strangetomato | Strangetown: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Warnings: language, sexual situations, overwrought Guns N' Roses style emotions

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"So here you are."

Just as she had expected, she found Ripp in the bedroom. One way or another, he always seemed to find his way back there. It even smelled like him in there. Well, now that she thought about it, it smelled like sex too. She made a mental note to open the windows and air the place out a little.

"Oh. Hi, Phi." He looked up and smiled, but instead of beckoning for her to join him, as he most often did, he quickly fell back into his wistful trance.

"Ripp, honey, I think you've had enough G N' R for one day."

"Have I?"

"Maybe I'm just easily irritable right now, but if I hear November Rain one more time, some heads are going to roll. It's nine minutes long!"

"Yeah, but just listen to that guitar solo." He gestured to the where the music was invisibly located in the air. "Slash is my hero. It's like he knows the whole thing is going to start falling down around his ears, so after he does his bit with the ring, he picks up his guitar, leaves the church, and rocks out in the field like it's none of his fucking business. In the video, I mean. You've seen the video, right?"

"You've had enough. We've all had enough."

"Nervous likes it."

Ophelia looked over to where Nervous had been sitting all along, not saying a word. He shook his head to indicate that he did not, in fact, like it as much as Ripp assumed.

"He's just trying to be nice, Ripp."

"Aren't we having a good time, Nervous?" he asked, "We were just hanging out, listening to some music... shooting the shit. Aren't we having fun?

"Yeah... I guess."

"He's not as talkative as I'm used to, but we're doing okay, I think."

"Are you?" She wasn't convinced.

"I'm okay. I'm just having a mood," he reassured her. "Hear that? Axl always has to fuck up every song by doing some big extended yodel at the end. It's like he can't help himself. He has to ruin everything by taking it one step too far." Ripp dropped his head back on the pillow and let out a deep sigh. "I relate to him."

"Are you planning to just pine away here all day? There's work to be done. You can't just lay down and die, you know." Her tone softened, as she added, "I wouldn't like that."

"Nervous will tell me if I'm risking it. Right, Nerv?"

"If you really want me to."

Ripp turned back to Ophelia, and the look on her face brought him back to his senses. He got up. "I'm sorry, Phi. You should be the one resting. You have a nap, okay? We'll tidy up. Want us to make you something to eat?"

Ophelia considered the skill level of both Ripp and Nervous, and the work involved in cleaning the kitchen after such an undertaking. "How about some pepper punch instead?"

"Anything you want. You got it."

Ophelia smiled, and gave him a kiss. "Thank you."

"So, let's get busy here, Nerv. You heard the boss, right? We'd better look sharp. Women rule the world, you know, so there's no use arguing. You knew that, right?"

"Yeah." Nervous thought of Olive and Circe, and shuddered a little, to himself.

"Good man." Ripp gave him a pat on the shoulder, before remembering how uncomfortable it made Nervous. For his part, Nervous was getting sort of used to it. "Now... let's see if we can figure out how to make this 'pepper punch' that the lady of the house so desires."

"I know how to make it," Nervous informed him.

"Good, because I'm not sure I even really know what a pepper looks like."

As they walked to the kitchen the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Ripp said, as he picked up the phone. It would ring and ring and ring until the caller gave up if he had to wait for Nervous to answer it, but he said it as if they were both running to get it.

Nervous continued to the kitchen without saying a word.

"Hello. Specter Institute for Orphaned Rejects. Ripp Grunt speaking, how may I help you?"

"Hi."

"Oh, it's just you, Tank."

"Well, you seem chipper today."

"I guess so. What can I do for you, dear brother of mine?"

"Don't push it. Look, did you get a chance to talk to your friends about apartments?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, Jaxy found one in the same neighbourhood they're living in. It's right next to The Golden Cup."

"Is that supposed to be some sort of gay bar, or something?"

