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xp_logsX-Force sets about investigating the strange murders and weird happenings in Baltimore.
Marie-Ange chases in a little favor from a medical examiner contact and they check out some bodies. Investigate, that is, rather than borrow. Topaz isn't that kind of librarian.
Marie-Ange sipped from her paper cup of coffee while she spoke to the medical examiner quietly, mentioning a colleague from New Orleans, and another in New York. Despite the grim setting, she laughed twice, and then motioned Topaz over. "Topaz, this is Randall. Randall, Topaz. Friend of a friend, so to speak."
"Yo." Randall nodded at Topaz. "Right, you ladies have fifteen minutes, that's all I can fudge on the visitor logs." He clicked his mouse a few times, and then got up from his desk. "I'll give you the summary right quick while you throw on some booties." He gestured at the box of shoe protectors.
"Pleasure," Topaz said distantly, looking anywhere but at Randall. She could already feel magic; magic in a place full of bodies could mean a couple of things, and none of them were good. She reached absently for the shoe protectors, still only half paying attention.
“We get drownings, right? Usually drunks or boat accidents.” Randall explained, as they walked from his tiny office to the morgue. “I’m doing my thesis on pollution and time of death markers, I’ve got plenty of research material here.” He pressed his ID badge to a door sensor, and the latch clicked. “But these two were found in the city. Nowhere near the harbor."
One body was still on a table, covered in a white sheet. “I’d swear this guy died in the harbor. Liter and a half of water in his lungs, like he tried to breathe it on purpose.” Then he popped the latch on one of the cooler doors and pulled out another body. “This one died in her office.” He uncovered the woman’s face, showing not only the bloating of a drowning death, but strange slashes on her cheeks and neck. “Same thing, water in the lungs.”
And there it was. Magic all but dancing around the bodies. Topaz's eyes moved between the two. Nothing familiar, and it put her on edge. She waved a hand discreetly, trying to get a better grip on the feeling. "Don't suppose someone just drowned them in a bucket of water? Portable crime scene."
"Oh sure, yeah, they could have." Randall explained. "Guess what wasn't on the security cameras." He pointed with one gloved hand at the female body. "I mean for her. Nobody in, nobody out, or so Forensics tells me. First question I asked."
Marie-Ange had been taking notes on her phone, and held up her hand. 'And the other victim? My .. ah, friend in the..."
Randall cut her off. "Nope, nope, nope, please don't invoke his name, that's how I get roped into TED talks about nineteenth century botulism outbreaks and owing you a favor.. The other guy we don't know. Someone found him in his truck. Whole truck was sopping wet too, damn weird thing."
Topaz hadn't been serious about the suggestion. A bucket of water would've been too easy and unmagical anyway. "Weird all right," she muttered, frowning slightly. There was something... different about this magic. Not wrong, but distinctly unique. Something she couldn't place. "This might not be my area of expertise," she murmured to Marie-Ange. "There's definitely something, but someone a bit friendlier with cities might have more luck."
"Is it that sort of thing for sure?" Marie-Ange asked just as quietly. She glanced at the bodies. "It would be too much to ask for copies of your reports, yes?" She asked, while tapping out a message on her phone, one-handed and without looking. "I know, fifteen minutes and no photos, you said. I just had to be sure."
Randall nodded. "Sorry not sorry, best I can do. Take a look, glove up if I want to poke them, I've got you down as a no go on identifying our female vic here, and then I gotta shuffle you out. Favor's a favor but I like my job and I don't wanna end up working anywhere more humid."
"I wouldn't bet my life on it, but I'm as sure as I'm gonna get." Topaz shoved her hands in her pockets, giving the body one last scan. "I think this is the part in the crime procedural where someone makes a joke, but I'm no good for that."
Meanwhile, Doug and Gabriel bum around Lexington Market, snack, and encounter sea life. Note that is sea life, and not seafood.
