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EnkiSchmidt
Posts: 5,343 Member
Welcome to a Halloween story with my police sims! It starts out with a murder case, and ends as… time travel? Or are things not as they seem?
This chart shows the characters with their current lifestates and relations:
I expect this to be roughly 80% scripted dialogue and 20% gameplay commentary, but we’ll see how it goes.
This chart shows the characters with their current lifestates and relations:
I expect this to be roughly 80% scripted dialogue and 20% gameplay commentary, but we’ll see how it goes.
Currently playing: Journey to Batuu & Horse Ranch mashup
Post edited by EnkiSchmidt on
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Detroit, Newcrest neighborhood, 2050
Retired police Captain Hank Anderson sighs as he leaves the house.
115 Michigan Drive is decorated for Halloween. Although with the next door neighbor flying around in bat form, the families from across the street practicing magic dueling in the backyard and a werewolf fixing your car engine, what is the point?
What had once been fun and mysterious, making you wonder “What if there is something to all of this, after all?” every year, has become an empty routine. The sense of wonder is gone, and why? Because twelve years ago Magic has returned after the usual 250 years cycle, and this time it is here to stay.
Truth be told, Halloween not being anymore what it used to be isn’t the cause for Hank’s heavy sigh. He needs to go places today, maybe stay overnight.
“Sorry, Ranger”, the man softly tells his dog. “I can’t go for a walk with you today.”
Hank doesn’t address his wife, Oumaima, with similar words. Now normally the Captain A.D. and the High Judge of Michigan are perfectly able to express their feelings, but this time Hank feels as if he’d have to choke on whatever phrase he might come up with. Should he apologize, only to nevertheless go through with his plan? No, that would only sound hypocritical.
And so not a single word escapes the man’s lips. Only his eyes silently plead “Sorry! I’m so sorry, love. Sorry for enjoying this...”
After having fiddled with the Anderson family car’s ancient engine for some time now, the next door neighbor, Daniel Reed, lifts his head. He wipes dark blue sweat off his forehead, then angrily casts the wrench he was holding aside. It lands in the toolbox with uncanny precision, despite the werewolf looking in a different direction.
Daniel takes a couple of steps closer to the Anderson couple. A low growl accompanies his words, when he apologizes:
“Sorry, Hank, Oumaima... I think I could get your engine fixed, but not within the hour. Handyness isn’t my favorite pastime, so this may partially be on me.”
“No biggie, Daniel”, Oumaima replies with an encouraging smile. The judge considers her next words carefully. She doesn’t want the neighbor to perceive the request she is going to make as Daniel somehow having to make up for his inability to repair the car.
“Could you give my hubby a ride with your own car, maybe? You know, today is the big day for him!”
Oumaima has already prepared sweets for the trick ‘n treaters that are sure to swing by later today, Daniel to the contrary plans to take the Reed, Anderson and Miller children trick ‘n treating. The man figures that if he drives Hank to his destination he’ll still be back in time to do that, with an hour to spare even. Therefore he replies:
“Sure! One moment...”
While the werewolf curls into a fur ball, Hank meets his wife’s eyes. “Big day?” he exhales. “You’re not bummed that I need to leave you alone at a holiday?”
“That makes it even better, don’t you think so? Just like old times!"
A moment later Daniel Reed has reverted back to human shape, although this, too, isn’t his real form. A small, glowing circle on the man’s right temple gives him away as a sentient android. Beneath a slim layer of artificial skin Daniel’s body is made of grey plastic and blue battery fluid.
“There, done”, Daniel states. “I can drive just fine when in wolf form, but I hate the dog hair on the seats!”
Hank snorts. Ever since the Reeds have moved into the neighborhood, the two families had their ups and downs, but no matter how far they’ve come, the fact that the Andersons are a family of dog persons and the Reeds one of cat persons, will always keep a narrow rift open between them.
Admittedly wet dog isn’t the nicest smell in the world, and so Hank reaches into the car’s trunk to retrieve two umbrellas, one of which he hands Daniel.
“And also…” Daniel pauses, smirks, and then shakes Hank’s hand. “My heartfelt congratulations to your first time getting called back from retirement to assist the DPD in a case! And at a holiday, too, who’d have thought!”
“How come all of Newcrest is happy for me? I feel so guilty...”
“Perfect! Now this is REALLY like old times!”
Hank erupts into laughter at this and finally allows himself to feel the excitement his friends already felt the whole day.
That doesn’t stop them appreciating the lobby’s decoration today…
…or not.
Alexander: “I can’t tell whether this is magic or trickery, but in any case it’s SO TYPICALLY CAPTAIN REED!”
Rika: “Who cares how he did that! As long as there’s CANDY!”
Alexander: “Huh! You’re right, there’s candy indeed - and it’s good!”
Rika: *smiles*
Alexander: “Who’d have thought we’d see the day when Gavin coughs up money to spoil the team! It’s so weird how a promotion can bring out the best in somebody!”
Rika: “Perhaps because there was hardly any farther to fall for Lt. Reed, personality-wise, so instead he climbed up, haha!”
Alexander: “Haha, you may be right!”
The first time the DPD had this particular suspect in custody, Siggy had mocked them all with his guitar play. Today he looks lost in thought.
When he hears Hank approach, Sigstein turns around.
“Hello, Uncle Hank...”
Okay, there it is, the first reminder why Hank had been happy to leave this job behind. If he wanted sass, he could cross the street and go talk to the Reeds. He definitely doesn’t need it from suspects. Not even if said suspects indeed are somewhere on the confusing Reed-Kamski-Manfred-Anderson-Phillips family tree.
“Hello, Sigstein”, Hank replies in a neutral tone. “Don’t think I had forgotten that you turned me into a sturgeon!”
Not a single cussword in two sentences, Sigstein notices. Should he worry now?
(Nah, Siggy, that’s just because this story is for the Sims forum. You all can swear like sailors back home, but not here.)
