The Universe's Mixer

Lorne had looked at the Fangtasia flier, silently loved the pun and hated the name of the place, and sighed aloud. Vampire-friendly? Caritas was totally vampire friendly! Who was this Fangtasia person?

"Well, it doesn't matter," the demon mused. "This place is still gonna happen. Every night and technically twice on Saturdays."

When the opening night crowd rolled in at 9, a kid at the door handed out a special opening night menu with $5 drink specials and happy hour food, including the Best Wings in The City.

There was a good turnout, mostly human, from what Lorne could gather from the singers. The place wasn't packed to the walls, but seats were at a premium. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of singing, and a lot of free-flowing liquor. Lorne was happy; he wished someone from back home could see this. Caritas as it was meant to be.

Also not on fire.

At 9:30, Lorne was onstage, mic in his hand, extra snazzy royal blue suit on, and a big grin on his face.

"Hey there, City dwellers. I'm your Host, and this.... is Caritas." Lorne's eyes sparkled as he said it. The place, in all its incarnations, had always made him so happy. "Caritas is a little different from places you might be used to," he began. He nodded to the piano player off to his right, and a slight, slow strain of accompaniment began.

"Y'see, folks, Caritas is a sanctuary. I'll invite you once again to take a gander at the House Rules over there," he said, gesturing to the large poster on the wall. "...and realize that I'm very serious when I say everyone is welcome here, everyone should get to feel good here, and we do mean business of the seriously fun kind."

The crowd applauded, and Lorne nodded. "I'm so glad to be opening up another set of doors for this purpose, that, well, I just feel like I need to sing about it."

He nodded at the piano player, closed his eyes, and felt completely happy--and an awful lot of happy coming out of his patrons, too. "This is a song I've been loving a lot lately, and tonight it goes out to the guy in the back. In the hat."


( Lorne started to sing. The song was jazzier than the original version, full of vibrato, and had the audience laughing and clapping along in less than 30 seconds. )

Getting ahold of the Transnuding Furies in The City was a lot like getting Lorne's mother to stop yelling about how much he'd failed her--impossible.

After talking with Harry, Lorne started figuring exactly what he'd need before he could open Caritas for business.

The City'd been generous with him, that was true. There was a new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine, and a bunch of song list binders. There was a piano on the stage, a decent microphone, stage lights and half a dozen different colored gels for them. The stage was small, that was true, but it could fit a person (or a demon) and that piano comfortably. Group performances would have to take place on the floor in front of the stage, but that was fine with Lorne. The tables were far enough back.

The bar was stocked.
The kitchen, small and off to the side, looked like it had everything it needed. Just to be sure, Lorne hired a local line cook and asked what the guy could make. When he said he could do onion rings, wings, and fries... Lorne hired him on the spot. He'd need a full-time bartender, but he'd found a part-timer.

Harry'd set up some wards for him, and had offered without Lorne asking, so that was wonderful. Lorne would need a witch or the furies to do the rest, but the wards would hold until then. A framed list of house rules hung on the wall, and it read as follows:

Caritas Sanctuary Rules
Hours of Operation ~ 9 P.M-3 A.M.
1. No violence of any kind will be tolerated here. Take it outside. And remember, you were warned.
2. Please sing one song at a time. No medleys. You can sign up for more than one song and perform throughout the evening.
3. Not tipping your bartender or waitstaff may result in trans-dimensional ejection from the premises without refund.
4. Be careful who you insult. We do not tolerate bigotry or prejudice in any form here.
5. If the lady said no, she said no. Leave her alone.
6. If you are too drunk to stand, you will be asked to leave. We will call you a taxi if necessary.
7. Leave your attitude at the door. This place is a haven, and while anyone is welcome here when in a foul mood, if you are ruining everyone else's evening, we reserve the right to slip something into your drink.
8. No heckling.
9. No throwing fruit or vegetables or booing.
10. We do not run tabs, unless you are a vampire with a soul.


The demon hummed, printing out basic menus on colorful computer paper, double-checking stock of the bar, and sending out this thing they called a Tweet from his phone, using the tiny incredible internet the phone had inside it:

Green Machine Hey City cats & kittens, Caritas opens tonight! $5 drinks till 1, wing specials & hooray til close!
Green Machine Please read the House Rules as you enter.