"I'm going to get like a pallet of these shipped to the mansion," Doug declared around a mouthful of shortbread and fudge - the famous Berger Cookie that was one of the main draws of Lexington Market. Maybe he didn't have a forwarding address to send some to Wade, but he'd figure something out, dammit. He and Gabe were walking the periphery of the market, looking for anything out of place or otherwise their brand of Weird.
"Ick." Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "There really is no accounting for taste." He'd had one bite and that was enough: a generic white cookie with a mediocre blob of chocolate on top. That there was a line for these — and that people were buying them in such massive quantities — surprised him. And not only that, but the upper-middle-class clientele seemed to differ from the majority of the people who stopped by this indoor market, a melange of produce stands and food stalls that had clearly seen better and busier days.
It was clear that Baltimore was trying. The area around the market seemed to be undergoing a kind of renovation, which mostly seemed to mean turning abandoned historic buildings into luxury apartments. Inside this market, though, were signs of an older city: faded signs, concrete floors, and a predominantly working-class customer base who were shooting the shit as they shopped.
Gabe's instinct was to follow that crowd, who seemed to be converging on a soul food joint. He could smell the pork as they walked, and his stomach grumbled. "Don't suppose this mission allows time for a long lunch?"
Doug shrugged as they made their way through stalls and up and down the aisles between them. "Look, I'm taking advantage of the fact that my metabolism is back to something like what it used to be like three years ago." He didn't want to think about how quickly the blood curse had become his new normal, and only out the other side did he realize the absolute weight he had been laboring under for so long. "So I'm not going to say no to you getting lunch, but maybe let's stick with something we can carry around while we investigate?"
Gabriel let out a small noise of dissent; he regretted framing his hunger as a question. “Convenient that this plan allows you to gorge on cookies.” As they walked, the smell of fish became overpowering. He turned in search of the source of the scent, stopping to gaze at a reasonably busy seafood market. “Also, I need a smoke break,” he said. “I can do it in a few seconds if that’s best.”
"I'm not your dad. Jesus," Doug retorted with a small grunt of his own. "Just saying that what if we combined food -and- casing the..." He trailed off, the overpowering fish smell catching his attention as well. And... "Is it me or does it suddenly feel a lot more humid than it was a few minutes ago?"
"I guess?" Gabriel shrugged as they walked once more by the entrance. "I bet there's a water main burst or something, though. The infrastructure here's supposed to be shit. Look." He nodded toward a puddle that was growing on Eutaw Street. "Although..." He tilted his head as the water seemed to be seeping up a downhill street.
Doug stared at the puddle and the flow of water with a puzzled expression. "That doesn't make any sense," he muttered slowly. "It should be running -that- direction," and he pointed where the road ran downhill, generally toward the harbor, the opposite of the way the water was moving. He started toward the flooding, but had only made it a few steps when a loud crash and a few screams came from behind them.
Gabriel whipped around, then jumped back slightly as he saw a legion of crabs skittering across the floor of the market. Steps behind them, a drain clearly meant to absorb the run-off from mopping was gurgling. "Oh, fuck." He yanked Doug a foot or so away, just in time for the grate on the drain to pop off as a geyser of water suddenly spewed from it.
From farther inside the market they could hear a series of startled shouts and screams, along with the breaking of glass and crashing of large fixtures. A few customers came running past in a panic, as a hardy few employees of the various stalls tried to push the crustacean mob back with pushbrooms.
"If one of these comes after us with a chef's knife, I'm just done," Doug muttered.
Jubilee and Artie go day drinking at Fells Point and chat up the locals about the weird floods.
If there was one thing Jubilee enjoyed about having almost no boobs, it was the fact she could wear a halter top that would be better described as a halter handkerchief without being cited for public decency violations
She looked much like all the other college girls in the area, slightly tipsy and very chatty. She’d already managed to have several slurred conversations with men more interested in grabbing her arse than remembering her face.
She sidled up to Artie and draped herself over him in a convincingly drunk fashion.
“My guy! Imagine seeing you here!”
Her accent was stripped of its Californian mall rat origins, a slight tang of Afrikaans to mark her as a tourist to anyone who might overhear.
