Fanon:The Woods of Bridgeport

Skyler
"This isn't fair!" I exploded at my boss Thursday morning. "It wasn't my fault! Does it ever occur to you that paparazzi figure stuff out alone?" Edmund, a sniveling coward of a head of a detective agency, simply wrinkled up his nose in that infuriating, prim way of his and whined, "I apologize, Miss Wright, but the Hamming case was top secret! That ending up in the newspaper, on top of everything else, puts your job in a very precarious position. I'm afraid I must-- ah -- dismiss you from the  Howards Agency. I will expect your badge within the week." What I did next makes my stomach turn today. I groveled. "Pleeeeeeeease, Mr. Howards. I need this job! There's nowhere else I can work!" "That's understandable," he muttered, then continued louder, proving how much he loves being groveled at. "If you insist, Miss Wright. Within a month, get a case, complete it, make a satisfactory report, deposit the agency's portion of the compensation, and I may reconsider." "Thank you! I won't fail! Thank you!" I ran out of there as fast as possible to avoid barfing all over his front.

It seems like I assumed that cases would be so much easier to pick up now that my job depended on it. But no, it's never that easy without seeming desperate. But within two hours of case hunting, I actually was getting desperate. I loved my job. I was snoopy by nature, and I got paid to do it. Just kidding. I liked being a detective because what I learned about people helped me in my life experiences. I liked it cause I was good at it. There are a bunch of reasons. But lately I'd mouthed off over client confidentiality even within the agency {I was for it} and I'd gotten sick and tired of being expected to let everybody else walk right over me,just because I'm fairly new. I have a big mouth when it comes to my negative opinions. I biked home, which was a small house, but with the indescribable feeling about it that comes of so many memories made in one place. I rented it at the moment, as soon as I found out that I could live here again, but I could lose it again if I got fired. I rested my hand on the door frame, just under where I had scratched my initials as a kid. I'm usually non-sentimental, blunt, but I could lose more than my job and Dad's house. No one else would ever hire me, as being a detective is all I'm good for. I might not even be able to keep an apartment. I sighed and stepped inside. There on the little table next to the door was a picture of Dad and a mom I barely remembered. Only a few good memories, before they started to fight. I woke up, and she wasn't there. As far as I can remember, that was the last time I cried. All Dad told me was it wasn't my fault, but I heard my name enough to doubt him. I shook myself. Why was I thinking about this now? I'd known for years, and I had more crucial fish to fry. I put the picture down. I was exhausted. I flopped down on the couch and fell asleep. In the middle of the night a dull thud woke me up, but I thought it was my imagination.

I stepped outside groggily. I'd overslept, and usually I'm expected at eight for file work. But of course, Edmund was probably far too busy dancing on my termination paperwork to glance at his watch. I sighed and turned the corner of the house to get my bike so I could find a case. There was a guy lying there. I shook his shoulder, and I swear I could feel the cold of his skin right through his tattered shirt. To this day I don't know what made me do it, but I dragged this random guy inside by the arms and set him on the floor. I rolled him over and took off his cracked shades. Man, he's hot, was my first thought.The lower half of his face had super thick stubble, maybe you could call it a beard, and his hair was wild and matted. Between that and his torn clothes, he looked like he walked through a forest all the way from Moonlight Falls. Only an extremely faint heartbeat and his body temperature told me he was still alive. Thinking back on it, I should have called an ambulance or something, but that thought only occurs to me if the person is bleeding a bunch or they don't wake up for two days. Besides, I was too interested {though slightly freaked out} to hand this over to anyone else. A thump in the middle of the night, and this guy shows up, looking like he was chased by monsters, and it looks like he passed out over  minor scrapes and a some weird sickness. My detective's nose was all over the place, and it would stay that way if I got no results for hours. So that's how I ended up fighting sleep in a chair at two in the morning the next day. I'd left the room as little as possible, aided by three jelly sandwiches and a big cup of coffee. Then the guy shuddered slightly. Slowly, carefully, as if afraid of the light, or something he might see, he opened his eyes.