He flipped the switch that turned on the outside neon sign with the club's name in red, and he wondered how long it'd be until someone else like Angel walked through the door.

There had been paperwork to sign. Plenty of it. Harry promised (fingers crossed behind his back) to follow the strict regiment of medications he'd been given, and to continue to see the at-home councilor once he was able to make arrangements. Finally, he was given a few items, feeling his heart pound as each was presented.

The six-foot tall staff Ebenezar had given him, during the battle with the Red Court. The two-foot rod of heavy ash wood, thick as two of Harry's fingers, and covered in runes similar to the staff. A set of eight silver rings, each ring a braid of three silver bands, that Harry carefully slid onto each finger but his thumbs. A thick bracelet, braided with gold, silver, copper, bronze, and some other unidentifiable metals, with round bronze discs handing all along it, like medieval shields. And finally, the long black leather duster. The mantle hung to his elbows, the hem halfway down his calves.

There was also a backpack, but that was mostly empty. A few candles, pieces of chalk. His guns were missing, but that was only to be expected.

He signed some more for his inventory, and his release. As he was finishing, someone said, "Your cab is here, Mr. Dresden."

Harry looked up. "A cab?"

"Yes, sir. To take you home."

Harry glanced at the car. And back at the woman. "I think I'll walk."

The woman hesitated. "Well, at least let us take you off the island and into the City. The driver will leave you wherever you choose. With no cost to you."

He considered. But it was free, and he'd be telling them to let him out. But just in case they got any ideas about not...

Harry drew in his will and aimed his staff casually at the car. "Ventas servitas," he murmured. A gale picked up, and the wind seemed to tug the door open for him. "I think that will do fine," he said, speaking to the woman, but giving the driver a smile. At least showing his teeth.

( An hour later... )

When Lorne got back to his room, there was a nurse waiting there. He started to explain to her about ditching the iv, leaving out the part about the singing cat, but she handed him a file folder and his purple suit and hat, and told him he was being released.

"Mr. Lorne," she'd said, "you're free to go. It seems today is your last day with us."

Lorne had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He thanked her, called her sugar, and set about getting dressed and making sure he had everything he'd arrived with. He was still fuzzy on how he'd arrived here, and without the iv, Lorne remembered that Arkham was something out of Batman.

That was troubling.

But as soon as he tied the knot on his very expensive, very Italian, very bright yellow silk tie, Lorne forgot all about that and felt like a whole new demon. He hoped Jake and Jennifer were alright, but he didn't know anything about anyone else here. The iv had seen to that. Lorne simply felt carefree and ready to go. Maybe find Angel.

He took the paperwork off the bed, putting the purple fedora on his head with a flourish, and noticed a little object under the folder, and a note.

The object was a phone, but when Lorne turned it on, it was much fancier than the ones he was used to. It had tinier buttons, and a keypad like a keyboard. When he turned it on, it directed him to an internet page.

"Egad," the demon mused. "What'll they think of next. I have tiny internet!"

He immediately tried to contact Angel Investigations, but the number didn't exist. Also troubling.

"Ehhh. Rats."

Lorne grabbed the note, on his way out of his room now, a slight spring in his step even if there was a big of worry in his heart. He opened it, and couldn't help but wonder.

It was an address. It directed him to go to the address as soon as he could.

Lorne really wished he had tall, dark, and forehead with him right now. What if someone wanted to hurt him? Lately that'd been happening a lot. First Geo's crew, then Holtz blowing up the bar.

Once out the front door of the asylum, Lorne found a cab waiting. He handed the cabby, who, bless his heart, didn't bat an eye at Lorne's green skin, the address.

"Ohhh. Sweet! I love this place," the guy said.
"Yeah? What's there to love?"
"Oh, you'll see, buddy. You'll see!"

Willing to at least trust that he wouldn't get hurt, based on the warm, happy vibes he was getting from the cabby, Lorne spent the ride in anticipation. Where was he going? Why the new phone?

"Here it is," the cabby said, pulling up to an alley.
"An alley?"
"Nope. Down and to the left. See the red light?"
"Sure do. Hey, thanks for the lift."
"Not a problem. Arkham pays us really well for giving you guys rides. Take care."