Ripp laughed a little too loudly. "Relax. It's a coffee shop. All the true downtownies go there instead of the Sim Horton's. It's a snob thing. Frances will be right at home."

"Oh, yeah. Right. I've actually heard him mention that place, now that you say that. I think we went there before, even."

"So how are your gay boyfriends doing these days, anyway?"

Tank sighed. Ripp never tired of this joke. "They're fine. Stop being an idiot."

"I'm just making conversation. Is Frances playing at the Merkbah now? Jaxy mentioned seeing him there."

"Yeah, he just started. They were looking for a piano player for the restaurant section."

"A pianist, huh?" Ripp tried not to snicker audibly into the phone. "That's pretty cool. I wish we could get a gig there."

"Do you even still have a band?"

"Yes, Tank. I still have a band," he said, through his teeth. "You make it sound like an STD."

"Why don't you get a real job?" Tank pressed onward.

"Why should I?"

"Don't you feel useless, living off Ophelia and her cousin like that?"

"I'm not 'living off' them. I just fucking live here, okay? They want me to live here. It's not my fault they're the ones with inheritances and trust funds and I have shit all. They don't care about money! My contributions to this household are important too. They're just not, you know..." He searched for the word.

"Monetary?"

"Yeah, they're just not monetary. Not everything's about money, Tank."

"Sure, Ripp. But don't you ever want to do something with yourself? Get a job? How do you pass the time?"

"God, Tank. If this is going to turn into even more of a fucking lecture, I'm hanging up."

"What kind of role model are you supposed to be if you don't even work?"

"I DO work! I have a band, and we're working on setting up the flower shop here. We should be ready to open it in a couple of months. We're working really hard on that."

"Oh, right. You're a flower merchant. I forgot about that." Tank tried to forget these things, lest he dwell too long on the true nature of Ripp. His brother, the unemployed musician, who also sells pretty flowers to people part-time. He tried not to respond with Buzz's reaction, so he said nothing

"Listen, Tank," Ripp said, "You can't say anything to me. You probably spend your days knitting dick cozies with your little buddies over there."

"Fuck you, Ripp."

"Hey, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it! I'm just saying."

"You're just an idiot."

"So, how goes the 'real man's' work, anyway?"

"Do you actually care?"

"Shit, Tank. Just lighten up."

"It's... good, good, you know. Same old shit."

"Sounds riveting."

"I was just promoted."

"Well, that's cool, I guess. Should I start calling you The General yet?"

"Not exactly."

"Good. Not to knock your chances, or anything, but I don't ever want to call you that."

"Yeah..."

"You alright? You don't really sound like yourself."

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"It's nothing."

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do. I'll keep you up to date on the apartment situation."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Ripp hung up the phone, and took some pause at the exchange, but moved onwards to the kitchen.

"I made a bit of a mess," Nervous said.

"Ooooh... No shit." Ripp surveyed the kitchen floor. There was pepper juice everywhere. "Here, I'll get that."

"Don't use the good towel, remember."

"Which one's the good one?"

"I don't know."

"This isn't going to end well, is it?"

Nervous shrugged and offered an awkward smile.

"Maybe a bath towel?" Ripp offered.

Tank hung up the phone and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

"Tank, are we out of peppers?" Frances asked, as he heard Tank entering the room.

"How the hell would I know?"

"Good point. I forgot who I was talking to for a second there."

"I didn't know you were up yet. How was your shift last night? You were asleep when I left for work."

"Oh, it was good. I think I may have found an apartment too. There's a place right downtown, within walking distance to my favourite coffee shop. Not too far from where Edie lives."

"Great."

Frances looked him over. "Are you okay?"

"It's nothing."

"What is it?"

"Just something at work. It's... I shouldn't even say anything."

"I can keep a secret. I'm pretty good at it by now."

"Yeah..."

"Tell me, Tank. You obviously need to get it off your chest."