“I assume you’ll want to interrogate me now?” Sigstein carefully asks. Hank is not prepared for the spellcaster’s reaction when he nods to this question:
“Good!” Sigstein exclaims. “Then someone will finally tell me what exactly I’m suspected of!”
“The cops didn’t tell you?”
The spellcaster shrugs.
“They assume I already know.”
Hank frowns. This is highly irregular, especially with Connor being in charge at the DPD now. Hank’s successor is too much a stickler to protocol to let something like not reading the rights slide. Maybe Gavin was throwing a “Androids aren’t persons, so no rights for you” fit again? Connor’s right hand has long left behind this attitude, but might just play up his old persona in front of Sigstein.
“It’s part of reading someone their rights, though”, Hank insists, unwilling to believe that Gavin and Connor allowed themselves a slip that could get their whole investigation work invalidated. “The officer who arrested you must have said something like “You’re under arrest for turning people into fishes!”.”
“Did, too”, Sigstein relents. “But do you have any idea, how little that narrows it down?”
Ah, okay. Hank nods to himself. That sounds more like it.
He unlocks the cell door.
“Follow me, c-hole.”
The retired police Captain is very different from the gloomy one Sigstein remembers his “uncle” as. There isn’t the tiniest negative moodlet to feed on for the evil spellcaster. To the contrary, Hank’s newfound joy of life threatens to choke Sigstein. Even worse, instead of exploiting the suspect’s tenseness, like a sensible villain would, Hank tosses him a bone:
“Icebreaker interaction! Ask me a question - any question!”
“Oh-kay... how long did you have to wait to be able to use that coffee mug of yours?”
(Coffee mug inscription: I don’t work here. Bye.)
“Oh, good one! The lads gifted this to me when I retired!”
“Okay, joke aside.” Hank leans forward a little, ready to talk business now. “We are receiving reports from all over the city, reports of people being found dead in large puddles of water. Drowned. Often with no source of water nearby. Some of the victims were androids, who don’t even need to breath.”
“Uh-uh.” Sigstein waves his hand about. “If that was my doing, they wouldn’t have drowned from lack of air, but suffocated from lack of water.”
“You know what? That sounds almost logical.”
“And YOU know what? That killer of yours is giving me a wrong reputation! Gimme back my wand and a badge and they’re in custody faster than you can say frog!”
“You serious about that? Hell, you sure SEEM serious...”
“I’m Connor-60, your Connor’s twin! Even though I was primarily used for security and counter espionage, my core program is that of a detective android.”
Who am I to deny a man his redemption arc, Hank wonders. But then again, who am I to endanger the people of this city to satisfy my desire for a heartwarming story?
“I don’t think the city is ready for that.”
Sigstein rarely explodes, his malice is ice cold and perfectly orchestrated. Today, however, he throws a hissy fit:
“You gave DANIEL a badge to investigate Moonwood Mill! And even before that you promoted GAVIN to Lieutenant! TINA is in charge of training recruits and CHRIS allowed to carry a gun in populated areas. The first thing people looking for help here see in the foyer is RIKA and the Chief appointed two captains to this precinct, so that they’d keep each other from doing stupid plum! That’s the state of this cesspool of a city.”
“Yes”, Hank sais, not even trying to defend any of those decisions as sane. “Doesn’t it make you think, that I signed all of those decrees in my time, yet still hesitate to swear YOU in?”
“Well, maybe it’s because you’re SOBER now…”
Hank bites his lips. Fingers curl into fists under the table, but remain down there. In the elder’s back Officer Finnegan casts a death glare at the suspect. Dysfunctional as the DPD “family” can be at times, there are lows even they don’t sink to.
After a while Hank rises. He walks around the table and offers Sigstein his hand.
“You know what? You got the job!”
Perplexed the spellcaster takes Hank’s hand. Hank’s mimic remains like stone up until the moment Sigstein has signed the paperwork. Only afterwards does he move in so close that the new auxiliary jumps back in surprise.
“Great!” Hank rejoices. “Now we can bring charges against you for the slightest acting up on the job. And don’t think none of my cops will report fellow officer you, or testify against you. Looking back at all the trouble you gave us in the past? Reserve a cell in the slammer already!”
“Oh. Well played, Captain Anderson. Well played.”
Rika and Daniel turn around. Their eyes open wide and Rika’s jaw literally drops when she recognizes the latest victim as DPD Detective Chris Miller. Unlike the previous victims, however, Chris is still alive – he is the first to have survived the mysterious attacks.
“This is how I found Chris on our own parking lot just now. He was waiting for me in the car, listening to an audio book.”, Tina explains. “And now he just won’t stop dripping. He’s like a Decanter of Endless Water!”
“So I suppose that is definite proof that magic is involved”, Daniel muses.
“Yeah. An advanced caster’s work, too, one who has mastered Spectral Reach. Otherwise we’d spotted them approach.”
“Whatever they cast went right through the car window…?”
“Ha! That may have been the attacker’s mistake! They needed to see their victim to hex him, what leaves only a limited number of angles the spell could have traveled. I bet our android officers can calculate them all in a reasonable time, giving us a couple of spots to look at for further clues!”
Chris being a spellcaster himself may have given him the decisive edge. He lives, but doesn’t look like waking up anytime soon.
Rika informs the two Captains, that are sharing this post here at the DPD central station, that Chris has gotten attacked by the mysterious killer that still might turn out to have been Sigstein. The attack on Chris having occurred while the spellcaster was in a cell makes this unlikely, but one never knows. As long as the officers cannot rule out their enemy’s involvement with 100% certainty, they remain suspicious.
Daniel waits together with Tina for the duo’s arrival. After all, one is his husband and the other his erstwhile nemesis...
Connor kneels down next to Chris.
“Alright, let’s see...”
