2.2 Road Trip

Finley looks smug after completing some work-related business.

Any why not look smug? Yesterday, they gave her a raise.

Her contributions are some of the best work the local paper has to offer, so the higher-ups are granting her more freedom with subject matter. They're even allowing her the time and funds to do outside-town research and reporting. They think a column about travel might go over well.

Junpei is restless. So part of him is surprised that when he finally ventures away from Hidden Springs, the town he was born in, it's Finley's idea and not his.

"Why did you want this car?" he asks her.

"It was the only one the rental place had with a sunroof."

"More like no roof."

"Shut up and drive. Or stay home."

"A bit late for that." Several days of travel too late for that, to be exact. And there's no way Junpei was letting his sister run off alone to interrogate vampires, or whatever she thinks she's doing, trying to chat with the only paranormal species people readily admit exist. In fact, Junpei kind of hopes they don't find any vampires. He could live just fine without seeing one. "Are you sure this is the right road?"

She checks the map. "Yes."

"But we're going in circles."

"The roads are just like that. This'll loop around, and go over that bridge up there."

"Whatever you say, sista."

She sneezes, and covers her nose with one of her sleeves. They've come a long way to get to Bridgeport, and have been greeted with the smell of air pollution. 

"Well! You were right," Junpei says needlessly, once they're on the bridge.

Finley edges back in her seat. She's seen pictures of things like this, but that's no preparation for seeing it in person.

The mountains have given way to a concrete jungle of skyscrapers.

"Don't freak out," they say in unison, each sensing the other's apprehension, or maybe their own, reflected from the other. Sometimes it is difficult to determine the genesis of a thought.

First things first: FOOD.

This place looks legit!

Pictured: a taco on one of Bridgeport's finest paper plates.

Junpei went for the clam chowder. He noticed the soup cans on the shelf behind the scary guy in the food truck, and thought, well, since it's in a can, all that scary guy has to do is heat it up! Less chance for error. Less chance for food poisoning.

"Good, huh?" Finley does not miss an opportunity to poke fun. "See, you ate something not from the icky dirt in the front yard, and you didn't die."

Junpei glares. "I'd flop on the ground and writhe in agony, but the ground is kind of dirty."

The tacos gave Finley food poisoning. :(

Anyway, finding a vampire in Bridgeport is easy. Especially if one has psychic powers. All Finley had to do was mention 'vampires' to someone, and they immediately thought of places they knew vampires to frequent. 

And so, since Finley is interested in how supernaturals are treated, she goes about trying to find out first hand.

"I'm a reporter. I want to write about the vampire integration in Bridgeport," Finley explains. 

 

"Humans only show up in this part of town for two reasons: kinky interests, or as undercover police," the man says, not concealing any of his disdain, and keenly aware of how this 'reporter' is staring at his fangs. "If you'll excuse me, I'm not interested in either of those things..."

"Well, I wouldn't say we're treated like normal people." The teen vampire fidgets, looking in every direction that isn't Finley's face. "If any human suspects we've used mind-control on them, we're done. Zero-tolerance. Any if you get on someone's bad side, they can say they suspect you've done something to them, and, who are the police going to believe? Not the blood-sucker, that's for sure."

"Sounds problematic."

"Most humans literally believe we have no feelings. Less 'emotional range'. I guess I wouldn't know if it's true. I was never human. Turning humans is illegal."

"Is it true humans aren't the same after they're turned?"

"Yes, it's true. Their brain chemistry can't handle it and they get strange. All they have left is negative emotions. Being born a vampire is fundamentally different, we have the right brain chemicals from the start. You're not here looking to get turned, are you?"

"I'm a telepath," Finley confesses. "I have a vested interest in how they treat us. All of us."

"Really?" The girl looks Finley in the eyes. "Vampires who lose their vampirism never retain their psychic powers. Where did you get yours?"

"I don't know. But I've also seen dryads, a djinn, and two fairies..."