Tank thought this over. It would be good to tell someone, and Frances was probably the only person he trusted enough to confide something like that in. Then again, some things were better off unknown. Then again, he could save himself the weight of having to carry the knowledge alone. It was a selfish reason, but maybe he needed to tell someone, like Frances said. I wasn't healthy to keep things bottled up. He'd get ulcers. If he had a wife, he would tell her, surely.

But he didn't have a wife. He had Frances. He was a good friend, and Tank did trust him more than anyone else. "Okay, I'll tell you, but it's not to be repeated to anyone. Not ANYONE, okay?"

"Of course."

The door flew open, and Beau spun into the room, carrying pizza.

"Dinner is served!"

"Umm... I'll tell you later," Tank mumbled.

"Oooh, a secret?" Beau's ears perked up. "C'mon, T! I can keep a secret. I'll bet even Tits knows."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, come on! Why not?"

"Heh. It's not that I don't trust you, but you're not exactly good at keeping things to yourself."

"If it was important, I would." Beau turned to look at Frances for backup. "Just ask Frances Jules. I keep plenty of secrets, don't I?"

Frances shot him a dirty look, but there was also a hint of smile. "I don't respond to that name, remember?"

"Okay. Just Jules then?" Beau grinned, and walked past them, into the kitchen.

Frances turned to Tank. "Why do I put up with him, again?"

"You're asking me?"

"Good point."

"Well, if you're both going to be nasty, I'll just leave without sharing my pizza," Beau announced.

"Sit down, Beau," Frances said.

"Sit down and shut up?" Beau finished for him.

"Yeah right," Tank sighed, "Like that's ever going to happen."

"Oh, please! You'd be beside yourself with grief if I wasn't here. You're a bunch of gloomy Guses when I'm not around. You'd see the error of your ways when you were just sulking around here in silence all day like two overgrown cats." Beau leaned over the pizza box and inhaled deeply. "Oh, yeah. That's the stuff."

"Cats?" Frances asked, "What do cats have to do with anything?"

"You, know - cats! They're cranky and sulky. They don't mingle."

"I guess so," said Frances, "but what about the friendly ones?"

"Okay, well I'll think of a better metaphor, if it will make you happy, Mr. Simlish. Geez. Some people are so picky!" He made a gesture towards Frances like he was going to smack him up the side of the head. Frances smirked.

Tank finally noticed the plant in the corner. "Umm, how long have we had that?"

"Isn't it GREAT?" Beau gushed.

"We saw it at Florence's flower shop," explained Frances, "and Beau wouldn't leave until I agreed to buy it for the house. He thought it would brighten the place up a little."

"Yeah, this place needs a little flare, Tank. You could at least put up a curtain or two. My family was dirt poor and we still had curtains on our windows. Mom had to sew them herself, but we still had them. I can't imagine living here. This plant improves this room by 1000%, and it was such a bargain too. I talked them into offering it to us at a ridiculously cheap price."

As Beau chattered on incessantly, Tank continued to distrustfully observe the plant.

"So, what do you think?" Beau asked again, "It's pretty nice, isn't it?"

Tank took a moment to decide how best to phrase his reaction.

"It's... ummm... oddly shaped," he said.

"It makes me a little nervous," Frances agreed.

"Why's that?" Beau asked, erupting into laughter. "It's not like it's obscene or anything."

"Beau, this looks like a giant dildo," Tank said. He thought back to Ripp's comments about dick cozies, and decided that he'd probably need one of those to cover this thing when decent people decided to drop by. What if Buck came to visit with Jill? Yes, he'd be needing something to drape over it, for sure. Did Ophelia know how to knit? He shook his head to try to clear the thoughts before they circled back to dick cozies again, and Ripp.

"Well, it IS a flower!" Beau said, "They ARE sex organs. It's not my fault it looks like a giant penis emerging from a undulating vulva."

"Heh. So that's what they look like," Frances dryly added.

"Yeah, it basically IS giant plant genitalia," Beau continued, "It's nature in all its beautiful pornographic glory."