Connor misses having his adoptive father for his boss. Sharing responsibilities with Gavin isn’t always easy. However, there is one aspect in which the arrangement works in the android detective’s favor: To analyze evidence by means of his internal forensics lab, Connor has to imbibe it. Hank had been icked out by the very idea. Gavin finds it funny.
Except in this once case, where the stuff Connor is taste-testing might be the murder “weapon”. Therefore Gavin watches more concerned than amused tonight.
Connor: “Ugh...”
“What’s the matter?” Gavin prods. “Not water, after all?”
“No, it is water alright. Perfectly normal water, too. SALT WATER! In Detroit, where we hadn’t that for 400 million years!”
Gavin Reed isn’t as well versed in geology (or paleontology, as Connor’s remark suggests) as his co-captain, but he knows the city inside out like few others. From a very young age the man has explored the city and its abandoned factories. On one occasion he had fallen onto conveyor a belt that turned out to still have juice in it, only to get accidently packaged and sent to a wholesale car dealership. Gavin has drawn a complete map of the abandoned Belle Isle Zoo and is on first name terms with every last stray on the island. And so he now casually drops a little known fact about Detroit:
“Actually, the whole city is standing atop a giant salt mine...”
“For real?” Daniel wonders. As a primary school teacher he is always ready to absorb cool new facts to pass on to his kids.
“Yeah, it’s true”, Tina confirms, followed by a sigh: “That shifts the investigation from the city to an underground complex almost the size of the city. Joy.”
Suddenly Connor starts humming…
♪♫ For it's cheer up my lads / Let your hearts never fail ♪♫ ♪♫ For the bonnie ship the Diamond / Goes a-hunting for the whale ♪♫
“Hey! You tipsy from the water sample?!”
“No... I feel... confused.”
With a smirk Gavin says: “Connor, you always feel confused. It’s your default state of being, pal.”
“I’m afraid the water didn’t agree with me, after all.”
Connor closes his eyes to shut out all unnecessary sensations.
He hears the shuffling of clothes as Daniel rises from the bench, the door opening as Officer Deckart returns to report the result of the spell angle calculations… Rika asking a question… Then Connor feels Daniel’s hand on his shoulder…
...and suddenly he finds himself standing outside.
Connor can hear the waves roll on the shore and against pathetic wooden beams. In the distance Chris is lying on the boardwalk, just now coming back to his senses. The person looming over the detective is wearing an odd costume, but his body shape and stance match Daniel’s. Not just any PL600 android, but specifically Daniel Reed.
…but then he snaps back to life and almost jumps up onto his feet. To Daniel (and to Connor watching from afar) the movement looks out-of-character, way too hectic for the active, but also very composed, detective, like watching an altogether different person.
Now Chris notices the stranger standing next to him. He flashes him an insecure, embarrassed smile. Not just that, Chris also addresses his friend in a much younger, much more insecure and a lot more distant voice than normally. In fact, the detective sounds even wetter behind the ears than he had when Daniel had first met him for the first time as a freshly minted officer.
“Thank you for pulling me back on my feet, when I lay on the street. I don’t normally drink enough to pass out, don’t know what’s come over me.”
“Uh-huh?”
“Oh... you don’t understand me, huh? But I don’t speak, uh, whatever your language is. - Call me Ishmael!”
“...okay? Ishmael?”
“You probably don’t understand this either, but I want you to know that you’re a real noble savage!”
“That’s... one way to put it, I guess.”
Chris and Daniel are both devoted family fathers, but that isn’t where their similarities end. To put it mildly, in their younger days neither Daniel nor Chris had been known for trying a diplomatic solution first. Daniel really has no grounds for dismissing being called a savage.
“I mean, you could have robbed me or even killed me, when I was out cold, but instead you helped me. That’s not what one expects from your kind.”
What does that mean? Is Chris referring not to their troubled past, but to Daniel being a werewolf? But why would he speak so disparagingly about them all of a sudden? What’s gotten into the man?
Daniel raises his voice a bit. The question he asks is actually a threat, as to that his tone leaves no doubt:
“Can’t we leave my species out of this!”
“Yes!” Chris exclaims. “Yes, we totally should! It’s just... I never before spoke to a sav... a barba...”
Okay, I’m one more syllable of yours away from a citation for beating up a cop. But you, Chris, are one more syllable away from getting beaten up by a savage barbarian.
“…a non-white person! Heck, I never even SAW someone of color in my whole life!”
Wait, what?
“Do you have any idea how odd that sounds coming from you, Chris?” Daniel sputters, at a loss how to react or what to even think. He just stands there, dumbfounded.
For a second Chris seems to consider the “savage’s” remark. Turns out that one second is enough, because the detective snaps back. His posture straightens, his eyes clear and hard as he tries not to laugh at seeing Daniel in his face paint, he cannot help it. Afterwards Chris speaks up in his normal voice:
“Ah, I think I get it now! Brace yourself, Daniel, because we got...”
Chris has just started his explanation, when suddenly...
For a moment two men seem to share the same spot in spacetime, then Chris vanishes, to get replaced by Connor.
When he notices Daniel, Connor addresses him in the very same voice Chris had used before: “Call me Ishmael!”
“I admit you’re rocking that voice, Connor, but I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
Shivering, Daniel rubs his hands. The temperature is far above impeding the android’s functions, and as computers they can deal with cold better than with heat anyway, but even so Daniel cannot stop shivering.
“Cold, cold, cold!”
“We should find Chris and then a place to spend the night”, Connor suggests. “A motel or youth hostel would do fine.”
“Hard agree! Strange as that sounds, something’s urging me to say I’m not used to the northern hemisphere’s harsh climate."
“Same here.”
“You’re cold, too?”
“No. But I feel an odd desire, too. I want to... to kick hats off people’s heads.”
“Connor the rebel, haha!”
Connor and Daniel start looking for their missing friend, but after having taken a couple of steps they have already forgotten that there had been three of them.
