Chapter 2: Final Destination

"So, like I said—I needed to get out of Vegas for a few days…or maybe weeks after some hysteria at my home—make that around the whole town. I made up my mind that I needed to get somewhere much quieter. A place where people wouldn't recognize me; a place where the people are kind of slow when it comes to the booming industry of Vegas—no offence. So, that's when I started my search for people who knew of such a place…"

He—Peter—made his way through the large and overly-populated entertainment center—trying to find someone decent to talk to. "What if I just ask my agent? My agent—my agent? Are you kidding me? That daft bimbo doesn't even know the difference between a werewolf and a common shaggy mutt!" People turned to look at the mumbling performer, wondering what he could possibly be up to. "Okay think, think, think…who could you ask?" He shoved through the crowd, soon ending up at a couch near a small café. He plopped down unto the leather sofa and rubbed his face. He was stressed, exhausted and needed to get out of this place. But who could ask? He barely knew any of the people working in this wretched place, and everyone in Vegas knew him as this "famous" and all "bad-ass" vampire slayer.

Peter shuddered at the legacy he had made selling cheap tricks and dressing up like some long-haired Alice Cooper. "Who to ask…" He mumbled once more, finally seeing the answer right in front of him. It was a simple middle-aged, red headed woman who was merely sitting there, tapping away on her laptop. "Uh, excuse me?" He cleared his throat and she looked up from her work. "Yes?" He scooted up and placed his hands in his lap. "Could you help me with something?" She gave him a confused look, took a sip of coffee out of her Styrofoam cup and then pursed her lips. "What could I help someone like you with?" Peter gave her a rather shocked look. "What do you mean by someone like 'me'"? She rolled her eyes and simply continued typing on her computer.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright—hear me out; I need to get out of his city. It's not a situation of whether or not I can handle a few more "work days" here I need to get out of this place. I need to leave this choking environment and find a place that is more peaceful and relaxing…" The woman looked up once more, and raised an eyebrow at him. "So, you just want me to give you relaxing destinations?" Peter smiled, and nodded 'yes'. "That's it, but oh—this place also needs to have a populous of people who don't really know who I am…unlike here." She looked at him. "I don't know who you are, and I live here." Peter gave her a look. "You don't? You've never seen my," He shook his head. "This is irrelevant…could you please tell me some sites?" She took another sip of her coffee and then took out a small notepad and pen from her purse. Peter gave her a curious look. "How is either of those things going to help me?" The woman narrowed her eyes at him. "Sh. I'm thinking," She then began scribbling down a name rather rapidly.

"Here," She said, sliding the paper towards his side of the table. "I am from that town, and there, a lot of people don't usually get out of state…so, I'm sure that you wouldn't be "known". Plus, it's rather quiet. Not a lot of tourists." Peter grabbed the paper, and nodded his thanks; leaving the woman to return to her computer work. He sat back on the couch and read the name that the woman had scrawled unto the paper;

Columbus Ohio: quaint, quiet and very non-touristic.

"Ohio? Where the bloody hell is that?" Peter mumbled, pocketing the note and taking off to the main desk of the building. "Excuse me," A man turned around from a computer and smirked. "Peter! Hi, how can I help you?" Peter smiled stupidly, not even knowing this idiots name. He looked casually down at his name tag which read: Donnavin. "Ah yes, Donnavin, could you please tell me where Ohio is?" Donnavin raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want to know where Ohio is?" Peter shook his head. "It's not important, just, look it up, alright?" Donnavin nodded and returned to his computer, tapping away at the keys. "What would you like to know about Ohio?" Peter took out the note and read, "Uh, how exactly you could get from Vegas to Ohio." Donnavin nodded and typed away once more, until a result popper up. "Well you can always take a flight from here immediately to their airport, or you could take the long drive there." Peter nodded. "Thanks, now, I'll be off!"

He took off in the direction of the door, stopping abruptly once he had made it in front of them. "Wait, do I have any cash?" He patted at his sides looking for pockets but then realized that he was still wearing his leather pants. He swore at himself and then ran off towards the elevators; shoving a man out of his way. "Sorry, this is an emergency!" He snapped, tapping on the top floor button and making the elevator doors close before anyone else could get in. He jumped up and down rather impatiently as the machine made its way higher and higher into the building. Once there was a ding, Peter ran out into the main entrance of his area—skidding near his bedroom and grabbing a small shoulder bag and filling it with a shirt, book, extra pair of leather pants, a jacket and his passport. "Now, my wallet…" He stalked over to his side table and grabbed his cheap plastic wallet—checking to make sure that there was enough to suffice a small four hour trip on a commercial airline. Once he was all set, he ran back to the elevator and then finally made it outside; calling a cab to take him to the airport.