Lorne nodded, getting out of the cab and looking around at the alley.

"Down and to the left we go, then..."

Lorne found a key in the door. It had a green letter 'L' keyring on it. Lorne figured that meant to turn it. He hoped he didn't explode.

"Oh. My. Stars. And also I think someone else's stars."

Lorne pocketed the key, looking around at an exact copy of Caritas. Exact. Except without vampire hunter damage. He went straight to the bar, humming, and started to fix himself a Sea Breeze. The phone in his pocket started to ring, and the ringtone was the theme to 'Cabaret.'

"Hello?"
A voice on the other end informed him that this place was his, and meant to be a sanctuary. Just like the one in LA had been.
"That's just fine with me, peaches. Just one question. Who's this?"

The line went dead.

The iv in Lorne's arm dispensed an orange liquid. When the nurse changed the plastic bags full of the orange liquid, the change neither stung nor smelled like oranges.

His room had a nice big window and a view of the courtyard, and it seemed to only be the second floor. He got to leave, sometimes, and chatter with the nurses at the nurses station. He got to walk around, taking his iv on a little wheeled trolly with him, and watch TV in the common room. He got to sing if he felt like it, which hadn't been too often, but Lorne knew he'd done it and the acoustics were lovely here.

He couldn't tell when he'd gotten here, or how. Hadn't he just been with Angel? He didn't know. The orange stuff kept him in a state akin to human drunkenness--just out of it enough not to put two and two together, but his empathic abilities not really impeded. Asylum orderlies made sure to give him sleeping meds, too... they knew, somehow, what depriving Lorne of sleep would do and weren't prepared to deal with it.

As long as everyone was nice to him, Lorne didn't seem to mind what was going on. No one sang here, but him, and no one really hummed--at least not orderlies or nurses.

His connection to the Powers that Be was effectively severed. Lorne was just a green demon that liked to sing and picked up on the moods of others.

Today he stood in the hallway chatting up a pretty nurse named Emily, talking all about Judy Garland's career.

"Emily, do you think we could get a copy of 'The Wizard of Oz' out in the common room?" He didn't quite ask her with as much brightness in his voice as was normal, but it was close.

Emily considered. "Uh, I'll see what I can do, alright?" She didn't see the harm in it. It was just a movie. And Lorne would just sing, and the others would ignore it. No one had even asked why he was green, or what was wrong with him.

"That'd be swell, sweetie," Lorne said, walking past her and continuing down the hall. There was a library room down to the left, and he meant to find it.

It was almost sad, this one. So new. So fresh.

He never even had a chance.

The green of the skin brightened the glass of the scope, making him stand out worse than a sore thumb. He hadn't at all been hard to find.

The stock of the gun butted up against my shoulder. Fitting snugly. Feeling right. The cross hairs were settled right between those red eyes. With ease and grace, the trigger was squeezed back slowly. Squeeze, don't pull.

A sound rang out, something that I was becoming intensely familiar with.

Who: Lorne [Tag Fred!]
Where: The middle of the City
When: The day after Xanadu pulled her disappearing act.
What: Lorne is still looking for Bates Motel, hears about murders, and freaks out.


( In my own little corner, in my own little chair.. )

Lorne wasn't really having the best of weeks. It started first when Angel told the green guy what he needed to be done, and culminated in that loud, gutwrenching sound.

Bang!

"Should have kept with singing, Lindsey." Lorne lamented quietly. The lawyer was as evil as non-alcoholic drinks, but he had a voice. It was something that Lorne couldn't deny. The deed was done though and Lorne lowered his hat over giveaway green skin. He hailed a cab and slipped in, slouching into the back seat.

"Keep going, Cabby. Let's go to the airport." Then he could get out of here. Far away out of here. Falling asleep because of exhaustion, he tossed and turned a bit. It was a fitful sleep. But he didn't wake up until the cab stopped. Bright eyes opened and peered out of the cab, taking in the sights of the airport. No. Not an airport. Not even LA. Least not any part he had seen.

"Hey, where are--" Oh poop. The cabby left him. "Well. I guess you didn't want a tip." Mmph!He got out of the car and looked around for a minute, then looked back at the mysteriously empty cab. Hands in his pockets, Lorne started walking down the street. What a day not to be wearing your ruby slippers.