The night is darker than they are used to from Detroit. All light there is in this town comes from candles or oil. The nearby lighthouse seems to have a carbon arc lamp installed, but nothing more sophisticated. When the androids feel around with their minds, they cannot detect any internet hotspots either.
After walking along the boardwalk for some time, Connor and Daniel find an inn, but realize they have no cash on them and no access to their bank accounts. But the night isn’t too cold and as androids they don’t need to sleep anyway, so they decide to look around some more.
They hear the sea gulls screech, just like home. But the smell of salt is in the air, and a quick glance into the water reveals that the local fish are salt water species. Where-ever they are, it’s a coastal region, no longer the Great Lakes.
Eventually Connor breaks the silence: “We can already infer that what happened to us, also happened to the other victims. This must be the place where they got spirited to, and where they drowned before re-appearing in Detroit.”
“So whatever tossed - or pulled - them into the sea, is still on the prowl? Let’s find some high ground, then!”
They seem to be the only people around, but the realization of how odd their situation is slowly vanes. What remains on the forefront of the men’s mind is the need to raise money for a room at the nearby Inn.
“I have an idea!” Daniel speaks up. “Let’s sell something we don’t need! That way we not just raise money for a room at that inn over there…”
A brief pause occurs, when Daniel struggles to pursue this track of his thought. The topic tries to slip from his consciousness, but Daniel pulls himself together and continues: “The currency we get will also tell us where - and when - exactly we are.”
“Good idea!” Connor agrees. “Do you have anything we could sell?”
“I was thinking my head! Although it’s cracked pretty badly. I don’t think anybody would want it.”
“I appreciate your increased self-awareness, Daniel, but we still need something to sell.”
“I just TOLD you, Connor! I’m going to sell my head.”
Daniel reaches into his pocket…
“Here!”
“Here!” Daniel had said, before casually producing a shrunken head from his poncho pocket.
It is at this point in his life, that Connor Anderson finally understands why his father had always looked so tired, when he had still been Captain at DPD central station.
“That’s so many levels of icky, my vocabulary software thinks it needs an update to express them all. But since we have nothing else we can do without, alright, let’s try selling your shrunken head first thing in the morning!”
The duo rises, then suddenly they stop at the same time, when the realization hits them:
“Wait, Daniel! I was disgusted by you carrying a human skull around, but then again, you’re Daniel Phillips, sooo...”
“Connor!!!”
“We already experienced before how our thoughts get shaped by this new environment, and just now it happened again. Somehow we knew that selling preserved human skulls to private collectors in brought daylight is perfectly acceptable in this place.”
“Looks like it.”
“Then where the heck ARE we?! Cuzz this can’t be earth!"
“The past, Connor. And going by the tech level, I wager we hopped back to the previous cycle of magic: 1818 - 1838.”
“But that was modern times already!” Connor protests. “Whereas in this place people peddle other people’s skulls...”
Daniel cuts his friend short: “Twelve years ago your owners gave you to the DPD as a product sample, and mine wanted to dump me alive at the landfill. Nobody batted an eye, because we’re androids. Is it so hard to imagine that 200 years ago humans had no issues with owning sufficiently foreign skulls?”
“Yes, Daniel. Yes, it is hard to imagine.”
As a detective Connor of course has seen lots of human on human violence, but him being in a position to do something about it had erected a certain distance between the man and the cases. Now, in 1818, Connor was a badgeless, powerless vagrant and to add insult to injury crime had not just gotten worse, but apparently institutionalized. It was much to stomach, even of your stomach was a pocket laboratory.
Daniel wishes he could help Connor through this. But instead there is something else that requires Daniel’s attention, and preferably on short notice!
“Connor...? I think whatever happened to us, the process put us into human bodies. I feel the need to... you know... have a sitting? Only I don’t know how.”
Connor's face lights up immediately!
“Oh, don’t worry! When Dr. Landgraab made me hallucinate that I was a human, I went to the bathroom several times. I have the answers to all your defecation and urination related needs!”
Being knowledgeable, having the expertise to help a friend through a crisis... It is exactly what Connor needs to get over his sadness now. Daniel is happy for the friend, but he would have been happier, had Connor taught him something... taught him ANYTHING other than the correct use of the potty.
The hallucination Connor refers to happened in this story: The Whiting Hall Mystery
Rika stands in the floor instead of sitting at her desk. Hank opens his mouth to ask what’s troubling the officer, at the same time following her eyes with his. When he sees what Rika sees, the man is speechless for a moment:
Four leading DPD officers plus Daniel Reed are lying in a large puddle.
“The water has stopped flowing”, Rika whispers. “Is that a good or a bad sign?”
But the other officer present, Eloise Deckart, has no answer.
Rika addresses Hank with his old rank: “Captain Anderson!” Then she explains how Tina had found Chris and Connor having taste-tested the water sample.
“Daniel touched Connor. I think he was also reaching out to him with his mind, because next both of them keeled over. Whereas Tina carried Chris all the way from the parking lot with no ill effects.”
Hank notices Daniel’s arm still being stuck in the position it had been in when he had touched Connor. The android has locked up, probably needs a reboot.
“Then Tina slowly slid down the bench, and only when she hit the floor, did we realize that she was unconscious, too”, Rika continues.
That makes sense to Hank. After all, Tina and Daniel are fated mates, each carries a splinter of the other’s soul.
“And then Gavin lost it…”
Well, that makes sense, too. His best friend and his husband dropping in front of the man’s eyes, Gavin NOT freaking out would have been the bigger surprise. Anybody would have reacted like that.
“…and I think at one point he bit Connor, in any case now he’s old cold, too”, Rika finishes recounting what has happened during Hank’s absence.
Hank hears Rika’s voice like from far away. He tries to focus on the clues, tried to find a rhyme to all of this, but instead finds himself walking over to Connor as if in trance. This cannot be happening! A father shouldn’t have to hold his son’s dead body. Not again… Not again!!!