It wasn’t what she was saying that was important however, but what her hands were doing, which was telling an entirely different story.
~Managed to talk to a few bouncers. They’ve been saying there’s weird vandalism going on, couple of tourists complaining about tours being cancelled cause the docks or boats were damaged.~
Artie smiled and waved, giving her a little kiss on the cheek and weighed up his response, faked speech and synthesizer vs ASL. I heard about a couple of deaths but it's - rumours, you know? Guy knows a guy who drowned on the dock but I've got a name to follow up. The text shimmered on the inside of Jubilee's sunglasses, there and gone. There's highwater marks and flooding along the harbour walls that's recent.
At the same time, he signed back, extravagant, loose and showy. "Girl! You are getting so good at that! The classes are totally paying off! My niece will be so pleased to finally have a real conversation with you!"
God Jubilee wished she had a power that could do that, she’d totally use it for evil, or at least be the most annoying person in existence.
“We should catch up, hey? Have a drink or something.”
Jubilee’s fingers flicked in quick short-hand ASL, almost impossible for anyone watching them to decipher.
We should check it out, see if we can find anything the ‘local authorities’ might have left out.
Artie nodded and signed back, "Yes, there's a bar down that way" Apparently my contact drinks there most days, god I love predictable people he added, again against her sunglasses. "You can practice your ASL for class and Milly will be so excited about this. Can you believe she's nearly 10?"
“Oh wow! That old already? Let’s go, you can show me photos!”
Jubilee slung her arm around Artie’s shoulder as she steered him back the way he’d indicated. She turned her head slightly so anyone watching would have a hard time hearing her.
“This contact friendly, or the type we have to bribe?”
"He's gonna need a drink." Artie mouthed the words and sent the supporting text into his synthesiser. "Like, a whole bottle, from the top shelf. Maybe a nice dinner."
The waterfront bars were ... waterfront bars. Two thirds tourists and one third long suffering locals. Artie waved to his new friend and sat down. "Hey there. Thanks for meeting us, Joe. This is Sarah. She's the friend I told you about, doing research at Johns Hopkins, into, you know. Stuff." He waived to a server and mimed 3 at her, ordering three drinks. "I heard you had a story and figured Sal here would want to know." The illusion, synthesized speech and all, was nearly perfect and it was lucky that Jubilee was here, able to handle most of the talking because almost wasn't completely perfect. He smiled, mouth closed.
Joe nodded. "Yeah, I might have a story for you."
"How does dinner sound for you, then, Joe? Steak?"
Joe laughed. "Alright. I reckon I do have a story."
Amanda and Darcy go down to one of Baltimore's most infamous bars, chat up the bartender, rule out some theories about the strange events and come up with the next step of the plan.
"If it weren't for the boats and the harbor smell I'd almost think we were walking around downtown Salem Center," Darcy said, taking in the sights along Thames Street. A sign caught her eye, and she walked towards it, letting her eyes flick over the signs on the door. "Poe's last stop? Worth checking out, maybe?"
"Any port in a storm," Amanda replied with a dry snort at her own terrible pun. "But yeah, it's worth a look. Pissed off ghost messing with things isn't completely out of the range of possibilities here, and by all accounts, this is where he would be. Terrible name, tho'." Amanda shook her head at the sign hanging over the door, which had a horse and the name of the pub above it 'The Horse You Rode in On'. "Then again, I've seen worse."
"It's ah... definitely eye catching though. And wordy." Darcy pulled the door open and waved Amanda in, following behind her. "So what would we do with a pissed off ghost? Buy him a drink? Force his spirit on?"
"Never trust a pub whose name you can't say when you're drunk," advised Amanda sagely as they took a seat at the bar. "As for pissed off ghosts, it depends, but usually finding out what they're pissed off about and fixing it tends to work. Ghosts usually hang around because of unfinished business, after all." She leaned her forearms on the bar, catching the eye of the bartender. "First lesson in pub spycraft - be nice to the staff. They're usually the ones with the info."
