The yellow cab slowed to a halt on Central Park West, and Chloe winced as she stepped out of it. Aubrey had worked them extra hard in Bellas training an hour earlier, and Chloe's muscles were sore and strained from the excessive cardio.

She paid the driver and watched him pull away, disappearing into the New York rush hour traffic around the park, and then she turned to look up at her destination. Her parents had started renting this apartment after she'd already left for Barden, and though they had sent her a thousand pictures, she couldn't help but be in awe of it.

It was as tall as any of the skyscrapers in midtown, with beautiful art deco architecture, and with enough spires and gargoyles around the rooftop to make the whole thing end up reminding her of a castle.

A castle she had all to herself for the next few weeks.

The doorman showed her inside and called the elevator for her, and the second those big steel doors closed and Chloe was alone, she sighed deeply and practically collapsed against the wall. Aubrey had really done a number on them. As the ICCA finals drew nearer, her co-captain's patience grew thinner, her tolerance for choreography mistakes lowered, her yelling reached new decibels. How stupid it was, Chloe thought as she massaged her right shoulder, to think it would soothe Aubrey's demeanour if all the Bellas came out to New York a month early, to really perfect their performance before finals.

"Nice thinking, Beale," she muttered aloud to the empty elevator.

She reached her floor and half-limped down the long hallway, using the key she'd been left to open the door. A huge window overlooking the park greeted her, the focal point of an expansive and stylishly furnished apartment.

"Oh yeah," Chloe said, dropping her gym bag by the door and walking to the centre of the living room to stretch out all her aching muscles. "This'll do just fine."

Her first task was to head into the bathroom and turn on the tap above the bath, then she headed to the kitchen next door to grab a glass of water while she waited for the tub to fill up. On the counter of the practically sparkling white kitchen were two bags of fresh groceries and a note from her parents; leaving the numbers they could be reached whilst on vacation, wishing her luck with the finals of her 'singing thingy', and semi-seriously asking her not to wreck the place. Chloe rolled her eyes, scrunched the note up into a ball, and threw it over her head.

She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and turned to the sink. She had just reached out to turn on the faucet when she heard it. Quiet, subtle, but definitely there: A rustling noise, coming from behind her.

She turned around, back to the counter where the note had been, and watched in confusion as both of the paper groceries bags quivered and shook for no discernible reason. She took a single, cautious step forward, thinking at worst a bug or something had gotten into them while no one was home. And yet her eyes were drawn to the base of the bags.

They were burning. The brown paper material was gradually turning black and charred, some hidden source of heat making it crumble into ash.

She looked down at the counter, reached out a hand to touch the surface, and then yanked it back when it singed her finger.

"Ow," she yelped. "What the hell?"

A portion of the bags tore open, and a box of eggs fell out. They cracked, and began to fry right there on the counter. Chloe watched the white and the yolk of the eggs sizzle in astonishment.

The other paper bag, perhaps jealous of the egg trick, took that moment to completely burst into flame. Chloe shrieked again and leapt back. She could feel the heat from the flames as they danced in front of her. The thought of calling for help managed to cut through the blind panic in her head, and she began backing along the cabinets to reach the kitchen door.

That's when the fridge began to make the most peculiar of noises. At first she thought it was creaking, like it was about to fall to bits just as easily as the paper bags. But then she realised it wasn't the fridge making the noise at all. It was something inside, growling.

And even as confused and afraid as she was, she couldn't help slowly making her way towards the fridge, reaching out for the handle, and pulling it open.

What she saw was impossible. More impossible than grocery bags spontaneously combusting, more impossible than eggs frying on an ordinary countertop.

Inside the fridge she saw a swirling sky. Clouds the colour of dark purple bruises, swimming around in preparation for a storm. There was a long set of black stone steps, leading up to a blindingly bright white structure. A gate, a temple, and a creature. Four legged, red-eyed and grotesque. Chloe looked at it, and the creature looked back.

Then it opened it's mouth and called out: "Zuul!"

Chloe slammed the refrigerator door and ran out of the kitchen.

PARANORMAL ACA-TIVITY

a Ghostbusters-style reimagining of Pitch Perfect

The third time the blonde girl smiled at her, Beca knew she wasn't imagining things. It was important to be sure, because Beca read signals wrong sometimes. She often thought it would be way easier if the girls at Columbia University could wear T-shirts which declared their opinion on Beca, one way or the other, in a romantic sense.

But since the moment this girl had walked in the library, and Beca's eyes had been drawn away from her phone screen by a wave of blonde hair in her peripheral vision, there had been a connection. That was thirty minutes ago. There had been lots of eye contact since then, and the aforementioned three separate smiles. It was time to mobilize, she decided. All Beca needed was an opening.

Blonde Girl had a laptop in front of her and was occasionally consulting books. Perhaps she was trying to finish a paper? Beca frowned. That would complicate things. But that frown vanished when the girl breathed out a heavy sigh and relaxed in her chair, before reaching into her pocket to get out her phone. A study break! The window was open.

Beca quietly stood up and started closing the distance. As she approached the table, Blonde Girl actually looked up at her expectantly. Beca smiled her fourth smile, and opened her mouth to talk.

"This is it!"