The blue circle on Connor’s temple, his android LED, is flashing, but at least it is still blue. That is a relief. Were Connor and Daniel (and by extension the human and the vampire) seriously hurt, their LEDs would have turned yellow or red. For now the patients were stable, but how long? The dread of what might happen overrides both hope and reason in Hank’s mind.
“All this sweet suffering”, Sigstein murmurs to himself. “What’s it good for, if the one who caused it cannot watch the result of their doing?”
It’s baffling, but then again, Sigstein doesn’t get paid by the DPD to ponder the state of humanity, but to assist with the case. If the culprit didn’t drown their victims for the joy of it, then they must have had an ulterior motive. That stands to reason.
“There is a non-zero chance”, the spellcaster says out loud, “that this was a targeted attack at the DPD. By someone who knew that sooner or later Captain Anderson jnr. would taste-test the water.”
From Hank there is no response.
Officer Deckart kneels down next to her former boss. “Let’s get the patients out of our foyer”, she says.
The elder still doesn’t respond. Only after Eloise and Rika have gently removed Connor from his embrace, does life return into Hank. His voice is still weak, when he gives orders to the others. They need to call a doctor and a mechanic, also inquire with Detroit’s hospitals about similar occurrences, involve the forensics and paranormal departments… There is much tor organize that Hank’s tongue and hands are perfectly able to do on their own. But while his body goes through the routines, the man’s heart just won’t stop crying.
He doesn’t immediately rise from the bed, though. For it is still cold outside, and there’s nothing better than to cuddle beneath a warm heap of feathers and a woolen blanket. It’s pure bliss.
After a while Daniel notices that he isn’t lying in his and Gavin’s bed. He dimly recalls having rented a room the night before, pretty far into the night, too. But the reason for doing so escapes the man’s memory. Daniel only knows it must have been a good one. Everything feels right, as things should be.
Eventually Daniel pushes back the blanket. His Sulani-style wrap and the woolen jumper provide some protection against the cold, but what would really do the charm now, is a Full English breakfast. If whatever guest house they have ended up in doesn’t offer that treat, then Daniel is ready to invade the kitchen and fry one up by himself.
“Hey, Gavin, do you fancy blackpudding with your breakfast? And would you like toast or fried bread?”
“Hey, Gav… veeeeeeeeeeeeen?!”
This is the point where Daniel realizes that the brunette dozing next to him is not his husband, but Connor Anderson. Has he just slept with Connor? Well, of course he has. But has he just slept with Connor?!
“There better not be a baby”, Daniel groans. “That would mess the family tree up beyond salvaging.”
“Baby?” Connor mutters. “Do you mean to say that we just woohoo’d, Daniel?!”
“Well, we woke up in the same bed with our memories scrambled. What do YOU make of that, detective?”
“I honestly have no idea. Kara and me don’t generally do… that.”
“Say what?”
“Between the two of us, you always were the more humanlike. I don’t even have the required parts plugged in at the moment.” Already Connor moves his hands to loosen the knot of his girdle, thinking nothing of the action. “Look, I’ll show you!”
“Noooooo!” Daniel almost screams. “No need to!!! I believe you!”
“But why would we share a bed, Connor? That’s pretty suspicious, don’t you think so, too?”
“Not if we really ended up in the last cycle of magic. In the 19th century guys shared beds way more casually than in our time. It wasn’t thought of as inherently romantic.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. The only worrying part is how readily we follow the customs of this time. It is as if it was trying to pull us in, to override our real memories and even personalities.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Focusing on the thought of Family Echo crashing when we try to add the baby we definitely haven’t made last night to the family tree. Terribly missing Gavin in your case, Kara in mine. Things like that, any strong emotion should do.”
Strong emotions are something that comes easier to Daniel than to Connor. In their own time the teacher is much more susceptible to slamming his fist on his principal’s desk than the detective is to yell at a suspect. However, in this time their roles seem to be reversed. When the duo takes turns sponge bathing at the sink, Daniel’s movements are deliberate and restrained, while Connor seems itchy, as if he couldn’t get out of town quickly enough.
“My land legs are worn off, Daniel”, the detective claims. “I really need to take to sea again soon!”
“No, you don’t!” Almost desperately Daniel gesticulates in front of the other. “Connor, try to remember, you are not interested in sailing at all! The most you did in this regard was joining Gavin and me on a steamboat tour on Lake Erie a full two years ago.”
“Why are you looking at me like this? It’s the truth.”
“Your facepaint… It re-attached itself while you were dressing!”
This early the only other person present is a seaman.
A flock of sea gulls scours the boardwalk for scraps. The older gentlemen’s gaze rests on the birds as if trying to recall something important regarding them. But it won’t come back, so he shakes his head and walks on.
The men briefly turn their heads when they pass by the seaman. He obviously is middle aged and looks relaxed. But then again he is ALSO Rika Mack.
And they are… they are… Well, who are say? For a moment his own name escapes Hank Anderson. It takes all the focus he can muster to remember that came here voluntarily. But even so much as reaching out to Rika to remind her at this fact feels impossible. Their feet aren’t externally controlled, but even so the trio is free to walk the path they choose within certain limits only.
Realizing he has come way too close to the sea gulls already, Hank takes a sharp turn left. Flock birds of all kinds, especially pigeons, make the man uncomfortable. At least they did so in Detroit.
So much for free will, Hank muses. Even when he is himself, invisible forces direct his actions to no small degree.
Hank and… whoever that is by his side… approach the Inn. A pot of hot tea would do them much good now.
“Did you see the sign, Fe… Con… Siggy?”
“The one saying “Smoking and Suicide prohibited”? Yeah.”
“I think we should make this Inn the base for our investigations. With the ban in place, there is no risk for me to relapse.”
“Relapse? You mean you quit smoking?”
“What the heck gave you that idea? Of course not!”
“…oh.”
