The Universe's Mixer

It wasn't a large explosion. No. It was just the right size and rather controlled. There was the smell of ozone and burnt flesh; the air felt electric. Everything seemed to have a strange hint of glow, almost like the afterimage left behind when one looks at a bright light or the sun.

The cabin sat, shaking ever so slightly. It had not been prepared for what just happened. It had come to help, but whatever was attacking its mistress kept biting at its legs. For once, some might say, the crone had taken pity on the poor cabin as it tried to defend her. Not just her by its yard. They had only just started the walk in the strangely dark day, just leaving the main castle grounds, when things started attacking the crone.

Baba Yaga did not like being attacked, and she liked it happening so close to not one but both her homes. Well, both her known homes anyway. She didn't care for it, and while the cabin was trying to be helpful, it was getting in the way of anything that could be truly devastating.

They weren't zombies. Or vampires. They were misbegotten things, green, scaly, and ugly. Apparently, the City thought it was a good idea to bring a few ogres from one of the kingdoms. A couple of them seemed to remember Red, and a few others seemed to remember how badly a certain Red had treated them. They saw her, but in the darkness, she could not see them. Attacking was the plan, only it didn't go the way they planned.

It wasn't a long fight. Once the cabin had gotten the hell out of the way, she was allowed to let loose a spell that burnt the closest ones to a crisp, as well as the grass beneath her feet, and her clothes. She thankfully came out of it little worse for wear. She hadn't gotten all of them; a few stood on the edge of the circle of death, wondering what to do. Attack her or run?

"Decide quickly. I haven't got all day." She was a little tired, but she'd survive, hiding the drain well. It'd been some time since she'd actually done something like that. Controlled magic of such power was much harder than creating a storm or nudging a libido.

Wash had not been bothered by the constant night. In fact, for the past week he'd gotten the best sleep he'd ever remembered getting in his life. Being on a ship in the black for such a long time he was used to keeping time but the sky not changing from stars.

So having woken up early, 0800, he whistled as he went to a diner to pick up hot tea and eggs. He whistled as he pulled out his notepad and wrote more ideas for florid metaphorical poetry to win Zoe back. He hummed as he stopped by the park to admire the ducks and geese in the pond as they swam a bit blindly in the water. He could have sworn they looked the least bit befuddled and confused. He tossed them some crackers from the diner and walked on.

He had no idea how he was going to find Zoe. After that blow up of emotion at his apartment they hadn't exactly exchanged addresses and numbers. But there was a skip in his step after he had finally decided that he was miserable enough without her to tumble, headfirst, into trying to re-charm her back into his arms, current boyfriend aside.

In such a refreshed mood was he that he gave no thought to going down a dark and creepy alley-way.

"My beautiful, voluptuous Zoe," he said, reciting a possible verse, "You make the stars in my sky so glowy/ There's no way you can truly knowy/ That without you my world would explody..."

He considered the words as he jotted them down then marked them out.

"Too rhymey," he decided. "More free verse, I think. Ooh, that autumn flower thing. I liked that--AH!"

Because suddenly there was a dark shadow in front of him. And he looked up and noticed that this alley way didn't have an exit.

The thug, because though Wash didn't like to generalize he thought the label was sufficient for now, demanded money.

"Oh, ya know. I left my money back at my apart--" was what he managed to get out until he was shoved against the wall under the one light in the alleyway that provided illumination enough to see to walk. The large man's arm shoved against his trachea while cold metal was pressed against the sensitive flesh of Wash's throat.

"When you put it like that..." Wash wheezed fishing the two dollars and thirty seven cents out of his pants pockets and throwing them on the ground. "That's it!"

The man in front of him paused.

I don't like you, the man said with a smirk. He'd lightened up on Wash's throat a little with his arm which was very good for the breathing thing Wash needed to keep doing.

"Oh. Uh, once you get to know me, I'm not that bad. Some even say I'm charming so--" he was cut off again by a hard punch to the cheek bone which sent him reeling as the back of his head collided with the stone wall behind him.

The thug explained that Wash needed a little color in his cheeks. Apparently this guy was aching for a little beating up time and didn't much care who it was.

Wash managed to shakily block the next punch from making contact and kneed the other in the groin. The knife was jolted out of position on Wash's throat and made a shallow cut to his collar bone.

For a moment the former pilot thought he might have had the upper hand but the other guy quickly regained steam and though a defensive punch from Wash landed hard the larger man pulled Wash's legs out from under him and sent him tumbling face first into the asphalt. Wash felt the thug's thick fingers grabbing his hair and pulling his head back with the knife pressing once again into Wash's throat.

"Hey," Wash said nervously. "Can't we...just talk this out or--oof!" he was interrupted by the pressure of a knee to his back. "Or, get some tea and...maybe we'd discover that we have a lot in common. We both share an affinity for dark alleyways and...y'know...that's a fine start to a friendship, I think!"

Somehow Wash didn't think talking his way out of this would work. He closed his eyes tightly waiting for round two of the whole dying experience.