Logan
I might as well have kept them closed, since the light from the one lamp was enough to half blind me. When my eyes adjusted, I at first thought I was alone. I was all set to take a nap, since the floor was softer than the other places where I could sleep for a few minutes, but  then I remembered my dream and I didn't want to sleep. They had told me very distinctly that they weren't done with me. And I knew it was true, because if they wanted to catch me, they would. I raised my head and looked over the room. I hated it. Don't get me wrong, it was good, but it was tiny. I felt barely able to breathe. Then I noticed that there was someone in the room, leaning so far forward in her chair she was practically falling over, her eyes trained on me. "Ummmm...Hi?" from somewhere under the jelly on her mouth she answered, "Hi. Glad you're up." "How did I get here?" "From the way you look,  I'm guessing you walked. I found you in my yard." "I feel horrible." "Like, Need-Medical-Attention horrible, or something that can be taken care of easily?" "Like I'm gonna throw up, and have a rare disease for the rest of my life," I groaned. She raised one eyebrow. "Why were you passed out in my yard?" I scowled. "'Cause that was as far as I got. I didn't get to pick when I gave out, you know." "Who are you?" "Ladies first." "Skyler. Wright." "Logan." "You look like a Logan." "You look like a Lily, or  maybe a Christie." We stopped and glared at each other. I knew I had a smart mouth, and if she had one too, it could go on forever. For some reason I was fine with that. She looked smart enough to keep it up. "Do you usually drag guys from your yard into the house to interrogate them?" I said. She took the bait. "Do you just pass out in people's yards and keep them up at night?" "Yes." Though I lied, it completely takes her off guard, so she has to start again herself. "Okay, just be careful in Moonlight Falls. Weird stuff happens at night, but I guess you'd fit in perfectly." Now I'm the one who's startled. For the first part of her question, I know to take her advice in there, and yes, I guess now I would fit in. And I'm surprised she believes in that stuff. But I was still on my feet enough to put on a disappointed face and say, "Nothing wrong with being weird. I thought that someone who believes in Moonlight Falls legend would know that." She blushed. "I do know that. But I'm not willing to go so far as to go over there with all that creepy supernatural stuff. I hate it." Hm! "Why do you live here, then?" I asked. "Why not Twinbrook, or Sunset Valley?" "Two reasons. I was born here, and I like it enough to stay, and two, I don't believe it when people say there are vampires here, or anything. Just ghosts, because they're everywhere." I almost laughed, though it was too early on to have a absolute reason to. "Seriously," she continues. I didn't do a very good job of holding my laughter. "I think that with all the famous people around, one or two would be vampires, with all the socializing the celebrities do." Elvira Slayer immediately comes to mind. "And celebrities can't keep secrets?" I asked. She looked me straight in the eye. "No. And every morning the paper proves it." How naive. She trusts too much, and me still being here shows that. "Wait... You know where we are?" she said. "Of course. There's the Bridge in Bridgeport, as a friend of mine says, and a giant billboard with Matthew Hamming's face on it. And bars and clubs all over the place. I should know. I took a shortcut through one." She eyed me suspiciously. "Where are you from?" I decided to go by what was technically the truth even though she meant 'where did you come from', as she hated Moonlight Falls so much and would assume that I'm about to start shedding or something. "I was born in Twinbrook." She relaxed. In a few minutes or so she said, "Where are you going to stay?" I shrugged. "Here, if you have a shed. I'll only use it to sleep in." She was silent, so I thought it must have been okay with her.

Skyler
I sensed something deep. I couldn't ignore it. It was the huge movie-like mystery most detectives give up on ever even getting, if I was right. If he stayed here, I could get a chance to get him to talk about himself, and how he got here, and then Ed would be forced to take me back so his agency could get the credit of supporting and training me. Perfect. So I said, "Sure. You can use my old room, if you don't mind sleeping on the floor."

