Retired police Captain Hank Anderson sighs as he leaves the house.
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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.
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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...”
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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!”
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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!"
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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.
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“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.
At the DPD for the the officers Alexander and Rika Mack Halloween is a week in the past already. Co-workers for fifteen years, a couple for ten and married for six years now, these two have long learned that for a cop any given holiday isn’t when the calendars says it should be, but when they have time to squeeze it in. For this reason the Mack family had their spooky party last week already.
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!”
The couple’s cheerfulness stands in stark contrast to Hank tensing up when he enters the floor leading to the DPD’s holding cells. Right in the first one stands Sigstein Connor, the infamous (and evil) Chief of Security of the Magic HQ.
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.
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“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.
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!”
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“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!”
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“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.”
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“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.”
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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.
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After a while Hank rises. He walks around the table and offers Sigstein his hand.
“You know what? You got the job!”
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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.
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“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!”
In the meantime Daniel lingers in the reception hall, chatting with Rika.
Suddenly Officer Tina Chen enters, carrying an unconscious body. When she puts him on the floor, a puddle quickly forms beneath the man. It’s way more water than his merely damp clothes should have contained. 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.
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“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.
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“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.
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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...
I need two level 10 detectives to prevent the game from assigning an npc to the post of Chief when I play either Connor or Gavin.
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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.
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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.
Each and every android built by CyberLife passes the Turning test. They are indistinguishable from humans and come with an extensive vocabulary. Like the RK800 detective android. Let's hear it from Connor!
“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.”
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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.”
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“I’m afraid the water didn’t agree with me, after all.”
Connor closes his eyes to shut out all unnecessary sensations.
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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…
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...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.
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“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.
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“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.
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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...
Chris has just declared that he has solved the riddle, but not passed any information on to Daniel yet, when suddenly a second face emerges from his skull.
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!”
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“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."
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“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.
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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.
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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.”
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“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…
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“Here!”
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“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.
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“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.”
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“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...”
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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!
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“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!”
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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.
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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