"That's... cool..." the teen stammers.

"Do you know anything about other supernatural species?"

"I know I've never seen any."

"The fairies were working for something called Supernatural Control. Do you know anything about that?" Finley presses.

"No," the young vampire answers too quickly. "Bridgeport local police handle everything."

Finley leans forward a bit. "I feel like you don't trust me. You can trust me."

The girl chews on her lower lip, which looks painful. "Forgive me if I don't."

"Can I at least get your name? So we can talk again later?"

"It's Meela. Meela Feld."

And this is Brigit Hemlock.

Brigit thinks she can intimidate Finley.

Usually this tactic works out better for Brigit.

Usually humans don't laugh in her face, reminded of their twin brother's dramatically silly attempts to keep people at arms' length.

"The Moonlight Falls Movement?" Brigit's eyes narrow. "Yes, I am old enough to remember this."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"There is not much to tell. Supernaturals attempted to rise up out of hiding and demand equal rights."

"Supernaturals? Not vampires?"

Brigit licks her teeth. "Do you know of any other type of supernatural?"

It was a smooth backpedal, but Finley senses it for what it is. Brigit is hiding something.

"I might know something about it," Finley says.

"When things got really bad for us, we struck some compromises here in Bridgeport. We would comply with a series of laws that only apply to us, and in return we'd be allowed to live. Most of the vampire clans agreed to the humans' terms, but others felt they were unfair. This disagreement split the movement. It could not continue after losing the support of so many vampires. Bridgeport was our only success, and it was a limited success."

"Were there non-vampires in the movement?" Finley asks directly.

"If there were... I think purchasing vampires' silence about them would have been part of the agreement," Brigit allows.

"Why was it called that? Moonlight Falls."

"It was from a song one of us made up," the vampire tells a half truth. "The musician had a lot of dreams and not a lot of sense, and he paid the price for it. Child, if you keep poking around, you will end up like him."

"I think I'll be alright."

With more pressing, Finley gets the songwriter's name: Wogan Hemlock. Brigit's brother.

"You look up what humans did to him, and then tell me if you feel so comfortable poking your nose in where it does not belong," Brigit warns.

Finley wonders if Brigit has sensed she is not human.

Challenge accepted!

Bridgeport's library has backlogs of their local newspaper. 

Finley is able to construct a timeline of when different laws concerning vampires were put in place. It's been many generations since they were restricted to only living in certain cities, but controlling where they are allowed to live is only one method used to keep the human population safe from vampires.

It's not all there though. 

The further Finley goes back, the more she finds words, paragraphs, and entire articles redacted.

Apparently this Wogan Hemlock was a loser of a frequently-caught cat burglar, and his spare time saw him hanging out with leaders of a growing civil rights movement, despite being looked down on by many other vampires for his vegetarian lifestyle. The article Finley finds even quotes Brigit saying nasty things about him. "So the gist of it is, when his former criminal associates learned of his vampiric nature, they relieved him of his entrails..."

"So the in-trails became out-trails," Junpei says unhelpfully.

Finley turns away from the monitor, cringing at photos her search turns up.

Junpei creeps closer, takes the mouse and scrolls through them. "Says he's recovering at the local branch of Sacred Spleen..."

Finley's expression falls slack. "Wha'?"

"I guess he got better?" 

Finley blinks. "Could he still be alive?"

"Supernatural Control?" Wogan stares at Finley wonderingly. He's got a deceptively empty expression. Finley found him here at the bubble bar all alone, dead to the world around him. She notices that since she approached him he keeps his hands near his mouth, hiding his fangs, self-conscious around humans. "No, no, it was always just Bridgeport cops bringing us in, beating us senseless. I don't know anything, I don't remember anything, it was too long ago. Many many many human lifetimes ago. Do not ask me to revisit our darkest hours."