Tank coughed. "So how about some of that pizza?"

"Well, I'm not sure there's anything else we can do. My little undercover trip into the mind, and hot tub, of Dr. Lothario was unenlightening... and disturbing, to say the least."

"Disturbing?"

"Well, you know the soap, Pleasant View?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, let's just say that sometimes truth is even stranger than fiction. He's slept with nearly every woman in town."

"Surely not everyone."

"Well, no... he didn't sleep with Cassandra. Like Bella, she resisted him. That must be how she managed to get him to acce[t her proposal. It's seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to lay her, and it didn't actually pan out, did it?" She picked some lint off her black sweater vest. "But we're not trying to expose the dirty underbelly of Pleasantview, we're trying to get him to tell us what he knows about Bella Goth."

"Do you think he was directly involved?"

"I honestly don't know, but I told you I had a feeling about him. He's a seedy character, and I don't trust him."

"Did he mention the abduction?"

"Yes. That much he does talk about. He claims it was an accident, like they all are, I suppose."

"Some people try to get abducted."

"Some people will try to do anything." She thought back to her encounter with Don. "Anything at all."

"Yeesh."

"So what now? Are we at a dead end here, Jack?"

"I'm not giving up. If it's a dead end, we just retrace our steps and find another direction. Maybe Don doesn't have the answer we're looking for."

"Oh, I think he does."

"Maybe so, but we need a new strategy."

"How has your investigation into Dina Caliente-Goth been going?"

"Not well. If she had anything to do with it, she covered her tracks like a pro."

"Has there been any connection to organized crime?"

"Well, one would think... but I'm not finding any traces of involvement from the Caliente family back in Veronaville. She may very well have just swooped in at the right time and seized the prize, fair and square. It's not a crime to be a gold digger."

"No. But just because there's no trace, that doesn't mean there's no connection." Zelda turned to the door, where she had heard a thud. "I guess that would be the paper." She walked over to retrieve it.

"I don't understand how Mortimer could have been sucked in by Dina like that," Jack continued, "With her family background, I would have been suspicious. Maybe he really does love her, though. He had known her for some time through Bella's family. They were in-laws, so I can understand how she would have been there for him after the fact, and things just developed from there. She got pregnant, and that was supposed to have been an accident, and maybe it was, but I'm skeptical. It's all a little too perfect for it to have 'just happened.' For someone like Dina, he seems like the ultimate plum to pull from the pie."

"A dead plum."

"Huh?"

"He's a dead plum." She held up the headline on the front of the newspaper. "He died last night."

Jack said nothing, but rushed forward to see the article.

After he had finished, he handed it back.

"God damn."

"I know," she said, as she read through the article herself.

"I was hoping he'd hold on until we figured this out for him."

"Looks like we're out of a job, then."

"Yeah..."

He turned back to meet her eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop working. Something foul went down here, and I need to know what that was." He smiled, and she could see light flicker across his deep, black eyes. "Are you in?"

She nodded. "Let's do it."

Pascal picked up the morning paper.

Ignoring the chaos of the Curious family morning routine, he thought back to his conversation with Bella at her session last week. She had remembered something new.

The light again. It wasn't just a flash. It had been a beam of light, shining down on her, and pulling her in.

Given this extra information, Pascal agreed that she must have been abducted. He hadn't thought about that before, oddly enough. With her complete loss of memory, it hadn't even occured to him. Alien abductees always had their memories wiped, but it was very specific, to protect them from remembering their pollination. It didn't have such an extensive and lasting effect.

What was even stranger was that she said she now remembered seeing an alien too. But if she had been abducted, she wouldn't remember that. Pascal had not seen his pollinator, and neither had Vidcund. As they understood it, nobody ever saw their PT. This was all the more reason to believe that this memory was from the past, and not the reason she could no longer remember who she was.

To have remembered seeing an alien, something strange must have happened.