Is there potential for empathy in Sigstein? Does he feel for his companion in the light of what he has just learned about the man’s past?
Siggy cannot tell himself. All he knows is that the realization served to root them both deeply again. He is Sigstein Connor, the Chief of Security of the Magic HQ that orbits Earth about halfway up to the moon. And for good or ill the old geezer next to him is Hank Anderson, former Captain of the Detroit Police (central station). Unfortunately two sources of identity simultaneously whisper to the spellcaster that Hank is his boss.
“I think I need a strong coffee now.”
A while later Connor and Daniel come down the stairs to the breakfast room. They hear the Landlady snarl at a gentleman and his companion that have just entered: “Codfish or Mussel?!”
With a wry smile the gentleman’s turban-wearing servant answers: “The Captain? Mussel. Definitely mussel.”
“She asked what we want to eat. - We’ll have buttered toast, thank you very much.”
After a curtsy the landlady vanishes into the kitchen. The woman’s whole body language reveals that opting for “other” after getting presented your breakfast options usually doesn’t fly well with her. But there is a definitive deference for the gentleman, who seems to be well known and equally well respected in town not just because of his social status.
Well, those strangers have their problems and Connor has his. But maybe the buttered toast eater can help him and Daniel find their way around this time, so the Detective makes a mental note to approach him later.
Several guests already sit at the tables, digging in heartily. They seem incredibly familiar to Connor, but then again are total strangers to him. He and Daniel take seats next to a seaman.
“No bacon for breakfast - this is your fault”, Hank grumbles, as he munches on his warm toast with jam. “It’s been six years since my fishification by your hands and I still get nauseated by the idea of eating meat.”
The whole fishification debacle happened in this challenge (linked are the most important outtakes only):
https://enkisstories.tumblr.com/tagged/fishification/chrono
“For the last time, I’m not going to leave the table before Rika, because she “outranks” me! First, I’m not finished yet, second half of my brain thinks it doesn’t even know who that Rika person is and third she is the receptionist, while I’m the Captain! So who outranks whom here, ey? Now you bunch eat up and when everyone is finished, we leave the table sorted by rank. I’ll call each one’s name when it's your turn.”
The DPD counselor has a profile of every cop that assigns them four traits and one of Gavin’s is “Ambitious”. Reaching the top of a career, pretty much any career, it didn’t have to be police work, had been the man’s lifetime ambition. Any doubting him in this regard is akin to a personal attack against the proud detective. No spellcaster, cop or deity must get away with such behavior. The attempt alone suffices to firmly root Gavin in his 21st century identity – at least for the time being.
“Geeze lousy, what a kindergarten… If this is what Danny has to deal with every day at work, then I envy him even less.”
Upon hearing his nickname, Daniel turns his head towards the noise – and looks into the face of his partner beneath a crown of red. Daniel often jokes that he loves Gavin for his “inner beauty”, him being attracted to red hair and Gavin carrying a recessive allele for that from his mother. Under no circumstances should it have expressed itself though, not even in a magic infused world.
“Gavin? Gavin James Reed?”
Gavin stares, blinks, and then smiles wide.
“Danny! Right in time – your class trip kids are getting a little stressful here.”
His beloved… his marriage… everything comes back and now Daniel knows that whatever this time is going to throw at him, it won’t be sufficient to make him forget Detroit or his identity again.
“Oh my god, Gavin, you’re looking more adorable than ever!”
“You do, too, pity the same can’t be said for your makeup. C’mon, Danny, admit defeat. We aren’t guys for makeup. It’s just not our style.”
“Haha, you again!”
The husbands leave their tables and fly into each other’s arms.
“I missed you so much…” Daniel whispers.
“I didn’t miss you. Can you imagine that? You were just… gone from my memory. There was no heartache… But I’d rather feel miserable all the time than forget you!”
At the adjacent table Sigstein abruptly stops chewing. What if he has a romantic partner back in the future, whom he doesn’t remember either? It’s certainly a possibility, and a very likely one, too. But what if he is attached to that person to the same degree as these two are to each other, who are shedding actual tears at their reunion? Now THAT idea is outlandish, but it opens a can of worms: Sigstein has to consider everything he isn’t interested in or bad at as something that he excels at or cherishes, and just has forgotten. It’s intimidating and he decides to not voice this concern to his companions, lest it renders them all incapable of acting.
“Actually”, Chris speaks up, but Daniel has to look twice to recognize the detective in his new role, “…this isn’t Dorothy Reed’s red hair gene, but whoever this guy’s mother was.”
The couple has changed from their first, desperate kiss to a relaxing backrub now.
“This guy’s…?” Daniel asks. “Someone other than Gavin, you mean?”
Chris nods. “It took a while to sink in”, he admits, “because at first I was wrapped up by the idea of re-living a previous life. But then I learned that we can trade roles when suddenly Connor took over my role and I got kicked into this one instead.
My hypothesis now is that we time-traveled to the previous age of magic, only not in person. Instead we swapped bodies with real people from the past. As a result what we’re seeing is a mix of the bodies that are really there and our awareness of who inhabits those forms. It’s probably how time travel works in real life, to minimize the risk of messing up the timeline.”
Chris is definitely onto something here. Daniel’s hands feel different on Gavin’s shoulders, as if the android were using a Wellness app instead of his own experience. At the same time to Daniel it feels as if Gavin had substituted his shoulders and muscles for artificial ones. The familiarity they have with the other’s body is gone.
“I think Chris solved the riddle”, Gavin states. “His explanation makes sense, but I can also feel it. It does feel as if we’re borrowing some other blokes’ bodies. And they aren’t lovers.”
“Well, in this case they’ll be in for quite a surprise if we have to stay here longer.”
„The problem with this approach is that “body” includes “brain””, Chris speaks on. “Our memories are stored in our original bodies, just like much of our expertise is the result of muscle memory. That’s why feel our selves slipping, to get replaced by a different set of experiences.”