Finley's charismatic conversational skills have gotten her this far, but even on a bubble-high, Wogan's mental shielding clouds and confuses any of Finley's attempts to read him. 

The werewolves and witches and fae didn't just disappear after their failed attempt to gain equal rights; they scurried back to their own communities, like Moonlight Falls. Wogan can't let this random girl know anything about that place. Such knowledge would just get her into trouble, and him for telling her.

"So... have you ever heard of a marid?" is Finley's final question.

Wogan's eyebrows scrunch together in confused surprise. He doesn't answer, but his expression has answered for him. He knows something, about... something.

Each time Finley has tracked down a vampire, her brother has waited just outside, or around corners, keeping a psychic eye on things. Junpei did notice the woman 'sneaking' up on him; he thought he could scare her away by saying hello without turning around. He was wrong.

She was so fast.

"You don't want to hurt me. Not really," Junpei says as calmly as possible, keenly aware of the knife against his throat. "Whatever it is, we can sort this out rationally, if you'll put the weapon down."

"Do I look like I want to play around, human?" The redhead snarls, tightening her grip on his hair. "You tell me what you and your partner are doing here, harassing teenage girls and sad old men, or I'll kill you right now and find out directly from her."

"My sister is a reporter..."

The orange-haired psycho presses the knife into Junpei's skin, just enough to drag it horizontally and leave a tiny, slick scratch. "You're a telepath. I can feel you poking around in my head." She sniffs at the drawn blood, but it smells human enough. "What are you? Who sent you?"

The redhead is called Chet, and while Chet has not until today seen a human woman summon a glowing crystal shard into her hands, Chet has seen magic before. A plague of magic-wielding mummies roamed the remote countryside where she was born. They had appeared suddenly, and vanished just as suddenly, she was later told.

When Finley comes running around the corner, Chet spins Junpei to face the oncoming threat.

"Let him go!" Finley growls.

Chet studies her opponent's body language. "How much is he worth to you?"

I've got it under control, Junpei thinks at Finley.

The vampire tilts her head forward, and slowly licks the fresh blood from his neck in one disgusting, long stroke. "No. You don't."

"I'll count to three," Finley says, between clenched teeth. "One..."

"What are you going to do with that glowstick, kid?"

"Two..."

Through the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, Junpei can feel the vampire's bony fingers digging into his chest.

"You can't catch me, agent," she taunts. Each emphasized word sounds strange and forced in her vampiric, three-steps-from-monotone voice. "Or didn't they tell you that about me?" 

"Oh for the love of... we aren't agents!"

"What do you know about the marid? How do you know about the incident, if you aren't agents?"

"What?! My brother and I were caught in the crossfire of whatever the incident was! We weren't behind it! I came here looking for answers... one! Move, Junpei!"

Junpei moves, phasing through Chet's body as if, for a second, they each inhabit a different plane of existence. The real event that's happening is far more complicated, involving the space between their molecules, but nobody gives a flip for any of that.

"Finley, don't!" Junpei snaps.

Chet panics, grabbing at her hostage but unable to hold on. Then she's tasked with dodging Finley's fireball.

Finley, don't? ... Finley doesn't feel like a pacifist today.

The fire erupts with violent fury, even more than intended. It forms a wall between the twins. Finley can tell her brother isn't harmed, but she can also tell the vampire woman isn't... either...

"It's you two," Chet gasps, suddenly recognizing. She doesn't drop the knife, but the violent intent disappears from her face. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. But... but you're early. You're not supposed to be here yet."

Junpei doesn't want to make any sudden moves. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm... I'm... Chet. I'm like you. I'm not just a vampire, I'm something else, I've got these visions. I... it doesn't matter. The marid was a distraction. Riko set it free... but... those agents took care of it... so he's doing something else. You have to get out of here. You're not supposed to be here. You can't stop him if you die and you have to stop him."

"Stop... who?"

"Riko," she says slowly, as if he should have already known.