Had she been involved in that crash that took down PT No. 7? That was the only explanation. Her memory must have been completely wiped out in the crash.

But she didn't surface for quite some time after that. And, again, she had no head injuries. She remembered waking up, a second time, on a bench near the pool, and had admitted herself to the hospital because of her memory loss. Any connection to the crash seemed weak, at best. If she had been injured in the crash, wouldn't she have been sent to the hospital right away?

They knew very little about what had happened with that ship. If she had been involved in the crash, it was the military's business. They quickly closed off the site. PT No. 9 had thought it was an injustice for them to not release the pilot of the spacecraft to be taken back to his home planet, but he knew better than to approach them about it. As always, he had to keep a low profile.

PT's one offhand question to The General had revealed just how little he was interested in divulging details.

He let it go, because he had no choice, but PT No. 7 had been a lifelong friend and fellow pollinator, and PT had quietly mourned this loss. He had also undoubtedly been the father of both Mint and the twins, PT said. Pascal thought that was a little sad, in an abstract way. The thought that the children could never meet their other parent was disappointing, even if that was unlikely to happen anyway.

Bella had said she had some faint recollections of another bright flash of light too, different from the first. This memory was still quite cloudy.

Pascal mulled over the possibilities, and then noticed the headline.

Mortimer Goth, a well-respected but reclusive scientist, had died. He scanned through the article, thinking about the loss to the academic community that Mortimer's death represented. Then he read a line about his personal life. He read it three times, just to be sure.

Mortimer's wife, Bella Goth, has been missing for nearly 8 years.

Bella.

Bella Goth.

Of course.

Pascal dropped the paper, jumped into the truck, and headed down the hill to Bella's apartment.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Don." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Circe... I take it you have good news?"

"Yes. You've done your job well."

"So... that's that."

"Well, not exactly. Your work with me has come to a close, and your cheque is in the mail, so to speak, as is mine, but if you want to continue to keep your little illgotten sweetheart from the truth, you're going to have to act fast."

"How's that?"

"Well, you've read the paper, haven't you?" Circe's tone revealed her contempt for those who didn't keep themselves well read and informed of current events.

"Oh, yeah. Of course! Well... I was just about to pick it up."

"I'll leave you to read it. It's really none of my concern, as long as you manage to keep quiet the details you've agreed to keep quiet. It's your mess now, Dr. Lothario, but do let me know if you need any of my help."

Don shuddered as the line went dead. Circe's brand of help tended to be a double-edged sword, at the best of times.

He picked up the paper, and it was right there on the front page: Famous Scientist Loses to Death.

Mortimer Goth, the reclusive scientist known for his life-long search for the fountain of youth, has passed away in hospital, after a long battle with a mysterious illness.

Suddenly realizing what Circe meant, he dropped the paper to the floor, and grabbed the keys to his Smord.

The Sim City Chronicle was delivered to Strangetown too. It would have arrived at Bella's door by now.

Pascal arrived at Bella's apartment and rang the doorbell.

No answer.

He knocked again, and waited, and waited some more, but there was nobody home.

As he walked back to his truck, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Pascal. Shouldn't you be at work right now?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Something came up and I'm running late."

"Yeah, well you've been making a habit of that lately, and this is the third time you've been completely late for work. This is not just running late; it's as good as missing work altogether."

"I'm sorry. I'll be right there."

"Don't bother. You've had your three strikes."

"What? But it was an emergency."

"You can take it up with HR, but I expect more from one of my top researchers. Your absence brings our progress to a grinding halt, and I've had enough of it. I'm terminating you."

"Don't I get a final warning, at least?"

"You've had several. Anyway, we can meet and discuss it, but I've already put out a job ad for your position."

"Oh." There wasn't much more he could say to that. Even if he had the ability to plead for his job buried within himself, it didn't seem like it would do much good.