"That'll be three fifty," The cab driver snapped, Peter handing him a five. "Keep the change," He said, stepping out and putting his jacket on. "Now, to buy those plane tickets," He made his way through the doors and walked up to the one of the many checkpoints for the purchasing of tickets. Ignoring the strange looks from passer-biers, he stood in front of the desk. "Hello, how may I help you today sir?" A petite black haired woman asked. "Hello I would like to purchase a ticket for a flight going straight to Columbus Ohio." He grinned and the woman simply smiled. "Of course," She typed away on her computer. "Would you like the two thirty flight, or the five fifteen flight?" He scratched his head. "Ah—which one is closest?" The woman blinked. "The three thirty one, of course." He smiled. "Then I'll take that one, thanks." She typed away once more…rat, tat, tat…

"What kind of seat would you like?"

"Anything but a window, can't stand those."

Rat, tat, tat…

"Alright, would you like us to take your bag or let you keep it?"

"Keep it, of course."

Rat, tat, tat…

"Alright, now, you're flight will be leaving from terminal F5…"

Rat, tat, tat…

"Are we almost done here?"

"Just about! And, here we are, your ticket sir," She tapped one more key and then his ticket printed out. "Now remember: your flight leaves at three thirty and your terminal is F5." She smiled sweetly, and Peter smiled back. "Now, once I have measured the weight of your bag—you're free to go," Peter nodded and placed his small bag on the scale. "Alright," And with some more tapping and another click, she then printed out a tag for his luggage; placing it neatly unto his bad. "We're all set!" Peter gave her a fake smile, pocketing his tickets and soon taking his bag.

"Hell was she sickening; oh we're just about done! Don't remember that you leave here and here! Yeah, I think I can find my way around an airport…dumb bimbo…" He whispered to himself, making haste towards the terminal. "What time is it anyways?" He looked down at his wrist but simply rolled his eyes: he forgot his watch. He looked around the room and saw nothing. "This is a fucking airport—where people from all over the country are coming from, and there's not even a single damn clock in this room?" He chuckled to himself. "Only in America…" He hissed, and continued making his way towards his terminal.

When he arrived, he plopped down unto one of the chairs, placing his bag next to him. "Now to find the damn time…" His eyes started darting around the room, trying to find some form of a clock and finally found one on top of all the leaving times for the flights. "Brilliant," He whispered, and made his way towards the large, bright board. "Now," He said, looking up at the time. "Alright, my flight leaves at three thirty and it is now…three fifteen? Really?" He snorted, and then made his way back to his seat; taking out a book to entertain himself for the remaining fifteen minutes before his flight.


"Will the people from rows A-1 to D-1 please board the flight to Columbus, Ohio now, please?" The woman at the front desk said in her high-pitched, happy voice. Peter sniffed, taking his ticket out of his pocket. "Let's see…seat row…C-15, alright! That's me," He grinned and slung his bag over his shoulder and walked up to the desk; handing the woman his ticket for a scan, and then re-pocketing it. "Have a good flight," She said, and he nodded, walking through the hall that led to the entry-doors of the plane.

Once he had arrived inside the small craft, he pushed through the squished area to get to his seat. Finally arriving at his designated C-15, he sat down in a huff; taking a deep breath and clinging rather firmly to his bag. "Alright…this flight shouldn't be too bad…" There was suddenly tap on his shoulder. He turned around to face a male teenager—most likely. "Hey, I don't mean to bother you too much, but you wouldn't happen to be the famous Peter Vincent would you?" Peter's eyes widened. Of all the seats on this fucking plane I had to be stuck next to the one person that recognizes me… Peter scratched his head. "Who: me? No, sorry," He chuckled, racking his brain for an excuse. "I get that all the time you see, but my name is actually Thomas—Thomas Saunders." He grinned. The boy looked slightly disappointed by the answer, but also confused. "Oh sorry, I just thought you were him—you two do look a lot alike." Peter nodded, and took his phone out.

Now to listen to some music… and possibly take a nap. Anything to get away from talking to this idiot sitting next to me… There was a pop as the pilot's voice echoed on the speakers. "Good afternoon ladies and gentleman this is your pilot speaking. This flight will probably endure about four and a half hours at the most. I would ask you at this time to please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely at cruising height. Once we are there, our hostesses will come around to pass drinks and a small snack. Thank you for your cooperation and for choosing Continental Airlines." Peter rolled his eyes; he would have to turn his phone off until they reached a specific height? Hopefully this moron won't talk to me… He sighed as he turned his phone off as he felt the plane begin shaking from the turning on of its engines.

"Please fasten your seatbelts," A hostess asked. Everyone did so, and soon the plane was taking off into the sky; in a matter of minutes it was stabilized at its designated height. "Ladies and gentleman you may now walk freely around the cabin, and turn on your electronics." The hostess says over the com once more. Peter grinned, turning on his phone and putting his headphones into his ears; blasting his rock music as loud as possible and getting comfortable into his chair. Columbus here I come…


Author's Note: Yes, this chapter was a tad bit long and though it kind of dragged at some parts (I think so—did you think so?) it needed to be made. I mean, Peter can't just magically appear in Columbus…and the whole idea of him going to an airport to go on a plane just made me giggle. I had to do it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter—I'll try updating it as soon as I can. Read and review!