The flames are dying down quickly. Any second now, Finley will find a way around them. 

Junpei can only hold off his sister's fury for a short time.

Not keen on getting into a fight with a witch, specifically not this particular witch, Chet tries to share some of her visions with Junpei, before she makes her escape. The sensation is unpleasant. A jumble of information pops into Junpei's head, too quick to sort. He cries out for her to stop. And she does, just before taking a circular, hockey-puck sized device out of a pocket, double-checking it, and pressing her thumb over a button on its side.

 And then she's gone.

Junpei did not feel her die, but, for the moment, the vampire woman is not anywhere. 

Junpei can only assume she's suddenly, inexplicably, out of his psychic range. 

When it comes to Finley, the range seems infinite. He could find Finley anywhere, identify her from any distance. To identify others, he needs to be closer.

"Junpei!" Finley calls his name, runs to him and throws her arms around him. The squeeze is crushing. "Why do you keep getting into trouble?! Where is that B?! What did she do to you!?"

"Finley! I'm alright. Stop it. I had it under control."

Finley bursts into tears. "No! She did something to your head! How do you know if you're okay or not?"

"You'd know," he tells her.

The tears stop just as abruptly as they begin. "I guess," she says, begrudgingly. Her brother doesn't seem any different than an hour ago. Only rattled.

"Let's go back inside..." he suggests quietly.

"You're bleeding," Finley reminds him.

Junpei touches his neck, only now remembering the cut. His fingers glow, his eyes lose focus, and when his hand drops back to his side, the cut is gone.

Finley releases him. She backs away. "How'd you do that?"

 

"I... I don't know?" It was an impulse, a thought, an instinct that wasn't there before. 

Junpei felt the energy expenditure, but it was like nothing he'd read in a book. Their father's books are very technical about healing. To fix anything, a mage would have to have as much knowledge as a doctor. And more. Then again, this injury was about as serious as a papercut. Maybe it doesn't warrant so much thought.

Finley begins pacing. "The vampire did something to you!... that felt like... like..." It felt like when their mother managed to commune with the spirit realm. The source of elven magic, according to their father's notes. Something he could never have access to. 

 

"Then having Mom's genes did something to me," Junpei muses. He normally isn't reading Finley's mind so clearly. He picks up on her emotions easily enough, but complete thoughts are rarely so all-consuming as to resound in his mind as loudly as in hers. Finley's memories of the night their mother pulled him back from nothing are just this traumatic. Junpei reaches over and tentatively strokes his sister's cheek, brushing some of the dampness away. "Hey... don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere."

The twins sneak back inside the building. To their half-relief and half-dismay, the fiery mess outside came and went without anyone in here noticing.

Exactly one hour after vanishing, Chet reappears in the same spot. She slumps against the wall, wondering if she screwed everything up.

Finley can't stay in Bridgeport for long. She has a job to return to.

She and Junpei make one stop on their way out of the city. For the view.

"I can almost pretend it's fog," Finley says.

"I can't," Junpei mumbles. As much as he wanted to leave home for a while, and see what's across the mountains, now he's insisting they leave. Stat.

"I'm a really crappy reporter," Finley sighs. She would have liked to stay longer, to gather more material for the newspaper's pending travel column. "I'm sorry."

"You'll get better," Junpei tells her.

Back in Hidden Springs, Reisa is unhappy about Finley's investigations into the paranormal.

"I figured this was something you would care about," Finley protests. "Given what happened to your mother... and to my brother, right in front of you..."

"I never want to think about that night again. Ever."

"Well I'm sorry," Finley can't hide her hurt. "I thought our job was to report on things that matter."

"Our job right now is to take pictures around town for the tricentennial issue next month, because the management is too cheap to find professional photographers."

