The Universe's Mixer

Veronica was too busy with her internship to notice that many people were missing, ironically. She hadn't heard from Logan, but she'd taken to forgetting to charge her phone battery, and she was never big on keeping tabs like that, anyway. Not since that time she'd tracked him to a poker game. Live and learn.

She did know that enough people were gone for her department to be considered short-staffed, so she was basically living at work, going home to sleep a few hours, and returning. She wasn't pleased and felt like hell warmed over.

It figured that just as she settled into her desk after a late dinner break, her phone rang.

There was utter silence on the other end for a few seconds, not even breathing.

"Mars," she said. There was exasperation in her voice.

The case file for the murder was on her desk, open, and crime scene photos were scattered everywhere, from her cubicle walls to the floor around her desk.

"I have some information about a case I believe you're working on," a male voice said.

Veronica pressed her lips together in something that resembled a grimace, pushing a blond hair out of her face. The voice had a trace of something she could not quite place.

She'd believe the information was relevant when she heard it.

"I believe I know who committed this crime," the voice continued.

That got her attention. Veronica rolled her chair backwards and got out a tape recorder. It sat just at her left hand, waiting.

"Okay, well, do you wanna share this information with me sometime before I retire?"

Another second or two of silence.

"It was a woman. Long dark hair. Pale. Big eyes. Extremely graceful. Approximately five feet four inches, and no more than 110 pounds," the voice said.

"Sir, I'd like to record the rest of this conversation," Veronica said, hand reaching for the recorder.

"I would much rather you did not. I am sending a sketch of this woman to your office. I am confident you will find her."

"I need to know why you think this woman did this. And... why you haven't come forward before. Were you there? Did she see you? I need more information than just your description."

The voice sighed. "Ms. Mars, is it not simply enough to know that you've got your woman, and you and you alone have been able to get this information?"

She was shaking her head, though no one was there to see it. "No. I need the pieces to fit."

"I can say only that I am an... inadvertant... witness. And I did not come forward before because I did not wish to."

The line went dead. And just as it did, the fax machine beeped and hummed and made it clear that the drawing the voice was talking about had arrived.

( She rolled her chair back, still slightly flustered, and went to retrieve the fax. )

She laid the picture on her desk, sure the woman looked familiar, and picked up her phone, waiting for Lois Lane to answer.

With the blood Eric gave him worn off, Lestat was eagerly awaiting dusk.

He didn't need full sunset, hadn't in a while. And now with Eric's blood, he did not 'go dead' in the way he used to. This made him develop cabin fever during most days. And now?

He had to get out of here.

Because something was going on.

They were gone.

So many of them were gone.

Eric, for one. He'd felt around with his mind for River and Hannibal and felt them both there, so that was a positive. Honour was gone, and that troubled him. That goddamn annoying hunter was gone, and so was his less-irritating tree of a brother. Many, many minds he usually at least caught something of a glimpse of had vanished entirely.

Once enough light left the sky, he was out the door like a shot, looking for anyone to speak to who might have answers as to where the hell everyone had gotten to.

Hannibal had done his best to find the ones that he knew were missing. Eric, Pam, Baba, Henry and others. But of course, they were nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of what had happened, not a hint that they would be back. While the City lost people and gained them all the time, in his years spent here, he'd never seen a thing such as this. It was new, and it was worrying. Were these people gone forever? Would they return? Did the City even realize that they were gone?

At first, he'd managed to keep himself busy. Though Baba was not there to help or enjoy the work that he did, Hannibal continued on their quest to punish the last of the Arkham employees. Finding himself first a nurse and then an orderly. They were both undone in spectacular fashion, and he thought that his companion in death would find them enjoyable. He would willingly describe his deeds to her if he ever saw her again.

But it was not the same, ultimately. He wanted her to be there to revel in the end of lives, not just hear about it after the fact. She was as angry as he was at what had been done to them, she wanted the revenge as clearly as he. Dispatching two without her felt more wrong than satisfying.

So other than his job at the hospital and practices at the Opera House - another who had gone missing was Erik, and Hannibal was unsure if things would continue without him, but he refused to give up his time at the piano just in case. When Erik returned - if he returned - he would be undoubtedly ashamed of any musician or dancer who had failed to continue their work. Hannibal would not be one of those.

He left the Opera House an hour and fifteen minutes after he'd arrived. Practice over. Nothing to do for the rest of the evening.