Logan
After a while she said, "Sure. You can use my old room, if you don't mind sleeping on the floor." Like I said. She trusted too much. So I moved myself in, which was easy since all I owned was a pair of ripped jeans, a shredded shirt, and a pair of underwear. She insisted that I should get more underwear, and though I thought so too, I pretended not too, so she said I don't have to buy more shirts and pants, which are very restricting when perfect. I liked having a house. It was a bump in an otherwise monotonous lifestyle, and they'd never find me here, even if they knew I was in Bridgeport. So a few weeks wore on. Then, with a start, I realized what I was doing. I was being an idiotic hypocrite who insists on making himself vulnerable. I hated Skyler for doing that to me. I'd called her naive, but I was dulling any chance of surviving if they found me, and just assuming they wouldn't. She couldn't keep them from getting inside. I would be better off on the streets. So I found myself stepping out into the moonless night.

Skyler
When I woke up and he wasn't there, I was almost surprised. I told myself that I shouldn't have expected him to stay long enough for me to have an opportunity to get him to talk. But it was disappointing. I wondered what he would do.

Logan
I wandered. I waited. For the pain that would tell me that they were real, and that the alchemists from Moonlight Falls hadn't been in my head. I slept where I could. I ate of of the few fruit trees around. But I was always on edge, just waiting, and watching. I was asleep behind the Eugi's when it came.

Searing. Blood-boiling. Paralzing. Just a few words I could use to describe it. I'd been waiting, but it didn't even occur to me what was happening. I was numbed from the ground beneath me, the faint rain, everything but the agony. I began to writhe. "Hey, you okay?" a guy's voice came through the fog. I could barely see his face. Somebody yelled, I think it was me, and then it was over. I lay there, breathing heavily. "You okay?" The guy reapeated, looking down at me. I stared up at him, gripping his wrist. He saw my eyes, now red. "What the..." he didn't have time to finish before I drained his blood. His friend stared at the plasma dripping from my hands, my mouth, the victim's wrist. My thirst gone, I left completely changed.

Skyler
I picked up the paper Wednesday morning to a disturbing headline.  VAMPIRES ATTACK! Or something like that. I glanced once before moving on to the story. Some guy had been attacked by a vampire, and his friend had reported it. If I didn't have to job-hunt, I could have known about this sooner! There was a picture of the guy who was killed, plasma was everywhere, particularly his arm. Another picture was fairly clear except for a large gray, brown and  blue blur from the middle to the edge. I doubted vampires, but I decided to take it to an old friend. Just in case.

Josh is the photographer for the Bridgeport Bugle. He has all sorts of camera and picture gadgets, and he took the pictures, so he can tell me what he thinks. So first he took his computer and blew up the picture of the dead guy. He centered the screen on the guy's neck, and then tried his arm. "Got it!" he pointed at the forearm."Sure, but does the wound look like fangs to you?" "Yep. There were even the indents from the other teeth when I got there. And look," he brought up the other picture. "Is it just me, or does that bit of the blur look like a face?" he grabbed a tool and dragged a box over a section of the blur. He dragged up a slider, and I could see distorted features that were somehow familliar. I suddenly felt sick. I'd been living with a vampire.

I suddenly hated Logan, for everything he was. A liar, a murderer, and worst of all, a vampire. Call me racist, but I hated vampires. With everything they could use well, they kill. And I know it's stupid, but I like to be able to understand things, and vampires always have to be so mysterious. And this only added to how much I hate them. I kinda-sorta have-- I had a crush on this guy, and he could have KILLED me! Aaaaaaagh! Sorry. And I lost my case, I thought sadly. I lost it for absolutely nothing. Wait...If I investigate him, make sure he's the right guy, record a confession and give it to the police, I get revenge and my job back! Ha! But I have to hurry. I only have three weeks. I have a wig. I used it in a play in high school. It's orange and conspicous, but it works as a disguise. And the worse the makeup, the better the disguise. I found this horrible greenish-blue eyeshadow I couldn't imagine myself wearing, and bright pinkish-orangy lipstick. I would stand out, but not in a recognizable way. So, buried in old clothes, smears of eyeshadow, layer after layer of blush, and blinding lipstick, I set out to secure my job.