"They do hear everything," Darcy's mouth curved up in a small smile as she perched on her seat. "And strangely invisible for a lot of people, if you're not thinking about your next drink. What sort of unfinished business would cause the local shenanigans, do you think?"
"Something major, which makes me think it's not likely to be our resident spook here. Poe was a racist fuck, but if he was capable of this sort of thing, why wait until now? He's been dead long enough." As the bartender arrived, Amanda gave him a bright smile. "Hey there. What would you recommend for two ladies on vacation?" Her accent had shifted to flawless American, matching Darcy's own. "And is this place really haunted?" Her whole demeanor had changed as well, becoming almost bubbly, her body language almost flirty.
The bartender rolled his eyes just a little. He was a typical bar worker - on the younger side, conservatively attractive, affable without being too friendly. "Sure it is," he replied, with the air of someone who had answered the same question a hundred times, but was going to earn his tip nonetheless. "I've seen him myself at closing."
"Oh, is he like. A chill ghost? Or like, the grumpy kind that knocks things over?" Darcy's voice had a questioning note to it, eyes wide and earnest as she took him in. "Could I get a glass of whatever local cider you have on tap, please?"
"'Chill' isn't a word I'd use to describe Edger Allen Poe," replied the bartender with a grin. "But he's not the sort to throw furniture and spit goo." He glanced at Amanda. "Cider for you as well, ma'am?"
"Sure. That sounds good." Amanda had done undercover work far too often to show her reaction to the 'ma'am' on her face, but she grimaced internally. "We're here for a few days... do you know what the weather's going to be like? Local perspective and all that?"
"Well, normally I'd be your man, but lately, things have been way off." The bartender glanced around and lowered his voice a little. "Who needs a ghost when you have random rains of fish?"
"Rains of fish? Not like, that weird thing where a funnel starts over water and picks up a bunch of fish, yeah?" Darcy asked incredulously. "That is wild. Can't believe it's stayed off the news."
The bartender shrugged as he started pouring two ciders. "It might have made one of those weird "aliens ate my wolf baby" papers, but it's not completely out of the ordinary. What is strange is the flooding. Not a drop of rain, low tide and the whole Fells was knee deep in salt water."
"So not likely to be a plumbing problem then?" Amanda asked lightly. The bartender snorted.
"Not when the water's salty and coming out of light fixtures and traffic lights." He shook his head and passed over the drinks. "I'm not supposed to talk about it in case we scare away the tourists, but something weird is going on."
Darcy took a long sip of her cider as she thought about logical explanations for what was going on, but saltwater in the traffic lights? Nothing came to mind. "At least it's not affecting the cider," she said, giving the bartender a smile.
The bartender barked a brief laugh and then looked down the bar, where someone was waving for his attention. "Enjoy it while you can, ladies," he said, and went to serve the customer.
Amanda took a sip of her cider, pleasantly surprised at the taste. Most American cider tasted like sweetened apple juice, but this one was actually half-decent. "So," she said to Darcy, "What have we found out?"
"The bartender's chatty, it's not our neighborhood bar ghost, can't be explained away by a messed up sewer system, and isn't the weirdness that is The Majesty of Nature," Darcy replied, voice taking on a sarcastic tint as her hands spread into an imaginary rainbow near the end. She leaned her head back in thought for a few minutes. "Are there... nature poltergeists? Or actual fae?"
"Not so much, but there are nature spirits. You know how my powers work, right? I can feel the energy and personality of cities? Think the same thing, only it's somewhere significant nature-wise." Amanda mulled the point over as she drank her cider. "I don't fancy having to get in touch with one of those, but that might be our next step."
"I have... a vague idea? As much as I understand about how any magic works. Or science, really. Nod, try to keep up, record the data." Darcy took a long drink of her cider, letting the glass hit the countertop with a light clunk. "So with this somewhere significant could be one of the preserves or historical sites... or anywhere in one of the rivers or the bay itself, maybe? Would any option do, or do some have better vibes than the others?"
"From the... aquatic nature of the problems, I'm going to say probably out in the bay." Amanda growled softly. "Which means enlisting some folks who can actually breathe underwater. I am not turning people into mermaids again."