Alas, it was not her voice that broke the silence, but Jesse's. He appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her by the elbow and tugging her forward.

"This is definitely it! It's the big one, and we need to go. Right now."

Beca planted her feet, causing Jesse's stride to jerk to a stop, and then she swatted his hand away from her.

"I'm a little busy right now, Jess." She tried to gesture with her eyes towards blonde girl, who she was pretty sure was watching this whole thing in bewilderment. "How about I catch up with you later?"

If Jesse saw the girl, he didn't change his mind.

"No way. We need all hands on deck. A major New York City landmark just had to be evacuated due to an unspecified paranormal event. Benji's already there, he took readings that busted the metre. Seriously, the PKE Metre broke under the strain, which sucks because it's technically University property that's checked out under your name and you'll probably have to replace it, but that's not the point. The point is that this is as close as we've ever come and I'm not missing it. So: come on!"

He started walking away again, though Beca found it to be more of an excited skip than a walk. She turned, haplessly, to Blonde Girl, who stared back at her - all pretty eyes and hopeful. Beca smiled sadly and turned to follow Jesse.

"God damn you, Jesse Swanson," she seethed, once they were outside the library and headed for his car. "You know I have a thing for blondes."

Jesse's look was far from sympathetic. "Sorry. Maybe you can ask her later if she wants to take part in your super useful ESP tests."

"For the last time, what happens between me and those volunteers is totally professional. Those sessions are producing solid data."

Jesse rolled his eyes as he approached his old, beaten up car. "Is that the kids are calling it now?"

He unlocked it, and Beca squeezed past all the useless equipment shoved into the tiny vehicle and pulled the seatbelt around herself.

"You know," she said, scrolling through the news app on her phone. "There's nothing on the internet about your major evacuation."

Jesse avoided her gaze and didn't reply. And it wasn't until she was standing outside a boring old three storey home in lower Manhattan that she understood why.

"The Aldridge Mansion?" she said, reading aloud from the faded sign planted outside the building. "This is your major New York City landmark?"

"It's a museum," said Jesse defensively, taking as much equipment as his rucksack could carry and locking the car. "Look, they even have an Instagram account."

"Benji has an Instagram for the spores, moulds and fungus that he finds. That doesn't make him the Empire State Building, Jess."

Jesse breezed past her and approached the house. There was a short set of steps that led up the old front porch, where she could spot a young man on his knees, fiddling with something on the front door. Jesse was fervently discussing something with him when Beca caught up and shook her head shamefully.

"This is a new low for you guys."

"Afternoon, Beca," said Benji, without turning away from the front door or the lock he was trying to pick. "I overheard your comment about my moulds and fungus Instagram, and I'll have you know I gained two followers this week."

Jesse patted him on the shoulder affectionately but threw Beca a wink.

"A few more and you'll finally be in double digits."

"You guys are actually breaking in to this asbestos factory?" asked Beca.

"The whole place was quietly evacuated around noon," Jesse explained. "One of those guys at GhostNews tweeted about it. I tried to call the owners but they weren't picking up. We can't wait for permission, we have to get in there and see what we can find."

Beca pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is ridiculous. And I'm not gonna be an accessory to this. I will not go to jail for failing to break into the world's lamest museum. I don't need a science credit that badly."

"It's not a museum," said Benji vaguely murmured, the door lock still holding the majority of his attention.. "It's a historically preserved site open to the public. And for your information, escapology magic is a hobby of mine. When I was twelve, I encased myself in a coffin, tipped it into a lake, and broke myself free before I ran out of air. This lock will be a piece of cake."

Beca rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, you'll excuse me if I don't have much faith in a guy who thought he'd worked out how to survive drilling a hole through his head."

Benji swung away from the door to glare at Beca. "That would have worked if you hadn't stopped me!"

"Easy," said Jesse sternly, to both of them. "We're all here now. Everybody who would be an accessory already is one. So we might as well see it through."

Beca clenched her fists and turned her back to them, looking up and down the empty city street. No cop cars in sight. It was a sleepy corner of the city, and she hoped it would stay that way.

"You know, as a friend I really have to tell you that you're finally going around the bend with this ghost business. Four years of college and all you've done is talk to whack-jobs who want attention. It's a waste of your parents money."

"Are you trying to summon spirits with your negative energy?" asked Jesse. "Because if anybody can do it, it's you."

"We are conducting pioneering research into the science of this century," Benji added, in between intricate pokes at the door. "Our parent's money is being spent just fine."

"Pioneering research?" Beca scoffed. "What evidence have you collected, Benji? In four years of running after all the wild goose chases we've been fed, what evidence of the paranormal have we ever actually seen?"

There was an echoing click, and the door in front of Benji swung itself open. The three of them peered down the hallway that led into the Aldridge Mansion. It was dark, deserted, and eerily silent.

"Something tells me," said Benji quietly, "nothing compared to what we're about to see now."

Author's note: regarding the title, it was the only ghost-related Pitch Perfect pun I could think of. I physically groaned when I thought of it, but now I actually kind of love it? Feel free to point out any other puns I may have missed in the reviews.

Also, the official themesong for this fic is the Pentatonix version of the Ghostbusters theme. For obvious reasons.