he roared, the voice of a god drunk on vengeance.
Continuing his assault, he bellowed, "I will smother your creation under my own!"
He raised his arms, erecting a shimmering energy shield around his massive body.
Winston shouted over the chaos, "We've gotta get through his shields!"
Sam narrowed his eyes, scanning the battlefield. "Just like before!" he called. He spotted the ghostly power pillars and sprinted toward one, sliding into cover and pulling out his Meson Collider. He flipped it on with a sharp hiss of energy and began unloading rapid, focused blasts at the shield generators.
One by one, the generators collapsed under the force of the meson blasts.
With a crackling pulse, Shandor's shield dropped.
Sam switched back to the proton stream without hesitation. "Go, go, go!"
He opened fire, and the rest of the Ghostbusters followed suit. They all hit Shandor with everything they had—proton streams, boson darts, the works.
Sam and the Ghostbusters fought like hell, bracing their feet as the Destructor's howls of rage echoed through the broken realm.
Peter shouted, "Egon! A plan would be great any time now!"
Egon,finally spoke up. "I can't believe I'm saying this again, but… cross the streams!"
Not needing to be told twice, all five of them rushed into position.
With synchronized precision, they joined their proton streams into one blinding, roaring beam of raw power.
Shandor shrieked, trying to resist the torrent of energy. "I am a GOD!" he screamed, desperation rising.
Egon shouted back, "We eat gods for breakfast!"
The Destructor form trembled, writhing under the pressure of the combined stream. Finally, Shandor let out a last, deafening cry—
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
His monstrous body cracked apart, burning from the inside out, and disintegrated into ash, which was swept away into the void like dust on the wind.
As he vanished, the ghost realm around them collapsed. The floating platforms shattered. The skies unraveled. The swirling colors turned black.
Then, just like that, Sam and the Ghostbusters were back in their world.
They stood in the ruined sanctum, heartbeats racing. Alyssa and Peck were still suspended in midair by glowing chains, but now the energy was fading.
They helped both of them down, and as they walked back toward the Ecto-1, Sam suddenly began to glow with a golden light.
The Ghostbusters stopped in their tracks, watching in awe.
Sam's form shimmered and vanished in a burst of light.
Egon and Ray shared a long look before both smiled knowingly.
Ray said, "You gave it to him, right?"
Egon nodded calmly. "Of course I did."
Ray chuckled. "You think it'll work?"
Egon adjusted his glasses and said, "As I said earlier, without a sample, I'm limited in what I can do. But I'm at least 96% certain it'll work."
Ray grinned. "Well… I guess the rest is up to him, then."
Sam reappeared in Bobby's house, still in his Ghostbusters uniform, proton pack slung over his shoulder, and the rest of his gear intact.
He looked around, stunned, then laughed, rubbing his head. "Oh my God, I'm back. That was so crazy. I mean… I've fought ghosts before, but never like that."
Tet chuckled from the couch, lounging with his arms behind his head. "It's very different from making them go away with shotgun shells full of rock salt and then burning the remains, isn't it?"
Then Tet leaned forward with a grin and said, "But now for the most important question—did you have fun?"
Sam smiled. "Yeah… I think I did." Then he looked down. "Also, I still have the proton pack."
Tet nodded. "Yeah, that's your prize for completing the game. I also went ahead and made it indestructible—don't need that thing blowing up."
Sam blinked. "Yeah, that was probably a good call."
Tet tapped his chin. "Also, you might want to check your belt. Looks like you got a little something extra there."
Sam did as Tet said, reaching down—and found something clipped to his belt.
It was a ghost trap, but… different.
It was sleeker, painted in matte black, with a silver Devil's Trap etched into its side. It looked like it could plug into something—maybe his proton pack. Attached to the side was a folded note, written in crisp handwriting.
He opened it and read:
> "Dear Sam,
Without a sample, my calculations are not 100% accurate. But if I'm correct, this newly designed trap should be able to capture the incorporeal form of an archangel the same way it would a ghost.
I've also reinforced your pair of goggles to allow you to look upon the devil's true form without burning out your retinas.
The trap cannot dispose of him, but as it is a trap, he shouldn't be able to escape from it.
Secondly, I've designed this trap to plug into your proton pack and act as a secondary power source. This means that once you've caught the devil, the more you use your proton pack, the more of his energy will be siphoned off.
Eventually, in theory, that should either kill him… or leave him in a state where he can be killed.
We've given you the best chance we could. The rest is up to you."
After reading the note, Sam looked at the trap with a smile, then tossed it over to Castiel.
"What do you think, Cas? You think it could work?"
Castiel caught the trap with practiced ease. He examined it for a few long moments in silence, his celestial awareness flickering across its design.
Then he nodded solemnly. "This trap… would easily capture me. And I think it has a good shot at capturing an archangel."
He tossed it back to Sam and said with calm certainty, "Keep it close."
Then Sam said, "Okay… so now what?"
Tet gave him a grin, floating lazily in the air with his arms behind his head. "Now you rest for a while. You might think you're fine at the moment, but I guarantee—pretty soon—you're gonna get hit with some hardcore fatigue. So, either find a couch or a bed as soon as possible." He twirled once midair, eyes glinting playfully. "As for me, I need to head back to the new world I just picked up and get some players to join Bobby in his game."
Sam nodded and took Tet's advice. With a tired grunt, he flopped down on a nearby couch and let his head fall back. "Yeah… makes sense," he muttered.
With that, Tet disappeared in his usual burst of kaleidoscopic colors, the air shimmering faintly where he had been.
Meanwhile, back in Tet's realm…
Inside Hermes' house, Roman and Neo were sitting at a large table. Neo was calmly sipping iced lemonade through a straw, her legs casually crossed as she relaxed in her seat. Roman, meanwhile, was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, eyes locked on a set of blueprints spread out in front of him.
"Do we know anything about the guard rotations, defenses, or even the layout inside?" Roman asked, tapping the table with his fingers, clearly focused.
Hermes stood nearby with his arms crossed, shaking his head. "Nope. Not yet. I need to get someone on the inside as soon as possible," he said with a shrug.
Roman took a slow sip from his coffee mug before responding. "That's unfortunate. Neo's Semblance might work for that, but she can't hold it forever. And the three of us aren't gonna cut it alone."
Hermes gave a casual nod. "Already thought of that. I'm planning to bring in six others for this job." He looked at the two of them and added, "And as for you and Neo, I plan to help the both of you get access to magic—or at least something close to it."
Roman looked up at that, curious. "Through those keys you mentioned?"
"Yep," Hermes said simply. "I'm sure Tet will hand you a couple without any trouble. He loves having new players in the mix."
Roman leaned back slightly, giving Neo a glance. She just smirked around her straw. Roman took another sip of coffee, then said, "Alright. Until then, I guess we'll kick back for a bit."
Hermes nodded. "Exactly. Rest up. Things are about to get busy."