Marie-Ange chases in a little favor from a medical examiner contact and they check out some bodies. Investigate, that is, rather than borrow. Topaz isn't that kind of librarian.
Marie-Ange sipped from her paper cup of coffee while she spoke to the medical examiner quietly, mentioning a colleague from New Orleans, and another in New York. Despite the grim setting, she laughed twice, and then motioned Topaz over. "Topaz, this is Randall. Randall, Topaz. Friend of a friend, so to speak."
"Yo." Randall nodded at Topaz. "Right, you ladies have fifteen minutes, that's all I can fudge on the visitor logs." He clicked his mouse a few times, and then got up from his desk. "I'll give you the summary right quick while you throw on some booties." He gestured at the box of shoe protectors.
"Pleasure," Topaz said distantly, looking anywhere but at Randall. She could already feel magic; magic in a place full of bodies could mean a couple of things, and none of them were good. She reached absently for the shoe protectors, still only half paying attention.
“We get drownings, right? Usually drunks or boat accidents.” Randall explained, as they walked from his tiny office to the morgue. “I’m doing my thesis on pollution and time of death markers, I’ve got plenty of research material here.” He pressed his ID badge to a door sensor, and the latch clicked. “But these two were found in the city. Nowhere near the harbor."
One body was still on a table, covered in a white sheet. “I’d swear this guy died in the harbor. Liter and a half of water in his lungs, like he tried to breathe it on purpose.” Then he popped the latch on one of the cooler doors and pulled out another body. “This one died in her office.” He uncovered the woman’s face, showing not only the bloating of a drowning death, but strange slashes on her cheeks and neck. “Same thing, water in the lungs.”
And there it was. Magic all but dancing around the bodies. Topaz's eyes moved between the two. Nothing familiar, and it put her on edge. She waved a hand discreetly, trying to get a better grip on the feeling. "Don't suppose someone just drowned them in a bucket of water? Portable crime scene."
"Oh sure, yeah, they could have." Randall explained. "Guess what wasn't on the security cameras." He pointed with one gloved hand at the female body. "I mean for her. Nobody in, nobody out, or so Forensics tells me. First question I asked."
Marie-Ange had been taking notes on her phone, and held up her hand. 'And the other victim? My .. ah, friend in the..."
Randall cut her off. "Nope, nope, nope, please don't invoke his name, that's how I get roped into TED talks about nineteenth century botulism outbreaks and owing you a favor.. The other guy we don't know. Someone found him in his truck. Whole truck was sopping wet too, damn weird thing."
Topaz hadn't been serious about the suggestion. A bucket of water would've been too easy and unmagical anyway. "Weird all right," she muttered, frowning slightly. There was something... different about this magic. Not wrong, but distinctly unique. Something she couldn't place. "This might not be my area of expertise," she murmured to Marie-Ange. "There's definitely something, but someone a bit friendlier with cities might have more luck."
"Is it that sort of thing for sure?" Marie-Ange asked just as quietly. She glanced at the bodies. "It would be too much to ask for copies of your reports, yes?" She asked, while tapping out a message on her phone, one-handed and without looking. "I know, fifteen minutes and no photos, you said. I just had to be sure."
Randall nodded. "Sorry not sorry, best I can do. Take a look, glove up if I want to poke them, I've got you down as a no go on identifying our female vic here, and then I gotta shuffle you out. Favor's a favor but I like my job and I don't wanna end up working anywhere more humid."
"I wouldn't bet my life on it, but I'm as sure as I'm gonna get." Topaz shoved her hands in her pockets, giving the body one last scan. "I think this is the part in the crime procedural where someone makes a joke, but I'm no good for that."
Meanwhile, Doug and Gabriel bum around Lexington Market, snack, and encounter sea life. Note that is sea life, and not seafood.
"I'm going to get like a pallet of these shipped to the mansion," Doug declared around a mouthful of shortbread and fudge - the famous Berger Cookie that was one of the main draws of Lexington Market. Maybe he didn't have a forwarding address to send some to Wade, but he'd figure something out, dammit. He and Gabe were walking the periphery of the market, looking for anything out of place or otherwise their brand of Weird.