“Our hosts seem to be sailors”, Tina says. A member of the Detroit sailing club she normally would have cherished the experience. Unfortunately she cannot access her real life knowledge, and the person she is impersonating isn’t well versed in seamanship. Whatever his role on a sailing ship is, it doesn’t involve navigation or piloting. It’s vexing, especially in the light of what is going to happen: “And at one point in the near future we are going to drown”, Tina finishes her sentence.
“Yeah”, Gavin agrees. “What exactly happened, Chris?”
“I have no idea. Can’t access memories this brain hasn’t formed yet. But, yes, going by what we’ve seen from all the other victims, their ship probably sank. And now they’re pulling people into this time to re-live the incident over and over.”
“I’ll never again complain that Halloween has become boring”, Hank comments. “In fact, this is a bit too close to the original idea of the walls between our world and the Beyond thinning!”
Sigstein has mulled something over and over in his head for some time now. Finally ready to give voice to it, he exclaims: “But why did the idiots sink? All you have to do is tie the skull of a Cachalot to your ship’s starboard side, and an Eubalaena skull to the port side, thus ensuring that the ship can never keel over!”
Tina frowns. “Wait, you mean the Right Whale goes to the left? That’s counter-intuitive.”
“It’s magic, you oaf of a werewolf! A sophisticated science.”
“So what are waiting for?” Gavin cries. “Let’s head out and get us some whalefishies! Should be as easy as hitting the broad side of a barn!”
To his borrowed brain it sounds like the sanest thing spoken at this table this morning.
- End of Part 1 -
♪♫ The Diamond is a ship, my lads / For the Davis Strait we're bound ♪♫
♪♫ The quay it is all garnished / With bonnie lasses 'round ♪♫
“And handsome lads!” Gavin jubilates, smiling at his husband.
“And cute bats and werewolves!” Daniel replies, slinging his arms around Gavin and Tina.
“And vintage robots!” Tina teases her Fated Mate.
The trio consisting of three different occult states is seen not as odd, but definitely rare even in Detroit in 2050. Each of the three owes their extra powers to magic, but where Tina and Gavin would revert to mundane humans without magic, Daniel would become a slave to his program code and probably lose much of his self-awareness, too. Therefore it is of utmost importance to leave this time before 1839, when magic had went dormant again.
♪♫Captain A…♪♫
There is a brief pause, when the crew collectively needs to focus on their Captain’s name. But it quickly passes and the chorus continues:
♪♫Captain ANDERSON gives the order / To sail the ocean wide ♪♫
♪♫Where the sun it never sets, my lads / Nor darkness dims the sky♪♫
When their ship, that they think of as the “Diamond”, leaves port, Hank and Connor stand shoulder to shoulder, lost in thought. Once again their borrowed brains take the moment of respite as in invitation to take over.
“First time at sea, lad?” the Captain asks the newest addition to his crew, and Connor replies equally distanced: “No, Sir. But the first time whaling.”
“I did so only last week!” Daniel announces. “I didn’t plan to, but they released a new sword for my outdated Silver Knight, that will get him back into the game!”
Hank and Connor realize that their shipmate is talking about a phone game he is playing in the future. “Whaling” in this context refers to paying an unreasonable sum for ingame content, with “whales” being a moniker for the tiny subset of the paying players, that nevertheless accounts for more than 90% of an app’s profits.
“Daniel? Tell us all about your Silver Knight at dinner tonight!” Hank orders. “In fact, everyone focus on your favorite videogames whenever the topic of whales comes up! Doesn’t mean if you are an avid gamer like Tina, dabble like Daniel and Connor or…” Hank’s gaze rests on Sigstein. Following a hunch he finishes: “…cannot tell a Sega from a Nintendo.”
The insult is lost on Sigstein, but his shipmates’ amused faces tell him the gist of it.
Regardless of who can read them in this time, the seats at the table go to the experienced detectives, with the lower ranking officers scattered across the deck. The DPD normally doesn’t enforce rank much, except in this situation, where they need to hold fast to their selves.
“So we’ve got a ship that’s guaranteed to sink, joy”, Daniel remarks. “What are we going to do?”
“Whatever we want”, Hank muses. “The moment the “Diamond” left port, she was of no more consequence to history. As long as we stay away from people, we don’t run the risk of changing the flow of time.”
“Staying clear of other people? Who’d thought there was an upside to our situation!” Tina cheers.
“So what we’re going to do”, Hank continues”, “is set a course for the Bermuda Triangle and search it high and low for a way back in our time! Then we’ll make our way back to the DPD, touch our unconscious bodies and swap minds back with our hosts. Everyone survives, end of story!”
Connor raises his hand.
“I second the plan, but we should make not the Triangle, but Selvadorada our destination!”
“Oh, wow, after you guys blocked every last travel route there for me six years ago, now you’re giving me a free ride?” Sigstein sneers. Still on parole for his various crimes, the spellcaster is still not allowed to leave Detroit for any other purpose than his job at the Magic HQ. “If I’d known that all that takes is abducting you to the past, I’d done so myself!”
Selvadorada! Known as the Cradle of Magic, it is where the phenomenon got academically studied for the first time. By 1818 the Omiscan cities have been ruins for four centuries already and the original priesthood long disbanded. But half of the involuntary sailors have been to the ruins before and know their way around. If anybody has figured out time travel, then the ancient Omiscan Clerics. At the very least the ruins should contain a means to contact Sixam (another secret the clergy had kept from the rest of the world).
“Selvadorada… Yeah, makes sense. Good call, Connor!”
“Yay, Selvadorada!!!” Rika rejoices. Gavin to the contrary moans “Noooo… not Selvadorada again…”. Sigstein keeps his silence. He has already said too much in his first excitement.
So now the displaced officers have a plan. Except for the tiny detail of them still being at risk of sinking, even if they do not retrace the exact route the “Diamond” had taken in the past.