"Let's discuss this on Monday, okay? You can drop by in the afternoon. Is 1:30 okay for you?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Pascal sat down at the kitchen table with the paper again. He should have known all his juggling would catch up with him. Between the children, Nervous, his personal clients, and this recent preoccupation with Bella, he had been finding it difficult to keep his head above water at work.

And that was that.

He had turned his attention to the job ads when the phone rang.

"Hello?

Jenny?

"Wait... slow down. It's okay. Just... take your time."

"What?

No..."

"Wait - how can that be? He hasn't been in contact with any of them for years! They've been so careful. We've been so careful."

"Oh, Jenny. Jenny, It's okay. Don't move. I'll be right there."

It was bad news for the Smith family.

Very, very bad news.

It's funny how quickly things can change.

A year ago, if Johnny's current situation had been described to him, he wouldn't have believed it. He would have thought it was too weird to be true. It just goes to show that truth really is often stranger than fiction.

There was the abduction, the alien's offer, and all that to think about, and then there was them.

Them.

Every time he thought he knew what was going on, things seemed to shift and fold back on themselves. Who knew where they'd end up?

All he knew was he wanted to be with them, as odd and complicated as their situation was becoming.

Was that so strange?

His life had always been strange. A year before that, and even earlier, he had the whole thing with Jayne. There had been his uncles giving birth. That was more than a little odd. Before that, he had Tank and Ripp, and the situation between their fathers. Then there had been navigating the gauntlet of public school when your skin was green. That went back right to pre-school. His very first memory was wondering why half of his family was green and the other half wasn't.

So, yeah, not exactly normal.

He was born in Strangetown, so how could he escape the strange? It was right there in the title.

In a year, who knew where he'd be? At the rate thngs were going, he wouldn't wager a guess. Even his planet of residence wasn't something he could blindly count on anymore. It was something he could cling to, and fight for, but nothing was ever certain. You could run from these things, but sooner or later they came along to beam you up, or crash on your doorstep. And that was the side of his genetics that actually wanted him to exist. The sim side might pose an even greater threat, though yet unknown.

As long as his skin was green, he'd have to watch his back.

His friends, his home, was one of the few things he felt like he could rely on. As much as their situation bended and twisted into something foreign, a part of it never changed. They didn't change. Or, rather, they did but they didn't. What was important remained the same. They loved him, and he loved them, and they loved each other too.

It was a strange path, but he was on it now, and he was going to see where it took him.

What's the worst that could happen? He'd risk it.

Strangetown, here were come.

(Continue to Chapter 29 - part 1)

Some notes:

I wasn't sure if I should do a time jump, but I ended up doing it anyway (only to go right back and fill in the blanks in the next couple of chapters). That scene came to my mind after a long drive where we listened to Guns N' Roses Greatest Hits in its entirety. It was pretty awesome, and I wrote that scene in my head as I was driving, then came home and scribbled it down (well, in notepad).

Pascal got fired because it happened to him in-game. It was one of those things where I considered exiting without saving, or just putting him back in the career again, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. He really has been biting off more than he can chew, so I'm going to have it all crash down on him like that. Maybe he'll get around to writing his novel now. In game, he already has.

That was one of those situations where the game leads the story, not the other way around. As much as I do plan for some things, I also follow things like LTWs, other minor wants, ACR behaviour, etc. I do reserve the right to re-roll these things too if they're really not working, and see what else the wheel of chance will bring me (but I usually try to make the first one work unless it's way out there).

For example, I rerolled Ophelia's "Raise 20 kittens or puppies" LTW (that's one for Tara Kat only) and it gave me "Graduate three children from college." That works much better. Johnny and Ripp have both been acting out their original career LTWs with no changes, and both have fulfilled them in-game. Ripp's new LTW couldn't have been better if I planned it myself, and it's also one of those things that will impact the story, but you'll see... one day.

But who's Tits? That's what you're wondering, right? (Maybe not, but I'll humour myself.) All will become clear in an update or two. ;)