"Ick." Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "There really is no accounting for taste." He'd had one bite and that was enough: a generic white cookie with a mediocre blob of chocolate on top. That there was a line for these — and that people were buying them in such massive quantities — surprised him. And not only that, but the upper-middle-class clientele seemed to differ from the majority of the people who stopped by this indoor market, a melange of produce stands and food stalls that had clearly seen better and busier days.
It was clear that Baltimore was trying. The area around the market seemed to be undergoing a kind of renovation, which mostly seemed to mean turning abandoned historic buildings into luxury apartments. Inside this market, though, were signs of an older city: faded signs, concrete floors, and a predominantly working-class customer base who were shooting the shit as they shopped.
Gabe's instinct was to follow that crowd, who seemed to be converging on a soul food joint. He could smell the pork as they walked, and his stomach grumbled. "Don't suppose this mission allows time for a long lunch?"
Doug shrugged as they made their way through stalls and up and down the aisles between them. "Look, I'm taking advantage of the fact that my metabolism is back to something like what it used to be like three years ago." He didn't want to think about how quickly the blood curse had become his new normal, and only out the other side did he realize the absolute weight he had been laboring under for so long. "So I'm not going to say no to you getting lunch, but maybe let's stick with something we can carry around while we investigate?"
Gabriel let out a small noise of dissent; he regretted framing his hunger as a question. “Convenient that this plan allows you to gorge on cookies.” As they walked, the smell of fish became overpowering. He turned in search of the source of the scent, stopping to gaze at a reasonably busy seafood market. “Also, I need a smoke break,” he said. “I can do it in a few seconds if that’s best.”
"I'm not your dad. Jesus," Doug retorted with a small grunt of his own. "Just saying that what if we combined food -and- casing the..." He trailed off, the overpowering fish smell catching his attention as well. And... "Is it me or does it suddenly feel a lot more humid than it was a few minutes ago?"
"I guess?" Gabriel shrugged as they walked once more by the entrance. "I bet there's a water main burst or something, though. The infrastructure here's supposed to be shit. Look." He nodded toward a puddle that was growing on Eutaw Street. "Although..." He tilted his head as the water seemed to be seeping up a downhill street.
Doug stared at the puddle and the flow of water with a puzzled expression. "That doesn't make any sense," he muttered slowly. "It should be running -that- direction," and he pointed where the road ran downhill, generally toward the harbor, the opposite of the way the water was moving. He started toward the flooding, but had only made it a few steps when a loud crash and a few screams came from behind them.
Gabriel whipped around, then jumped back slightly as he saw a legion of crabs skittering across the floor of the market. Steps behind them, a drain clearly meant to absorb the run-off from mopping was gurgling. "Oh, fuck." He yanked Doug a foot or so away, just in time for the grate on the drain to pop off as a geyser of water suddenly spewed from it.
From farther inside the market they could hear a series of startled shouts and screams, along with the breaking of glass and crashing of large fixtures. A few customers came running past in a panic, as a hardy few employees of the various stalls tried to push the crustacean mob back with pushbrooms.
"If one of these comes after us with a chef's knife, I'm just done," Doug muttered.
Jubilee and Artie go day drinking at Fells Point and chat up the locals about the weird floods.
If there was one thing Jubilee enjoyed about having almost no boobs, it was the fact she could wear a halter top that would be better described as a halter handkerchief without being cited for public decency violations
She looked much like all the other college girls in the area, slightly tipsy and very chatty. She’d already managed to have several slurred conversations with men more interested in grabbing her arse than remembering her face.
She sidled up to Artie and draped herself over him in a convincingly drunk fashion.
“My guy! Imagine seeing you here!”
Her accent was stripped of its Californian mall rat origins, a slight tang of Afrikaans to mark her as a tourist to anyone who might overhear.
It wasn’t what she was saying that was important however, but what her hands were doing, which was telling an entirely different story.