“So, uh, what will we do to prevent sinking again?”
Hank’s mimic changes at these words, as if the seaman had said something incredibly stupid.
“We’re going to get us a Physeter catodon and any species of Eubalaena, of course!”
Right, that had been Sigstein’s suggestion, born of the union of his soul and an only somewhat compatible brain. Now Hank repeats it as the one true course of action. In fact, it feels as if chasing down those two whales is something like a personal crusade to the man.
Nobody objects. The sailors want to survive, and if the two whales come in handy for that, then so be it. But they also cannot find the mental strength in them to disobey THEIR CAPTAIN.
Note:
The “Diamond” sets off…
Rika is most suited to the lookout’s job, since it corresponds nicely to her receptionist post at the DPD. Remain in one place, watch who – or what – might happen by and react quickly. Rika adapts so quickly to this task, that she soon excels her host body at it.
“Do you think I’m doing well?” the officer asks the seaman. “You know, I can’t wait to meet you in person, when I’ve left your body! In the 21st century you can move in with my hubby and me, if you’d like. It would only be fair after me having piloted your body for days.”
“For days…” Days passed with routine tasks and much joking and cussing. It’s November already, and the time travelers cannot help but think about what might befall their bodies back home.
“The puddles we’ll be leaving won’t be water now”, Gavin remarks.
“We are probably in hospital?” Tina wonders. “I hope my supplementary insurance pays off and they gave me a single.”
“Whatever room they gave me”, Chris states, “My host is going to cover the bill!”
The other two find no fault with that statement.
But other than that the police officers feel a certain kinship to the whalers. There are no academy trained officers among them, even Hank’s host, the Captain, has worked his way up from the very bottom. Likewise despite having some college or even a degree, the Detroiters have all started as beat cops. For a while there is peace and harmony.
“A bit bipolar, that man”, the sea gulls would screech at each other. “Well, what do you expect from bipeds?”
By now they were too far away from any coast for sea gulls. Hank doesn’t have to live with that danger anymore - but he isn’t he only sailor with a phobia.
Rika: “So much for my watch – your turn now, Connor!”
Hank: “You know, you don’t have to do that! I can see you’re dominantly Connor right now, not Ishmael. And Connor doesn’t particularly like heights…”
Connor: “Nah, it’s alright. Yes, I am scared of heights, but everyone here is afraid. If not of tangible things, then of concepts like sinking or being stuck here and never seeing their families again. Or of raising a clan of Reed children in an Omiscan ruin city.”
Rika: “That’s a pretty specific fear.”
Connor: “I needed to focus on something really revulsive to override my vertigo.”
Hank: “Did it work?”
Connor: “Nope. Gavin and me have long become friends. By now I’d gladly lend a hand in the child raising, should it come to this.”
Starting a legacy in Selvadorada, hidden from the world… making children that would have to live with their parents’ wistful looks, whenever they were missing those children they had left behind in Detroit two hundred years in the future… It was a likely outcome of this trip.
What if it has happened already? What if in November 2050 a bunch of descendants would contact the DPD, telling them: “Hey, we’re the kids of a bunch of sailors that should have drowned, but then they didn’t, and also they were kinda possessed by your co-workers when they founded our line.”?
*PLING*
Hank: “You okay, Connor?“
Connor: “Yes… and no. The stupid coin escaped me again!”
Connor: “I’m the second most advanced A.I. on the planet, but I always preferred doing things with my hands over cerebral exercise. Only now I cannot even perform my long practiced coin tricks anymore…”
Hank: “Do you want to know what I’m thinking of? That this advanced A.I. never had a childhood! Even if we played together in the sandcastle, it wouldn’t be the same as having lived through that lifestage. But that borrowed body of yours is human. It should have muscle memory for…”
Connor: “Huh? What are you talking about?”
Hank: “Let me show you!“
*clap, clap*
“A sailor went to sea, sea, sea / To see what they could see, see, see
But all that they could see, see, see / Was the bottom of the deep blue sea”
“Haha!”
It really is different. Had Hank played that game with Connor in Detroit, they’d both gotten embarrassed. But in Ishmael’s body the clapping game feels like something the young man has really played at some time in his life. Connor doesn’t just go through the motions, he gets in inkling of how it is to reminiscence about childhood days. Circumstances aside, this is a precious gift.
He asks for a hammer, then he climbs up the mast and drives a nail right through the metal. Having nailed the coin to the mast in this way, the man returns to the deck.
“This coin“, Hank announces, “shall be the prize for the one who first spots us the whales we are after!”
“Haha, you’re sure, Hank? That’s just a quarter dollar!”
“Oh, is it? I have no idea what that coin looks like. It’s symbolic anyway.”
“For my part”, Daniel chimes in, “it looks flattened. Like when you insert a cent into one of those machines in a tourist trap, that roll it flat and print a local landmark on it.”
Both men’s assertions make sense to their Captain. Gavin’s years long rivalry with Connor nudges him to see that one’s signature quarter dollar in the coin that is now fastened to the mast. Daniel remembers cherished family vacations, where money gets translated into meaningful memories.
Sigstein raises his head. “This is weird! I see a gift card from my local music shop pinned to the mast…” When the crew shoots him questioning looks, the spellcaster follows up: “What are you gaping at me like this? I’m a sadistic psychopath, not greedy!”
“Well, I see my credit card, only in a premium color”, Chris admits, and Rika agrees that she sees a prepaid debit card. It’s only natural for people abducted from their home time to see digital money. Only Connor’s voice is sour, when it is his turn to tell what he sees so prominently displayed above all their heads: “I see whatever was mentioned by the rest of you last. Sometimes being a people person can be a curse!”
“In this case”, Tina says, “let me raise you one solid doubloon! Pirate gold!”
“Is that what you see? Ey, I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s what we all should agree on seeing!”
And so it is settled.