After that burst of displeasure, Reisa moves on to her next bit of news: she dumped the age-appropriate Rusty Menon in favor of older man Dennis Chesterfield. Dennis is well-established in his career as a corporate drone, never married before, and childless. Reisa thinks he's perfect for her, and they'll live comfortably. Dennis and Reisa are now engaged.

Accalia is pregnant.

"I wish this had happened sooner, so I could have interviewed you instead of Diana Abbot," Finley laughs. "Are you going to raise the baby, uhm, in the forest?"

"I'm moving in with Vance," Accalia says sadly. "The colony won't permit me to raise my daughter there, what with her father being of this town."

Timmothy says he's missed Finley, while she was away.

Finley wonders what she's done to attract Timmothy's attention so much. "The world won't give me a break, will it? I came here to relax."

Such rudeness would be a deterrent to most sims, but not to Timmothy. He knows Finley is only playing. It's not a mature game, but it's the one they play.

"I'm very good at helping people relax!" Timmothy waggles his eyebrows up and down, but Finley doesn't look up from her book. "I suppose you're simply too good for me. It can't be helped."

She turns a page. "I was only teasing."

"But you haven't even looked at me." Timmothy sighs dramatically.

"Maybe if you were in your swimwear. I'd look for a second."

"Really?"

"I said maybe."

"So, you free tonight?"

The afternoon crawls by and evening approaches. Finley goes with Timmothy to Mick's, where he ineptly uses the karaoke machine to serenade her.

Jag Alto is not impressed with Timmothy's musical ability.

Finley intentionally annoys Jag by pretending to enjoy the 'show'.

Later on, everybody wanders upstairs to the pool table. Timmothy hasn't lost interest in his date, but Jag has insulted his pride, and they must settle this with a game of sinking balls into holes.

Lots of bragging back and forth, about who has the better aim and whose mother is a llama. Bored, Finley's attention slips away from the game, and catches instead on the news report on TV.

Finley has stood up and broken into a cold sweat before she even realizes she's reacting.

Timmothy is the first to notice. "What?"

All she can do is point.

The words 'terrorism' and 'massacre' are thrown around to describe what's happened to Bridgeport's city hall. According to unconfirmed reports, the group responsible are all vampires, and have declared their city independent of Sim Nation.

"I was just there," Finley whimpers. 

Timmothy guides Finley back to her seat, and they both sit on the ratty couch and stare, disbelieving, at people just as clueless and shocked and disbelieving talk about what might happen next when they have no idea, because there's no precedent for something like this, or if there is, nobody can remember it.

"Be happy you came home when you did," Tim says.

After weeding the garden, Junpei wanders back indoors to find his mother watching the same news-just-in. His chest feels cold, feels like it's sinking into his lower abdomen. Like he's going to throw up. 

"So... that's why she said we had to get out of there," he mutters. 

Junpei's anxiety after the encounter with the vampire Chet was intense, too intense. He wanted to leave Bridgeport immediately. He wouldn't let Finley conduct even one more interview. He wrote it off as cowardice from having his life threatened, but he realizes now that Chet put that insurmountable fear in his head. She knew something was going to go down. And after their minds touched, Junpei also knew. But he didn't know what he knew. Until now.

Mab looks at him. "Did you say something?"

Mutely, Junpei shakes his head no.

She turns her attention back to the news report. "This is so strange."

Not long after that, the nightmares begin.

They wake Junpei up three and four times a night.




__________________________________________________________
Etc.: Bridgeport was its own separate game file, so I'm going to pretend I didn't break the homemade rule again.

All the vampires that show up were natural denizens of Bridgeport, except for Meela and Chet.

Brigit Hemlock is the townie sister of Wogan Hemlock. Out of the box, she and Wogan are enemies. Wogan's family bio claims he and his wife are considered the hippie vegetarian vampires, or whatev, and they really just like to make music.

Brigit and Finley were funny to watch. Brigit kept trying mean vampire interactions on Finley, only to have Finley react positively, presumably due to either supernatural fan or daredevil trait.