~Managed to talk to a few bouncers. They’ve been saying there’s weird vandalism going on, couple of tourists complaining about tours being cancelled cause the docks or boats were damaged.~
Artie smiled and waved, giving her a little kiss on the cheek and weighed up his response, faked speech and synthesizer vs ASL. I heard about a couple of deaths but it's - rumours, you know? Guy knows a guy who drowned on the dock but I've got a name to follow up. The text shimmered on the inside of Jubilee's sunglasses, there and gone. There's highwater marks and flooding along the harbour walls that's recent.
At the same time, he signed back, extravagant, loose and showy. "Girl! You are getting so good at that! The classes are totally paying off! My niece will be so pleased to finally have a real conversation with you!"
God Jubilee wished she had a power that could do that, she’d totally use it for evil, or at least be the most annoying person in existence.
“We should catch up, hey? Have a drink or something.”
Jubilee’s fingers flicked in quick short-hand ASL, almost impossible for anyone watching them to decipher.
We should check it out, see if we can find anything the ‘local authorities’ might have left out.
Artie nodded and signed back, "Yes, there's a bar down that way" Apparently my contact drinks there most days, god I love predictable people he added, again against her sunglasses. "You can practice your ASL for class and Milly will be so excited about this. Can you believe she's nearly 10?"
“Oh wow! That old already? Let’s go, you can show me photos!”
Jubilee slung her arm around Artie’s shoulder as she steered him back the way he’d indicated. She turned her head slightly so anyone watching would have a hard time hearing her.
“This contact friendly, or the type we have to bribe?”
"He's gonna need a drink." Artie mouthed the words and sent the supporting text into his synthesiser. "Like, a whole bottle, from the top shelf. Maybe a nice dinner."
The waterfront bars were ... waterfront bars. Two thirds tourists and one third long suffering locals. Artie waved to his new friend and sat down. "Hey there. Thanks for meeting us, Joe. This is Sarah. She's the friend I told you about, doing research at Johns Hopkins, into, you know. Stuff." He waived to a server and mimed 3 at her, ordering three drinks. "I heard you had a story and figured Sal here would want to know." The illusion, synthesized speech and all, was nearly perfect and it was lucky that Jubilee was here, able to handle most of the talking because almost wasn't completely perfect. He smiled, mouth closed.
Joe nodded. "Yeah, I might have a story for you."
"How does dinner sound for you, then, Joe? Steak?"
Joe laughed. "Alright. I reckon I do have a story."
Amanda and Darcy go down to one of Baltimore's most infamous bars, chat up the bartender, rule out some theories about the strange events and come up with the next step of the plan.
"If it weren't for the boats and the harbor smell I'd almost think we were walking around downtown Salem Center," Darcy said, taking in the sights along Thames Street. A sign caught her eye, and she walked towards it, letting her eyes flick over the signs on the door. "Poe's last stop? Worth checking out, maybe?"
"Any port in a storm," Amanda replied with a dry snort at her own terrible pun. "But yeah, it's worth a look. Pissed off ghost messing with things isn't completely out of the range of possibilities here, and by all accounts, this is where he would be. Terrible name, tho'." Amanda shook her head at the sign hanging over the door, which had a horse and the name of the pub above it 'The Horse You Rode in On'. "Then again, I've seen worse."
"It's ah... definitely eye catching though. And wordy." Darcy pulled the door open and waved Amanda in, following behind her. "So what would we do with a pissed off ghost? Buy him a drink? Force his spirit on?"
"Never trust a pub whose name you can't say when you're drunk," advised Amanda sagely as they took a seat at the bar. "As for pissed off ghosts, it depends, but usually finding out what they're pissed off about and fixing it tends to work. Ghosts usually hang around because of unfinished business, after all." She leaned her forearms on the bar, catching the eye of the bartender. "First lesson in pub spycraft - be nice to the staff. They're usually the ones with the info."
"They do hear everything," Darcy's mouth curved up in a small smile as she perched on her seat. "And strangely invisible for a lot of people, if you're not thinking about your next drink. What sort of unfinished business would cause the local shenanigans, do you think?"
"Something major, which makes me think it's not likely to be our resident spook here. Poe was a racist fuck, but if he was capable of this sort of thing, why wait until now? He's been dead long enough." As the bartender arrived, Amanda gave him a bright smile. "Hey there. What would you recommend for two ladies on vacation?" Her accent had shifted to flawless American, matching Darcy's own. "And is this place really haunted?" Her whole demeanor had changed as well, becoming almost bubbly, her body language almost flirty.
The bartender rolled his eyes just a little. He was a typical bar worker - on the younger side, conservatively attractive, affable without being too friendly. "Sure it is," he replied, with the air of someone who had answered the same question a hundred times, but was going to earn his tip nonetheless. "I've seen him myself at closing."
"Oh, is he like. A chill ghost? Or like, the grumpy kind that knocks things over?" Darcy's voice had a questioning note to it, eyes wide and earnest as she took him in. "Could I get a glass of whatever local cider you have on tap, please?"
"'Chill' isn't a word I'd use to describe Edger Allen Poe," replied the bartender with a grin. "But he's not the sort to throw furniture and spit goo." He glanced at Amanda. "Cider for you as well, ma'am?"
"Sure. That sounds good." Amanda had done undercover work far too often to show her reaction to the 'ma'am' on her face, but she grimaced internally. "We're here for a few days... do you know what the weather's going to be like? Local perspective and all that?"
"Well, normally I'd be your man, but lately, things have been way off." The bartender glanced around and lowered his voice a little. "Who needs a ghost when you have random rains of fish?"
"Rains of fish? Not like, that weird thing where a funnel starts over water and picks up a bunch of fish, yeah?" Darcy asked incredulously. "That is wild. Can't believe it's stayed off the news."
The bartender shrugged as he started pouring two ciders. "It might have made one of those weird "aliens ate my wolf baby" papers, but it's not completely out of the ordinary. What is strange is the flooding. Not a drop of rain, low tide and the whole Fells was knee deep in salt water."
"So not likely to be a plumbing problem then?" Amanda asked lightly. The bartender snorted.
"Not when the water's salty and coming out of light fixtures and traffic lights." He shook his head and passed over the drinks. "I'm not supposed to talk about it in case we scare away the tourists, but something weird is going on."
Darcy took a long sip of her cider as she thought about logical explanations for what was going on, but saltwater in the traffic lights? Nothing came to mind. "At least it's not affecting the cider," she said, giving the bartender a smile.
The bartender barked a brief laugh and then looked down the bar, where someone was waving for his attention. "Enjoy it while you can, ladies," he said, and went to serve the customer.
Amanda took a sip of her cider, pleasantly surprised at the taste. Most American cider tasted like sweetened apple juice, but this one was actually half-decent. "So," she said to Darcy, "What have we found out?"
"The bartender's chatty, it's not our neighborhood bar ghost, can't be explained away by a messed up sewer system, and isn't the weirdness that is The Majesty of Nature," Darcy replied, voice taking on a sarcastic tint as her hands spread into an imaginary rainbow near the end. She leaned her head back in thought for a few minutes. "Are there... nature poltergeists? Or actual fae?"
"Not so much, but there are nature spirits. You know how my powers work, right? I can feel the energy and personality of cities? Think the same thing, only it's somewhere significant nature-wise." Amanda mulled the point over as she drank her cider. "I don't fancy having to get in touch with one of those, but that might be our next step."
"I have... a vague idea? As much as I understand about how any magic works. Or science, really. Nod, try to keep up, record the data." Darcy took a long drink of her cider, letting the glass hit the countertop with a light clunk. "So with this somewhere significant could be one of the preserves or historical sites... or anywhere in one of the rivers or the bay itself, maybe? Would any option do, or do some have better vibes than the others?"
"From the... aquatic nature of the problems, I'm going to say probably out in the bay." Amanda growled softly. "Which means enlisting some folks who can actually breathe underwater. I am not turning people into mermaids again."
